“You got cold feet. Lots of women go through that. But give it a little more time and you’ll realize who really loves you. And then you’ll come home.”

“Sam, I don’t-”

He reached out and pressed his finger to her lips. “Don’t. Just think about what I’ve said, Payton. I’m staying in Perth for the next three days. I think we should take some time to talk. To see if we can smooth out this wrinkle.”

Wrinkle, Payton mused. She ran away from their wedding and took up with another man and Sam considered it a wrinkle. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“I’m at the Intercontinental. Room 1250. I’ll be waiting for your call.” With that, he turned and walked back to his car. Payton stared after him, wanting to shout out her anger. How dare he assume that she’d change her mind? She wasn’t some feebleminded doormat who could be convinced by his mere appearance.

Sam could wait all he wanted, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. She’d call her parents tonight and tell them exactly that. And then she’d tell them to talk some sense into her ex-fiancé. But first, she’d tell Brody about Sam’s sudden appearance. Knowing Sam and his inability to accept losing at anything, she could expect another visit. She would not allow Brody to be caught off guard.

When she returned to Brody’s apartment, she found him sitting on the sofa, examining his knee. He glanced up as she walked inside and she noticed the worried expression etched across his face.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. From the looks of things, now was not the time to bring up her ex-fiancé. That could wait until tomorrow, after the tryout.

“Sure,” he said. He pushed to his feet and crossed to her, taking the bags from her hands. “Dinner?”

“Yes. I’m cooking something special. A good-luck meal. I figured it’s about time to show you my true talents in the kitchen.”

“You have talents in the kitchen too?” he teased, his mood shifting quickly. “I knew you were great in the bathroom, the bedroom and the living room. But the kitchen wasn’t something I’d considered.”

“I’m a very good cook,” she explained.

He peered inside the bags, then pulled out the strawberries she’d purchased. Payton reached for them. “Those are for dessert,” she said.

“Can’t we have dessert first?” He took one from the bag and bit into it, then held it in front of her mouth. Slowly, he drew the fruit across her lower lip. She ran her tongue over the sweet juice and smiled.

With a quick move, she bit down on the strawberry, then pulled him into a long, deep kiss. The taste of the berry exploded in her mouth, and Payton wasn’t sure that she’d ever tasted something quite so wonderful.

The kiss went on forever, their hands moving over each other’s body, so familiar yet still so exciting. He spanned her waist with his hands, then lifted her onto the granite countertop. The short shirt she wore bunched high on her thighs and he slipped his hand between her legs and began to caress her.

Payton knew his touch, yet every time he seduced her, he found a new way to take her to the heights of pleasure. He pushed her back until she was lying across the cool granite. Then he pulled her panties off and trailed kisses along the insides of her thighs.

She knew what was coming and waited, knowing the exquisite sensations his tongue could elicit. And then, he was there, sucking gently, making her writhe with the need for release.

She’d meant to tell him about Sam, but as her pleasure began to escalate, all thoughts of her former life dissolved. She was here with Brody now, and what they were doing was perfect. Nothing could possibly spoil it.

BRODY WINCED as he pushed up from a crouch and ran the width of the field. Though he was in pretty good shape, he hadn’t really run full out since before his accident. When he reached the far side of the field, he gulped in a deep breath, then turned and ran back.

The scout scribbled something in his notebook, then nodded. “I understand your injury prevents lateral movement.”

“Not prevents,” Brody said. “Hampers. I’m just not as quick as I was. But it doesn’t affect my kicking. You saw that. I put ten of them through the posts from fifty meters. I can do ten more. Hey, I can kick all day and I won’t miss.”

“But you’ll have to run and tackle,” he said. “And even though we have a rule against roughing the kicker, you will get knocked down. That knee isn’t going to take much abuse.”

“I know I can do this,” Brody said. “Just give me a chance. I’ll come to the States. I’ll kick in your football stadium. I’ll play for free.”

The scout considered Brody’s offer, then nodded his head. “You’re a hell of a kicker. But I’m worried about the knee. The strength just isn’t quite there. But you do some serious work and that might change. You should be running every day and doing some intense weight training. The NFL preseason starts the end of July. If a team is in need of a kicker, they’ll be looking before the regular season begins in September.” He held out his business card. “You call me after a month and we’ll see where you’re at.”

Brody stared down at the card. “All right. I can do that. Thanks for taking the time.”

“Good luck, son. I hope I hear from you.”

Brody walked toward the exit, resigned to the fact that he’d given it his best try. Hell, he’d kicked well. No one could quarrel with that. But his knee wasn’t what it should be. Even he knew it. He drew a deep breath, trying to push back the disappointment.

Though it wasn’t good news, it wasn’t really bad. He had a chance, if he put in a little work. He still had access to the team’s training facilities and their physical therapists. Given a month, maybe he could gain more strength.

As he walked through the tunnel to the car park, he saw Payton standing in the entrance, her slender form outlined by the morning sun. She smiled and he felt his spirits rise. Even if the world was falling apart at his feet, she could still make him feel like a hero.

“How did it go?” she asked as he took her hand in his.

“I kicked well,” he said. “But he didn’t like the look of my knee.”

“Well, you expected that,” she said.

“He said I should work harder on rehab and then give him a call in a month.”

“Are you going to do that?” she asked.

Brody shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It would give me more options.” He smiled. “I can kick the damn ball. At least the next time one of their kickers goes down, he’ll be thinking of me.”

They drove back to his apartment, his mind distracted by the traffic. Every now and then, he caught Payton glancing over at him. He wanted to tell her how he was feeling-the frustration and the doubts-but his problems were his own. This afternoon, they’d find something to do that would take his mind off his troubles. And tomorrow, he’d figure out a plan.

As they drove up to the apartment, he reached out and took her hand. “Why don’t we go surfing this afternoon.” He looked over at her to see her gaze fixed on a car parked across the street from his building.

“What’s wrong?”

“Keep driving,” she said.

“Why? We need to get our gear if we’re going surfing.”

“Just keep going.”

He did as he was told. After a few blocks, Brody drove in to an empty parking spot and pulled the truck out of gear. Then he turned to her. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

She gnawed at her lower lip, avoiding his eyes. “Yesterday, after I came back from the market, I saw Sam. My ex. He was parked in front of your apartment building waiting for me.”

Brody felt as if he’d been hit in the gut. This didn’t make sense. “You talked to Sam?”

She nodded, then risked a glance over at him. “I wanted to tell you yesterday, but you had the tryout today and I didn’t want you to be upset. Besides, when I got home we got distracted and I guess I just forgot.”

“You forgot?”

“Well, not exactly. It wasn’t the right time.”

“Which is it, Payton?”

She cursed softly. “What difference does it make? I’m telling you now. He asked if I’d come home. I told him no.”

“Then what’s he still doing here?”

“I guess he thinks I might change my mind.”

Brody’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “And will you change your mind?”

“No,” Payton insisted. “I don’t want to marry him. I told him that. But he doesn’t like to lose. And he certainly doesn’t like to be embarrassed. He and my parents seem to think I’ve had some sort of mental breakdown and that if I just get a little help, I’ll regain my senses.”

“We’re going back,” Brody said. “I’ll talk to the guy. I’ll tell him to back off.”

“No,” Payton said. “This is my problem. I’ll-”

“It’s my problem now. He’s screwing with my life.”

“I know where he’s staying. I’ll call him tonight and tell him to go home. And I’ll call my parents and let them know I’m going to stay in Australia for now.”

Brody didn’t like leaving it up to Payton. She’d obviously tried to convince Sam the first time they’d talked and it hadn’t worked. Either Sam wasn’t listening or she hadn’t been forceful enough. But there would be no denying Brody’s argument-either the guy would leave Fremantle immediately, or Brody would give him a thick ear.

“So what does this mean? We can’t go back to the apartment?”

“Why don’t we go get some lunch and maybe he’ll be gone when we return.” She reached out and pried his hand off the wheel, then laced her fingers through his. “As you’ve probably noticed, I’m not very good with confrontation.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve told me off plenty of times.”

“It’s different with my family and with Sam. They make me feel-” Payton searched for the word “-small. They make me feel small.”

He turned to look at her, noticing the uneasy expression on her face. Hell, he never wanted to do anything that made her feel that way. “You’re one of the strongest, most determined people I know,” he said. “Don’t let them do that to you. Think of everything you’ve done over the past weeks.”

Brody paused, carefully considering his next suggestion. He was tired of all the wondering-did she love him, would she stay, how did she really feel about Sam? There were too many unanswered questions that she had to settle once and for all. “I think you should go see him,” Brody said.

“Really?”

“Why not? He was an important person in your life. Hell, you were going to marry him. Maybe he just needs some…what do they call that?”

“Closure?” she suggested.

“Right. Closure.”

A long silence grew between them. “All right,” she said softly. “If that’s what you want, I’ll go see him tomorrow.”

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted. But it was the quickest way to get to what he wanted. And for that, he was willing to take a risk. He’d give Sam Whitman one last chance to plead his case and if he didn’t leave after that, Brody would personally escort him to the airport.

He wasn’t about to let Payton go. At least, not without a good fight.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Brody frowned, staring down at the assortment of towels. He winced, then ran his hand through his hair. Payton could see the confusion in his eyes, but she suspected it had nothing to do with his choice of towels.

Payton had called Sam and agreed to meet him the next morning. Since she’d made the decision, she and Brody hadn’t spoken of it. In truth, she’d carefully avoided the subject. But she could see that it was killing Brody. He’d been hovering over her all day, obviously wanting to ask her what she would say, but afraid to bring up the subject.

“Ah…well, they’re towels,” he said. “I’ve never really had an opinion on towels. They’re just sort of there when I need them.” He nodded. “That’s what I think.”

“I mean the colors. Your bathroom is so neutral.”

“Is it? What does that mean?”

He was going to make this difficult, Payton mused. She’d wondered if buying new towels for him was really a good idea. But she wanted to contribute something to the home they’d made together, even if it did mean spending a bit of his money. “Neutral means there’s a lack of color.”

“And color is good?”

“Yes. Now, do you like the ice blue or the burnt sienna? These are both masculine colors, but one is cool and the other is warm. I like the burnt sienna.”

“Then I like that one, too. Don’t I have towels?”

“Yes. But they’re a little worn. And they’re kind of mismatched. I just thought these would be pretty. And they’re really soft. One hundred percent Egyptian cotton.” He nodded mutely. Frustrated, Payton picked up the towels and shoved them back into the bag. “Never mind. I’ll return them.”