Double Play: A Love Games Novel

By Maggie Wells

She knows what she wants, and how to get it...
Avery Preston knows her mind. The Women’s Studies and Literature professor 

is the latest in a long line of feminist fir

• Language: English
• Publisher: Margaret Ethridge
• Release date: Oct 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9780996358644

Maggie Wells

Maggie Wells is a deep-down dirty girl with a weakness for hot heroes and happy endings. By day she is buried in spreadsheets, but at night she pens tales of people tangling up the sheets. The product of a charming rogue and a shameless flirt, this mild-mannered married lady has a naughty streak a mile wide.

Book preview

1

Avery Preston accepted a highball filled with two fingers of scotch from the postgrad playing bartender, turned around, and propped her elbows against the spot she claimed at Calhoun’s bar. Warmth coursed through her as she surveyed her handiwork. It wasn’t every day she officiated a wedding ceremony in a tavern, and she thought she’d pulled the task off with aplomb.

One of her best friends, Kate Snyder, had gotten herself hitched to Danny McMillan a few weeks before at the courthouse. Tonight’s ceremony was an opportunity for their friends and family to celebrate their union. Holding the wedding-slash-reception in the off-campus bar most of the Wolcott University students and faculty frequented seemed like the logical choice. Avery took a sip of her drink and hummed with satisfaction.

She gave good wedding for a woman who didn’t envision herself ever falling into the same snare.

Avery licked the smoky liquid from her lips and set the glass back on the bar beside her. Her elbows slid apart with the movement, but she didn’t apologize when she made contact with the men on either side of her. If her femspreading offended them, they’d have to deal. Men had been taking up too much room for centuries. She was taking a bit of her own back.

Across the room, her friend Millie Jensen stood in front of a bank of muted television screens, her lipstick-slicked mouth pulled into a thin, taut line. Her worried expression didn’t jibe with the jovial postnuptial atmosphere. Pushing away from the bar, Avery ceded the territory she’d commandeered to the man on her right with a saucy wink.

Enjoy, she called sweetly as she sashayed away.

Avery believed the long gown she’d unearthed from her great-aunt’s collection of vintage clothing had been an inspired choice. No doubt, Millie would disagree. Making her way through the crowd of revelers, she delighted in the swoosh of the silk against her legs. Sashaying was much more satisfying when one was wearing a caftan, she decided, while swishing her way across the room. The Universal Church of Life should be proud to have such a splendid officiant.

Though they were best friends, Millie liked to mock Avery’s wardrobe choices. As the university’s public relations guru, Millie was all about appearances. Avery drew to a stop at Millie’s elbow and waited to be noticed, but her friend stood staring at the televisions, transfixed.

Curious, Avery checked out the scene on the screen. It was the same as it had been for the last hour or so. The NBA draft. Not programming that rated high on her personal scale of things to watch, but tonight’s crowd was overloaded with sporty-types, and as the athletic department’s mouthpiece, Millie had a vested interest in keeping on top of what was happening in the sporting news.

Avery wasn’t one to be ignored for long, though. Jostling her friend’s elbow, she asked, How many jocks does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Millie didn’t tear her eyes from the screen. The question should be, ‘how many perky blonde coaches’ wives does it take to screw over a program?’

Avery shot her friend a puzzled glance then shifted her attention back to the television screen. All she saw was another beaming young man wearing a baseball cap and holding up a jersey. I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain, oh cryptic one.

At last, Millie spared her a sidelong glance. Well, Mrs. Roper, a few minutes ago, Wolcott University’s star basketball player was chosen as a first-round draft pick for the National Basketball Association. She fixed Avery with a pointed glare. This is usually a good thing.

She enunciated each word so carefully it was all Avery could do to repress a snicker. Millie excelled at condescension. Oh, wow. Golly, really?

The grim expression overtook Millie’s face again as she craned her neck. She mumbled the headlines scrolling along the bottom of the screen. Nothing yet, she murmured almost to herself.

What are you waiting for? Avery asked, suddenly finding new interest in the proceedings on the screen. You said ‘usually’ in a way that would imply this drafting thing wasn’t good.

Dante Harris, the aforementioned Wolcott University first-round draft pick, had two people seated by his side. One was his mother. She paused for dramatic effect. The other was Mari Ransom. Guess which one he kissed full on the mouth?

Involuntarily, Avery pressed her palm to her breastbone. Mari Ransom was the wife of Wolcott’s men’s basketball coach, Tyrell Ransom. Oh, no.

Oh, yes, Millie countered. And I can tell you he didn’t kiss his mama quite as exuberantly as he kissed his coach’s wife.

Avery’s hand slid down to cover her heart. She scanned the crowd again, seeking the man in question, but Tyrell Ransom wasn’t there. Indeed, he would’ve been hard to miss. At six feet, eight inches, he towered well above the rest of the crowd.

As head coach of the university’s women’s basketball program and Ty’s counterpart, Kate had naturally become good friends with him. And, as Kate’s friend, Avery had been drawn into their circle, even though she hadn’t mastered walking and chewing gum at the same time. Ty’s absence had been noted earlier in the evening but Avery hoped he was simply running late.

Now things were becoming clearer.

I knew it had to be something bad when he didn’t show up, Millie said as if reading Avery’s thoughts. I saw the kiss, she added, emphasizing the words. It happened right in the middle of the ceremony.

I told you we should have made them switch off the televisions, Avery chided.

Turning them off would have incited a riot. Wagging her head, Millie stared up at the screen. I knew Mari was a bit flighty, but I didn’t know she was a complete idiot. She looked at Avery. Once this party winds down, I’ll try to get in touch with Ty again. If I can’t get him to answer, I’ll go over and check on him.

Avery nodded approvingly. Good call.

The two of them lapsed into silence as they watched the ticker scroll across the bottom of the screen, but no new information about a scandalous kiss between Wolcott’s hotshot player and his coach’s wife seemed to be forthcoming. Yet.

Avery scanned the crowd again. Her gaze landed on a man standing at the end of the bar. Tall, dark, and brooding. Exactly the three ingredients guaranteed to appeal to the literature geek inside of her. Feeling her mood lift, Avery bumped Millie with her elbow. Who’s the Heathcliff standing at the end of the bar?

Millie took the opportunity to shift gears in conversation. Heathcliff?

Avery jerked her chin in the direction of the man in question. Tall, dark, and brooding. I could put him out on the moor, and within fifteen minutes he’d be wandering alone, desolate and lonely, and in need of female comfort.

Millie snickered. Dominic Mann, the baseball coach. You’ve met him before.

Avery tilted her chin up and scoped the man more carefully. I have?

Millie nodded. At least a few times. You think he’s tall? she asked, not bothering to disguise the doubt in her voice.

Avery rolled her eyes. It wasn’t easy being a petite academic in the world of athletic giants. Well, he isn’t short.

Millie pursed her lips as she studied the baseball coach. I’d put him at about five-nine. Ten, maybe.

Avery snorted. I hit five-foot-four on a goddess day, so five-nine is tall to me.

Millie stretched to her full five-foot-seven height and rolled her shoulders back. The witch was never beyond showing off a bit. True. He would be tall to you.

Is he available? Avery persisted.

Millie pinned her with a glower. I take it you don’t mean emotionally.

A simple ethical question. You know I don’t poach.

Widowed, I believe. Quiet type. Keeps to himself. Doesn’t really socialize with the department much. I assume he’s here because of Kate.

Everyone’s here for Kate. Danny is a planet lucky enough to get caught in a superstar’s gravitational pull.

Millie’s brow puckered, but only for a second. She didn’t believe in courting worry lines for the sake of concentration. Tell us how you really feel.

I’m only saying, if she’s happy, I’m happy. And he’d better make her happy. She eyed Dominic Mann more closely. Vague recollections of a boring reception at the Chancellor’s house swam into focus. She grinned. The man she was ogling had caught her spiking a bowl of the very bland punch, if she recalled correctly. Not seeing anyone?

Her friend gazed off into the middle space accessing her secret databases of information. In these instances, Avery liked to imagine herself walking beside Millie as they visited Sherlock Holmes’s Mind Palace. She also liked imagining Benedict Cumberbatch waiting for them there wearing nothing but a bed sheet.

At last, Millie shook her head. I don’t remember ever hearing anything about him dating. Why? You interested?

Avery was, but she didn’t have quite the same take on relationships as most people. She had friends and she had lovers. The friends she kept around indefinitely. The lovers came with an invisible expiration date stamped on their foreheads. She liked sex, but she wasn’t a fan of sexual entanglements. But weddings always made her itchy for company. And if the plan she’d been hatching came to fruition, she wouldn’t have too many footloose days left. She had to live it up while she could.

I might be shopping for a short-term lease, she said cautiously.

Millie raised a shoulder and let it fall. I’d say he seems a likely prospect.

Satisfied she’d given all she had, Millie turned back to the television screen, and Avery gave up any hope of further conversation. It was time to take matters into her own hands.

Well, everything seems to be going okay with the party, so I think I’ll go reintroduce myself to this dominant man.

The descriptor caught Millie’s attention again. She laughed and said, Oooh. ‘Dominant Man.’ I like it. I’ll have to use it on him.

Be my guest, Avery said generously.

Hey, and why don’t you take off the tent before you go chat him up? I hear women do better with guys when they’re not covered in the scent of mothballs.

Avery gave the caftan a second glance. The only thing she had to change into were the jeans and peasant blouse she’d worn to help decorate the bar for the wedding party, though she had to admit Millie made a valid point. This caftan wasn’t doing a thing to highlight her assets.

But the last thing she wanted to do was let Millie know she was taking her advice. Pivoting toward the bathroom, she spoke over her shoulder as she walked away. I’d planned to. Later, Mills.

She heard Millie’s husky chuckle behind her. Happy hunting, Aves.

Five minutes later, Avery emerged from the bathroom stall dressed in her faded, comfy jeans and a white cotton blouse. The top was a little worn, but the style was flattering. On the plus side, she wasn’t having a terribly bad hair day, and she had a light tan going. All in all, the effect was about as winning as it was going to get. She hung the caftan on the hanger left behind by Kate’s wedding dress, fluffed her hair one last time, then sauntered into the bar as if making her first appearance of the night.

The leather straps of her sandals cut across her pinkie toe, but the suede-covered soles were so comfortable, Avery couldn’t possibly part with them. She liked to see herself as a child of the earth, but she wasn’t so hyper-conscious she was willing to sacrifice her toes. The more politically correct vegan hemp footwear gave new meaning to the term cruel shoes.

She grimaced when the bottom of one shoe slid in a puddle of spilled beer. She quickly caught her balance, but the hem of her jeans sopped up some of the sludge. Grumbling under her breath, she made it to the bar without any further mishap and wedged herself into the small open space beside Dominic Mann.

Her elbow nudged him as she gave the elastic top of her bodice a tug to show off some more cleavage. It had been a while since she’d had a good tumble. Avery wasn’t too proud to play up her advantages when it came to getting what she wanted. He looked at her, but his gaze never strayed south of her chin. His blank expression told her she’d need to try a different approach.

How’s it going, Coach? she asked in a friendly but noncommittal tone.

She’d been told more than once her direct manner made men feel uncomfortable, so she tried for casually aloof. To her own ears, she came off sounding like a constipated goof, but, hey, if it worked on the delicate male ego…

Dominic Mann looked her dead in the eye. It’s going, he replied laconically. How are you, Professor?

Avery, she corrected, offering what she hoped was a friendly and nonthreatening smile. Seriously, men were so hard to gauge these days. Overall, she liked to think they were improving generation to generation, but there was no empirical evidence to back her theories up. Things are going well for me, she replied. Thank you for asking.

Signaling to the bartender, she glanced at the men on either side of her and saw they were all drinking beer. Usually, Avery preferred to stand out in a crowd, but she’d learned long ago it was better to blend in when hanging with the jock-types. She blamed the old ‘there’s no I in team’ mentality. These people were all about vowel eradication. When the bartender came over, she pointed to Dom’s glass.

I’ll have what he’s having.

Mirroring was a trick straight out of Psych 101, and it worked like a charm most of the time, but this guy might be a tad more work.

I thought the ceremony went well, she said, smiling at the bartender as he placed a glass of golden froth in front of her.

Dominic lifted his own glass in a salute. You did an excellent job. He smirked as he took a sip of beer. I had no idea you were the spiritual type.

Avery didn’t bother to hold back her grin. He was toying with her. Baiting her. And by the gleam in his eye, she’d guess he knew exactly what effect his dry mockery would have. Lord, there was nothing she liked more than a man who tried to set the hook.

Twisting so she faced him, she fell into those dark chocolate eyes. Oh, I’m very spiritual, she said, lowering her voice to an intimate tone so he had to lean in to hear. I may not conform to the standards of most conventional religions, she allowed, but I believe in a higher power, and I believe in the power within.

He raised a single dark eyebrow. The power within?

Positivity, affirmative thinking. Aren’t you sportsy-types into all that stuff?

His brow remained arched. Impressive. Such masterful muscle control made her want to heave the girliest of girly sighs.

Yes, I suppose we are, he answered at last.

Me too. I believe life is an adventure of constant self-discovery and growth. The journey to becoming a better person is the most important trip a person can take, she said with what she felt was appropriate gravitas. Though, I wouldn’t mind six nights and seven days in the Bahamas.

Well, sure, he conceded the last point easily enough. But we’re talking holy matrimony, he said, enunciating each word with enough irony to fell a speeding roadrunner. He gestured to the dank barroom where she’d performed her ceremony. Where do those sacred bonds fall on your Richter scale of spirituality?

Avery paused long enough to take a sip of her beer, hiding her grimace under the pretext of wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist. Ignoring the bitter, hoppy taste lingering on her tongue, she let a sultry smile unfold as she locked gazes with Coach Mann. I believe in bondage of all kinds. Matrimonial, spiritual, whatever you want to call it. I believe in commitment. She gave a haughty sniff to let him know she refused to come up short in this argument. I believe in love, but, more so, I believe two people should express the L-word of their choice however they see fit. Whether it’s love, loathing, or plain old lust.

She wondered exactly how direct she could be with this man. Like most of the athletic types, he seemed to be a man of few words off his chosen field of play, but reticence didn’t mean he didn’t have all the machismo of his world stored up inside him. The thick, dark hair threaded with silver and liquid brown eyes set against olive skin made for an attractive package, but it also indicated some sort of Italian, or possibly Latino, background. In her experience, those Latin lovers weren’t much for a woman taking the lead. But Coach Mann seemed to be man enough to stand up and take what was offered to him. Probably.

The worst thing he could say was no.

Truthfully, Avery hadn’t heard no very often. Men were simple creatures when it came to physical impulse, and, in her experience, they weren’t particularly given to self-denial. They rarely refused when offered sex outright. They might hem and haw and try to play hard to get, but only one in a million actually proved strong enough to follow through on the refusal. Avery tried to remember the last time somebody actually rejected her advances. With a scowl, she suddenly realized she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d propositioned someone. If what Millie had said about Coach Mann’s lonely widower status was right, it was a good opportunity for both of them.

Leaning an elbow on the bar, she fixed her gaze on him until he gave her his full attention.

Sometimes I hate being alone, she confessed.

A flash of surprise made his eyes widen, but he didn’t respond to the opening.

Avery smirked and picked up her beer glass so she’d have something to do with her hands. Running her fingertip through the condensation on the glass, she affected a contemplative expression as she gazed into its contents. Mostly, I don’t mind, but nights like tonight….

I usually don’t mind, either.

His gruff reply made her head jerk up. Their eyes met and held, and understanding arced between them like electricity.

But you mind tonight, Avery said bluntly. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could confirm or deny. Weddings always get me. I’m happy as hell for them, she said, glancing at Kate and Danny who stood laughing with the group of friends near the dartboard. I don’t want to trade places with them, but I am happy for them. She tried to get a good read on his reaction as she made her play. But I also don’t want to go home alone after something like this.

Dominic glanced over his shoulder. When he spotted the happy couple, his expression softened slightly. No. I hear you.

Avery waited a beat. Obviously, he’d given all the opening she was going to get. It was time to make her case or move on. She chanced another sip of her rapidly warming beer, and this time didn’t bother hiding her distaste as she set the glass on the counter.

His low chuckle rumbled beside her. She shot him a sidelong glance. I’m more into scotch, she said, wrinkling her nose.

Or grain alcohol. His comment let her know he remembered the punch bowl incident as well.

Avery grinned. I believe in livening things up a bit.

I bet you’re good at livening things up, Dominic ventured.

She gaped at him in amazement. Was that a come-on?

He gave a nearly imperceptible shrug. I think it was more of a ‘come on with the come-on,’ he said pointedly.

Avery blinked once, taken aback by the implied command. Then, some perverse part of her jumped to do his bidding. After all, she’d been the one to approach him. Do you want to come home with me tonight?

But rather than show any sign of triumph at all, the man beside her simply nodded once and set his glass on the bar next to hers. Okay. Let’s go.

As they moved their way through the crowded barroom, a maelstrom of mixed emotions whirled in her stomach. Happiness, fear, excitement, indignation. She had a whole host of them to choose from, but not one of them came out as the victor. Avery checked the bank of televisions where Millie had stood frozen a short time before. Her friend was gone. And with her went any last hope for a boost or blast to the old ego.

Dominic pushed open the heavy wooden door, and the two of them stepped out into the sultry summer air. They paused on the sidewalk. Dominic shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and looked everywhere but directly at her. For the first time since she’d made her approach, the man appeared decidedly uncomfortable. Which way?

Avery hesitated only a beat before saying, I like it any way you like it, Coach.

Dominic gave a snort. Apparently, he was not the type to be distracted by playful banter.

Switching her approach, she waved a hand in the direction of her house. I live a couple of blocks away. My place okay?

His jaw was set but the muscle in the corner ticked a steady beat. Avery got the distinct impression want wasn’t the right word for his desire to go home with her. He didn’t seem to want to do this, nor was he particularly enthusiastic about the prospect, she noted, trying not to be miffed. She bit the inside of her cheek and then gave him the out she didn’t want to give.

Or, you can go home and I could go home, and we could pretend this whole awkward conversation never happened.

He jerked as if she’d pulled the puppet strings.

Avery gave him a wry smirk. I’ve never had to force a man to sleep with me, Coach. I’m not about to start with you.

The pause was almost unnoticeable. She might have missed it if she weren’t watching him like a hawk eyeing her prey.

It’s not that I don’t want to, he said at last, his voice low and filled with gravel.

When he didn’t say anything more, she tipped her head to the side and arched her brows. It’s not that you don’t want to, but you don’t really want to?

Something flared in his eyes. He shot her a glare so filled with exasperation she nearly stepped back. Coach Mann had a bit of a temper. Interesting. The discovery was not disturbing in particular. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy given to violence or throwing angry words around, but one who was quick to jump on the defensive. She’d bet he’d not only fight for himself, but for everyone around him. A true team player.

With a stubborn lift of his chin, he glanced in each direction. A few blocks which way? I’ll walk you home.

Avery gawked at him for a second then turned her head to hide her smile. Apparently, Coach Mann was adept at self-delusion. Avery had a healthy respect for defense mechanisms herself, so she didn’t call him out on it.

This way, she said, indicating with her right hand.

They started to walk, he with his hands buried in his pockets, and Avery wondering what to do with hers. Finally, she played along with his pseudo-chivalry by tucking one hand into the crook of his elbow.

She beamed up at him when he gaped at her in surprise, and drawled in an exaggerated Scarlett O’Hara impression, I do declare, it’s so very kind of you to see me home, Coach Mann. Why, a woman isn’t safe on the streets around here.

She gestured to the deserted sidewalk ahead of them. Summer sessions were yet to start. The campus and surrounding areas were practically a ghost town.

Dominic chuckled. If I didn’t think a woman like you had fifty weapons at her disposal at any time, I might’ve bought the damsel in distress act.

Curious, Avery glanced at him. Fifty weapons at my disposal? What’s do you mean? What kind of weapons?

He raised one shoulder and let it fall. I figured you’d be the kind who’d be packing at least a can of pepper spray, if not brass knuckles, a switchblade, maybe some nunchucks. He waved his free hand. The usual assortment of self-defense weaponry.

She squeezed his arm as they walked on. But I don’t need weaponry. I earned my first black belt when I was twenty-two.

He looked over at her, clearly impressed. Did you?

Avery nodded. When I was an undergraduate, there were some assaults on campus, so one of the student life organizations offered free self-defense classes. I started with those and found I enjoyed the discipline in them.

He laughed softly. Really? You don’t strike me as the type.

For discipline?

Yes.

She shot him a sidelong glance. Try me, Coach.

He averted his face, but Avery caught the mottling of a blush creeping up his neck when they passed under a street lamp. It was so damn appealing, she couldn’t bear to tease him anymore.

Actually, I’m a very disciplined person. I’ve been doing yoga since I was twelve, so any kind of physical activity involving the joining of the mind and body interests me.

You started yoga at twelve?

She chose to be amused by the incredulity in his tone. One corner of Avery’s mouth lifted. My mother went through many phases, but she never stuck with things for long. Me, I stick like glue. I never quit anything. It’s a problem.

This time, Dominic didn’t meet her eyes when he spoke. Instead, he gazed into the darkening night. "Why do you see consistency