Dare to Play (Dare Nation 3)

Since leaving her, his heart had been racing and his anxiety high as he wondered what his future held. On the one hand, he was petrified of losing his bachelorhood and lifestyle, and he had to keep reminding himself that their arrangement wouldn’t be permanent. Besides, there was a lot to like about Macy, which calmed some of his fears. She was easy to be around, low-maintenance, and she knew going into the marriage that he’d be on the road often once the season started.

The one thing he didn’t worry about was sexual chemistry. They had it in spades. Now he just had to convince her to make their marriage a real one. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t plan on being celibate. And he wasn’t a cheater, which meant they were going to have to agree on a true marriage.

He parked the SUV, climbed out, locked the door, and walked up the path leading to the front door, passing the well-kept foliage along the way. He rang the bell and waited, hands in his front jeans pockets.

Macy opened the door, looking worried, and he had the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and reassure her everything was going to be okay. “What’s going on?”

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter the house.

He walked into the foyer with white and light pink faux texture on the walls and a pretty landscape of photographs hanging in the hall.

She stepped closer, the scent of her floral perfume a reminder of how hot she was in bed.

“Thank you for coming.” She spoke softly.

“What’s wrong?”

She drew a deep breath. “My former stepmother is upstairs, and she’s planning to take my sister, Hannah, with her to her hotel. Hannah said it’s for the night, but she’s packing as if it’s for much longer. She’s a rebellious teenager. If I forbid it, I’m going to alienate her even more. If I allow it, I risk not being able to get her back, and it doesn’t help that Lilah brought up our one-night stand and the social media attention it got.” She appeared pale and shaken.

“What’s your gut telling you?” he asked.

“That I need to see a lawyer.”

He nodded. “I agree. But in the meantime?”

She sighed. “I’m inclined to let her go. Act as reasonable as I can but insist she come home tomorrow, and give Lilah a chance to prove she’s not fit to be a mother or, better yet, let her get bored of the responsibility.”

He grasped her hands in his. “Then trust yourself. Now another question. Why did you call me?”

A wry smile pulled at her lips. “Because I need backup from my fiancé to make sure my ex-stepmother from hell understands she has to bring Hannah back tomorrow. Or else.”

His heart pounded harder in his chest. So this was a go.

“Once Lilah realizes that I got caught leaving my fiancé’s house and not some random hookup, she’ll realize who you are and the resources at your disposal and think twice about trying to walk all over me.” Macy straightened her shoulders. “Not that I’d let her, but I’ll take all the leverage I can get. And you, Mr. Famous Baseball Player, give me power I wouldn’t otherwise have.”

He looked at her, her porcelain skin and pink lips surrounded by gorgeous light brown hair, staring at him with hope and trust in her brown eyes. “Is the offer still on the table?” she asked of their fake marriage.

He drew a calming breath and nodded. “It is.”

“Logistics to be determined,” she added, “But–”

“Macy, what’s the holdup? I want to get going,” an adult female voice called out from another part of the house.

Macy slid her hand in his. “Let’s do this.”

Every time Jaxon stepped onto the field, he wrapped himself in his All-Star persona to put on a show. Telling himself this situation was no different, he rolled back his shoulders, squeezed Macy’s hand for reassurance, and let her lead the way.

He followed her down a short hall and into a room, stopping at the chaos before him. There were clothes everywhere, no space to walk, with garments hanging out of open drawers and shoes added to the mix on the floor. Tiny lights were strung around the room and outlined a tapestry over the double bed. And like Macy had told him, a huge suitcase sat on the mattress, stuffed full for a much longer time than one night.

A teenager with a pink stripe in the front of her hair stared at him open-mouthed, and her mother, a woman dressed younger than her years, with heavy blonde highlights, lips with filler, and enough Botox to prevent muscle movement, also stared with obvious recognition in her eyes.

“Macy, what in the world? What is Jaxon Prescott doing here?” the woman asked.