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commentators—and Lissy knew they were magic, only not in the way sports commentators thought—he seemed to lure the ball out of the air and against his chest.
    And he looked damned sexy doing it.
    Although it was hazardous to her libido—how could she watch him jump and grunt and run and sweat and not get turned on?—she couldn’t make herself walk the hundred steps home.
    At least he was having a good time. That was what mattered.
    Will caught another pass and ran it out of bounds, enjoying the exertion.
    Then Devon called a time-out and pulled everyone, including the three members of the opposing team, into a huddle. “Is she watching? Good. Will, take your shirt off. The way we see it, you need to play some offense here. As long as you’re just playing D, you’re going to lose.”
    Nods all around.
    “You told everyone?” Will glared at his best friend.
    Devon shrugged. “You give in, and we wear pink. It’s our asses on the line.”
    More nods.
    “Except mine, of course, because I’m only an usher,” Chris grumbled.
    “Let’s face it, man. You don’t stand a chance. Lissy is…well, Lissy is one fine female.”
    “Extremely hot,” Chris added.
    “She’s…whoa, yeah…hot,” stammered Robert.
    “A total babe,” Scott agreed.
    “I’d do her,” Nick said, acting surprised when Will glared at him. “What?”
    “What are you guys suggesting? You want me to cheat?”
    “Not cheat,” Devon said, smiling from behind his mirrored sunglasses. “Just turn up the heat on your woman. Play to win.”
    The idea had its appeal. Will wasn’t looking forward to two weeks of sleeping alone and solo sex. He glanced at Lissy, caught her smile, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. I agreed to this, and I’m just going to have to ride it out.”
    “Just take off your shirt, man, then go fetch a beer.”
    Nods.
    Hadn’t he had the same thought last night?
    Play to win .
    “Do you know how weird it feels to hear you say that, Devon? ‘Take off your shirt.’” Despite the niggling of his conscience, Will yanked the sweaty T-shirt over his head. “If I catch you eyeing me, dude, I’ll kick your ass.”
    He sauntered over to where Lissy sat in the shade, tossed the T-shirt on the ground and reached into the cooler for a cold one. “How you doing, sugar? Hot day.”
    “Yeah.” Her gaze was fixed on his pecs.
     
    Lissy dropped the chicken strips into the wok and stirred them, her blood sizzling hotter than the pungent sesame oil. Watching him play a hard game of football, all those delicious muscles shifting and bunching beneath his sweat-slick skin, had left her wishing she’d never suggested this stupid bet. She’d be in the shower with him right now, running her hands over those luscious muscles, washing that spicy man-sweat away, instead of stewing in her own pheromones in the kitchen.
    Why had she gotten herself into this?
    You wouldn’t be the first woman to confuse a man’s sexual attention with love, Melisande. Just wait till he gets his fill of you and the hormones wear off .
    Is that what had happened to her mother? Had she married her father in the afterglow of an orgasm only to regret it later? Lissy had always known her parents’ marriage was an unhappy one, but she’d never understood how unhappy it was until she’d left home, watched other couples and seen her parents from the outside. They were angry, bitter, worn.
    Even when she’d been a little girl they’d slept in separate bedrooms, lived separate lives, coming together only when occasion demanded. She knew her father had fooled around with other women, his unfaithfulness seeming to rob her mother of what remained of her youth. No amount of money had been able to fill the void between them.
    But Lissy’s relationship with Will was nothing like theirs. She and Will truly loved each other, loved spending time with each other. They earned about the same amount of money, held similar jobs, had similar interests. She would