Game Plan by Karla Doyle Page A

her was fun and interesting. But holy hell, let them get to the getting-naked stuff soon.
    “Strike!” She did a little jump and wiggle thing, then cruised back to him. “That turkey makes it game. You want another rematch?”
    “Hell no.” He yanked her onto his lap. Thrust up against her ass while brushing his lips along her jaw. “It’s hard to bowl in this condition.”
    “Oh?” She gave a little grind. “ Oh. I guess that might be a problem if you use a standard approach. You could assume the straddle position and roll the ball through your legs.”
    “Rearrange that last sentence a bit and I’m all over it.” A simple tug on her waist had her pressed up tight to his chest. Close enough to kiss, something he’d wanted to do all night. Her lips opened the tiniest bit. Soft, pink and moist from her tongue. His cock jerked in its denim prison, desperate to get inside her—anywhere, everywhere—and find release. One kiss suitable for a public audience wasn’t going to cut it.
    “Andrea Finch, I knew it was you.” The voice came from a woman beating a path toward them, a reluctant male in tow. “Didn’t I tell you, John? I said, ‘that woman over there looks like Scott Finch’s wife’.”
    Mason cocked an eyebrow at the beauty he wasn’t going to get to kiss. “Andrea?”
    “Don’t you ever call me that,” she whispered, and extricated herself from his lap.
    He’d be a gentleman and stand beside her—in a couple of minutes. Whoever these people were, they probably wouldn’t appreciate looking at bulging proof of his affection toward Andie. Plus, she’d put herself in front of him, her ass in his direct sightline. A winning view for him.
    Andie shook the man’s hand, then stuffed hers in her jeans’ pockets. No handshake for the woman, whose face said she got that message, loud and clear.
    “It’s ex-wife, Judy. And I go by Andie, I always have.” She turned her attention to Judy’s husband. “How’re you, John? Busy with lots of cases?”
    Another burn for Judy. Mason faked a cough to hide his smile. He and Andie wouldn’t be doubling with John and Judy anytime soon. Fine by him. They looked about as much fun as a trip to the accountant. From the conversation, John practiced law. So did Andie’s ex, though not at the same firm. More good-to-know details.
    “You haven’t introduced us to your friend, Andie .” Judy didn’t seem to care that she’d cut her husband off midsentence. “Apparently Scott got all the manners in your divorce settlement.”
    What a nasty bitch. Mason rose from the chair to stand close behind Andie. Nobody got to shit on her while he was around.
    “That’s right. Scott got the book of etiquette. I got the sex toys. And your poor husband probably got arthritis inputting that list in the divorce papers.”
    “I’m not sure it was the typing, but my wrist did get plenty tired,” John said with a grin. Judy turned fire-engine red and practically spit flames. It was fucking priceless. Andie didn’t need a protector—she did just fine on her own. Soft and feisty. Fuck, that was hot.
    Mason reached around Andie and shook John’s hand. “Mason Lang. If I ever need a lawyer, I’ll look you up.” To be polite, he offered his hand to John’s wife. She looked at it as if he were offering a dead fish. No shake. No problem. He’d rather put it on Andie’s body, anyway. “Andie’s been handing me my ass for the last hour, so we’re calling it a night here. See you around, John. Judy.”
    But Judy wasn’t finished with her bitchfest. “Don’t keep your boyfriend out past his curfew. You wouldn’t want him to get grounded.”
    Angry heat rolled off Andie. In the next seconds, Mason readied for a fight. Not participating, only watching. He’d put every cent he had on Andie. John nixed the cat scrap by hauling Judy away in a less-than-graceful way. Lots of flailing and verbal protests. An uptight bitch like that wouldn’t recognize John’s actions as