The Player's Club: Scott by Cathy Yardley Page A

the guys left.
    Lincoln sighed. “Finn…”
    “I know,” Finn said. “He doesn’t mean it.”
    “He printed up business cards. ” Lincoln grimaced. “I know he’s your cousin, but…”
    “I’ll talk to him.” With that, Finn trotted out.
    “What’s up with them?”
    “Finn and I started this club,” Lincoln said, shrugging. “It’s a long story but, basically, we brought George on kind of early. Let’s just say he has a different vision for the club.”
    “Tappa Kegga Beer meets Bachelor Party? ” Scott observed.
    “Exactly. Anyway, it’s important that you don’t tell anyone, ” Lincoln said. “They’ll kick you out for less. And I hate to say, but some of the club can be sort of vindictive if they think you’ve used the Club as a way to impress people.”
    “Unless you’re one of George’s crew,” Tucker said.
    “Not a problem.” Scott didn’t want to be part of George’s crew.
    “And you need to complete the challenges in the time frame,” Lincoln finished.
    “I know somebody who runs Vision Quests,” a short guy with a pencil-thin mustache said. “Give me your email, I’ll shoot you his website.”
    “Great.”
    “And you’re going to have a list of people who want to go to Pamplona,” Lincoln said, grinning. “I’ll be there, myself.”
    “What about the party?”
    Lincoln eyed the remaining Players. They laughed.
    “Think you’re on your own with that one,” Lincoln said. “If you wanted to BASE jump from the Hoover Dam, we know people. Crashing a party isn’t really my bag.”
    Tucker ran his tongue around his teeth. “Maybe George has some suggestions.”
    “I’ll manage,” Scott said quickly, causing more laughter.
    “All right. Next meeting’s in a week, same time, same place. And again,” Lincoln said sharply. “Don’t. Tell. Anyone. ”
    Scott headed back out to his car, cold, tired and a little blown away. He had one month to go camping out in the Mojave. Crash an epic party. And run with the bulls in Pamplona.
    After his skydiving jaunt last weekend.
    His life had suddenly gotten exponentially more interesting. Who’s the nice guy now, Kayla?
    He glanced at his watch. Three in the morning, and he still had a ways to get home. He yawned. He could really use some sleep.
    Then, as he climbed into his Chevy, he remembered.
    Amanda was at home. Waiting for him. Window open.
    He had another adventure waiting. Wide-awake, he hit the gas and screeched out of the parking lot.
     
     
    AT THREE-FORTY, AMANDA finally fell into a fitful, restless sleep. It had taken about an hour to finally calm down. The mental images of what she’d done buzzed around in her head, surreal, like remembering a vivid dream.
    She’d stalked a neighbor to a seedy club in the industrial district.
    Sneaked in with a lie.
    Danced half-naked in a cage.
    Practically had sex in an out-of-the-way corner…
    She shivered. She wasn’t sure if she was shocked, appalled…or thrilled.
    Tossing one way then the other, she imagined that the bed dipped slightly. A man’s weight. She tensed in reflex.
    Then sighed.
    Breathing deeply, she smelled Scott’s scent—a light mix of sandalwood-inspired cologne and a clean, masculine aroma that she imagined she could become addicted to. She curled, imagining his warmth at her back…the heavy, probing feel of his cock, smoothing against her back legs. She moaned softly, yearning.
    His hands roamed over her hips as he nibbled on the back of her neck. By the time he’d sucked a hot kiss where her neck met her collarbone, his hands had finally discovered her breasts, kneading them gently.
    Her moan was more insistent. Her body throbbed with desire.
    I’m not dreaming.
    She rolled over, her eyes picking out his outline in the dim moonlight. He was staring at her. Then he leaned in, kissing her slowly, tempting her lips, teasing out her tongue to tangle with his.
    “Scott,” she breathed, and fit her naked body to his.
    “I’m sorry I couldn’t