The Last Honest Man: A Sports Romance (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 3)

head. He couldn’t take credit for his good looks; the dark hair and eyes, like his other features, came from his father’s side of the family. The fact that his parent’s genes combined in a way that others found pleasing was just the luck of the draw.
As for his body, Dylan kept in shape because to play professional football in the twenty-first century, an athlete needed every advantage he could get. To stay at the top of his game—to hold off the ravages of time and hold back the new crop of eager rookies who nipped at his heels each year—he worked out as though his life were on the line.
Dylan chuckled to himself. Life or death. Not a bad analogy considering the murder he often saw in the eyes of the other team’s defensive line.
As Dylan casually took a drink of water, he noticed the flicker of annoyance in Sasha’s eyes and stifled a sigh. He knew what she wanted and though he found her need to have her ego stroked one of her least endearing qualities, tonight his desire for her body surpassed everything else.
“You’re a beautiful woman,” Dylan began, not the least surprised when his casual compliment made Sasha beam with delight. “Soft, fragrant skin. Smooth, gentle curves. A delight to touch. A pleasure to hold. Plus, you’re an inventive lover. With you, I’m never bored.”
“I should think not,” Sasha scoffed. “I’m good. Correction. I’m spectacular. I’m also a sure thing—at least where you’re concerned. Which brings me to my point.”
“Finally.”
Sasha continued as though she hadn’t heard Dylan’s good-humored mutter.
“Why do you always bring me to a fancy restaurant? Why buy a bottle of expensive wine that only I enjoy? Wear a suit and tie. Expect me to dress to the nines.”
“Wear jeans and a t-shirt,” Dylan told her in complete sincerity. His gaze sparked with interest as Sasha crossed one long, bare, shapely leg over the other. The movement forced her already short skirt a few interesting inches higher. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the view. But if you aren’t comfortable with a little pre-sex wining and dining, all you need to do is let me know.”
“What woman doesn’t like to wear her best frock and have a handsome, influential man take her to a place most people can’t afford, let alone secure a reservation at the last moment?” Sasha asked.
“And yet, you seem less than content with your surroundings,” Dylan pointed out.
“I have no complaints,” Sasha told him. “Later, after we go to bed, I plan to blatantly wallow in contented afterglow. What I don’t understand is why do you bother with the pretty trappings when all you want is sex?”
She had a good point, Dylan thought. And yet, he’d never been the kind of man who liked to fall into bed without preamble. If they were in a serious relationship, one where they talked, exchanged philosophies, shared the intricacies of their personal lives, he could imagine passion getting the better of him. Such was not the case with Sasha.
Months would pass and Dylan wouldn’t spare the beautiful woman a thought. Then, like tonight, he found himself at loose ends. Restless. Unlike most of the women he knew, Sasha didn’t care if his call came at the last minute. If she was free, great. If not, he didn’t get angry. He had neither the right nor the emotional investment, to feel anything but a temporary and mild disappointment.
“I thought you liked to dress up and hit the town.” Dylan shrugged. “If you prefer, in the future we can forego dinner and drinks. When I call, just let me know.”
“Fancy is good.” Leaning closer, Sasha laid her hand on his. “Why don’t you call more often? I haven’t seen you for months. Long before you won the Super Bowl.”
“I didn’t win the game,” Dylan pointed out. “The Knights’ victory was a team effort.”
“Whatever,” she said with a wave of her hand. As expected, Sasha wasn’t interested in semantics. Her cat-like eyes narrowed. “Experience has taught me how much you enjoy sex. Because we meet infrequently, I can’t be the only bed partner in your life.”
Dylan did see other women but not in the same way as Sasha. Some he dated. Some were friends. He saw no reason to explain the difference.
Suddenly, an uncomfortable thought crossed Dylan’s mind. Until now, everything about their interactions had been casual, fun, and carefree. Tonight, he sensed a change in the air between them.
Were Sasha’s roundabout musings her way of saying her expectations had changed?
“I thought you were satisfied with our arrangement. No strings, no questions, no problem.” Dylan watched her face for a sign his suspicions were on target. “Do you want more?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”
Sasha’s smile seemed genuine. Her words felt sincere. Then again, perhaps her acting lessons were beginning to pay off.
Before Dylan could decide, he was distracted by an incoming call. Checking the screen, he felt a familiar tightness grip the base of his neck and slowly radiate across his shoulders.
“Excuse me for a second,” he told Sasha.
Without waiting for an answer, Dylan exited the room. Finding a quiet corner, he swiped right and raised the phone to his ear.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Dylan.”
One word delivered in a tone he’d come to dread, and he knew what was coming. He loved his mother—dearly and with all his heart. Sylvie Montgomery was good, gentle, and kind. She was also a pushover where her oldest son was concerned. Dylan, on the other hand, after years of enabling and cleaning up his brother’s messes, had reached his limit. No more.
“Is Tanner’s life in danger?”
Sylvie’s silence was more telling than a thousand words.
“Unless he’s literally on the brink of death, I don’t want to know.”
“But—”
“I’m serious, Mom. Damnit.” Dylan heard the harshness in his voice and willed himself to temper his tone and reminded himself of who was on the other end of the line. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Promise?” Sylvie asked. “You won’t forget?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Dylan asked without