Winner For Love

Sinclair didn't much care for

sports, but she figured she could manage the occasional game, especially

if she

could sit between her guys. The man chairs at home had to go—maybe

they could

get one of those sectional things with the seats at either end that reclined.

She'd get the middle seat, and do away with the insert to hold the remotes

and

drinks. She could hold anything that needed holding, and her risqué

thought made

her lips quirk. Candy was right to infer she was turning into someone

obsessed

with sex. But it was more than that, far more. She loved her men with

every

ounce of her being, and once again thanked the powers that be for them

coming

to their senses. Otherwise she'd be someplace else, functioning, but

without

purpose. It should be frightening to realize her happiness was directly

dependent on Ashton and Craig, except it wasn't. She trusted them

wholeheartedly.

Craig's breath stirred her hair,

and Ash traced lazy circles on her calf. Her entire being sparked like a

static charge, and the air caught in her lungs with a

delicious hitch. She was intensely warmed by the heat emanating from

their big

bodies, all muscled, honed from hard work on the ranch. Maybe they didn't

have

to stay for the entire game, although the guys were focused in apparent

rapt

attention on the screen as several large men ran down a smaller man

clutching

the football, and jumped on him. The huffing and crunching sounds made

her

wince, but one by one the yellow jerseys peeled off the red one at the

bottom

of the pile. The announcer babbled in excitement, and Craig said

something