rubbing her back as he breathed in the distinctly sunshiny scent of Carly. His lips itched to brush over the top of her head, but he knew not to go there.
What the hell had happened to her in there?
Had someone said something about her past? Her ex-fiancé? Whatever had happened, Shane was going to kill the offending sonofabitch with his bare hands.
Releasing a breath, Carly took a step back. She patted her hands against his chest—almost as if to assure herself he was real—before slowly raising her eyes to meet his. Instead of being wide with fear, they were know tinged with the same smoky passion he was sure was reflected in his own eyes.
God, he wanted to kiss her. Right there in the hallway of the Channel Three studios. At that moment, he didn’t care about his career with the Blaze. Or about breaking Bruce Devlin’s remaining records. All Shane cared about was sinking into her luscious mouth. Carly gnawed on her bottom lip and Shane would have kissed her had she not taken another step away from him. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from dragging her back into his arms.
“Do you wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Shane hadn’t intended for the question to sound so terse, but he was feeling pretty charged up.
Carly took another step back, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the studio behind them. “It was nothing,” she said, lifting her chin up a notch.
Nothing my ass.
Shane arched an eyebrow at her, his hands now on his hips. “Carly . . .” he said. But she was backing away from him.
“I need to get my bag out of the station manager’s office and you need to be back at the training facility for the mandatory conditioning session,” she said as she backed down the hallway. “I’ll see you back there.” With a wave, she disappeared around the corner, leaving Shane standing there wondering—not for the first time with Carly—what exactly had just happened.
* * *
Kids were running amok in the Blaze offices. Shane watched from his table as Carly shepherded a group of toddlers through the Blaze commissary, clutching their tiny hands as another Blaze staffer dispensed frozen yogurt into cups for the kiddies. Their precious treat in hand, Carly led them to a table overlooking the Blaze practice field. The chairs—built specially for large athletes—were so enormous, she and her partner had to lift each child into a seat, their stubby legs dangling precariously above the floor. The sight looked as ridiculous as the time he and some teammates struggled to fit into the tiny chairs in a kindergarten class his former team had forced Shane to visit.
Leaning back on the two back legs of his chair, Shane took in the scene. Carly was dressed in khaki shorts and a fitted Blaze golf shirt, her hair neatly pulled back in some kind of braid. He hadn’t seen her since the incident at the television studio earlier in the week. The remaining media commitments were national and Asia was handling them now that she was back at work full-time. Fortunately, the major sports writers focused most of their questions on the
x
’s and
o
’s of football, steering clear of his personal life. The final stages of the Blaze media campaign had been easy for him, in more ways than one.
Carly was all smiles dealing with the kids, handing out napkins and dispensing spoons and sprinkles. She looked like she was actually enjoying catering to the little ankle-biters. Shane wasn’t much for kids. His agent, Roscoe, had a pair of twin boys aged somewhere between diapers and kindergarten. The few times he’d been around them, he’d ended up with some sort of food product or worse stuck to his clothing. Shane shuddered at the thought. Although, watching Carly gently stroke her hand over a little towheaded boy stirred something inside him.
Probably just feeling jealous of the little bugger
. Shane took a pull from his protein shake as Carly walked over to his table.
“Can I grab this chair?” she
What the hell had happened to her in there?
Had someone said something about her past? Her ex-fiancé? Whatever had happened, Shane was going to kill the offending sonofabitch with his bare hands.
Releasing a breath, Carly took a step back. She patted her hands against his chest—almost as if to assure herself he was real—before slowly raising her eyes to meet his. Instead of being wide with fear, they were know tinged with the same smoky passion he was sure was reflected in his own eyes.
God, he wanted to kiss her. Right there in the hallway of the Channel Three studios. At that moment, he didn’t care about his career with the Blaze. Or about breaking Bruce Devlin’s remaining records. All Shane cared about was sinking into her luscious mouth. Carly gnawed on her bottom lip and Shane would have kissed her had she not taken another step away from him. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from dragging her back into his arms.
“Do you wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Shane hadn’t intended for the question to sound so terse, but he was feeling pretty charged up.
Carly took another step back, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the studio behind them. “It was nothing,” she said, lifting her chin up a notch.
Nothing my ass.
Shane arched an eyebrow at her, his hands now on his hips. “Carly . . .” he said. But she was backing away from him.
“I need to get my bag out of the station manager’s office and you need to be back at the training facility for the mandatory conditioning session,” she said as she backed down the hallway. “I’ll see you back there.” With a wave, she disappeared around the corner, leaving Shane standing there wondering—not for the first time with Carly—what exactly had just happened.
* * *
Kids were running amok in the Blaze offices. Shane watched from his table as Carly shepherded a group of toddlers through the Blaze commissary, clutching their tiny hands as another Blaze staffer dispensed frozen yogurt into cups for the kiddies. Their precious treat in hand, Carly led them to a table overlooking the Blaze practice field. The chairs—built specially for large athletes—were so enormous, she and her partner had to lift each child into a seat, their stubby legs dangling precariously above the floor. The sight looked as ridiculous as the time he and some teammates struggled to fit into the tiny chairs in a kindergarten class his former team had forced Shane to visit.
Leaning back on the two back legs of his chair, Shane took in the scene. Carly was dressed in khaki shorts and a fitted Blaze golf shirt, her hair neatly pulled back in some kind of braid. He hadn’t seen her since the incident at the television studio earlier in the week. The remaining media commitments were national and Asia was handling them now that she was back at work full-time. Fortunately, the major sports writers focused most of their questions on the
x
’s and
o
’s of football, steering clear of his personal life. The final stages of the Blaze media campaign had been easy for him, in more ways than one.
Carly was all smiles dealing with the kids, handing out napkins and dispensing spoons and sprinkles. She looked like she was actually enjoying catering to the little ankle-biters. Shane wasn’t much for kids. His agent, Roscoe, had a pair of twin boys aged somewhere between diapers and kindergarten. The few times he’d been around them, he’d ended up with some sort of food product or worse stuck to his clothing. Shane shuddered at the thought. Although, watching Carly gently stroke her hand over a little towheaded boy stirred something inside him.
Probably just feeling jealous of the little bugger
. Shane took a pull from his protein shake as Carly walked over to his table.
“Can I grab this chair?” she
Similar Books
