time!"
And—"Alan, you're not following through with your kick like I
showed you. You've got to follow through or the ball is not going to have the
proper momentum."
Or—"You're wasting valuable seconds, not to mention energy,
by pulling your foot back so far before swinging it forward for the kick. Your
opponents are going to have you flat on your back before you know what hit
you." She demonstrated, for the thousandth time, the proper method.
"Snap, place, step, kick. One, two, three, kick. Got that? Now you do it.
Get some rhythm going."
"I'm a kicker, not a dancer," Alan complained.
"More's the pity,"
she retorted. "Now, either get your act together, or I'm going to suggest
dance lessons for you at Arthur Murray's!"
She'd only worked with Alan for five days, two since he'd begun to
cooperate, when the team headed to Indianapolis for their final preseason game
against the Colts. Alan had improved minimally, and Jess wasn't holding out
much hope as yet. However, as his new coach, she more or less had to go along,
if only to bolster his morale and lend last-minute advice. Additionally, she
would gather more material for her article, and would have a free front-row
seat on the team bench. All in all, she figured it was a pretty good deal.
Rather than fly such a short distance, the team manager had rented
buses for the drive to Indianapolis. Some of the guys opted to go in their own
cars, as did Ty. His ex-wife and son lived there, and he intended to spend some
extra time with the child. Everyone naturally assumed Jess would be traveling
with Ty. Not that she minded. She hadn't been looking forward to a
cramped three-hour bus ride, listening to off-color jokes and off-key singing.
Nor had she wanted to drive the distance herself, or get stuck riding with the
cheerleading squad.
To accommodate Ty's desire to spend as much of the weekend with
his son as possible, he and Jess were driving over on Saturday, hours ahead of
most of the team. When Ty stopped by early that morning, Jess was set to go,
her bag packed and stowed in the trunk of his car, which she was still driving
as per their wager.
She answered the door to find Ty decked out in well-worn jeans and
a cobalt blue shirt, a color that made his intriguing indigo eyes seem all the
more mesmerizing. Perhaps that was why the lyrics of an old song popped
immediately into her mind, and why a fiery tongue of desire skipped up her
spine at the mere sight of him. Yes, the handsome devil knocking at her door
did, indeed, have blue eyes and blue jeans! Not to mention shaggy sun-blond
hair that simply begged a woman to run her fingers through it. Now, if he
started whispering sweet nothings, she was going to flip out!
"Ready?" he asked. "I'm really looking forward to
this. Something tells me we're going to have a devil of a good time this
weekend."
At his words, Jess's eyes went wide and her mouth dry. His
phrasing was close enough to the lyrics in that song, that it was downright
eerie! As if he'd read her mind, or somehow had the very same tune running
through his brain. She shook her head. No, that was impossible—wasn't it? If
not, she was a goner for sure, because this man was tempting enough, without
their subconscious minds trying to get in on the act and weaken her already
flagging resistance to him. He was Seduction with a capital S, or to
coin another expression, "to-die-for," and Jess knew she was
teetering on the edge of disaster, one step away from falling for him like the
proverbial rock.
"Hey! Are you okay?" he questioned with concern.
"You look a little pale, like you've seen a ghost or something."
"Or something," she murmured, trying to get her senses
back under control before she made an absolute fool of herself. "It's
nothing, really," she assured him. "Let's get going."
Ty held out his hand for his keys. "I'll drive, if you don't
mind, especially since we're taking my car."
She turned the keys over to him. "Okay, but you owe me an
extra two
And—"Alan, you're not following through with your kick like I
showed you. You've got to follow through or the ball is not going to have the
proper momentum."
Or—"You're wasting valuable seconds, not to mention energy,
by pulling your foot back so far before swinging it forward for the kick. Your
opponents are going to have you flat on your back before you know what hit
you." She demonstrated, for the thousandth time, the proper method.
"Snap, place, step, kick. One, two, three, kick. Got that? Now you do it.
Get some rhythm going."
"I'm a kicker, not a dancer," Alan complained.
"More's the pity,"
she retorted. "Now, either get your act together, or I'm going to suggest
dance lessons for you at Arthur Murray's!"
She'd only worked with Alan for five days, two since he'd begun to
cooperate, when the team headed to Indianapolis for their final preseason game
against the Colts. Alan had improved minimally, and Jess wasn't holding out
much hope as yet. However, as his new coach, she more or less had to go along,
if only to bolster his morale and lend last-minute advice. Additionally, she
would gather more material for her article, and would have a free front-row
seat on the team bench. All in all, she figured it was a pretty good deal.
Rather than fly such a short distance, the team manager had rented
buses for the drive to Indianapolis. Some of the guys opted to go in their own
cars, as did Ty. His ex-wife and son lived there, and he intended to spend some
extra time with the child. Everyone naturally assumed Jess would be traveling
with Ty. Not that she minded. She hadn't been looking forward to a
cramped three-hour bus ride, listening to off-color jokes and off-key singing.
Nor had she wanted to drive the distance herself, or get stuck riding with the
cheerleading squad.
To accommodate Ty's desire to spend as much of the weekend with
his son as possible, he and Jess were driving over on Saturday, hours ahead of
most of the team. When Ty stopped by early that morning, Jess was set to go,
her bag packed and stowed in the trunk of his car, which she was still driving
as per their wager.
She answered the door to find Ty decked out in well-worn jeans and
a cobalt blue shirt, a color that made his intriguing indigo eyes seem all the
more mesmerizing. Perhaps that was why the lyrics of an old song popped
immediately into her mind, and why a fiery tongue of desire skipped up her
spine at the mere sight of him. Yes, the handsome devil knocking at her door
did, indeed, have blue eyes and blue jeans! Not to mention shaggy sun-blond
hair that simply begged a woman to run her fingers through it. Now, if he
started whispering sweet nothings, she was going to flip out!
"Ready?" he asked. "I'm really looking forward to
this. Something tells me we're going to have a devil of a good time this
weekend."
At his words, Jess's eyes went wide and her mouth dry. His
phrasing was close enough to the lyrics in that song, that it was downright
eerie! As if he'd read her mind, or somehow had the very same tune running
through his brain. She shook her head. No, that was impossible—wasn't it? If
not, she was a goner for sure, because this man was tempting enough, without
their subconscious minds trying to get in on the act and weaken her already
flagging resistance to him. He was Seduction with a capital S, or to
coin another expression, "to-die-for," and Jess knew she was
teetering on the edge of disaster, one step away from falling for him like the
proverbial rock.
"Hey! Are you okay?" he questioned with concern.
"You look a little pale, like you've seen a ghost or something."
"Or something," she murmured, trying to get her senses
back under control before she made an absolute fool of herself. "It's
nothing, really," she assured him. "Let's get going."
Ty held out his hand for his keys. "I'll drive, if you don't
mind, especially since we're taking my car."
She turned the keys over to him. "Okay, but you owe me an
extra two
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