reporter,” she said, scooting over to put a little distance between them. He smelled of sweat and the outdoors, an odor that was normally an aphrodisiac to her. She scolded herself for even going there, especially because her evaluation of this guy was leaning toward scumbag.
He extended his hand. “Larry Trevelli. I’ve been coaching the Cougars going on five years now.”
She reached for his hand, noticing it was as smooth as hers. “Jordan McAllister. I work at the Globe .”
His eyes brightened. “You doing a story on us?”
“Kind of,” she lied. The less he knew, the better. “I’d like to interview your quarterback.”
Trevelli put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Young, get over here,” he hollered, before turning back to Jordan. “You should have said that in the first place. I would have given you locker room access.”
Jordan gritted her teeth, remembering how she’d had to get used to male nudity a long time ago when she’d covered the Texas Longhorns. What was it about men that gave them the green light to flaunt their junk to anyone passing by? Women, even women athletes, might let you see them in a bra and panties but not their birthday suits.
“Yeah, Coach?”
Jordan stared up at Derrick Young. He didn’t look like a girl beater, although she had no idea what one actually looked like. The quarterback stood about six two with sixpack abs not entirely hidden under his half shirt. His thick brown hair curled on the ends and framed his hazel eyes, highlighted with eye black to stop the glare. No wonder Brittney was so enamored of him.
“Derrick, this is Jordan McAllister from the Globe . She’s doing a story on the team and wants to have a few words with you.”
The young quarterback squirted water into his mouth from his squeeze bottle before meeting Jordan’s eyes. “What do you want to know?”
Jordan squirmed, figuring he weighed somewhere around 220 pounds without one ounce of fat anywhere on his body, which only infuriated her more. Brittney didn’t stand a chance against him. She swallowed hard, thinking even someone as well built as J. T. would’ve been way out of his league by at least 30 pounds. Wondering if he’d put up a fight, she lowered her eyes to check out Derrick’s hands for scratches or anything that might indicate he’d been involved.
There were none.
She needed to loosen Derrick up before she went in for the kill, a tactic she’d learned from Brett before he’d dumped her. Come to think of it, he’d used that same technique on her—loosened her up, then darn near killed her.
“You’re quite a talent,” she stated, knowing men of any age couldn’t resist a compliment. When his smile verified he was no different, she continued, “I read about you last night. Found out you broke all the records at your high school in San Antonio.”
She saw the first sign of a smile in his eyes. “Not just my high school,” he said, his face now lighting up with excitement. “I shattered most of the records in the city. Even broke Joey Malone’s long-standing one for touchdown passes in a single season.” He paused as if to watch her reaction. She obliged and returned the smile.
“I even broke my own record—twice,” he added.
Yeah, like you tried to break Brittney’s bones.
Jordan forced herself to maintain the fake smile. “Fantastic! I’m guessing you had a lot of scholarship offers.” She leaned closer. “Why’d you pick Grayson County College with all the Division I schools knocking on your door?”
Derrick’s mouth dropped, and he turned to his coach.
“Because we offered him the best chance for breaking into the NFL,” Trevelli answered for him. “At any of those other schools, he would have been just another really good player. Here in Connor, he’s on the front page of the two newspapers every week. Even makes the Dallas Tribune at least twice a month.”
What kind of idiot did they think she was? Who in their right mind
He extended his hand. “Larry Trevelli. I’ve been coaching the Cougars going on five years now.”
She reached for his hand, noticing it was as smooth as hers. “Jordan McAllister. I work at the Globe .”
His eyes brightened. “You doing a story on us?”
“Kind of,” she lied. The less he knew, the better. “I’d like to interview your quarterback.”
Trevelli put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Young, get over here,” he hollered, before turning back to Jordan. “You should have said that in the first place. I would have given you locker room access.”
Jordan gritted her teeth, remembering how she’d had to get used to male nudity a long time ago when she’d covered the Texas Longhorns. What was it about men that gave them the green light to flaunt their junk to anyone passing by? Women, even women athletes, might let you see them in a bra and panties but not their birthday suits.
“Yeah, Coach?”
Jordan stared up at Derrick Young. He didn’t look like a girl beater, although she had no idea what one actually looked like. The quarterback stood about six two with sixpack abs not entirely hidden under his half shirt. His thick brown hair curled on the ends and framed his hazel eyes, highlighted with eye black to stop the glare. No wonder Brittney was so enamored of him.
“Derrick, this is Jordan McAllister from the Globe . She’s doing a story on the team and wants to have a few words with you.”
The young quarterback squirted water into his mouth from his squeeze bottle before meeting Jordan’s eyes. “What do you want to know?”
Jordan squirmed, figuring he weighed somewhere around 220 pounds without one ounce of fat anywhere on his body, which only infuriated her more. Brittney didn’t stand a chance against him. She swallowed hard, thinking even someone as well built as J. T. would’ve been way out of his league by at least 30 pounds. Wondering if he’d put up a fight, she lowered her eyes to check out Derrick’s hands for scratches or anything that might indicate he’d been involved.
There were none.
She needed to loosen Derrick up before she went in for the kill, a tactic she’d learned from Brett before he’d dumped her. Come to think of it, he’d used that same technique on her—loosened her up, then darn near killed her.
“You’re quite a talent,” she stated, knowing men of any age couldn’t resist a compliment. When his smile verified he was no different, she continued, “I read about you last night. Found out you broke all the records at your high school in San Antonio.”
She saw the first sign of a smile in his eyes. “Not just my high school,” he said, his face now lighting up with excitement. “I shattered most of the records in the city. Even broke Joey Malone’s long-standing one for touchdown passes in a single season.” He paused as if to watch her reaction. She obliged and returned the smile.
“I even broke my own record—twice,” he added.
Yeah, like you tried to break Brittney’s bones.
Jordan forced herself to maintain the fake smile. “Fantastic! I’m guessing you had a lot of scholarship offers.” She leaned closer. “Why’d you pick Grayson County College with all the Division I schools knocking on your door?”
Derrick’s mouth dropped, and he turned to his coach.
“Because we offered him the best chance for breaking into the NFL,” Trevelli answered for him. “At any of those other schools, he would have been just another really good player. Here in Connor, he’s on the front page of the two newspapers every week. Even makes the Dallas Tribune at least twice a month.”
What kind of idiot did they think she was? Who in their right mind
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