Thrown By Love by Pamela Aares Page A

He meant it. She had a real gusto and athletic moves to match.
She held his hand, then squeezed it and patted his ass. “Told you I like to dig in.” She smiled. “But I prefer receptive territory.”
Maybe women had some sort of radar that told them where to focus their energies.
“He’s quite something,” Alana said, looking over at Royce. “Although I see he’s taken.”
Then again, Scotty hoped Alana’s radar wasn’t operating so well after all.
Royce was leaning toward Chloe. They were talking with a woman with two children in tow. Royce was gesturing in such a way as to make the children giggle and laugh. Chloe laughed too. Then she beamed one of her sweet, beautiful smiles at Royce. Scotty felt heat shoot into him, heat that’d better have an outlet soon or he’d do something rash.
A whistle blew. A man in a referee uniform lifted a megaphone and summoned the volleyball tournament into action. He lined up the players and told them to call off numbers.
Scotty and Royce ended up on the same team as Alana and Chloe. Jackie was on the third team and made a face at him as he took his position in the sand court.
The referee went over the basic rules and scoring. The team who won the first round would play the third team.
Scotty had been elected to serve. Royce and Chloe stood side by side in the front row. Scotty bristled when Royce brushed a leaf off her back. Then he slammed the first serve so hard that it went about fifteen feet out of bounds. Alana flashed him a saucy smile.
“Word has it our server gets paid to aim,” she said in a flirtatious tone. “Must be an off day.”
Chloe tossed her head and turned to face the net.
He focused and his next serve was a perfect blast, but Ribio got to it on the other side and set it up for a woman in the front row. She jumped and batted it over the net. Royce leaped and shot the ball back over the net. No one on the opposing team got to it in time. Royce, grinning, high-fived Chloe.
Scotty didn’t care if the guy was on his team; he wasn’t about to let him show off like that again. If the professor wanted blood, blood it would be.
The ref tossed the ball back to Scotty. He blasted his next serve right into the middle of the opposing team. They scrambled and returned it. It arched high and was coming down to Royce. Though he knew he shouldn’t, Scotty took advantage of the four inches he had on the guy and rushed forward and batted the ball back to the other side.
“Our hero!” Alana shouted.
He saw Chloe turn and mutter something to Alana, though he couldn’t hear her. Ribio spiked the ball back—it barely cleared the net and bulleted straight at Chloe, hitting her square in the shoulder. She spun and tried to get her wrists under it to set it, but her leg twisted in a way Scotty knew all too well. She was going down and going down hard. He dove and broke her fall as she collapsed in the sand.
The ref blew the whistle and all motion stopped. Chloe, blinking slowly, appeared stunned. Scotty leaned down and gently straightened her leg, then wrapped his arm under her to help her up.
“No need to fuss over me,” she said. But the quiver in her voice told him she was in pain. She pushed away from him and tried to stand, but her ankle wouldn’t hold her.
“Lean on me,” he said as he steadied her.
“There’s a first aid kit on the far table,” the ref said.
“I’ll be fine,” Chloe said, brushing sand from her pants. They were those strange pants women wore—not shorts, not pants, some sort of in between that showed her calves. Chloe had lovely calves. But her ankle was already starting to swell.
Scotty helped her walk a couple of steps.
“I insist that you all get back to your game,” she said in a much firmer tone. The players returned to their positions.
“I’ll help,” Royce said.
“No need,” Scotty said, waving him off. “I have years of experience taping twisted ankles.” The last person he wanted around was Royce. He’d already imagined