TouchBack (BWWM, Billionaire, Sports, Pregnancy) by Tamara Adams

1.
     
     
     
     
                  Stockard finished a set of chest presses and sat up on the weight bench. He was only half way through  his daily workout but he was already feeling restless. He'd done these exercises a thousand times. He was in peak physical condition. At the height of his career. And he was welcomed with open arms by the movie stars, rock stars and politicians of the world.
                  Then why the heck was he so bored?
                  He swigged some water and ran a fresh towel over his neck.
                  Stockard remembered growing up on his parent's farm. There was so much to do on one hand and nothing to do at all on the other. Especially for a teenage boy who only wanted to chase girls. But he'd never been bored.
                  Not for a second.
                  But now? Boredom was the story of his life. The only time he felt the haze of disinterest lift was at game time. Then he was firing on all cylinders. But the rest of the time, he felt… well, bored.
                  He stared at the white washed gym that was reserved for player training. Where had all the color gone? He lived in an expensive condo not too far from the stadium. It was tastefully decorated in neutral tones by the decorator he'd hired.
                  Barbara something or other.
                  He was pretty sure he'd slept with her but he couldn't quite remember. That's how bad things were getting. He didn't date during the season. Sex was a distraction. But lately he couldn't recall the last time he dated off season either.
                  The thought of taking some woman out to dinner just to take her to bed was something that didn't interest him in the least. It's not that he didn't like women. It's just that they made it too easy for him. He knew that with his big green eyes and hard body he was attractive to the opposite sex to begin with. Money and fame had only made things worse.
                  Much worse.
                  He sighed and leaned back again. Five sets to go. Maybe he'd call it a day early. Go home and relax.
                  The thought did nothing to lift his spirits however.
     
     
     
     
     
    **********
     
     
     
                  Veronica parked outside the stadium and stared up at the structure. She pulled down the visor and checked her makeup. It's not that she cared what she looked like. She was just killing time while she gathered her nerve.
                  After all, it was only the most important day of her life.
                  She'd sailed through college and a grad degree with flying colors. Top of her class at a top Ivy League school. But once it came to get a job in the real world, things got much more difficult. She'd watched in awe as her less qualified classmates got prestigious assignments one by one.
                  That's when she started to panic. Things were tougher for women in general, and even more so for a minority woman. It was shameful, but true. She was going to have to work twice as hard as anybody else.
                  Her life depended on it.
                  She had tremendous student debt, despite having won numerous scholarships over the years. Never mind that she didn't have a rich mommy and daddy to fall back on like most of her classmates. And now she was in New York City, living in the world's tiniest apartment with two other girls from grad school.
                  They'd easily gotten jobs, or at least, internships. So when the second rent bill had come around, taking almost every penny she had left, Veronica had lowered her standards and started applying for every single job even relatively close to her field.
                  That's how she had ended up at the NYC Post News . It was the biggest, the loudest, the