Blindsided: A Sports Romance (3 page)

The sight of her sends a rush of blood straight to my cock. I wink. Even from several feet away I can see the effect I have on her. I want to rush over there and pick her up. I want to carry her back to my room. I shake my head in disbelief. She’s all I can think about, even though today of all days I seriously need to concentrate. There’s too much at stake not to.

And just as I have that thought and the elevator door opens on my private floor, my phone buzzes. I don’t need to unlock the screen to see that it’s
her
—I can tell from the tone. I’ve set up my phone to play the Imperial March from Star Wars when she calls or texts. It seemed funny in the beginning. Now it’s so appropriate it’s scary.

I also don’t have to look at the screen to see what she’s texting me about. I already know.

Fuck
, I think, as I throw myself down onto the bed.
I do not need this shit today.

I need to fix this, but I can’t think of a way to do that without messing up everything I’ve worked for. There is no nice easy solution; not like in the movies where good intentions mean everything. I’m in serious shit if the league finds out.

When I was a kid, my dad spent several hours outside with me practicing my catches. It didn’t matter that he’d just spent twelve hours on his feet on an assembly line. He wanted me to be the best I could be. And that meant practicing every day. Rain or shine. How can I let her fuck that all up? Just because what, she wants a piece of the action?

No.

I won’t.

An image of Rose floats into my head. I couldn’t think about my other problems even if I wanted to. It’s like she’s some sort of angel, distracting me from everything else in the world.

Before I can change my mind, I roll over and grab the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Thorne, how can I help you today?”

“Actually, I was looking for reception.”

“But you know you don’t need to do that. I’m here to cater to your every need, Mr. Thorne. What can I help you with today?”

I can picture the sleazy smile. I see it a lot. If only these people knew that I don’t see a cent of my salary. And I won’t for a long time.

“You know what? I want to get a female opinion on something. I’d sure appreciate it if you could put me through to the receptionist.”

He sighs. A couple of seconds later I hear her voice.

“Mr. Thorne. This is the front desk.”

“How do you put up with that guy?”

She laughs. “How can I help you today, Mr. Thorne? My colleague mentioned that you were in need of a female opinion?”

“Yeah. You know what? It’s actually an emergency at this point.”

“What is?”

“My…” I scan the room. “My drapes. They won’t open. I need your help.”

She snorts with laughter. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I’m worried, Rose. If I wind up with a vitamin D deficiency, then I’ll have no choice but to sue the hotel. And what then? When you could have avoided this whole problem?”

She clears her throat but I can still hear the smile in her voice when she answers. “And you’ve tried them yourself?”

“No. No, I don’t think I could do that. Please, Rose. I need your help. Save me.”

“Yes, I think you’ve made the right choice. Magnolias might be a little too old-fashioned. Yes, that’s no problem. You have a good day, Mr. Thorne.”

***

I’m still staring bewildered at the phone when there’s a gentle tap at the door.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Rose smiles, almost shyly. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you trapped up here all by yourself with no light.”

I grin and stand aside so she can come in. She does, even though she seems hesitant to enter my domain. “What was that about magnolias? You lost me there.”

“My colleague was doing his best to listen in on our conversation.”

“I’d kill him if he said anything to you.”

She shakes her head and flashes me a grin. “Thanks, but I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”

“Well, hey. I’m here if you need me.”

Rose stares into my eyes and her breath hitches.

“So how’d you get away?” I ask, to distract myself from the urge to grab her and pull her to me.

I need to take it slowly with her—don’t ask me how I know that. I might have been full on with her before, but things have shifted between us. That first day I saw her? That was macho bullshit. This? I don’t know what it is, but I want to win it. Whatever the cost.

“I said I needed to go to the bathroom.”

“What, in my private elevator?” I grin, edging further and further into her personal space. I feel like some kind of predator, but I’m barely conscious of it. It’s like it’s instinctive; the need to get close to her before she runs away.

She rolls her eyes. “No, of course not. No, I went downstairs to the staff area and took the elevator from there.”

“Oh. Why lie?”

She winces.

“Sorry, did I say—”

“No,” she says, waving her hand. “No, it’s nothing. It’s dumb. I guess I…”

She trails off, staring up at me in silence.

“So…” she whispers.

“So.”

I stare at her face. I hadn’t seen the smattering of freckles that run across her cheeks and nose. I smile. I’ve always had a thing for freckles. Her top lip quivers. I glance down. Once I focus on her lips, I find I can’t look away. They’re full and plump, especially her bottom lip.

I dip my head. Our faces are only inches apart now. I lean forward and kiss her, brushing my lips against hers. They’re as soft as they look. Soft and sweet-scented.

She gasps, eyes widening. She pulls away and bites her lip. It looks like an unconscious movement, but the effect it has on me is instant and deadly. I pull her to me, circling her waist with my hands. My kisses aren’t feather-light this time. Her lips part and I explore her hot mouth with my tongue, only barely maintaining control over my urge to throw her down on my bed.

We have plenty of time. There’s no sense in rushing—I want to savor her.

“I can’t,” she gasps, pulling away. “I’ve got to get back.”

So much for having plenty of time. “Oh, come on, Cinderella. Stay a while?”

She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me to her. But then she freezes again.

“No, I really need to get back there. Geri is covering for me.”

“It’s good experience for Geri. Multi-tasking. Prioritizing.”

She laughs. “You’re so full of shit. The poor girl will be run off her feet.” She walks toward the door.

“Meet me tonight? Dinner? You can choose the place.”

“I’m working until midnight.” She looks disappointed.

I shrug. “Tomorrow.”

She sighs. “I can’t. I’ve made plans with a girlfriend.”

“The day after? The day after that? Sunday two weeks from now? I’m very flexible.”

“The day after tomorrow sounds good,” she grins.

I wake with a smile on my face and Jake still in my mind as if I was dreaming about him all night. I can’t believe the effect this stranger is having on me.

But there’s no time to loll around in bed and daydream—regardless of the unfamiliar heat that’s surging through my core. There’s cereal to be poured and untidy clothes to be straightened.

I push myself out of bed, promising myself that I can take a long steamy shower once Sam has left for school. I’m working the late shift today, so I’m not due at work until midday. That’s plenty of time to work out my frustrations over Mr. Thorne. Because there’s no way I’m going to allow myself to go to work in this pent-up state—otherwise I know I’ll do something I’ll end up regretting.

I squeeze my eyes closed. Why is it that even the thought of him sends my mind to places it shouldn’t be going? Like his body. I don’t usually imagine male guests naked. And it wasn’t like he was wearing anything remarkable—just jeans and a shirt. So why can’t I stop thinking about those strong shoulders and wondering how ripped his abs are?

The sound of explosions coming from the living room soon wakes me up. It’s almost time for school. We need to move.

“Hey, little man. How are you doing today? Come on. It’s your first week back. We don’t want to be late.”

Sam grunts at me from the couch where he’s totally engrossed in whatever shooting game he’s into right now. Luckily he and his friends share, because there’s no way I’d be able to sustain his videogame habit otherwise.

“What did we say about playing videogames before school?” I try to make my voice sound stern, but I just know he sees through it. I don’t care if it’s sappy: I love the little guy with all my heart and I don’t like stopping him doing what he wants.

And then I think back eight years. If only there had been somebody there to discipline my headstrong self. But no. No. Then I might not have had Sam.

“Sam,” I say again. “Put down the videogame.”

“It’s not a videogame, Mom,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s War of Centuries.”

“Which is a videogame, right?” I turn and shuffle to the kitchen to make his breakfast.

“Nobody calls it that anymore. Well, only old people. Like Miss Kincaid. And you.”

Well that’s me told, then. I guess when I was eight, twenty-four seemed absolutely ancient.

“C’mon, kiddo. What did I tell you? Switch that… thingummy off and come eat breakfast. You’ll be late for school.”

“I’ve already eaten,” he says, casting a guilty look over his shoulder before returning his attention to the TV screen.

I slam the bowl onto the bench. “Sam.”

I try not to lose my cool with the kid and most times I succeed. After all, he’s the only person I have in this world and it’s my job to take care of him. But there’s one thing I can’t stand.

Maybe that’s to do with Sam’s father.

“I love you, babe. There’s no way you’ll get pregnant…”

Hey, I was sixteen. I didn’t know any better. Not that I’d have it any other way. Life without Sam wouldn’t be any life at all. We’ve grown up together, me and him. A lot has changed since that morning my math teacher Ms. Bell told me to go with her to the principal’s office. Instead of berating me for something like I’d expected, they sat me down and gently told me that what I’d assumed was a stubborn case of stomach flu might be a lot more life-changing than that.

“I’ll stand by you, babe.”

Yeah, that had lasted until he grew tired of my expanding belly and non-existent sex drive.

So you can understand why I won’t tolerate being lied to. Not even by the person I love most in the world.

He knows I’m pissed—I can tell by the stillness of his little body and the silence in the room.

“Sam,” I repeat. “I know you. If you’d already eaten, the sink would be covered in milk and soggy cereal. There’d be puddles all over the bench.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispers, coming over and sitting on the stool in front of me. “I thought if you believed me, then I’d get to play for longer. I’m trying to beat Kevin’s high score. He’s kicking my butt.”

“What did I tell you about lying, Sam?”

He sighs, peeking out at me from under the mop of hair he won’t let me cut. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do it again, okay?” To be fair, the kid doesn’t make a habit of it. But I don’t want him turning into one of those people whose word means nothing. Because that’s the most important thing we’ve got, right?

He shakes his head, the picture of contrition. “I won’t. Mom, are you gonna lecture me? Because I don’t want to miss the bus.”

***

I roll my eyes and top up Van’s coffee. “Honestly, it was like this moment of realization. I’m turning into a boring mom. I thought I was teaching the kid principles. But I’m something to roll his eyes at. Oh. My. God.”

Van laughs and shakes her head. “Oh come on, Rose. That’s so not true. You’re twenty-four years old. You’re as cool as they come. You just… if you let him have his own way all the time then he’d go to school in his underwear and eat cookies and ice cream for every single meal. Just because you steer him in the right direction doesn’t make you a boring mom.”

I lean on the counter and sigh. “I’m all the kid’s got. I don’t want to nag him, but sometimes I feel like I want to wrap him up in cotton wool and protect him from the world. How do I do it? Like those stupid games—why won’t he see that he should be studying instead of frying his brain?”

Van shrugs. “I’m sorry, girl. I can’t help with the parenting dilemmas. What do I know? The only thing that’s fallen out of me is Jackson’s drunk dick.”

I wince. “Seriously? It’s barely nine in the morning.”

“Truth hurts,” she says, with a serious look on her face. Seconds later, she bursts into peals of laughter—that’s Van. She can never stay serious for very long. “Look, what I lack in parenting advice, I make up for in good times and cocktail knowledge. I have a proposal. Why don’t we make girls’ night in a girls’ night out?”

I shrug. “I don’t mind staying in. Actually, I’d prefer—”

Van narrows her eyes. “Boring mom.”

I wince. “That’s low. But even if I wanted to go out, it’s too late to find somebody to watch Sam.”

Van grins widely. “I’ve already precleared it with my mom.”

I shake my head. This woman is more organized than anyone I know. “How’d you know I’d be in a weird mood? Psychic powers?”

“No,” she says. “I woke up this morning and thought it’s been way too long since we had a night out together. I asked her then.” She leans closer and scrutinizes me. “But now that you mention it, you do seem weird.”

I wave my hand. “It’s this Sam stuff. Sometimes it bugs the hell out of me that I can’t get it right no matter how hard I try.”

Van nibbles her lip. “No, that’s not what it is. There’s something… Rose, have you gotten laid?”

A chill ripples through me. I don’t know why, but that question immediately makes me think of Jake. “No, of course not.”

“You sure? Your eyes are all sparkly. You know I’m usually right about these things.”

I roll my eyes as I finish the last of my coffee. “Van, I think I’d know about it if I’d gotten laid?” But I can’t meet her eyes. It feels like I’m lying to her, even though I’m not. I can’t remember the last time I even kissed a guy, let alone slept with one.

“Okay, whatever,” Van says, eying me suspiciously like she’s still trying to figure me out.

What am I supposed to tell her? It’s not like there’s a story—there’s just a tall, handsome guest who’s a bit flirty, that’s all. It happens all the time, so why is this guy any different?

I know why.

I actually like this guy.

“Jeez, Rose. I may have been wrong about you getting laid.”

Thank fuck for that.

“But there’s something up,” she continues. “It’s like your head’s in a completely different place. What’s going on?”

“Work stuff,” I bluster. It’s technically true, after all.

She stands and reaches for her purse. “Well, snap out of it. We’re going out tonight. So plan what you’re gonna wear.”

“I’m working until seven.”

“So? That’s not late. Fletch’s is open ‘til three.”

“I’ve got nothing to wear.”

“I’ll bring you a dress.”

“I’d rather curl up on the couch and watch movies.”

“Rose,” she says, coming around the counter and looking as if she’s going to tackle me to the ground. “You think you’re gonna meet a guy cooped up in here and dressed like that?” She gestures to my sweats, and it’s not in a favorable way.

Van is glamorous with a capital G. She co-owns her own publicity company with her boyfriend, so she’s always attending glitzy events. She’s got the best closet of anyone I know.

“You’ve got a point,” I admit. “But what if I don’t want to meet a guy? Huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, a hookup then. Come on. Let your hair down. Call me when you’re leaving the hotel and I’ll come and meet you here.”

“Okay, fine.” I find myself agreeing even though I don’t want a random hookup. Well I do, but only with one guy in particular. And I don’t think we’re gonna find him in Fletch’s. Not unless he’s a banker in disguise. And with that body? I just know he’s not.

Although, come to think of it… How did he get to look like that by checking out hotel rooms undercover? Does he benchpress the beds or something?

Van snaps her fingers in front of my face and pulls me out of my thoughts. “You call me, you hear? If you don’t, I’m going to come to the hotel and drag you out by the hair. So help me god.”

I shudder. I know she’ll follow through.

“I promise.”