Line of Scrimmage (20 page)

“Now that’s where you’re wrong. Oh, maybe some of them, but the rest of them? Uh-uh. They see right to the heart of you.”

“Nice sentiments,” he said. “But that’s all they are. Anyway, can we please put that subject to bed?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Not to worry. I’m good. Just get me those construction contracts to sign.”

“I will. Thanks again.” She held up her hand when he reached for his crutches. “Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out. Thanks for the delicious cookies.”

“You can thank Erin if you see her. She did the shopping.”

“I will. See you soon.” She opened the door to leave, then stopped and turned. “You know, you’ve got quite a treasure there, from what I can see. Maybe you should do something to try and hang onto her.”

He blew out a breath. “Don’t I know it. But somehow I don’t seem to be her cup of tea.”

“Well, just try making yourself into another blend. Be a shame to lose her. See you.”

Jake sat in his chair, staring at the empty doorway for a long moment, Lynne’s words replaying in his head. He wished Erin could see him the way Lynne Corday and the people at Good Shepard did. But then he was a different person when he was there.

Damn it! He wished he knew exactly what it was that had soured her on football players in general and him in particular.

He slammed his hand down on the desk hard enough to make the metal dishes holding paper clips and pens jump and rattle. But all he got out of that was a sore hand, and he couldn’t afford any more injuries.

* * * *

Erin had just finished setting the alarm codes after showing Lynne Corday out when she heard the clinking and rattling in the den.

Lord, what now?

She hurried down the short hallway and into the room in time to see Jake holding his right hand and grimacing.

“What did you do?” she asked, and hurried over to inspect the damage. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine.” He pulled his hand close to his chest.

“Then why are you making such a face? Here, let me look.” She grabbed his hand before he could protest and turned it over so she could inspect it for damage. “Well, it’s a little red on the edge, but it doesn’t appear you’ve broken anything.”

“Lucky me.” He sounded like a wounded bear.

“I’m going to get you some ice to put on it. Keep it on for ten minutes, then ten off, back and forth for about an hour and you should be good. If it still hurts later, we’ll do it again.”

“What’s with the ‘we’ business? It’s my hand.”

She nodded. “Which you banged up by doing something stupid, I’m sure.”

“I want to go back to my room,” he told her.

She gave a short barking laugh. “You sound like a little kid. If you don’t want to stay in here, how about going out to the patio? The one off the living room for a change. It’s a really nice day, and you’ve been pretty much hiding from the fresh air. Come on, I’ll bring your ice out there.” She grinned. “And if you’re a good boy, I’ll bring you some more cookies.”

“If you make that a beer instead, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“A beer? Sure. You’ve been off the pain meds a while so I don’t see any harm.” She had to restrain herself from offering to help him with his crutches. The doctor had said he needed to do as much for himself as possible and hopefully the sore hand he’d hit wouldn’t make things difficult for him.

“That would be a real treat.”

“I’ll meet you out there.”
Don’t ask him if he can make it by himself. Don’t ask him, he’s okay.

She picked up the tray, carried it into the kitchen, then set it on the counter. Before she refilled the plate and got the drinks, she hurried to open the slider to the patio. She had visions of him reaching out with one hand to push it open and taking a tumble. Images of him lying on the floor with only her to help him made her shudder.

She had just placed everything on the tray again when she heard him clumping into the kitchen behind her.

“Hand doing okay?” she asked. “I’m getting the ice for you now.”

“I don’t think I need it. I can tough it out.”

“Don’t be such a guy.” She found a plastic baggy and filled it with crushed ice from the freezer. “It’s okay to say it hurts.”

“Fine.” He barked the reply like an angry dog. “It hurts. Got my beer?”

“Of course. Go sit down and I’ll bring everything out.”

By the time she had them both situated, with a cushioned ottoman for his leg and his hand resting on the bag of ice, he was huffing a little from exertion and stress lined his face.

“Holy fucking shit,” he cursed. “I thought I was in damned good shape. I feel like an old man, and all I did was move around the house a little today and talk to someone.”

“Every effort is stressful.” She twisted off the cap on one bottle of beer. “You were flat on your back for two weeks after the surgery. Then, when you finally got home, you couldn’t do much because of your wrist. Give yourself a break.”

He took the beer she handed him and drank a long swallow from the bottle. “It’s gonna be hell getting back in shape when this cast comes off. I’ll have to work twice as hard as I ever did in spring training.”

Erin sat down across from him and helped herself to a cookie. She bit down and chewed slowly while she tried to figure the best way to answer him.

“I think that’s a bridge you can cross when you get to it.”

He leaned forward. “You sound like you’re not too optimistic about it.”

“Of course I am.” She chased the cookie with a sip of beer. “I just want you to be prepared for whatever it takes.”

“I’m prepared. I’m guessing you’re like everyone else, certain this injury will finish me, but you’re wrong. All of you. I’m determined the crowd will see number twenty-four running out on the field just like always.”

Erin held her tongue. She’d been reading up on his type of injury, very similar to the one that had ended Washington Redskins quarterback Joe Theismann’s career. She didn’t want to hold out false hope to him, but she thought he should be prepared for the same results. Yet he stubbornly refused to even discuss it.

There was something else driving this obsessive need. She just wished she could get him to tell her what it was, because the Jake Russell she was learning about every day was—surprise!—a really good guy. She thought about how miserably he could have treated her, how obnoxious he could have been, and that would have been exactly what she expected. But there didn’t seem to be a trace of arrogance or entitlement, and when he wasn’t bitching about his situation, she actually found herself enjoying his company.

And something else. Something she didn’t even want to recognize or acknowledge or give a name to. That was a dangerous path she didn’t want to follow.

“So,” she said, changing the subject. “What’s on the entertainment schedule for tonight?”

Ouch! That didn’t come out the way she wanted it to. She could see him taking it as a double entendre.

He shrugged. “We’ll see.” His words had a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“Okay, I’ll go inside, turn on the set, and see what’s on right now.” She pushed her chair back from the table.

“Check Pay-Per-View. Maybe they have something R rated on tonight. Or how about the adult channels?”

She looked at him and he was grinning at her.

“I’ll see what’s available. We can watch in the living room. I can make you real comfortable in there.” She winked. “I’ll even make popcorn.”

“Still afraid to be with me in the bedroom, sugar?”

“Of course not.”
Yes, I am.
“I can sit with you in any room in the house.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.

He gave a long, penetrating look, one that seemed to strip off every inch of clothing and leave her bare to his voracious look. Heat crept up her cheeks, and she took another swallow of the cold beer, hoping it would return her temperature to normal.

But not as long as he kept looking at her that way, undressing her with his eyes.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said at last. “I’d like to offer you a little deal. A truce, kind of.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “A deal? A truce?”

“Uh-huh. Let’s forget when we’re alone that I’m a football player and you’re a football player hater.” His lips quirked at that.

“And what will that accomplish?” she asked.

“We’re taking the conflict out of the equation. Cross that invisible line of scrimmage you’ve drawn in the sand. Let’s pretend we’re two people who find themselves sharing a house and who enjoy each other’s company.”

Erin took another bite of her cookie and chewed it slowly. “Do you think we can do that?”

He held out a hand, palm up. “I don’t know, but I think it’s worth a try. We won’t talk about football; we won’t talk about anything related to it. We’ll put away the boxing gloves and see if we can just enjoy each other.”

She mulled that over for a long moment. “And we’ll quit sniping at each other?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I will if you will.” He leaned forward, as much as his position allowed him to. “If you promise not to throw this in my face, I’ll tell you that I like you. You’re smart, savvy, sexy, snarky. All the things I like in a…friend.”

She laughed. “You were going to say woman, right?”

He grinned back at her. “Damn straight. Because there’s no mistaking you are a woman for sure. So what do you think? Want to try this?”

She thought about it for a long time. It would be nice to finally relax. But the sex would always be simmering in the background. How did they handle that? It was there, underlining every word, scoring every touch and every movement.

“It’s not going to go away,” he told her, as if he’d read her thoughts. “It’s up to us if we act on it.”

“Both of us?” she pushed.

He nodded. “That’s the way it works best.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, letting everything tumble in her mind. She’d be taking a real chance here. Being combative with him was the safe way but it was also mentally and emotionally exhausting. Maybe she should try it his way for a while. They could always go back to square one. She hauled in a huge breath and let it out slowly.

“Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

The grin on Jake’s face did funny things to her nerve endings. He held out his hand to shake, and when she took it, heat pulsed through her body like an overheated furnace. Maybe this would be a lot harder than she thought.

What would she do if he knocked down all her barriers and she gave into everything with him? How would she handle it when it all self-destructed? Because she knew damn well that’s exactly what would happen.

“Looking pretty good, Jake.” Joe Reilly shook Jake’s hand, then looked him over from head to toe. “That’s some fancy cast you’ve got.”

Jake had worn khaki shorts since the only way to get jeans or slacks over the bulky device was to cut the seam down the side.

“Bigger than the one you had, I’m thinking.” He tried making a joke out of it.

“Yeah, you have all the fun. Looks like you get around okay, though.” He nodded at the crutches. “Those are a bitch to get used to. I know you’ll be glad to get rid of them.”

Jake was very glad the other man didn’t ask him what the prognosis was. The doctors weren’t saying yet, and Jake was reluctant to ask at this point.

As with Lynne Corday, Jake had chosen to meet in the den, where he could have complete privacy. Not that they were discussing anything that required secrecy, but knowing Erin’s opinion of football players, he didn’t feel like discussing his history with her listening in.

“Thanks.” He gestured to the carafe and mugs on the tray. “Erin decided coffee would be a lot better for us than beer.”

Joe grinned. “Yeah? So this is working out well for you?”

“Uh, it’s working. Let’s leave it at that. Have a seat.”

Joe dropped into the big armchair, putting his briefcase beside him. “Your wrist seems to be fine. What does the doc say about the leg?”

“He’s x-raying it again tomorrow to see what the progress is. If I’m lucky, I’ll get a walking cast. These crutches are a pain in the ass.”

“Don’t rush it,” Joe warned, unconsciously echoing what Lynne Corday had said. “That’s the worst thing you can do.”

“I know.” Jake exhaled. “It’s just so…frightening, I guess. I mean, what the hell am I going to do if in the end I’m done playing ball?”

“I’d say you’re borrowing trouble before you need to. But even if that’s what happens, you’ve got a lot to contribute to the world. You could do something like the coaches conference I put together to train high school coaches on how to grow responsible athletes. You could coach young kids. You could get involved in a lot of the youth programs. If I remember when we were in high school, you used to spend Saturday working with the pony league kids. Leaving football isn’t a death sentence.”

Jake rubbed his forehead. “I guess. It’s just, well, different for me than it is for you.”

Joe frowned. “If you say so, although I don’t see why. Anyway, you’ve got time to worry about that. Let’s talk about this piece I’m doing on you. I got your promo packet from the Mustang media relations director. We’ll go through the outline so I can fill in the blanks. I also plan to interview Coach Fenelli. He’s pretty excited about the whole thing.”

Jake wasn’t sure how excited the coach would be if by the time the event took place his football career was over, but he decided to hold his thoughts. He enjoyed the meeting with Joe and was actually surprised how much time had passed when they wrapped it up.

“I’m excited about this.” Joe stashed everything in his briefcase and snapped it shut. “I’ve reconnected with some of the other guys who live in San Antonio and I may get them involved, too. They think this is a great thing.”

Jake wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else from the team involved if he was a has-been by the time this thing happened. But again he swallowed his words and just thanked Joe for everything. He noticed when the other man rose from the chair he rubbed his thigh, grimacing as if in pain.

“Leg still bother you?” he asked.

“Not so much. Just now and then, especially when I sit for a long time without stretching, but I’m good. Really.”