Tackled by the Girl Next Door (2 page)

Sam drank her coffee and finished her donut while Jason flipped through pre-game shows, most of them giving piss-poor predictions of the afternoon games.

“You’re doing it again,” she said.

“What?”

“Arguing with the television.”

“So.” He hated poor commentary.

“If you miss the game so much, maybe you should find a job to keep you in football, like coaching or commentating.”

“I’m not ready.” He needed to start making plans for his future but wanted to enjoy the transition period from a regimented schedule of practices and games to the less scripted life of a thirty-four-year-old ex-athlete a little while longer.

“Sorry,” Sam said.

“No problem. You’re the last person I feel pressure from. That’s why I like watching the games in your living room.”

“I thought it was for the free beer and homemade chili at lunch.”

“That too.”

“Do you mind if I run for a few miles while you watch the game? You can turn up the volume if the treadmill’s too loud.”

“Run?”

She nodded and, ponytail swishing, punched him in the arm. “Apparently, you don’t know everything about me. I try to get in three miles by seven a.m. Alex and I went running every morning before his deployment. Our best conversations occurred as the sun rose. After he died, I kept at it. Kevin’s antics ruined my sleep last night, and I didn’t wake in time.”

“Go ahead. I’ll cheer you on.”

“Maybe I can get you moving at the crack of dawn now that your knee is better.” She walked over to the treadmill in the corner of the room.

“Maybe.” He could no longer run fast enough or turn sharp enough to catch passes, but he could cover three miles running at an easy pace.

The game was starting and he’d been looking forward to this match up all week. He shut everything out and concentrated on the television. San Francisco versus Houston. He mentally ran through the line-up and tried to anticipate the plays. The face of Houston’s rookie wide receiver who’d been called up from the practice squad filled the screen. San Fran’s defense would be chomping at the bit for a piece of the kid.
Better be prepared to get hit like you’ve never been hit before.
His knee twinged. He missed the camaraderie of the locker room, but he didn’t miss waking up the morning after a game day feeling like a Mack truck ran him over.

The treadmill hummed in the background. When Sam started running, her feet created a drumbeat rhythm. He turned up the volume to drown out the sound. A few minutes later, he glanced back at Sam to ask if she wanted some water from the kitchen. His eyes froze on the image behind him. Someone had stolen Sam and replaced her with a knockout in black Lycra shorts, sporting rock solid abs and breasts attempting to escape the skimpy jog bra. Where did those breasts come from? Sam didn’t have breasts, did she? She’d always dressed in baggy sweatshirts, sweaters, or those hideous boxy suits she wore to work.

When she smiled at him, he noticed a dot of chocolate he’d missed at the corner of her mouth. Damn, he was hungry. Heat shot straight to his groin, creating an unwelcome inferno.

“Sweet.” She punched the air in front of her as her body continued to move on the treadmill like a swimsuit model, curves and muscles and everything good about the female form.

She pointed at the television.

The game? “What happened?”

“First down, Houston.”

He turned his head in time to see the replay. Right. First down. Rodney completed the pass. Nice. The screen flashed to Rodney downing a sports drink by the bench. Maybe Sam needed a drink too. He turned back around to offer her water again. She continued jogging and her breasts continued to move hypnotically and the chocolate remained on her lips. He couldn’t remember what he needed to ask her.

“Jason?”

“Huh?”

“The game is that way.” She directed him back to the television.

“Right.” Forcing his head to face the screen, he tried to rid himself of Sam’s sensual image. Sam was the girl next door. His best friend. Sanctuary. Sanctuary did not have perfect breasts and long legs that could easily fit around him.

She cheered again, and he refocused on the game. Touchdown. Right. How long would she be running? He’d miss the whole game if she stayed on the treadmill for much longer.

After he missed two interceptions, another touchdown, and a field goal, she finally stopped the damn machine.

“I’ll be back by the end of halftime. I need a quick shower. Do you want anything before I go upstairs?”

“Nope. Take your time.” He had to be overtired. Sam was not an object to lust over.

While she was gone, he cleaned up the coffee cups and placed the donuts in the kitchen. It was only eleven o’clock, but he needed a beer. He also needed something to rid his mind of Sexy Sam. After emptying her dishwasher and wiping down the counters and the kitchen table, he took the trash outside.

When he returned to the couch, she’d morphed back into the Sam he’d grown up with, wearing jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. The chocolate and her breasts had disappeared, but he now knew her shapeless sweatshirt hid something amazing. Her feet, however, were on display. He’d never noticed them before. Tiny feet with red nail polish.

She leaned over to him and nudged him in the gut. “You should go to bed.”

Bed? With her? Yes.
No
. “What?”

“You’re acting all goofy. You must be tired from last night too. Maybe you should take a nap.”

“I’m good. Just watch the game, O’Brien.”

“Fine.” Her hand fell next to his thigh, high enough to graze his ass. The resulting electric shock sizzled his nerve endings. For a petite woman, she sure took up a lot of space on the couch. He shifted his hips over so her fingers didn’t touch him.

He stared at the television, but his brain and every other part of his anatomy were focused on the woman beside him. Joe Thompson, the announcer, screamed something as the crowd roared in the stadium. “What happened?”

“Interception, San Francisco. Where’s your mind this morning?”

“Did you ever experience something in a completely different way than you’d ever experienced it in the past?”

“Sure. I hated champagne when I was a kid. One day I took a sip and appreciated the amazing taste. Maybe I wasn’t ready for it before.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, and he bit his tongue to avoid taking her in his arms and tasting her lips to see if any chocolate lingered there. He’d definitely developed an appreciation for all of Samantha O’Brien, and that realization scared the hell out of him.

Chapter Three

Monday

On Monday evening, Sam slid the pan of brownies out of the oven and bustled around the kitchen cleaning up the mess she’d created. After eight hours spent crunching numbers for a company that cared more about their bottom line than the welfare of their employees, she’d opened the bottle of her favorite red early and enjoyed a glass as she cooked. Tomato sauce simmered in a pot on top of the stove. Pasta boiled in water beside it, the rapidly breaking bubbles reminding her of Kevin’s temper. He hadn’t returned home since stomping out of the yard on Saturday night and hadn’t responded to her call. Typical. When his temper boiled over, he tended to shut out whomever he deemed the cause for the explosion. Stony silence would reign until his anger cooled.

She eyed the timer. Five minutes to change. She ran to her bedroom and shed the confines of her business suit. Dinner with Jason would take her mind off the frustration of her day.

The soft cable-knit sweater cuddled her body like a warm hug. She tugged on jeans and ran a brush through her hair and then padded back to the kitchen. One minute to spare. She poured herself a second glass of wine.

Jason knocked on the kitchen window and came in through the back door. “Smells good in here.”

“Perfect timing. Pasta’s done. Just in time for opening kickoff.” She silenced the timer and emptied the water and pasta into the colander. The rising steam bathed her face.

“Need some help?”

“No. I’ve got it. Why don’t you pour yourself some wine?” She turned and bumped into him.

His huge hands closed around her arms, and then he released her like she was a sizzling pot and backed away. “Careful.”

“You okay?” She frowned at his grunt.

He poured his glass of merlot with stilted movements unlike his usual easy grace. His odd behavior throughout Sunday’s game started after she’d made that stupid comment about him finding a new occupation. Was he angry? His father badgered him enough about his future, he didn’t need it from her too.

Awkwardness shrank her appetite. She plated noodles and sauce and watched him pace the small room.

The back door banged open. Kevin marched in, a defiant scowl darkening his features.

Sam inhaled a short, deep breath and smiled.
No more drama.
“Dinner’s ready, Kev. I’ll get you a plate.”

“Don’t bother. I’m not staying.” His stony glare twisted her stomach into knots.

“But you’ve been gone since Saturday.” Her frustration returned with his attitude.

“It’s my break. I can spend it any way I want. And I don’t want to spend it here.”

So much for time together. She swallowed. Anger and hurt swirled together. Kevin’s last Thanksgiving before graduation. Who knew where next year would take him? She needed to keep the peace if it killed her.

Jason’s glass clinked hard against the countertop. He grabbed the plates and shoved them at her. “Take these into the living room. I’ll be right there.”

Her brows rose at his commanding tone, but taking a moment to compose herself and collect her thoughts would be wise. She nodded and went into the adjoining room.

“That scene in the front yard, Kev? Not cool at all.” Jason’s voice, though lowered, carried in from the kitchen and stopped Sam in her tracks.

“Tell me about it. I can’t believe Sam was so stubborn.”

“Not Sam. She was right. You were out of line.”

Kevin snorted. “Come on, man. She embarrassed me in front of my teammates. You were a jock in college, you understand how it is.”

“I understand a lot, including how to control my temper and how to treat a woman. She’s half your size. You need to apologize. Do you understand all your sister does for you? All she’s given up for you?”

“I didn’t ask her to move home five years ago. Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.” Their father had walked out when Kevin was an infant, but child abandonment wasn’t an excuse to act like a jerk.

“You’re right. But if you ever put your hands on her again, I’ll deal with you, and believe me, you won’t like it.”

Sam released her white-knuckled hold on the plates, setting them on the coffee table. She appreciated Jason’s protective side, but the steel in his voice surprised her. Kevin stomped past her and headed up the stairs.

Jason stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding the wineglasses. The glint in his eyes stole her breath. She crossed to him and with shaky fingers, claimed her glass. A large swallow helped dull the raw edges of her nerves.

With thundering footsteps, Kevin jogged down the stairs. He carried the small duffel bag he used during his visits home. “Later.”

The front door banged closed behind him. Within seconds, an engine revved. Sam glanced out the bay window. Her sedan backed out of the driveway and sped down the street.

“That little...”

Jason’s features hardened to granite. His hand fisted at his side. “Want me to go after him?”

“No. Let him go for now. But I’ll need my car to get to work tomorrow.”

“If he’s not back, you can use my truck.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. Jason always had her back.

“Let’s eat. Game’s underway.”

After placing the bottle of wine on the end table, she settled beside him on the floor. Their thighs touched and sparks of awareness spread into her core. She twirled pasta on her fork. The tangy sauce stung her tongue.

“I added some red pepper flakes. I hope you like it spicy.”

“You have no idea.” His gaze dropped to her lips and then lowered to his plate. He cleared his throat and focused on the TV.

They’d shared countless meals over the years. Everything felt nice and easy with him by her side, but she wanted more. Friendship with Jason was wonderful, but the sparks that flew whenever he touched her hinted at something explosive and amazing. More than anything, she wanted fireworks. She hadn’t been with anyone since Alex died. Losing her mom and then taking care of Kevin consumed her life. But ever since Jason moved back, imagining being together with him was too easy, too perfect, too right. Too bad he didn’t see her that way.

She tapped her foot against his. “I remember you doing the color commentating live from the booth while you were on the injury list last season. You did a great job. Doesn’t hurt that the camera loves you.”

“Thanks.” His foot shifted away.

“Should be a good game tonight. The media coverage has been touting it as the biggest game of the week. One of the best rivalries in football.”

“Yeah.” A commercial for pizza flowed into a commercial for coffee, but he kept his focus on the screen.

His one-word answers unsettled her more than Kevin’s behavior. Berating herself for mentioning the commentating again, she gulped another mouthful of wine. Alienating Jason wasn’t something she ever wanted to do. She had to fix it.