“Everyone gets a headache now and then,” Mac said then wondered why he felt the need to contradict the woman at every turn.
“I don’t,” Darcy said.
Mac wondered if she remembered the exact dates and times. As Darcy’s assistant answered, he managed to keep the snarky question to himself.
“Would you find me an aspirin, Terra? Make it two. No three.” Darcy sighed. “I feel as though half a dozen jackhammers are playing chopsticks on my skull.”
“You never get a headache,” Terra said, the distress in her voice palpable.
“I know.” Darcy shot Mac an, I told you so look.
“Aspirin might upset your stomach.” Terra sighed. “I’ll find something else.”
“Whatever you get, stock up.” Darcy kept her gaze locked with Mac’s. “I have the sinking feeling that today’s pain in my head is just the beginning of things to come.”
“I should go.” Rising to his feet, Mac gave her a bland smile. “We’ll continue our discussion another day.”
“Yes, we will.” Darcy nodded. “Keep one thing in mind, Mr. McClain. While I welcome your opinion, in the end, I decide who the Knights draft in May, not you. Am I clear?”
“As glass, Ms. Stratham,” Mac muttered. He paused on his way out. “May I add one thing?”
“Can I stop you?” she countered.
“Probably not.”
“Then add away, Mr. McClain. As I said, your opinion is welcome.”
Mac might have laughed at her endless ability to jab at him without raising a sweat. Unfortunately, the moment he entered Darcy’s office, he lost his sense of humor.
“Earlier, you wondered if the reason I missed our appointment yesterday was to purposely make you angry.” Mac smiled. “Don’t worry. Ms. Stratham. When I want to piss you off, you won’t have any doubts. I’ll do it right to your face.”
Picking up the file Mac had left on her desk, Darcy walked toward him, slapping the folder onto his chest with enough force to get his full attention. Seeing a flare of heat in her normally cool blue eyes, he decided the pain was worth seeing a break in her all too controlled persona.
“Why don’t you shove—” Darcy cut herself off, the fire in her gaze turning icy again in a blink. “Please study the information I compiled, Mr. McClain—before we talk again.”
An elusive scent—whisper soft and more intoxicating than the most expensive perfume—assailed Mac’s senses. Rain, he thought. Glancing out the window at the clear blue sky he was perplexed when the fragrance hit him again. Leaning imperceptibly closer, he realized the woman in front of him, not a sudden storm, was the source.
How could Darcy smell like a summer shower? He didn’t like her. He certainly didn’t want her. And yet, his heart raced, pounding hard in his chest and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
“Damn you,” he growled under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
Frowning, Darcy took a step toward him. In a moment of panic, Mac retreated, his back hitting the door with a dull thud. He needed to get away and as fast as possible.
“You’ve turned white as a sheet,” Darcy said as Mac fumbled for the doorknob, twisting the metal with all his might. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine.”
“But—”
Mac pushed through the door without a thought as to how his hasty exit looked. Taking the stairs, he burst into the building’s lobby and rushed out to the parking lot. Raising his face to the sun, he breathed deeply, willing his heart to a manageable beat.
“What the hell just happened?” Mac scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just my imagination. I do not want Darcy Stratham.”
Making his way to his car, Mac repeated the words, turning them into a chant, a mantra he was determined not to forget.
“I must have caught a whiff of her shampoo. Or the body wash she uses,” Mac assured himself.
Unsettled, Mac sat behind the wheel and closed his eyes. The scent of rain always had a calming effect on him. Always. Why was here and now any different?
Mac sighed, starting the car’s engine. He blamed Darcy and felt better for the decision—unwarranted or not. He knew the woman was trouble the second he laid eyes on her.
Today had been an anomaly—a visceral reaction to a familiar stimulus. Nothing more. Sex, desire, need. They were not emotions he would or could associate with Darcy. Another time, another life, maybe. Not in the world he inhabited.
Darcy Stratham was off-limits. To think of her in any other way would be a disaster.
CHAPTER SEVEN
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
“ENOUGH!” DARCY CRIED. She rubbed her eyes with one hand as she reached for the bottle of Advil with the other. The pain reliever medicine had become her friend and constant companion since Joshua McClain crashed into her life.
“Mind sharing?”
McClain asked the question before Darcy could pop a pill into her mouth the same way she would a piece of candy. Realizing how dependent she’d become, she closed the lid and settled on the deep breathing exercise she’d found online. Some theory about the more oxygen your brain received the less likely the blood vessels would constrict. So far, she wasn’t impressed by the results.
Darcy held out the bottle. At least the headache he caused her was mutual. She hated to suffer alone.
“Here,” she said, rattling the contents.
“Set it on the desk.”
Frowning, Darcy did as McClain asked. The furrow in her brow deepened as she watched him shake out three pills and down them with several gulps of water. Something was off in his behavior, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
Not her problem, Darcy decided. They weren’t friends, they were colleagues. Because she was his boss, if McClain wanted to talk, she’d listen. Unless his non-work-related problems began to affect the team, she wouldn’t push or probe into his private life.
“Anything wrong?” Darcy asked, happy with the generic tone of her question. She opened the door. McClain could either step through or not.
“No,” he said. His lip curled—ever so slightly—into a sneer. “Anything wrong with you, Ms. Stratham?”
And just like that, with one sarcastic quip, the Joshua McClain she’d come to know, and dislike was back. Suddenly, Darcy felt tired.
Concentrate on the work, she reminded herself. Nothing else matters.
“I didn’t have time to print out the projections on the players I think we should consider cutting from the team. Bring your chair over by mine so you can see the computer screen.”
Darcy rolled her chair to the right, making room for McClain. When he didn’t move, she closed her eyes and counted to ten.
“Email me a copy,” he said with a shrug.
“I will. However, since you’re here, I wanted to get your opinion.” Darcy waited, but he didn’t budge. “Would you prefer I made all the decisions on my own? Because I would be within my rights to do so. A cut here, a cut there. Save money, build the team my way. In fact—”
“Fine,” McClain huffed as he rolled to his feet. “You made your point. And then some. Never met anyone so in love with the sound of the English language.”
“Meaning what?” Darcy asked as he moved, leaving a good six-inch buffer between their chairs.
“You use ten words when two will do,” McClain said with a snort.
Darcy didn’t know whether to laugh or slap the smug expression off his face. Considering her job and how physical retaliation might be considered bad form, she settled on more words to make her point.
“What I do is called communication, Mr. McClain. As our team’s head coach, it’s a skill I hope you’ve mastered.”
“Athletes are simple creatures, Ms. Stratham,” McClain said. “Throw the ball, catch the ball. Tackle. Run. Fast. Faster. My language is clean, precise, and easy to understand.”
“In other words, your athlete’s bra
in is incapable of interpreting any word over three syllables?” Darcy asked with a saccharine smile plastered on her lips.
“Did you just call me a dumb jock?”
Pretty much, Darcy thought.
“I simply interpreted what you told me.” She batted her eyes—innocence personified. “If I misunderstood, I apologize.”
“I graduated from Stanford.” McClain sounded as defensive as he looked. “Pre-law.”
Darcy was aware of McClain’s academic record. He maintained a high GPA while making the college football All-American Team. Impressive. But she didn’t feel the need to stroke his already inflated ego. He seemed to think they were equals and perhaps it was her fault that he hadn’t grasped the dynamics of their relationship.
“I can play the bitch card if you prefer, Mr. McClain.” Darcy shrugged. “Not my favorite method, but effective.”
“I’m sure.” McClain nodded.
“You may not believe me, but the controlling, take no prisoners Ice Queen persona doesn’t come naturally. It’s hard being nasty all the time.” Darcy sighed. “I’d hoped to make a fresh start here in Seattle. Will you let me? Or will we be at odds, every day, until one of us breaks?”
Something flickered McClain’s eyes. Sympathy? Guilt? Darcy couldn’t tell. When he spoke, he almost sounded contrite.
“Be yourself,” he said, then smiled. “Do what comes naturally. Somehow I doubt you’re a gooey marshmallow.”
Laughing, Darcy shook her head.
“Marshmallows don’t get far in the business of professional sports. I’m…” She searched for the right word. “Tenacious. Dogged. Determined.”
“Good qualities.” McClain nodded. “Anything else.”
“Loyal.” Darcy saw the flair of surprise in his eyes. “Trust me, Mr. McClain. Work with me. Stop doubting me. In return, I will have your back. No matter what.”
“Will you?” McClain seemed intrigued by the idea.
“Yes.”
“What if I blow up a building? Or kick a dog? Or—”
“You couldn’t let the moment linger, could you? You had to add a ridiculous caveat.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “Do you have plans I should know about? Are you about to become a bomber? Or a serial dog kicker?”
“Seems unlikely,” McClain said, lips twitching. “I simply like to know where I stand.”
“Let’s agree. If you engage in murder or animal cruelty, I won’t be on your side.” Darcy tapped the computer screen. “Now, can we get back to work?”
McClain took out a pair of reading glasses. Rather than detract from his good looks, the black rims gave him a sexy, professorial vibe that sent a tingle of awareness through Darcy’s body.
Well, damn. Now was not the time for her to notice Joshua McClain was a man.
“Show me what you’ve got,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Darcy blinked.
McClain looked as uncomfortable as Darcy felt, though, for the life of her, she couldn’t think why either of them should squirm. Show me what you’ve got did not qualify as a provocative sentence. Yet, here they were. Acting like awkward teenagers, not professional adults.
Annoyed at the path of her thoughts, Darcy put the brakes on—hard. She’d worked almost exclusively with men for over twenty years and not once had she let herself wander from a straight and narrow path. The last thing she needed was to let a minor blip of hormones ruin her record.
Darcy decided to take matters into her own hands. With a push, she eliminated the gap between their chairs, the force of impact knocking her into McClain. She ignored the brush of his arm against hers.
“You can’t see anything from over there.” Determined to prove she was a sensible adult, she added, “Lean closer.”
McClain cleared his throat but didn’t protest. Moving his head next to hers, they studied the list of names in silence. Darcy tried to concentrate and she would have succeeded—if he didn’t pick that moment to take a deep breath.
Did he just smell my hair? Darcy couldn’t be certain, but every instinct said she was right.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Working,” he replied, innocent as can be.
Darcy should have let the moment pass. She should have made an excuse and ended the meeting. What she should have done and what she did, were two different things.
“You sniffed at me,” she said.
Expecting McClain to deny her accusation, she waited. And waited.
“Well?” Darcy asked, pushing for an answer.
“You smell,” McClain rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m mean, you have an odor.”
An odor? Alarmed, Darcy raised her arm to her nose. She’d showered, her clothes were clean.
“I didn’t mean you stink. Just that— Rain.” McClain groaned. “Forget I said anything.”
Was he joking? First, he said she smelled. Then, accused her of possessing some odd, potentially offensive odor. Then uttered the word rain and she was supposed to forget? Not likely.
“Let’s stop.” Darcy stood. “I’ll send you the list of names and my notes on each one.”
“Email,” McClain muttered as his long strides ate up the distance across the office. “Could have followed my suggestion before and saved us both a lot of trouble.”
“Unbelievable,” Darcy said as McClain shut the door behind him. “No question about it. The man is certifiably peculiar.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
“YOU FELT A tiny tingle. So what?” Piper sat on Darcy’s bed, munching potato chips and watching her put away her freshly washed laundry. “Joshua McClain has oomph. Sexy, sex appeal. You reacted to a pretty face and a hot body. Big deal You’re only human. Besides, nobody ever died from a little shiver up the spine.”
“The day I was hired for my first job, I turned off my shiver button. During office hours, I don’t see men, I see sexless worker bees. Drones. Nothing more.” Darcy arranged her clean, rolled-up socks in the drawer with studious care. “McClain, and his glasses and ripped blue jeans and his snarky attitude, aren’t any different.”
“You didn’t say his jeans were ripped.” Piper popped another chip in her mouth, her interest peaked. “Where? How many?”
“Three. The knee and thigh on one leg, just the knee on the other.” When Darcy realized the amount of detail she’d committed to memory concerning McClain’s choice of clothing, she gave herself a mental shake. “What is wrong with me?”
“You have a little work crush. On a guy who can rock the ripped jeans without looking like a lame poser.” Piper said, fanning herself. “Perfectly normal.”
“Not for me.” Darcy collapsed, sprawling onto the bed. “And I don’t have a crush. How could I? The man is seriously weird.”
“Right. The sniffing incident.” Piper nodded. “I admit, telling a woman she smells and has an odor aren’t likely to make her swoon with desire.”
“No kidding,” Darcy said.
“McClain strikes me as a smooth operator—from what I’ve read about him.” A slow grin formed on Piper’s lips. “Only one answer. Big, bad Joshua McClain is flustered by little, old you.”
“I’d be happier if he were just weird.”
“Weird would be easier,” Piper said. “I mean, who among us doesn’t have a little oddball lurking under the surface? Given the right circumstances, quirky can be cute.”
“Is Levi Reynolds an oddball?” Darcy asked. Desperate to turn the conversation away from Joshua McClain, she pounced on an easy target; Piper and her man-friend. “He must be quirky because he’s seriously cute.”
“True,” Piper conceded. “A cutie and a sweetheart. If we had the least bit of sexual chemistry, I’d be on him like a tick on a hound dog.”
“Sex is overrated,” Darcy said.
“Not if done properly.”
“Mm.” Darcy sighed. “The problem is, I don’t have the time or patience to waste my t
ime finding out if a man is a stud or a dud. Easier to rely on my battery-powered friend.”
“In a pinch, but not as a steady diet.” Piper closed her eyes and made a happy humming sound. “Nothing beats the feel of hot flesh on hot flesh.”
“The whole point is moot where Joshua McClain is concerned.” With a thoughtful expression, Darcy grabbed a handful of chips and munched. “Let’s say the whole sniffing incident hadn’t occurred. And, theoretically, the man didn’t know how to get on my last nerve. Nothing changes the basic facts. Any kind of hanky panky with McClain would be disastrous for both our careers.”
“Why?”
Darcy gaped at Piper.
“You need me to spell out the reasons?”
“Yes, please,” Piper said. “You’re the general manager. He’s the head coach. Are there any rules that state you can’t fool around?”
“Probably,” Darcy said with a frown. “Since I’m the first woman to hold the job, I don’t suppose the question has come up before.”
“Professional sports have been around for years. Can’t you imagine a scenario where a little man-on-man fooling around has occurred?”
“Possibly.” Darcy shrugged. “Yes or no, it doesn’t matter, not to me. Not to my situation. Let me add, for clarification, I am not interested in Joshua McClain. I’m simply—”
“Horny?”
“Sometimes.” Darcy laughed. “Now and then.”
“Too bad you didn’t meet for the first time in a bar. Two anonymous people, one hot, anonymous hookup.”
Too bad, indeed, Darcy thought. In her experience, life wasn’t so simple. A one-night stand sounded cut and dried, but what if she and McClain had met last month? Or even a year ago? She didn’t want to think about how awkward and cringe-worthy the moment would have been when they discovered each other’s identities.
“Running into a fling you never expected to see again is bad enough. But when he turns out to be someone you work with?” Darcy shuddered. “Thank goodness the Gods aren’t quite so malicious.”
“You and McClain are going away for the week.”
“On business,” Darcy reminded Piper. “Separate rooms, separate floors.”
The Devil Wears Blue Jeans (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 1) Page 7
