by Impulsive
"You... you wouldn't dare!" she shrieked.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because... it would be bad for your image. You're one of the Columbus Knights for crying out loud. And knights are supposed to be gallant, and slay dragons, and rescue damsels in distress and all that sort of tripe. They certainly don't abandon helpless women."
"And you actually buy into that line of bull?" he queried curiously.
"Not really, but..."
"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm not going to desert you. I fully intend to spring you, so I can march you up to the office and toss you into the lion's den. I, for one, have had it with snotty, know-it-all, female reporters who feel it's their God-given right to invade anyone's privacy at any time, and in any place or set of circumstances. Sheesh! Next thing you know, a fellow won't even be safe from you in the john!"
Jess gave a haughty huff. "Like I'd want to watch a row of guys whiz on a wall and all over the floor! Yep, that's my idea of prime-time entertainment, all right."
"Hey! Whatever trips your trigger, babe! As long as it's not on my turf." He changed the subject. "Okay, let's give this a try now. You push, and I'll pull. On three. One, two..."
On the count of three, Ty levered the upper corner of the door into place and gave a hefty yank. At the same time, Jess threw her full weight against it from the inside. For a moment, the door still refused to give. Then it emitted an ear-splitting screech and popped open with the velocity of bread from a revved-up toaster.
Ty's momentum sent him crashing into the bench behind him. The bench toppled backward, and Ty with it, as Jess tumbled out of the locker atop him. They landed in a jumble of arms and legs, with Jess's elbow planted squarely in Ty's stomach.
"Ooof!" The air whooshed out of him in a pained gust, and for several seconds, all Ty could do was fight for the next breath and try to nudge Jess's arm aside. At last, swatting a clump of her damp brown hair from his face, he managed to wheeze, "Get off of me!"
Jess, slanted head-first over him, was helpless to do so. She tried, but after being bunched into the locker for so long, her numb limbs refused to obey her mind's commands. Finally, with him shoving at her, she simply slid to the floor at his side and lay there in a limp heap, gulping in breath after grateful breath. Laden though it was with fungal foot spray and other assorted foul scents, the air outside the locker seemed ever so much sweeter than it had from the inside.
"Free at last!" she puffed. "God, it's glorious! I wonder if this is how that poor whale in the movie felt?"
"I have no idea, but he was undoubtedly more graceful and didn't have needle-sharp elbows. I've been tackled by men twice your size and had it hurt less."
"You're not exactly Fred Astaire, yourself, you know. Still, I'm glad you came along and got me out of there. Thank you."
"Your appreciation may wane when I get you upstairs and you have to answer to the big boys," he warned.
"Maybe, but anything's better than being trapped in that sweat box."
He rolled his head to the side and got his first good look at her. She looked like a rain-drenched waif. Stringy brown hair stuck in moist clumps to a face as red and shiny as a ripe apple. Even her chest, above the droopy, sopping-wet T-shirt she wore, was slick with perspiration and tomato-bright. "Are you all right? You look as if you've just spent a week in a sauna."
"No joke, Einstein. That's what it felt like. I think I'm one heartbeat away from heatstroke."
Jess levered herself up on her elbows and closed her eyes as dizziness assailed her. "I really could use a breath of fresh air, some that doesn't reek of mildew and old sneakers. And a glass of water, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."
Ty untangled himself from the bench, rose to his feet, and extended one big hand toward her. "Come on. Let's see if you can stand up without falling on your keister."
He hauled her upright, his features registering surprise as she straightened to within a few inches of his own height. She swayed precariously. Reflexively, he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. "Whoa, gal. Guess I'll have to carry you."
Jess let loose a wobbly chuckle. "Don't make me laugh. You try to lift me, and you'll give yourself a hernia."
"Well, you are tall, but you're all skin and bone. How much can you weigh?"
With that, he bent, hooked one arm behind her knees and lifted her into his arms. His eyes widened as he staggered a couple of steps before regaining his balance.
Jess yelped and squeezed her eyes shut. "Put me down, you fool, before we both end up on the floor again!"
"Oh, clam up, will you?" he grumbled. "Geez, for such a skinny thing, you must pack a lot of muscle. Guess they're right. It does weigh more than fat." He juggled her a bit to better equalize his load, gained a better grip, and stumbled toward the double doors to the hall with Jess clutched tightly to his chest.
"I wonder," he huffed, "if it's recorded anywhere that a knight ever rescued an Amazon?"
Jess hissed a one-word reply. "Wagara."
"How's that?" Ty asked.
"Wagara," she repeated succinctly. "It's an acronym. Each of the letters stands for a word. Figure it out for yourself, hotshot."
CHAPTER 2
Shades of Gone With the Wind! Jess still couldn't believe this was happening. Not to her, and certainly not with someone as handsome and sought-after as Ty James. Never had one of her boyfriends dared pick her up and carry her like this. She was simply too tall, too lanky, for any of them to risk it. Of course, this particular situation was not precipitated by romance, but it was nonetheless a unique experience for Jess.
Unfortunately, she was too apprehensive to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime event to its fullest, especially when Ty reached the end of the hall and despite her protests began trudging up the stairs with her. By the third step, Jess was dizzy. Then Ty teetered slightly on the fifth step, and she went ballistic. On a frantic shriek, her hands balled into fists, each clutching a big wad of his shaggy blond hair, while her arms tightened around his neck to the point of strangling him. "Oh, God!" she wailed. "Put me down! I'll walk! I'll crawl! Just let me down!"
Though he didn't release her, Ty did stop. Leaning against the handrail for support, he craned his head around in an effort to ease her choke-hold on his neck. "Geez, lady! Chill out, will you? My ears are going to be ringing for a week!"
"Down!" she hissed. "Now!"
His lip curled in a derisive smile. "You know, you're one bossy broad. And nothing toasts my Twinkies quite like a bossy broad." He hefted her, as if to toss her in the air, then laughed when she let loose a high-pitched squawk. "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, I remember." Tightening his grip on her, he proceeded up the stairs.
Jess caught a quick glimpse of the long flight of cement steps before she squeezed her eyes shut and shoved her face into his neck. Between hasty prayers, she railed at him. "If you drop me, I swear I'll..."
"I'm not going to drop you. Even if I did, the worst to happen would be your bony butt putting a crack in the concrete."
"Funny. I didn't know gorillas had a sense of humor." A second later, "Don't fall. If we fall..."
"You'd land on top of me, and maybe break a fingernail. Big deal. Besides, if you're so blasted worried, why don't you pipe down and stop wiggling? And it would help if you'd get your thumb out of my left eye so I could see where we're going."
"Sorry." She moved her hand, but kept her grip on his hair. "So, how long have you had this Rhett Butler complex?"
"Didn't know I had one," he wheezed. "But this ought to cure it once and for all."
They stopped again. Jess kept her eyes closed. Waiting. Gulping deep breaths and inhaling the clean, crisp scent of him with each one. He smelled of chlorine, shampoo, and warm male flesh.
"Let loose of my hair and give a knock on the door," he told her.
"Put me down and do it yourself," she countered, relieved to see they were finally off the staircase and standing in the upper hall.
Contrarily, rather than do so
mething so logical, he rapped at the door with his knee.
From inside, a male voice called, "Who is it?"
"Ty James. You got a minute?"
"Sure. C'mon in."
Ty couldn't quite grasp the doorknob past Jess's derriere. "I don't suppose you could open the door?" he asked her dryly.
She smirked. "Would the hen unlatch the chicken coop gate for the fox?"
"Forget I asked."
By squashing her between himself and the door panel, with his nose wedged flat against her breast, Ty got hold of the knob. The door flew open, aided by their combined weight, and the two of them stumbled into the room. Somehow, Ty kept his feet beneath him as he lurched for the office couch and dumped Jess unceremoniously onto it. As he hovered over her, Jess griped loudly, "You can back off now, he-man."
"Only when you let go of my hair," he retorted. "I'm sort of attached to it, you know."
Jess had the grace to grimace sheepishly as she unwound her stiff fingers from his golden mane.
"Good grief, man! What in the world is going on?"
Ty swung around to face the other man, one of the team owners. "Tom. I'm sorry to barge in here like this, but I caught this woman, who claims to be a reporter, hiding in a locker in the team locker room. Now, I know we have to keep a good rapport with the press, but this—"
"She is a reporter," Tom broke in, peering around Ty's shoulder and recognizing Jess. "And a damned fine one at that."
"You know her?" Ty asked, his face a reflection of surprise as his gaze swept from one to the other.
From the couch, Jess waggled her fingers at the older man. "Hi, Tommy. Can I use your bathroom while you two chat?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Your purse is in the bottom, right-hand desk drawer, honey. Right where you left it."
"Thanks." Jess levered herself off the couch and quickly skirted past Ty. She retrieved her purse and headed for the private restroom adjacent to the office. "I won't be long."
"Take your time, Jessie," Tom advised, shaking his head in wonder. "Lord knows, this isn't the first time I've caught you looking a fright, but this really takes the cake. What in blazes have you been up to, anyway?"
With a full head of snow-white hair, twinkling blue eyes, a robust laugh, and a moderate-but-growing potbelly, Tom more resembled a clean-shaven version of jolly old St. Nick than the staid bank executive he actually was. Santa's look-alike didn't appear very jovial, however, as he leveled a warning frown at Ty. "If this randy stud has dared..."
Ty threw up both hands and backed up two full steps. "Whoa! Wait just a doggone minute here! In the first place, I'm the guy who pried her skinny bones out of that jammed locker, or she'd still be in there sweating and cursing to beat the band. In the second place, I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole, even if the pair of you weren't a hot item."
"A hot item?" Tom echoed, the furrow in his forehead deepening as his eyes narrowed. "Care to enlarge on that statement, James?"
"Oh, for the love of Mike!" Jess stopped dead in her tracks, swiveling to glare at Ty. "Talk about stupid jocks! You, Tyler James, have got to be the prize idiot! Tom and me? Having a fling? Pray tell, how did you, in a few scant seconds, arrive at such an asinine conclusion?"
"Yes," Tom added in a huff. "I'd like to know, too."
"Well, let's see." Ty mockingly pretended to contemplate the notion. "First, you two know each other well enough to call one another by your first names. And it's Tommy and Jessie no less. Then there was a 'honey' thrown in for good measure, and the little matter of her purse in your desk drawer, and the fact that she obviously knows her way around your private office well enough to find the restroom on her own. Last, but not least, was that comment about you having seen her looking a wreck before, which led me to assume you've seen her mussed after a rousing bout in bed perhaps—especially after you jumped to her defense like a jealous lover."
"Or an irate godfather, which is precisely what I am," Tom informed him tersely. "If I wasn't afraid I'd break your damned jaw and put you out of commission for the season, I'd ram my fist down your throat! Why, I'm a married man! And Jessie... well, that'd be the next thing to incest! Just the thought is a preposterous insult to both of us! For two cents, I'd trade you off to the worst team in the league." Tom paused in his tirade, then added grumpily, "Problem is, we're the worst team in the league. In both leagues."
Ty, his face hot with embarrassment, stammered, "Lord... love a duck! I sure have stuck my big foot into it this time, haven't I? Look, Tom, Jess, I apologize. I was reading things all wrong, I guess, but it was an honest mistake. I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry."
"You certainly are!" Jess agreed vehemently. "You're the sorriest son-of-a—"
"Jessie. The bathroom." Tom pointed toward the door. "Go. I'll take care of this myself."
When Jess emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, she looked marginally better than she had before. Her hair, while neatly combed, was just as limp and lackluster as ever. Her face, free of the sheen of perspiration, was also void of makeup at the moment. Also, without a change of clothing, her top was only slightly less damp than when Ty had first freed her from that hot locker—though she did smell of soap and water now, and less like sweaty old sneakers—a major improvement in itself.
Through the closed door, she had heard the men arguing, though she couldn't make out their words. Now, as she entered the room, Tom was wearing a cat-that-ate-the-cream expression, while Ty was slumped in his chair looking decidedly sulky.
"Welcome back, Jessie. You'll be glad to know that everything is settled."
"Yeah," Ty muttered. "According to dear old Tom, we're going steady."
"Pardon me?" Jess inquired.
"Dating. Seeing each other. Spending time together. Tripping the light fantastic," Ty enumerated sarcastically. "As in, I'm your guy, and you're my girl, until Tom doth us part."
"You're kidding, of course," she concluded with a sickly grin. "He is joking, isn't he, Tommy?"
Tom gave a satisfied smile. "On the contrary, my dear. He's one hundred percent on track."
Jess's face clouded. "Back up. I think I've missed something vital here."
"It's really quite simple, Jessie. After hearing about your problems today, it struck me that you need a little help getting your foot in the door with the team," Tom went on to explain. "And what better way to be a part of the 'inner circle' than to be dating one of the members? The players will open up to you much more readily if they think that's the case, more so than they would if they thought you were simply interviewing them for your in-depth report on the Knights. In fact, I don't know why I didn't think of it before. It's ingenious, if I do say so myself."
"You just did," Ty grumbled.
"And I don't think it's quite as clever as it is ludicrous," Jess added. "For heaven's sake, Tommy. Who in his right mind would ever believe I could be dating Ty James?"
Ty gave a vigorous nod. "See there? I'm not the only one who thinks your idea is full of holes, Tom. The guys just wouldn't buy it. She's not my type at all. So, that lets me off the hook, right?" Ty started to rise, eager to make a swift exit.
"Wrong," Tom declared. "Sit your butt back down, boy."
For her part, Jess glared daggers at the handsome quarterback. "Wow! Your ego is alive and well, isn't it?" she sniped. "Listen, hot stuff. When I said nobody would believe it, I meant that no one would believe I would lower myself so far as to date some muscle-bound jerk with a toothpaste smile and his brains in his jockstrap."
"For both your sakes, you'd better make them believe it," Tom inserted seriously. "Jessie, you have a job to do here, and I'm depending on your story to help give the team the shot in the arm it needs. We're the new kids on the block, the newest NFL expansion team. We need some good, up-beat media exposure. We need the new sponsors it could pull in, the revenue it could generate. I'm counting on you, girl. All us co-owners are. We've got a lot invested here, more than most of us would care to lose.
"As for you, Ty James, you have more at stake than that paltry fifty-thousand-dollar fine I'm willing to dismiss. Your pro-football career could be in jeopardy should we decide to cut you and give your position to Jack Hays. Who else would sign you up this late, except maybe as a third-string back-up quarterback? Team rosters are already filled for the year. So make up your mind, son. Do you want to play the game, or warm a bench on the sidelines? The decision is up to you— and Jess, of course."
Ty bounded from his chair. "That's blackmail, and you know it!"
"Powerful persuasion. Maybe even dirty pool. But blackmail?" Tom shook his head. "Besides, it's not as if I'm asking you to marry her. Just escort her around. Take her to team functions. Parties. Rallies. Whatnot. What'll it hurt? Furthermore, if you make it clear that she's your girl, it'll keep the other guys from trying to hit on her—and from sucking up to me through her—once word gets out that she's my goddaughter."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence and all the praise, Tommy. I'm surprised you didn't try to get me a spot as the team mascot, complete with a suit of armor," Jess groused. "Why don't you just let me do my job the way I see fit, and let it go at that?"
"Because the future of this team is too damned important, that's why," he retorted heatedly. "All I'm asking is a little help from you two, just a few weeks of your time, and we'll all reap the benefits. Jess, you'll get your story, with all the inside information and exclusive interviews. Ty, your position as quarterback and your full salary will be guaranteed. And, hopefully, the team will get the backing and the boost it needs so badly. Then you can both go your separate ways, and never speak to each other again for all I care. What do you say, kids? Will you do it? For me? For yourselves? For the Columbus Knights?"
Ty rolled his eyes, slanting a look at Jess. "If he says, 'For the Gipper,' I'm gonna puke." Then, "Okay, okay, but I want that fine revoked in writing. Signed, dated as of today, witnessed, and duly notarized. I don't trust you, you crafty old codger. Not after this."
Jess groaned. "Why do I just know I'm going to regret this, big time?"
