by Impulsive
The middle bedroom, and the smallest, was obviously Josh's. Against one wall was a set of loft beds. Pooh Bear, looking a little ragged and much loved, held the seat of honor on the top bunk. A Mickey Mouse lamp sat on the dresser. A small bookcase was crammed with children's books and small toys. A nearby toy box overflowed with larger ones. Tossed into one comer was a beanbag chair, while a race track was half-erected in another.
Jess smiled. "Ah, a kid after my own heart. Josh goes for the jumbled look, too, I see."
The master bedroom was the rearmost, farthest removed from any annoying street noise and offering the best scenery. A king-size bed dominated the room, matching mahogany bed-stands flanking it. Along the wall opposite the bed was a mirrored chest of drawers. In one corner, a portable TV rested atop a highboy. The furniture, while beautiful, was also massive.
Jess stared at it in wonder. "How in the world did you get this bedroom suit up that skinny spiral staircase?"
"We didn't," Ty said with a wide grin. He gestured toward the over-sized bay window taking up most of the far wall. "The architect allowed for that problem, thank goodness. That center section of windows opens like French doors. Of course, we had to remove the screen and stand on the patio roof to haul them up here, but it worked."
Jess ambled over to the bed and made a production of inspecting the bedpost.
"Just what are you doing?" Ty questioned, though he already suspected what she was up to.
"Just checking for notches," she admitted readily. "Curiosity, you know."
"Wondering how many women slept in that bed before you?" When she nodded, he added, "None."
She glanced at him through her lashes, saying nothing, but her expression was dubious.
"No, I'm not a monk. Never have been, never will be. The bedroom suit is new, Jess. Bed, mattress, the whole shebang." Now it was his turn to gaze at her askance. "Care to initiate it with me?"
"I don't know, Ty," she hedged, even as a smile began to blossom. "I was rather hoping we could do that in the hot tub."
"Why stint?" He walked toward her, slowly but determinedly, as if stalking her. His eyes gleamed wolfishly above a devil-may-care grin. "We'll do both. And afterward, we can make love on the kitchen island, in front of the fireplace, on the staircase, in all the closets, and on top of the washer and dryer. Who knows? We might get really daring and try the laundry chute!"
CHAPTER 12
Though both worked hard at their separate and joint commitments, Ty and Jess were basically inseparable in the following days. If she didn't stay overnight at his place, he turned up at hers, carting a clean set of clothes and an extra toothbrush with him. Gradually, her laundry hamper came to contain as many of his clothes as it did hers, and vice versa. His toiletries found space in her bathroom, as hers did in his. A portion of their closet and dresser space was now allotted to the other person. Preferred foods were stocked in each kitchen. They were now actually and officially a couple, no longer having to pretend to be.
They worked, played, ate, and slept together. They even went shopping together—for food, items for Ty's town house, clothing. When Jess put off buying high heels, Ty dragged her into a mall shoe store and helped her select a few pair in the newer and wider-heel styles, which would go with almost any outfit she might choose to wear.
"If I break my neck trying to walk in these things, my death will be on your head," she warned him.
"Bull crap!" he retorted. "Those saleswomen claimed these are more stable than those spike jobbies, and you hardly wobbled at all in them. A little practice, and people will think you were born with them on your feet."
Jess rolled her eyes. "Right. And stink doesn't draw flies." Actually, Ty and the ladies were right. The wider heels were better for balance, and they looked really great. In them, her legs and ankles took on a more alluring shape, with curves never before accented.
Ty maintained they made her legs appear a mile long. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear those gorgeous gams of yours go all the way to your armpits."
Thus prompted, Jess found herself shopping for skirts and dresses, the better to display her newfound assets. To her amazement, it was actually enjoyable, especially with Ty tagging along, alternately poking fun and stating his preferences. Surprisingly, he had very good taste in fashions and wasn't shy about voicing his opinions, as many men might be.
"Be bold, Jess. Go for the red number," he'd say. Or, "Get that sexy black dress, the one with the low top and the scarf hem that flares out when you whirl around. I want to take you dancing in it."
Jess threw him a wink. "I'll see if they have it in your size, dear," she teased.
But she bought it, primarily to please him, which was another abnormal reaction for her—just one among many these days, it seemed. Since Ty had come on the scene, Jess was suddenly feeling exceedingly feminine, appealing, and downright sexy for the first time in her life. Though she'd dated, been engaged once, even lived with a man for a while, she'd never felt this attractive, this wanted, or quite this alive and excited. It was like skydiving, she supposed—totally exhilarating, but somewhat frightening and potentially dangerous. Impulsive to the point of idiocy. She was flying high, and loving it, knowing full well she had no parachute to break her eventual fall.
Jess continued interviewing and video taping various team members for her article. She also talked with their wives, their children, the coaches, and the team manager. She had yet to corner Tom and the other two owners to get the story from their perspective, which would round out her report.
Obtaining Alan's input was especially easy, since they practiced together nearly every day. Spending so much time together, the two of them soon became friends, as well as coworkers. He was quickly learning to heed her advice and was improving by leaps and bounds.
In a home game the following Sunday, Alan added nine points to the scoreboard, assisting the Knights in their sound defeat of the visiting Bengals—though he still missed one field goal and a point-after attempt, which was blocked. Ty, however, was spectacular, throwing pass after perfect pass, and nary an interception. Unfortunately, his target didn't always catch the ball, or hold on to it. One receiver in particular seemed to fumble the ball or run the wrong pattern almost every time the ball came his way. Contrarily, Gabe had several good runs and made two touchdowns.
"That's my man!" Corey gloated, leaning over the barrier separating the team from the spectators to punch Jess on the arm. "He's got great hands, doesn't he?"
Jess grinned and yelled back. "You should know, Corey! But I have no idea what Butterfingers Baker's problem is. He's so good in practice that it's almost inconceivable that he'd be so lousy tonight."
Corey shrugged. "Who can tell? Maybe he laced his shoes too tight and cut off circulation to the rest of his body."
Since it was Labor Day weekend, and Josh had come to stay with his dad, Jess did not spend Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night at Ty's. Both she and Ty agreed that, for now, it was best not to do so while Josh was visiting. Jess spent part of Saturday with them, and most of Monday. Familiar now with Ty's kitchen, Jess prepared the side dishes for their Labor Day cookout while Ty broiled hotdogs and hamburgers over the outdoor grill. They all trooped down to the playground for a while. Then Jess, who hadn't brought her swimming suit and wouldn't have been seen in public in it anyway, opted for KP duty while Ty took Josh to the pool for a swim.
All too soon, it was time to drive Josh back to Indianapolis. Despite her protests, Jess was persuaded to ride with them.
"But, I have a ton of laundry to do, and umpteen million other chores I've let slide," she argued.
"They'll wait," Ty countered. "Besides, you can help keep me awake on the drive back. Six hours behind the wheel, after a busy day with Josh, and I'm all but comatose."
That convinced her. She certainly didn't want to be accountable—in any way, shape, or form—for Ty having an auto accident. She didn't stop to ask herself why she should feel responsible for his welfare, wh
en a few weeks ago the notion wouldn't have entered her mind. Now, it was either go with him, or worry herself silly until he returned.
They arrived back at Ty's house shortly after midnight, both of them thoroughly exhausted. Both fell into bed, thankful to have the long day behind them. Ty drew her next to him and dropped a kiss on her drooping lids. "I hate to admit this, but now that we finally have the place to ourselves, I'm too pooped to pop."
Jess cuddled close, stifling a yawn. "Me, too. Let's just snuggle tonight, and forgo the bedroom calisthenics. Maybe we can conserve energy and get together in our dreams, instead."
"Only if you don't mind making love in the middle of the highway, darlin'," he told her with a weary chuckle. "I stared at that road so long that every time I close my eyes, I see white center lines whizzing across black pavement."
"Stop at the next roadside rest," Jess suggested sleepily. "And don't park next to any nosy truckers."
Jess first noticed the strangers that week at practice—two men at first, sometimes a third, lurking on the sidelines. Why she decided they were "lurking" and not just observing she couldn't say. It was just something about them—the way they stood, the way they dressed—nothing specific she could put a finger on, but there nonetheless.
"Who are those guys?" she asked Alan on Friday.
The kicker shook his head. "I don't know. I think one of them might be dating Bambi. Why?"
"Because they have no business being here, that I can see. How interesting can it be to watch a team practice day in and day out? And why would they bother? Besides, they give me the creeps."
Alan frowned at her. "Why do you say that? They're not doing anything wrong, that I can tell."
"I know. It's just a feeling I've got."
"Women's intuition?" he teased.
"More like 'reporter's nose,' " she said. "They just seem sort of disreputable, bordering on nefarious, don't you think?"
"Nefarious?" Alan echoed on a chuckle. "Like someone whose picture you'd find on the post office wall?"
"Or on 'America's Most Wanted' or 'Unsolved Mysteries,' " she added with a nod. "They even dress oddly. It's entirely too warm to be wearing sport coats. Why aren't they wearing jeans or Dockers or something more casual?"
"Maybe they're businessmen."
"In what kind of business?" Jess wondered aloud. "They look like goons, for crying out loud. Or drug dealers."
"Goons?" Alan hooted. "Geez, Jess! You've got to stop watching those old gangster movies, or whatever you're doing."
Jess cast him an annoyed look. "Go ahead, laugh. But those men are not Bible salesmen, dammit. More likely, they're as crooked as a dog's hind leg. Really shady characters."
Alan did laugh. "So define shady, Jess. And describe a criminal for me while you're at it. For all you know, those guys might be so clean they squeak. On the other side of that coin, I've heard Ted Bundy looked as normal as you or me."
Jess threw up her hands. "Okay. You've made your point. But I still don't like them hanging around all the time, watching us like vultures."
Alan gave her a congenial clap on the back. "Not to worry, Jess. With no more meat than you have on your bones, you'd be slim pickings."
Jess stuck her tongue out at him. "Wagara."
His brow wrinkled. "Warranty And Guarantee Are Revoked Again?"
Jess just laughed.
That night, Ty stayed overnight at Jess's. Because Sunday's game was in Phoenix, Ty would not be taking Josh for the weekend. Nor would he be able to attend Josh's first soccer practice, much to his son's disappointment. The team was flying out to Arizona late Saturday afternoon.
Saturday morning brought a surprise. It was nine-thirty, and Ty had just finished his turn in the bathroom. Jess was in the shower, singing off-key. When the doorbell rang, Ty yanked his jeans on his still-damp body and hollered, "I'll get it." He doubted Jess even heard him over the racket she was making.
Loping down the hall in nothing but his Levi's, he was still tugging the zipper up when the doorbell chimed again—and kept ringing as the caller leaned on it nonstop. Ty pulled the door open to find a middle-aged woman glaring with impatience. Upon seeing him, her expression swiftly changed to befuddlement.
"I... uh... is Jessica..." she fumbled.
There was some resemblance, and given the age difference Ty hazarded an educated guess. "You must be Jess's mother. Come on in."
He stood aside, letting her enter. "Jess is in the shower." He waved her toward the living room. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Derry? I'll go tell her you're here."
Claudia started forward, then changed her mind. "Excuse me, but I don't believe we've ever met," she said, her brows knitting as she assumed her parental/investigator role.
"I'm Tyler James." Ty elaborated no further, not sure how much, if anything, Jess had told her mother about him or their relationship.
"Oh. The quarterback," Claudia commented. "Jess has mentioned you, but... well, I hadn't realized the two of you were so... involved." Blushing madly, her gaze traversed him from head to toe, noting his bare chest and feet, and his towel-dried hair.
"Yes, well, you seem to have caught us at an awkward moment, Mrs. Deny."
"So I see." Claudia took a deep breath and plunged in. "May I ask what your intentions are toward my daughter?"
Her question, rather passé for this day and age, brought a crooked smile to Ty's lips. "At this exact moment, my intentions are to go find my shirt and inform Jess that we have company. Then I'm going to see if I can rustle up a pot of coffee." He started down the hall. Two steps later, he turned again and said, "You wouldn't know how to operate that cappuccino machine, would you? I just can't seem to get the hang of it yet."
"Yes, but..."
"Bless you, Mrs. Derry. I assume you know your way around Jess's kitchen well enough to find everything you need."
Claudia eyed him oddly, not quite sure what to make of him. "I'll manage," she assured him dryly.
Ty scooted to the bedroom. Jess was just emerging from the bathroom. "Get something on, sweetheart, and try to be quick about it. Your mother's here."
Jess's eyes grew huge. "My mother?" she squeaked. "Oh, my God! Where? When?"
"While you were taking your good sweet time in the shower," he told her brusquely, thrusting his arms into his shirt and fumbling blindly for the buttons. "I let her in. She should be in the kitchen making cappuccino, unless she decided to wait for you to do it."
"Oh, Lord!" Jess wailed. "What did she say? You... you..." She gestured toward him, indicating his lack of attire.
"Right. That's similar to your mother's reaction, give or take a syllable. But she recovered enough to ask me what my intentions are toward you."
Jess groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Tell me she didn't!"
"Oh, but she did. Now, will you stop standing there like your feet are glued to the floor and get a move on? I'll try to keep her occupied until you can join us." Ty planted a swift kiss on her forehead and dashed from the room.
He slid to a halt inches shy of the kitchen doorway and sauntered into the room as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Jess will be right out. Did you find everything all right?"
The espresso machine whirred. "I did," Claudia responded shortly.
Ty walked to the refrigerator, opened the door and peered inside. "Have you had breakfast, ma'am? I'm pretty good at scrambling eggs and making French toast, if you'd care for some."
"No thank you, but help yourself. I suppose you know where everything is, too?"
"Most of it," he replied with studied nonchalance. He removed the carton of eggs and milk and proceeded to make breakfast. At one point, he stopped, went to the memo board hanging near the phone, and jotted down a note. "We're almost out of butter," he explained, to no one in particular.
"Your coffee is ready," Claudia offered.
"Just set it on the table, thanks." He grabbed the toast as it popped up, buttered it, and carried it and the platter of scra
mbled eggs to the table. "Are you sure you won't join me?" he asked again, as he rifled through cabinet and drawer for plates and flatware. "There's plenty for all."
"No, coffee is fine for me." She waited until he was seated opposite her, and asked, "So, how long have you and Jessica... uh... known each other."
"About a month."
Fortunately, Jess sprinted into the kitchen at that point, with just enough breath left to say, "Now, Mom, don't interrogate Ty. It's embarrassing."
"Not nearly as much as that falsie incident, though," Ty inserted with a sly grin.
Claudia's eyes widened. "She told you about that?" she queried with interest.
Ty chuckled. "Yes. Did you really lay rubber for half a mile afterward?"
Claudia gave a nervous laugh. "I believe I did." She switched subjects, back to the primary point. "You two seem to be exchanging confidences fairly soon."
Jess glowered. "Mother, I'm a grown woman. I'm entitled to some private life of my own."
"And I'm your mother," Claudia countered, "and therefore entitled to worm any information out of you that I can. I worry about you. Now sit, and eat your breakfast. You're still entirely too thin."
"Why didn't you call and tell me you were coming?"
"I thought I'd surprise you, dear," Claudia replied with irony. "But it seems I'm the one who was in for the greatest shock."
"Not by far," Jess muttered. "Still, I wish you'd phoned ahead. I could have saved you the trip. We've got to catch a flight to Phoenix in about five hours."
"Both of you?"
"The whole team," Ty put in. "We've got a game there tomorrow against the Cardinals."
Claudia faced her daughter. "From that, I assume you are still tutoring that kicker?"
"Yes, Mom, I am. It's working out nicely, and padding my bank account as well. I'm also finishing up my interviews for my television article. Moreover, I've made some very good friends."
