by Kahlen Aymes
“Do you want a shower first or should we just go?” Jensen looked at me expectantly, but I had no idea how early we had to be back at the stadium the following day. The one thing I did know was that I needed to call Dylan before he went to sleep.
“I’m not sure?”
“If it’s okay, I’d rather just go and then come back and crash.”
I wanted to tease him about getting his beauty sleep before going live on-air the following day but thought better of it. “Sounds good. I wanted to call my son, later.”
Jensen nodded with a twitch of the corner of his mouth. “Honestly, that’s why I want to get back early, too. I was too late to speak to Remi last night.”
“Wow, we’re pathetic.” There was another thing about Jensen that put him head and shoulders above Derrick. He actually cared about his child.
Thud. My heart slammed into my ribcage. He was miraculous.
“Hmmph!” Jensen snorted and ushered me outside. “Honestly, I can’t imagine being any other way.”
It was a lovely fall evening. The southern California climate made the air warm, but the season kept the humidity down. Jensen hailed a cab, and we both got inside. “Better than those forensic vans,” Jensen murmured as we settled inside. “L.A. is teaming with black SUVs, limos, and vans.”
“Where to?” The cabby looked over his shoulder and smiled brightly at me, showing some badly decayed teeth. My eyes widened involuntarily, but then I looked away.
“Uh… um?” I shrugged and looked at Jensen.
He looked down at his jeans and his white polo emblazoned with the orange ESPN logo and grimaced. “Shit, I guess I should have figured this out.” He used both hands to point to his shirt. “Well, considering our fetching attire, I’d say somewhere casual. Tacos and beer?”
I loved Mexican food, so his choice suited me fine. “Sounds good.”
“Revolutionario, please,” Jensen told the driver, and in seconds we were pulling out of the hotel driveway. “If you like Mediterranean cuisine, you’ll love this place. It’s a hidden gem. Casual, but the food rocks.”
“I love!” the cab driver added enthusiastically. Many of the cabbies in the bigger cities were from other countries, but I couldn’t place his accent. “Very, very good!”
“Mediterranean?” I asked. “Tacos?”
“Yes. It’s northern African. It’s sort of a cross between traditional tacos and Indian or Middle Eastern cuisine.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Trust me. It’s really good.”
His happy enthusiasm was contagious, and my stomach rumbled. The restaurant was less than a mile from the hotel, and I got out and waited while Jensen paid the driver. I was looking forward to this time alone with him. It was the first and only time during the weekend that we could talk without others listening in.
He held the door to the restaurant open for me as I entered, and an incredible aroma hit my nostrils. I couldn’t quite place it, but it smelled delicious. We walked up to the counter and ten minutes later had the meal ordered. There were all kinds of exotic teas and drinks, and I chose a loose leaf brewed iced tea before Jensen ordered some strange-sounding beer I’d never heard of.
“Do you want to eat inside or out?” He paused and waited for my answer, carrying the tray full of food. The restaurant was cozy and had small pictures on the walls of what I could only assume were regulars and also scenery from the parts of the world the cuisine originated. “There’s a small patio on the west side. It’s nice at sundown.”
“Sounds perfect.” I followed him to the door, but he held it open with one hand so I could precede him through it, while still balancing the tray on the other.
It was early Saturday evening and there were several people sitting outside on the patio, but the inside of the restaurant was pretty packed, too. We choose a small table on the edge of the patio by the short iron fence that went around it.
He was a perfect gentleman, setting the tray on the table and then coming around to pull out my chair and scoot it in again once I was seated. As I watched him, I couldn’t help but note all of the contrasts between him and Derrick. Besides the obvious physical differences of his more polished exterior, dark hair, and slimmer build, or the classic handsomeness of his features, it went deeper. Jensen was always smiling, and it went all the way to his eyes. He was kind to people and undemanding.
I smoothed the napkin across my lap, wishing I was dressed in anything other than jeans and my ESPN T-shirt complete with press pass hanging from the lanyard around my neck.
Jensen placed my chicken tacos and tea in front of me, and then his barbacoa beef burrito and beer on the table near him. He was obviously waiting for me to pick up one of my tacos before he would begin eating. He nodded at my food and smiled. “Scared?”
“No. It smells great.” I picked up one of them and took a bite. My eyes opened wider as the flavor of tandoori chicken, yogurt sauce and cilantro burst on my tongue. “Oh, my God! It’s so good!” I said, covering my mouth with the back of my hand, embarrassed that I’d spoken with my mouth full. If I’d done that in front of Derrick, I would have gotten a beating. Instead, Jensen was grinning at me.
“I know, right?” Jensen gathered up the huge burrito to take a bite. He studied me carefully while we both chewed, clearly considering his words until he swallowed. “Listen, you did a good job this weekend.”
The corners of my lips curved upward. Praise from Jensen mattered. When Derrick complimented me on something I’d done, I felt more like he was patting me on the head like a dog who had obeyed. With Jensen, it meant he sincerely thought I’d done well. I could see it in the admiration and respect behind his eyes. “Does that mean I get the job?” I asked boldly, reaching for my glass of tea to take a sip from the straw. The whole time, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
Jensen put down his half-eaten burrito and grabbed his beer, leaning back in the chair. “If it were up to me, you would, but Bryan will probably want to do a screen test, too. Are you ready for that?”
A shiver ran through me at the intensity of his gaze. “I think so.”
“I know so. You’ll be fine.” He raised his right eyebrow, and he nodded in affirmation.
My heart started hammering against my ribcage and actually skipped a beat. “If I pass, it will be this team, right?”
“Yes.” He took another swig from the longneck beer. “Can I ask you something?”
My breath hitched and stopped before I inhaled deeply. “Of course.”
“Why the hesitation about being in front of the camera?”
Here it was. Should I tell him? My instincts told me to spill everything but letting someone know all of my darkest fears, made me feel very vulnerable. It would bring him into my world, if only at the margins, and even if we did work together, he couldn’t be in my life like that. I couldn’t let him be; even if my mind and body were screaming for me to let down my walls. And if I did, would that look of admiration in his eyes change to disgust?
My brother pointed out that if I didn’t want to spend my life alone, I had to trust another man eventually. Ben saw some of the bruises, but he didn’t know about the concussions or the broken bones, or how many times Derrick had raped me. He didn’t have the full picture of what had happened, so he didn’t understand how deep the scars went. I didn’t want anyone to know the whole truth because I was concerned that it would make them look at me or treat me differently.
Jensen didn’t miss my hesitation. “Sorry, if it’s too personal. I’m just trying to understand your hesitation.”
I swallowed so hard, my throat hurt. “It’s okay. Without getting into too much detail, it’s because of my ex-husband. We didn’t have a great divorce.”
Understanding dawned on Jensen’s face and then his brows dropped over his eyes in a frown. “Does he see your son?”
I shook my head. Suddenly, I’d lost my appetite. “No. He hasn’t for two years.”
I could see Jensen’s ches
t rise as he took a deep breath and then carefully set his beer back on the table by the basket containing the remnants of his food.
I might have just blown this job. Technically, ESPN couldn’t discriminate based on my marital status or personal life, but Jensen was a model father, and he might think I was keeping Dylan from his dad. “Um,” I stammered. “I mean…”
“He doesn’t know where you are?”
“No, he does,” I answered quickly. “In Jackson Hole.”
Jensen was quickly putting the puzzle together in his mind. I could see it unfurl.
“So, he doesn’t want to be a father to your son?”
Relief flooded me when he didn’t automatically blame me.
“Well,” I started wringing my hands that were now lying in my lap. “He does, but Derrick is not the kind of father I want for my son,” I blurted awkwardly.
“I see.” Anger flashed darkly across his face. “Clearly, it’s an uncomfortable topic. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to pry.” I was certain he was wondering what happened or in what way I thought my ex was not suitable for my son. “I just don’t get men who don’t step up for their kids.”
“After my divorce, I moved in with my brother in Wyoming. We’ve always been close, and he and Dylan adore each other. He’s a solid role model, and it was the best I could do for my son at the time.” I sat up a little straighter in my chair, feeling a little defensive. “I’m sorry if that changes your opinion of me, but it doesn’t inhibit my ability to do this job.”
He huffed out a disgusted laugh. “I know that, and no, it doesn’t change my opinion. I have a lot of respect for you. I can’t imagine any man not doing everything he can to be with his child.”
I was going to lay it out with as little words as possible, so as not to expose too much. I didn’t want him to hold my past against me, nor did I want it to be the reason he hired me. “Derrick is a self-absorbed bastard and saw his wife and child as an extension of himself. He took us out like trophies when it suited him and otherwise, we were to fade into the background. He was overly strict, and he frightened Dylan. As a mother, I had to take him out of that situation. I’d do it again. I’d do it a hundred times.”
A knowing look settled onto the face of the gorgeous man across from me. “So, you don’t want to be on camera because then your ex-husband will know you’ve moved away from your brother.”
“Yes. Ben is well connected in Jackson Hole. Derrick hasn’t tried anything there.” I didn’t think I needed to get into the details of the confrontation that led to my restraining order.
“There wasn’t a visitation order written into the divorce decree?”
I shook my head. “No. I had a restraining order against him.”
“Was he… abusive?” His voice was concerned so it encouraged me to answer honestly.
“Yes. To both of us.”
“Holy hell,” Jensen huffed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Concern returned to his eyes. “I can try to get Bryan to put you on the production staff instead, but the salary isn’t as good. It would be an hourly wage.”
“No. The sportscaster position is fine. It’s a new start for Dylan and me, and I can’t continue to run from Derrick forever.”
“As you see, there’s a lot of traveling. Who will watch your son?”
“You know, technically, you can’t ask me this kind of thing.”
He shrugged and picked up his beer. “Yeah, I know, but I have a kid, and I can relate. Remi is the reason I’m changing jobs. I didn’t want to be out of town so much. I’m not asking because your answer will affect my recommendation to Bryan, but I know how difficult it can be to leave a child behind week after week, and I’d understand if you want to reconsider. You need a safe place for Dylan, or you’ll be miserable.”
“I’m hoping my mother will move to Atlanta. She lives alone in Tallahassee, so hopefully, it will benefit everyone.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it worked out.” He picked up his burrito and took another bite while I did the same with my taco.
“Yep.” I wanted to ask him about his situation with his daughter. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and so he must be divorced, too. I remembered my conversation with Bryan Walsh about him commuting to and from Bristol once a week, so did he share custody of his daughter? I found myself wanting the answers but decided it was none of my business.
The first order of business was getting hired, and the only thing that sucked about it was that the man across from me was probably going to be my boss. For the first time since my divorce, I felt like I wanted to get to know a man; one who had all the qualities I thought I’d found in Derrick, and who made me feel that I could trust him; but I worked with him, so he was off limits; at least, he should be. I wasn’t sure I was ready for a man in my life or Dylan’s, but if I was, I could only pray for one as good as Jensen Jeffers.
***
The next day pre-game, I couldn’t stop thinking about dinner the previous evening or the dream I’d had afterward.
Oh, my God, the dream.
The rest of the meal was spent without stress and filled with conversation about ESPN, Jensen’s history with the company, his experiences in the job I would have if hired, and the basic rules of football. He said he’d put together a cheat sheet with all of the game rules and the stats of the leading players in the NFL. I’d half-assed suggested that I would need a new cheat sheet weekly, to which he’d quickly agreed. He was a complete gentleman, with only gentle flirting, so what in the hell made me have a dream like that?
I’d gotten back to my room just in time to call Dylan and tell him a story over the phone, but the rest of the evening was spent packing and then lying in the dark thinking about my dinner companion, and hopefully my future boss. Sure, he was a genuine, and an all-around nice man, but he was sexy as hell; the kind of hot that went way beyond physical beauty, and all the way to the soul.
I imagined an intense connection was possible with Jensen and so sex with him would be intense. I wasn’t sure how I knew, I just knew. As much as my subconscious tried to lump him in with the typical stereotype that kept men at arm’s length, I couldn’t manage it. I was thinking about him in ways I hadn’t thought about a man in a long while, but I wasn’t prepared to dream about him. Especially, not that kind of dream.
I hadn’t had a sexual thought about a man in what seemed like forever, so I wasn’t ready for the level of arousal I felt when I was around him, or when I just thought about him. After Derrick, just the thought of sex with anyone had been abhorrent. Jensen’s gentle, unobtrusive teasing had me thinking things I’d been afraid to consider, and there was an invisible, yet tangible, pull between us. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous, but I’d come across many attractive men in the two years since my divorce, and none of them had this effect on me. My heart desperately wanted to trust him, to believe a man could actually be as good as he seemed, and to let him close to me.
Admittedly, I wanted him, or I wouldn’t be all twisted up in knots. The dream had been incredible, the kind of super-hot sex hardly any man can live up to; the kind of sex that bonds hearts and forges intimate, unbreakable connections. Even now, recalling how I felt when I woke made my whole body ignite with heat and my stomach get all fluttery.
It started out so soft and subtle.
Jensen’s fingers traced gently over my body; down my arms, up my legs and slowly kneaded the muscles of my butt and back; coaxing out a response, relaxing me, and making me trust him.
“I’ve wanted to touch you like this, to make slow, sweet love to you since the very moment I laid eyes on you, Missy.” His sexy voice dripped over me like warm honey, making my body surge under his fingers and my head lift toward his, begging for his mouth to take mine. “You’re so incredibly beautiful. Say it’s okay.”
I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts wash over me, and swallowed at the emotion welling in my throat. Just thinking about it had my body reacting.
The touch of his
hands was electric; sending shivers and goosebumps rushing over every inch of my skin. His hot breath washed over my cheek and down the cord of my neck as I arched it to one side giving him the access he wanted. Jensen nuzzled and kissed his way down to my shoulder and then my breasts lavishing slow attention designed to titillate. I was awash in sensations, scents, and sounds. My body was vibrating in anticipation of what was coming; of having his body thrusting into mine.
“It’s okay,” I breathed out. I wasn’t sure how we got there, but we were already in my bed, and I longed to touch him; to run my fingers over the curves of his muscles and the hardness of his broad shoulders, to cradle his head and let him know how badly I wanted him to kiss me. I was starving, but as he continued to explore my body, ghosting over the curve of my breasts, barely touching my nipples through my silk chemise. Barely a touch, but it had the desired effect. I was dying for more. “Uhhhhh,” I sighed out. “Jensen, please. I want to touch you.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.” His low whisper was like a current that ran through me and ended at my clit.
The tips of his fingers traced the soft swell of my breasts, moving along my collarbone and over my shoulder, then down my arm as his mouth opened against my neck in a soft, sucking kiss. Long, languid movements joined deep, slow kisses; more intimate than any I’d ever experienced.
“Please,” I begged again, turning my head so when he lifted his head his mouth was hovering over mine. “Please.”
He moved slowly, taking my mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue played with mine, teasing it to join its intimate dance at the same time as his hand ran down the side of my body, over the side of my breast and rib cage, over my hip.
I wanted to get closer, to feel him over me, dominating me in his amazing gentle way. I could feel my body spreading; opening as the kisses got deeper. Jensen used his knee to gently nudge my legs apart, pulling his mouth from mine to concentrate his kisses on my breasts, his tongue making slow circles around first one nipple, then the other. My back arched, and I was acutely aware that Jensen was between my legs, yet, hovering above me. The distance between our bodies screamed as one hand pushed up the pink silk of my nightgown until he exposed the matching string bikini panties and my stomach above the waistband.
