"You wait here," he instructed. "I'll make sure everyone's gone."
Mattie nodded agreeably, and a moment later he was back, bowing her into the room.
"Behold, my lady. The inner sanctuary of male supremacy in the sporting world."
Mattie wrinkled her nose. "The inner sanctuary of male supremacy in the sporting world smells like old gym socks."
Joe looked deeply offended. "That is the smell of victory," he protested grandly. "The sweet, musty smell of success."
"Go take your shower," Mattie advised. "I think some dirt seeped into your brain."
Joe maintained a haughty pose for one more minute, then gave up. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll go scrub my brain. Here—" Joe snared a towel from a nearby stack and threw it to her "—you dry off. I should be out in a second."
Mattie patted her face dry with the towel. "Can I look around while you're in the shower?" Her eyes moved around the room curiously.
"Sure," Joe answered carelessly, pulling the hem of his jersey from his tight uniform pants.
"What's behind that door?" Mattie asked hurriedly, pulling her eyes away from the expanse of tanned skin presenting itself.
"Training room." Joe's voice was muffled now as he pulled the jersey over his head.
Mattie scrambled toward the indicated door without looking back. By the time Joe had removed his jersey, her hand was on the knob.
"I'll look around in here while you shower," she told the door, refusing to look at Joe again.
"You forgot your towel," Joe told her chidingly, moving up behind her to drape it around her neck. "I don't want you to get sick, sitting around in those wet clothes."
Mattie took a shallow breath. "I—they'll dry soon, I'm sure. It's rather... warm in here, isn't it?"
Joe studied her rigid profile curiously and didn't answer. Finally, as the silence dragged out, he sighed. "I'll go take my shower."
Mattie went slack with a relief she didn't understand as Joe moved to the showers at the opposite side of the room. A feeling had begun when he lifted her from the stands, as if she were finely balanced on a taut wire and about to go over the edge. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and it frightened her to feel that way with Joe. What was happening to her?
The muffled rush of water as Joe turned on the shower broke into her thoughts. The idea of Joe, standing beneath the spray of hot water as he soaped his hard, long body made her suddenly sweaty palm close on the doorknob and twist it to the right. She all but catapulted into the training room and stood there, looking around blindly.
The room rather strongly resembled a chamber of horrors from an old Bela Lugosi movie. There were machines of torture even old Bela hadn't thought of, Mattie observed interestedly, moving farther into the room. It was all black padding, gleaming chrome and weights, making Mattie feel as if she had just stepped into another world. Her idea of exercise was clambering over some rocks to get a shot of a wild horse. No wonder football players got paid so much money, she thought in enlightenment. It was obviously blood money for the pain they went through in rooms like this.
When she heard the rolling sound of water, Mattie moved toward it cautiously. Dodging benches and bar-bells, she crossed the room. Tucked into a previously unnoticed corner, blocked off by a thin partition, was a tub full of bubbling water.
And in it was a huge, absolutely naked man.
At first Mattie thought he was dead, so still did he lay. Frozen to the spot in horror, she whispered, "Oh, my God."
The prayer was loud enough to bring the dead man's eyes open. Except that he wasn't dead at all, Mattie realized belatedly. He was just resting in the boiling water.
"Well, hi there, honey," the man drawled, studying her unself-consciously from the tub. "Lookin' for something?"
Mattie, horribly threatened by the sight of this huge man lounging before her, couldn't speak. Her eyes remained riveted on his face, steadfastly ignoring the massive chest and long body thankfully hidden under the rolling water.
"You sure are a pretty little thing," the man continued blithely, shifting to rise from the tub.
Mattie turned her back with a muffled shriek, listening as the water sloshed wildly as he rose from the tub.
"Shy, too," the man continued musingly, wrapping a towel around his hips. Unfortunately, he had big hips and a small towel and quite a bit of him remained uncovered. "Still, you can't be too shy, sneaking into the locker room like this. That's okay, honey," he assured her blithely, moving to stand in front of Mattie. "I like women who know what they want. Especially if what they want is me."
When he reached for her, Mattie backed away like a hunted animal, her eyes wide with shock. The phrase, out of the frying pan and into the fire, kept chasing through her mind as she backed away from her pursuer.
"Aw, come on, honey," the man wheedled. "You don't have to play hard to get with me."
"No, please," Mattie pleaded softly, holding out her arms in front of her as if to ward him off. "I didn't— I wasn't looking for you. I didn't know you were here. Please, let me leave."
The man laughed triumphantly when Mattie came up hard against a wall, halting her retreat. "You found me anyway, angel. Must be your lucky day."
When his hands closed over her shoulders, Mattie screamed as an unreasonable fear overtook her. It wasn't a delicate, feminine sound, but a full-throated, frightened shriek, a nightmare sound.
The man's hands tightened instinctively around her shoulders, his eyes blank with shock. "Now what did you want to go and do that for, lady? I wasn't gonna hurt you."
Whatever else he had been going to say was lost in the sound of the door as it burst open.
Joe came charging into the room, his eyes wild as they searched for Mattie and found her held against the wall by one of his teammates. Mattie's captor had fifty pounds on Joe, but that didn't seem to matter as Joe grabbed his shoulders and pushed him roughly against the wall.
Joe's hair was still wet and tousled, Mattie noticed inconsequentially. He had obviously been in the middle of dressing when he had heard her scream. Although he did have on his jeans, the top button was undone, and his shirt was open completely, revealing a broad chest covered with whirls of dark hair arrowing down to that open button. The shirt clung damply to his skin in places, serving only to emphasize his sheer masculinity. Witnessing the rage in his eyes, Mattie didn't know who she was more frightened of at the moment, Joe or her captor.
"What did you do to her, Jackson?" Joe snarled dangerously, his hands tightening on the other man's arms as he kept him pinned against the wall. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
Jackson read the wild rage in Joe's eyes and answered in a soothing tone. "Joe, I didn't hurt her. I wasn't trying to hurt her, okay? I was just joking around."
"You frightened her," Joe roared, his face tight with anger and—fear? "You made her scream."
"I didn't mean to scare her," Jackson insisted, not moving, not willing to give Joe an excuse to hit. Bill Jackson wasn't stupid. He didn't tangle with tigers protecting their young, and he didn't fight with a man protecting his woman. "Lady," he pleaded quietly. "Tell him I didn't hurt you."
"He—he didn't hurt me, Joe," Mattie said dutifully, as wary of Joe in this mood as Bill Jackson was. "He really didn't hurt me."
Joe didn't even seem to hear, his eyes focused intently on Jackson. "You had her pinned to the wall when I came in. She sounded terrified when she screamed."
"Joe, I thought she was one of the fans. You know how they sneak in here sometimes. I thought she was looking for a little action."
"This is my friend. She was waiting for me."
"I understand that now, Joe," Bill told him carefully. "I hung around after the guys left so that I could have the whirlpool to myself. When she came in, I thought—well, you know what I thought. I was just having a little fun."
"Don't ever touch Mattie again," Joe warned him dangerously. "Don't ever get near her again."
Bill held h
is hands up peaceably. "Your lady is safe from me, Joe."
Their eyes held for one more tension-fraught moment before Joe moved slowly away, releasing his teammate.
Mattie let out a deep, relieved breath as the anger faded from Joe's eyes and they seemed to focus once again on her.
"Mattie, are you all right?" His voice was achingly gentle now, and Mattie could only nod.
Bill Jackson moved away, but neither of them noticed as Joe's hands cupped her face. "Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Joe's voice pleaded for reassurance, and Mattie gave it to him.
"He didn't hurt me. I—I shouldn't have screamed like that."
"He shouldn't have touched you," Joe corrected harshly.
"I think he understands that now," Mattie agreed seriously, her eyes meeting his. Her hands lifted and closed around the bulging muscles of his upper arms. "Thank you for—" She broke off awkwardly, her eyes skittering away from his. "I was so scared..."
Joe muttered a muffled curse and pressed her gently against his hard, straining body, offering silent comfort. "You're okay, now, Mattie," he whispered into her hair. "I'd never let anyone hurt you. Never."
Mattie closed her eyes on the words. She believed him. She heard the hard conviction in his voice.
Oh Joe, she wondered in silent despair, where were you ten years ago when I so badly needed that protection? Where were you when I wasn't strong enough to protect myself?
Mattie shuddered delicately at the memory of that time, then sighed, comforted, as Joe tightened his arms around her.
He was with her now. He would always be with her now.
Four
Mattie walked reluctantly down a passageway that seemed to stretch forever. Her footsteps echoed hollowly, emphasizing her hesitancy. Joe had said to meet him in the players' lounge, Mattie thought vexedly, but was this the passageway he had shown her before the game or had she fallen down Alice's rabbit hole? Mattie was so preoccupied with looking for the White Rabbit that her first inkling of another presence came when her bent head rammed solidly into a massive, masculine chest.
The force of that blow would have knocked any ordinary man off his feet or at least back a step or two. Mattie herself landed ignominiously on her delicate little backside. The bull elephant in front of her didn't even flinch.
Mattie's stunned eyes focused on cleat-encased feet and rose...and rose...and rose slowly over dirt-smudged white uniform pants, muscular thighs—each easily the size of a baby redwood—a tight waist and a massive chest with the number 53 spread on the straining jersey. The man's shoulders stretched forever, Mattie thought with awe. And that was with no pads beneath the uniform. Then Mattie's eyes lighted on his face, and she swallowed audibly.
He looked mean. Very mean. The bottom half of his face was covered with a scruffy stubble, as though he hadn't shaved in two or three days. His jaw was square and hard.
Mattie swallowed again. "H-hello.. .sir."
A deep, rusty voice boomed like the wrath of God from that massive chest. "What are you doing here?"
If it was an accusation, Mattie was ready to admit to any crime. She was also ready to turn tail and run. She may be little, but when faced with a male mastodon, she could be quick. It took another second or two of panicked planning—escape routes to South America and such—before Mattie's normal good sense reasserted itself. Joe had asked her to be here, she reminded herself bracingly. If all else failed, she could run like hell.
With that comforting thought firmly in mind, Mattie picked herself up delicately, testing gingerly for any broken bones or life-threatening contusions. Not immediately finding any, she deigned to answer. "I'm looking for Joe Ryan."
This time the rumble was derisive. "You and half the female population of Texas.''
"No, really," Mattie insisted. "Joe asked me to meet him here."
"Sure, little girl. Wives wait here. Ryan ain't married. Beat it." Number 53 was brusque. He'd heard it all before.
Mattie was irritated. Fleetingly the realization that she wasn't having much luck with Joe's teammates ran through her mind. Before she could consider a wise course of action, she began heatedly, "Listen, Mr.... 53—"
But Mr. 53 was not listening to the troublesome little lady berating him. His eyes had drifted beyond her, and the hard, mean face and wild eyes softened like chewing gum on a July-hot sidewalk. Mattie's tirade halted abruptly, leaving her open-mouthed in absolute astonishment.
Number 53 brushed past Mattie—Dumbronkowski was the name sewn on the back of the jersey—and met the slight woman coming down the tunnel. She was almost as small as Mattie herself, a pretty redhead with flashing green eyes and a slim build. Slim, that was, except for the fact that she was easily eight months pregnant.
"Jen!" Mattie heard Dumbronkowski roar gently. "What are you doing here? I told you to wait in the stands. I was going to come for you after I took my shower. You shouldn't have come to the game anyway. You'll strain yourself, trying to do so much. You push yourself too hard, beloved." He continued to berate gently as Jen reached up and brushed a kiss across his sweaty, dirt-smudged cheek, replacing his admonishing expression with one of such fatuous adoration that Mattie simply stared.
"Marion, darling, I'm fine," Jen assured him indulgently. "I wanted to tell you how well you played—even though they had you double-teamed."
Dumbronkowski—Marion—Mattie corrected herself, began again to fuss over Jen, completely oblivious to Mat-tie's continued presence.
"Mattie." Joe's voice came from behind her, and Mat-tie jumped startled.
"Joe!"
Joe regarded her curiously. "Have you been waiting long?"
"No! No," she denied dazedly. "I've just been talking with—Marion." There was still an undertone of faint hysteria in her tone, and Joe's eyes narrowed consideringly.
"Freight's our nose guard," he murmured solemnly.
Mattie studied the straight blade of Joe's nose carefully. "He's doing a very good job."
Joe shook his head, smiling. "Mattie, a nose guard doesn't—"
But Mattie was bubbling with laughter, her eyes gleaming. "Freight? You call him Freight?"
Joe regarded her incredulously. "You don't honestly think any of us are going to call him Marion, do you?"
Both Mattie and Joe turned to study the huge six-foot-five, 265-pound linebacker hovering protectively over the redhead.
"Jen did," Mattie noted.
"Jen is his wife," Joe pointed out dryly.
"Is this their first child?" Mattie asked idly.
"Good Lord, no! This will be their fifth."
"Their fifth!" Mattie was incredulous. "But—but—" She gestured vaguely to the couple. "He's fussing so."
Joe regarded her oddly. "He loves her, Mattie."
"He loves her," Mattie repeated blankly, her eyes on the couple. She said nothing more about Marion and Jen Dumbronkowski, but her eyes remained on them as she changed the subject.
"He wasn't going to let me wait for you," she told Joe idly.
"Oh?"
Mattie nodded solemnly. "He thought I was some football floozy out to break your heart."
Joe smiled ruefully. "We all kind of try to protect each other from them."
"Are there many? Football floozies, I mean?" Mattie repeated the words with relish.
Joe answered carefully. "A fair number, I guess."
Mattie looked away. "Do they—do they bother you much?"
Joe shrugged. "Quarterback is a glamour position. They want the thrill of being seen with a football player. They don't want me."
Mattie tentatively reached out and touched his hand, and Joe's questioning eyes flew to hers. "Then they don't know what they're missing."
Joe smiled slowly, a haunting light burned in his eyes. "Damn, you're something."
Mattie drew her hand self-consciously from his and squared her shoulders. "So, onward and upward. Ready to go?"
Mattie and Joe were heading for Joe's cabin in the Hill Country. Joe had told her days
ago that he needed to go "winterize" the cabin, and Mattie had eagerly volunteered to help. The Hill Country outside of Austin was one of the most beautiful areas in Texas, and she wanted to see Joe's own little piece of it.
"Don't expect much," Joe warned her lightly. "It's just a weekend escape. Nothing fancy."
"Indoor plumbing?" Mattie questioned hopefully.
Joe laughed. "Indoor plumbing," he agreed. "Let's go."
When they drew even with Jen and Marion Dumbronkowski, Joe stopped. Marion ceased scolding his wife long enough to study Mattie suspiciously.
"Joe!" Jen cried welcomingly, placing a friendly kiss against his cheek. "It's so good to see you. How have you been?"
As Joe and Jen fell into a lively discussion, Mattie's guileless gaze locked with Marion. She read the distrust in his eyes, and a mischievous imp overtook her—fueled, no doubt, by her feeling of safety in Joe's presence.
Wrinkling her nose in an unconsciously enchanting gesture, she surreptitiously stuck out her tongue.
Freight's eyes widened for one incredulous moment, then he burst into a roaring roll of laughter. It's sheer volume startled Mattie.
Joe and Jen broke off their conversation to study the other two with friendly curiosity.
"I guess you know this one, huh, Joe?" Freight's voice rumbled out proddingly.
Joe took the hint. Smiling wryly, he made the introductions. "Sorry. Mattie, Fd like you to meet Jen and Freight Dumbronkowski. Jen, Freight, this is my.. .friend, Mat-tie Grey."
Mattie didn't even notice the hesitation, but Freight did, and his eyes sharpened.
"You can call me Marion," Dumbronkowski told her, holding her hand with a delicate awkwardness.
Mattie suddenly realized that the knowledge of his own strength must have been hard learned and she relaxed. After all, he had laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him, hadn't he?
Joe made a strangled sound in his throat at the invitation, and Marion's eyes turned to challenge his fiercely. While they were locked in silent combat, Jen moved closer to Mattie to whisper confidingly, "When he asks you to call him Marion, you know he likes you."
Mattie smiled at her, flattered. "Does that mean he doesn't like Joe?"
Just Joe Page 6
