by Nacole Mills
Everything was riding on this: her job, her future career, and the work behind her name. And no matter what, she was determined to be great at this.
Chapter Three
The locker room was a rowdy, smelly, hazy mess when Morgan stepped in. She had not been far behind the players and coaches, but when she stepped in, she was hit in the face with a blast of warm, humid air that smelled musky and hot. Morgan stood still, shocked as she looked around at the mostly naked men there. Almost everyone was in some state of undress. Most of the guys were still wearing their jock straps, and others had towels wrapped around their middles as they prepared to climb into the showers. But a few of the men were completely naked, causing Morgan to feel embarrassed. A blush rose up on her cheeks and she tried her best not to stare in awe of the gorgeous, hunky, rock-hard bodies that paraded in front of her.
The players did not seem to notice Morgan, but she was so small and petite that she was easily overlooked in the crowd of giants. Morgan slowly made her way across the room, wanting to find Coach Boss quickly so that she could return to the seventh floor.
"Hey, baby," one of the players said teasingly, “You lost? I can help.”
Morgan recognized this player. He was one of the strong, big defensive linebackers, and he was easily 5 times bigger than Morgan, and one that her father called “a beast.” His pale skin was stretched tightly over masses of muscles and his freckled face and red hair looked kind, even with all of the teasing.
Although Morgan wanted to blush and run away, she forced herself to stand tall. "I'm looking for Coach Boss," she said, her voice powerful and strong.
"Coach?" another player asked. This player was tall and dark skinned, but he looked sweet and understanding. Wasn’t he Sam Smythe, the quarterback? "He's in his office. Head to the back and look for the big windows."
Morgan nodded and set off to find the coach. She moved around the hot, sweaty, muscular men and finally found the window that the player was talking about. She kept her eyes on the gray tiled floor, not wanting to look up and accidentally get a glimpse of someone’s nakedness.
But before she could reach out to Coach Boss, someone stepped in front of Morgan. When she looked up, she found herself looking right into the amazing blue eyes of the player who wore the number 93 jersey earlier. Morgan gasped when she took in his face. He was much more handsome up close and she could see every single chiseled feature in full detail. His eyes were what struck her the most. Before she had seen them and marveled at their beauty. But now, just inches away from his face, she could finally see how brilliant they were. They looked like two cool pools of water that she wanted to dive into. Morgan thought that his eyes looked bluer than the deepest oceans with thin little crests at the top of each wave. She could not tear her eyes from him.
The football player leaned against a locker and he smiled. Morgan looked down, and she immediately blushed hard when she realized that he was stark naked standing in front of her. "Uh... nice tattoos," she said, losing all of her stern bravadoes from earlier.
"What is a gorgeous little gal like you doing in here?" the player asked. Morgan could not help but notice that he flexed his biceps, making the tattoos that she just complimented him on stand out even more.
Morgan's eyes traveled farther south, moving lazily down a little happy trail that ran from his navel, and she got an eyeful of the man's whole naked package. He was full and thick and bigger than anyone else that Morgan had ever seen. She was so amazed that she did not notice that her mouth was wide open in awe. She was incredibly aware of how turned on she was. The guy seemed to know, but the player only smiled at her.
"Do you like what you see?" he asked her with a salacious grin. And suddenly, Morgan was aware that she was staring.
She shook her head and tried to keep the flush on her cheeks from deepening as her eyes shot back up to his. "I, uh..." Morgan coughed and struggled to find her voice. "I'm looking for Coach Boss."
But the player did not move from where he stood, blocking Morgan in. His smile looped across his face lazily and he said, "And what would a pretty thing like you want to see Coach for?"
A wave of hot irritation moved over Morgan. All her life, people had said things like that to her, refusing to take her seriously because she was pretty, young, and petite. And now, this guy was blocking her in with his incredible, naked body, and she was being looked at as something pretty, not to be taken seriously. With each passing second, Morgan grew angrier.
"I'm with the Marketing department and I am in charge of interviewing Coach Boss. Now," Morgan glowered at the player with all of the hatred that she could muster, "If you do not let me by, when it is your turn to be featured online, I can guarantee you that the picture I will paint of you will not be flattering."
The pair stared at each other, but Morgan would not back down. She felt gigantic with her anger, dwarfing the large, muscular player, even though her stature said otherwise. Morgan was determined to stand up for herself and not be the one to get ran over.
The player was looking at her strangely. He was not backing down, but he was also not bucking up to come back at her. His eyes moved over her, almost laughing, and his face morphed from cocky and overbearing to one of curiosity. "Oh really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow up on his perfect forehead.
Morgan's eyes narrowed. "Try me, buddy."
"Larson!"
The voice that barked the player's name made him jump, and he turned to face behind him, all while reaching for a towel. Morgan looked around the player's large, muscular frame and saw Coach Boss standing in the doorway of his office looking angry. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest and his stance was wide. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at the naked parts of the football player that had once been exposed.
"I did not just see you expose yourself at this young woman, did I?" Coach Boss asked, his voice gruff and accusatory.
The player named Larson did not reply. He just hurried to wrap a towel around his midsection. Morgan, feeling victorious, walked jauntily around Larson's struggling frame toward the coach.
Coach Boss looked down at Morgan. "Morgan McMinn?” When Morgan nodded, Boss said, Dryer told me to keep an eye out for you. You alright?"
"Fine, thank you." Morgan's voice was cool and collected. If nothing else, she wanted to show the famed football coach that she could handle anything thrown at her. Once she heard that he was talking to Dryer, she knew that he would be reporting back to the man over marketing.
Coach Boss extended an arm to his office. "Come on in and we will get started."
Morgan began walking in, but something made her turn around and look behind her. Larson, the player who had given her so much grief, was staring at her. He was leaned against the lockers and grinning at her, all whole holding a white towel in place over his naked frame.
"It was nice meeting you, Ms..."
"McMinn," Morgan replied tersely. She turned quickly, tossing her hair as she did, and she smiled at the coach of the Caimans as he closed the door behind her. "Thank you for meeting with me, Coach Boss."
"Anytime, dear." Coach Boss moved over to his desk and sat himself down. He looked at Morgan with approval and said, "I'm glad to see you holding your own out there. You'll need that here, especially around the players. They can be... a little rough around the edges sometimes."
As Coach took a sip from a tepid-looking cup of coffee, Morgan settled down across from him and flipped open her little notebook. "It's no bother," she said, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear.
Coach grinned. "Anyone who can stand up to Brent Larson is good in my book."
Morgan smiled, then began her questions. During the interview, Morgan found Coach Boss to be kind and he answered all of the questions fully. At the end of the interview, Morgan stood and reached out to shake the coach's hand. "Thank you so much for the interview.”
“Anytime,” Coach said. He leaned back in his chair and said, “You may want to steer clear of Brent Lawson.”
“Don’t worry about me, Coach,” Morgan said, her voice showing her displeasure with the player in question, “He better worry about steering clear of me, first.”
Chapter Four
Morgan found herself fitting in quite well at the Caiman’s headquarters. After just a few days, she found that she loved it like a second home. After the first week, her coworkers all knew her by name. And after a little while longer, more staff knew her and seemed to like her. It was the perfect job for her.
But what Morgan found herself uneasy about was the football players themselves. After that run-in with Brent Lawson before her interview with the coach, she found herself steeling against seeing him again. But every time she met a new player, they all seemed nice, polite, and friendly. No one was rude or cocky like that awful Larson.
And no one looked at her with eyes like Larson’s either.
At the start of Morgan’s third week, her piece on Coach Boss went live on social media. She had written the script, recorded the speaking part, and paired it all with photographs of coach’s accomplishments throughout the years. She ended the video with the tagline: “The Caimans are coming for ya!”
When Morgan sat down with Dryer and a few other higher-ups in the advertising and marketing department, she could feel herself sweating bullets as the short 3-minute presentation played. She heard herself reading every word that she had written, and as soon as the video ended, she braced herself for criticism.
Dryer turned in his chair and looked at her as though he was studying her. “Thoughts?” he asked the others, not taking his eyes from Morgan.
“I loved it!” “Very informative.” “It did Coach justice.” Everyone around the table murmured various praises, but Morgan watched for Dryer’s reactions only.
Dryer said nothing. His long fingers tapped away at his chin and his eyes narrowed as they watched her. Morgan fought the urge to squirm in her seat, wanting to keep up that strong, confident visage that she had taken upon herself from the start of the internship. Dryer leaned forward and he asked Morgan, “Was this your best work?”
Morgan was confused. Was this a trick question? She decided it best to answer honestly. “Yes. I did my absolute best.”
A smile broke across Dryer’s face, giving his blue eyes a crinkle. “Well done,” he said, leaning back, “And just think of what you could accomplish with a full production crew helping you.”
Morgan’s heart jumped. Was this it? Did she prove herself?
Dryer stood and the others in the room followed suit. But his eyes were only for Morgan. “Congratulations, McMinn. I think that presentation just earned a permanent position here. You should be incredibly proud.”
Morgan jumped up from her chair and screamed with delight before jumping at Dryer and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!” she cried out as she squeezed his neck.
“You earned it, kid,” Dryer said as Morgan jumped off of him, “Now that you have the position, it’s time to get to work.”
“Oh,” Morgan said, straightening her clothes and smoothing down her hair with her palms, “Of course.” She fought to compose herself, knowing that she and her friends would head out and celebrate that night.
The other members of the department shared in congratulations for Morgan before filing out of the meeting area. Dryer sat back down and Morgan reached for her bag. She pulled out her laptop and sat ready for her next assignment.
“So, I like what you did with Coach Boss’s piece, but I think that we need some live shots of the players for the rest of them. Maybe do some video interviews?”
Morgan nodded as she typed away, jotting notes on every idea that Dryer suggested. Her euphoria had not yet waned. She thought that if she tried hard enough, she could dance on the ceiling out of sheer happiness.
Dryer kept on. “I loved the tag line, so let's keep that. And the old school shots of Coach were really great. I am sure that the players have baby photos around here somewhere that we can include in theirs. High school shots, stuff like that.”
“That’s a great idea,” Morgan said as her brow furrowed, trying desperately to keep her typing going as fast as Dryer’s mouth was moving. I need to get a personal voice recorder, she thought desperately.
“So, next, I think we need to go to the players themselves. Make sure that you talk to the quarterback, Sam. He’s out number one. And there’s the center and the kicker… Oh! And do not forget to grab an interview with Brent Larson! He’s our star.”
At the very mention of Brent Larson’s name, Morgan felt as though she was falling. She had tried so very hard to push the beautiful football player from her mind, but she often found herself daydreaming about him, looking him up online, or glancing around the building for a glimpse of him. But in all her three weeks with the Caimans, she had not laid eyes on him since coming across his naked, glistening form in the locker room. Morgan was sure that her face was glowing a bright pink at the thought of Larson, for she could not push away the blush that rose up on her cheeks. But Dryer did not notice.
“Have you heard about the record?,” Dryer said, speaking of Larson, “He’s tied in the country for most touchdowns made in a season. Only Erik Levitt from the Blue Kraits can come close to beating his record. So, we need a really great spotlight interview of him.”
Morgan nodded and her mind whirled. How was she to interview him and see him again? Would she be picturing him naked the whole time, or would she get lost in his beautiful face and sparkling ocean eyes? Would she even be able to think straight with his rippling muscles so close to her body? Morgan wondered if she could even ask him questions. Her body wanted his from the very moment that she laid eyes on him all those weeks ago. Could she stay professional?
Dryer stood and it brought Morgan rushing back to the present. “We only have a few more weeks until the start of the season. Let’s get these interviews done and ready to go out in a month.”
Morgan stood and nodded. Dryer wandered off, ready to head to another meeting about merchandising, and Morgan dragged her bag and computer back to her desk. She threw herself onto her chair and swiveled around, turning away from the rest of the office. What should have been the happiest day of her life, getting the job of her dreams, was now turning into one of the most nerve-wracking. She took a deep breath and gathered her things. She left a note on her desk saying, “Out to lunch” and headed to the elevator.
She stepped on and tried to clear her head as soon as the doors closed. She sank against the back wall and took a few deep breaths, letting herself smile over the elation of getting the job. “So what if I have to deal with Brent Larson,” she said to herself, “I’ll just keep professional and then stay away from him.”
The doors opened suddenly at the fifth floor and Morgan stood up straight. She looked up to see who was getting on, and when she saw the beautiful face of the running back who wore the number 93 jersey, she suddenly found it a struggle to breathe.
Brent Larson stepped onto the elevator and when he saw Morgan standing there alone, he grinned at her and winked. The simple gesture sent Morgan’s hard fluttering fast and her body seemed to swell with him being so close to her. What is wrong with me, Morgan thought wildly.
He moved just past her to press the button on the elevator for the training field. Morgan went dizzy when she inhaled the scent of his cologne.
The elevator doors closed slowly, closing them in together, alone, and Brent moved to stand next to Morgan. She looked him up and down and admired his dark brown suit paired with a salmon colored button up shirt. His dark shaggy hair was combed back and out of his eyes, but the little bit of stubble that dotted his cheeks gave him an unkempt look that did not pair with the rest of him.
Brent looked over at Morgan and she tried desperately to ignore the salacious grin that he gave when he looked at her. “It’s good to see you looking so fine, Ms. Morgan,” he said, his voice deep and husky and a little bit jolly.
“It’s go
od to see you wearing clothes, Mr. Larson,” Morgan said, unable to stop herself. Her voice was acidic, but it was only because she was so desperate to steel herself against him.
Brent’s laughter echoed in the elevator as the pair sank slowly down the center of the building. “I suppose so,” he said. When Morgan looked over at him, his blue eyes twinkled gaily at her.
Morgan suppressed a smile. Brent’s laughter was contagious, but she dared not give in to him. She knew men like him, men who were aware of their charm and virtue and used it every time they could. No, Morgan would fight against him. He was bad for her, she knew it.
“I’ve been hoping to run into you again,” Brent said, leaning over to touch his shoulder to Morgan’s. His body was hard and warm, and when they touched, Morgan could feel her skin swell and ache for him. She squeezed her thighs together tightly, refusing to give in to her desire for him.
Morgan said nothing. She looked ahead and watched the numbers in the elevator slowly tick down. 4… 3… 2… Finally, the doors opened and Morgan stepped off and into the lobby. She looked back at Brent, who had been staring at her as she walked away, and she offered a wry smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Larson, I will be by to interview you in the next week.”
Brent just smiled and leaned back. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, “And if I don’t see you before then, I’ll be up to the seventh floor to see you first.”
The silver elevator doors closed and Brent disappeared from sight. Morgan stood still, her mouth slightly open as she fought to stop the hot desire that was bubbled up in her. It had taken every bit of self-control that she had in her body to keep her from jumping on Brent, taking his mouth on hers and pleasuring every bit of his body. She wanted nothing else in the world, and she wanted to terribly bad.
