In the End Zone: A Sports Romance

by Nacole Mills

  Oh god, she thought wildly to herself, how am I supposed to do this interview?

  Chapter Five

  Morgan chewed on her pencil nervously as she waited for the parade of football players to come by her desk on the seventh floor. She had managed to get all of the big ones agree to 10-minute interviews throughout the course of the day, with video interviews the next week. She had her list laid out in front of her, and every time her eyes swooped over the names, the last one of the day made her stomach flip: Brent Larson.

  She had already done the first two for the day. Two defensive linemen came up to her office first and were giddy at the idea of being interviewed. The first was soft spoken and Morgan got the sense that he was a true "gentle giant." The second kept talking of his mother, and he ended the interview with the words "my mama is going to be so proud of this!"

  Next up was Sam Smythe, the quarterback. She had met him once before in the locker room on the day that she interviewed Coach Boss for the first time. And she recognized him immediately when he stepped off the elevator. Sam was tall and lean, with cocoa-brown skin and small dreadlocks smoothed back over his head. The one thing that stuck out to Morgan was how kind and understanding he always seemed to be. Sam gave off the aura of the perfect person to be best friends with, or to share a coffee with. When Morgan waved him over, his face broke into a wide grin, showcasing his perfect teeth that made all of the girls swoon.

  Morgan watched Sam as he walked over and she could see why all of the women went gaga for Sam. He really was a handsome man. His dark brown eyes glittered kindly at her as he approached, and when they shook hands, Morgan could almost hear the jealous cries of a million women behind her. Why is he not having that effect on me? she wondered.

  "Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Smythe," Morgan said as the pair sank into chairs across her desk from each other.

  "Anytime," Sam said, "But call me Sam."

  Morgan smiled. "Okay, Sam. Call me Morgan."

  The interview went great. Morgan found Sam to be easy going and a breeze to talk to. With every question, the star quarterback remained humble and his answered showcased his generosity and sweetness. But Morgan was not swooning in her seat. She was not falling under his spell like every lady before her. When Morgan would glance around the room, she saw more than a dozen of her female coworkers leaned over their desks, watching Sam Smythe and practically drooling over the man. So, what was wrong with Morgan?

  After the 10 minutes were up, Morgan set down her pad and pencil and she said, "Well, that's all the questions that I have for you, Sam."

  That thousand-watt smile beamed again. "Great! That was not too bad."

  "Nah, I like to keep it simple."

  Sam leaned forward in his chair and his hushed voice commented, "Can I tell you a secret? It was so nice to talk to a woman who wasn't gaping at me or fawning all over me. Very refreshing."

  Morgan looked at him curiously. "You aren't disappointed, are you?"

  "Oh lord, no!" Sam chuckled quietly. "It was just nice to have a real conversation with a female." He looked at her slyly, knowing, and he said, "Plus, I think that I have some competition when it comes to you."

  Morgan cocked her head and raised her eyebrow. "Huh?" she asked stupidly.

  All it took was for Sam to mouth the word, "Larson" for Morgan's body to react. Her heart fluttered deep within her chest and a hot magenta blush rose up on her cheeks. She looked away from Sam, then without realizing it, she began fidgeting with the things on her desk.

  Sam smiled knowingly, but when Morgan saw the smile, she hissed, "I don't know what you are talking about."

  "Oh, okay," Sam said, but he did not look convinced. In fact, he looked as though he thought Morgan a liar, and a poor one at that.

  Morgan cleared her throat and her eyes glanced down at her list of players. All that was left to interview today was the kicker, Mitch Cannon, and Brent Larson. Her eyes focused in on Brent's name and Morgan felt as though she was lost in a fog. What was this man doing to her?

  Sam Smythe left shortly after, and Mitch Cannon was the next one to be interviewed. Morgan found him funny and charming, but she was distracted the whole time. She knew that Brent was coming, coming up to see her, and she would have to fight hard to push away the attraction that she felt toward him.

  Mitch's interview was over in a flash, and before Morgan knew it, she was waiting for Brent Larson to grace her with his presence. She sat at her desk, twirling her chewed up pencil in her hand and fighting the urge to check the little bit of makeup that she had put on for the day. Her lips pressed together and she swallowed hard, thinking of Brent's full, soft-looking lips.

  I have got to keep focused, she thought to herself sternly, Don't let him get to you. Just do the interview and see him out. Your job is so much more important than some silly guy.

  The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, and there stood Brent Larson, his eyes squarely focused on Morgan and a smile playing on his lips.

  Morgan stood quickly and could not tear her eyes away from him as he walked toward her. There was something about the way he moved, or how his khakis and blue button up shirt hung from his tight, muscular body that kept her attention. Or maybe, it was because Morgan knew exactly what was under all of those clothes, and she thought about it every night before she went to bed. Morgan could picture him naked now, his slick, hairless body, tanned and beautiful, glistening with sweat and flushed from playing...

  "Afternoon, Ms. McMinn," Brent said with his docile tones, his smile wide and his eyes glittering dangerously. He held out a hand to shake hers, and the idea of touching Brent's skin again both aroused her and terrified her at the same time.

  Morgan cleared her throat and took Brent's hand. She shook it firmly and quickly before dropping into her chair. "Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Larson," Morgan said, looking at everything but Brent.

  The running back sat across from Morgan and smiled as his leg crossed over the other. He was comfortable and he clearly enjoyed watching her sweat and squirm. "The pleasure is all mine, Ms. McMinn. I would do anything to get some alone time with you."

  Morgan looked up at him and she felt her whole body swell as his eyes stared into hers. There was a wanting there, a desire that Morgan dare not grab hold of. Focus!

  "Uh..." Morgan grabbed for her notes which contained a list of questions. She blinked hard, desperate to start reading them. "Where did you grow up, Mr. Larson?"

  "Call me Brent," he said, leaning forward.

  "Uh... okay."

  "I grew up in a little town in Illinois. You wouldn't know the name. It boasts two stoplights, four stop signs, a grocery store, and the home of the one star that managed to get out of there." Brent ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, letting a few tendrils fall around his eyes. "But tell me, where are you from?"

  Morgan had been frantically writing while fighting her racing heart. "I'm from here," she said, "Born and raised about 15 minutes from the stadium."

  "Ahh, so do you go to state college?" Brent asked.

  "I graduate in December. This internship is the last thing I needed. I start here full time once it's up." Morgan shook her head and felt a hot irritation growing. "Hey! I'm the one asking the questions here!"

  Brent held up his hands and smiled in defeat. "Of course, Ms. McMinn."

  Morgan looked back down at her questions. "What made you want to play football?"

  Brent shrugged and glanced out the window near Morgan's desk. "Don’t know. My dad played, and so did both my grandpa's. It was just expected for me to play. Plus, it got me out of that one horse town and into college. After that, I just kept going." His deep blue eyes moved back to Morgan. "So, do you ever dream about getting out of the town you grew up in?"

  Morgan shrugged and before she knew it, she was falling into his trap again. "I'd like to travel eventually, but this is my home," she said. She realized that she was answering more of his questions and she pointed her pencil at him while
narrowing her eyes. "No more questions, pal."

  With a smile, Brent nodded his head. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding not very sorry at all, "I just want to get to know you a bit better."

  A heavy flush rose up on Morgan's cheeks and her heart fluttered once more. It took everything in her not to throw herself across the desk and into his lap. But she took a long, ragged breath and tried in vain to compose herself. She looked down at the next question, and when she asked it, her voice was hoarse and tense. "What is your home life like? Are you married?"

  Brent's smile was one of knowing. His eyes twinkled as he replied, "Single as the day is long. Not looking, though. I have my eyes on one beautiful girl in particular, but I don't know if she will give me the time of day."

  Morgan's eyes met Brent's and he nodded ever so slightly. She stared at Brent and her mind blanked. All of those warnings that she had given herself were silenced. All she knew was that this handsome guy was staring at her, hinting that he wanted her and her alone. Her pencil dropped from her hands and the moment seemed to last for an eternity.

  Brent leaned forward and he whispered to Morgan, "Have dinner with me tonight."

  Oh, she wanted to. She wanted to leave work that very second and spend every waking moment with Brent. But there was that little nagging bit in her head that echoed to "keep her nose clean and out of trouble."

  "I... I can't," Morgan whispered back dejectedly.

  Brent raised an eyebrow. He was the kind of guy who did not take no for an answer. "Why not?"

  Before Morgan could stop them, the words just came tumbling out. "I had to work my ass off to get this internship. And on top of that, Dryer has offered me a full-time position here once the internship is over. I don't want to fuck this up. This is the chance of a lifetime for me and I am not going to let some hotshot football player screw it up."

  "But you have to admit that there is something between us," Brent said, still leaned into her. "You had to feel that spark."

  Morgan narrowed her eyes. "I won't admit to anything," she said, knowing that she felt it too.

  Brent grinned. "How about this... How about we make a bet?"

  "A bet?" Morgan raised an eyebrow.

  "Yeah," Brent's smile was wide, "How about, if I make the winning touchdown during this Monday's game, you go out on one date with me? If there's nothing there, I'll leave you alone for the rest of your time here. And I won't tell a soul, as to keep your job safe."

  Morgan rolled the idea around in her mind. It didn't sound like too bad of a bet. And what harm could come to her if he promised to keep it all secret? Plus, what were the odds of Brent making the winning touchdown at the game? Even if the Caimans won, Brent would have to make the final one, right? Morgan thought that her odds were good, and if it meant that Brent lost and never talked to her again, at least she would have her career, right?

  She looked back up at Brent, who grinned at her deviously. Morgan's face softened from stern to a smile and she said, "Mr. Larson, I'll take that bet.

  Morgan quickly remembered that she was in the middle of an interview and she glanced back down at her questions. "One last question and we are done. What is the one thing in life that you can never pass up?"

  Brent's eyes glittered. "Winning a bet."

  Chapter Six

  "Holy chalupa, these seats are incredible!"

  "Yeah, dad, I know!" Morgan shouted over the roar of the football fans.

  It was Monday night, time for some football!

  One of the perks of working for the Caimans is that Morgan could get tickets to any home game that she wanted, and the first one that she wanted to go to was against the Red Oaks, a smaller team. And out of everyone she knew, she wanted her dad to be the first person that she brought to a game.

  So Morgan and her Dad settled into their seats just above the Caimans bench. They could see the whole field from there and had a great view of the players. Morgan had never been a true football fan, but she could not help but feed off of the excitement that permeated throughout the stands. Every fan was on his or her feet, screaming at the top of their lungs, and Morgan and her dad joined right in.

  But every time Morgan looked up at the scoreboard, a little bit of nervousness wriggled in her stomach like a ball of worms. The Caimans were tied with the Red Oaks, but Morgan knew that Brent Larson would be watching the scoreboard, too. In fact, he had seen her in the stands when the players first came out. Every now and then, when he would be on the sidelines, he would turn and smile at her knowingly. Morgan tried to hide it, but whenever Brent looked at her, a shock of arousal would coarse through her veins. Her skin felt hot, her bra tightened as her breasts swelled, and she would blush a deep crimson.

  Now, the score was tied 21-21 and the Caimans had the ball. There were only 2 minutes left in the final quarter and Morgan knew that Brent Larson would be doing everything in his power to make sure that he scored the winning touchdown.

  To her left, Morgan's father was jumping and cheering on the team. The Caimans had been his favorite team since before Morgan's birth 22 years ago, and this was his first live game. To her right, a coworker was doing the same, cheering on the team that wrote the paychecks. But Morgan stood still and stoic as her heart raced. She watched the team set up for a play, the play that would certainly win them the game. The running back number 93 stood on the field, crouched and ready to spring into action. Larson turned his head slightly and looked over in Morgan's direction, and if she didn't know any better, she would have sworn that he winked at her.

  "Down! Set! Hike!"

  The ball was snapped to the quarterback and Larson sprang forward, running as fast as his thick, muscular legs could take him. Morgan watched him run, and in her mind's eye, she saw his long, thick, naked legs standing idle in the locker room all those weeks ago. Morgan shook her head and the crowd seemed to fall into a hush when the quarterback launched the football into the air.

  Every eye on the stadium, including Morgan's, watched as the ball flew high and long, and landed gently into Larson's open, waiting arms.

  The crowd burst into screams as Larson ran as though his life depended on it. Morgan watched with baited breath, her heartbeat seemingly sprinting in time with the rhythm of his footsteps. All around her, the crowd cheered and tumbled over each other, but Morgan stood still, shocked, even though she shouldn't be.

  "Touchdown, Caimans!" the announcers cried out over the din of sound.

  The fans joyously tumbled over one another in victory. The rest of the players rushed the field in victory and Larson was lost in a sea of teammates. Morgan's eyes searched for him, but she did not find him until he was lifted onto the shoulders of some defensive linemen. Larson pulled off his helmet and grinned widely, holding up both the gold and orange helmet and the brown pigskin that had won him the victory.

  Morgan stood next to her father and cheered along, though her stomach and heart could not agree on whether she was nervous and anxious, or if she was excited. Larson dropped to the ground and ran to the stands, hoisting himself up on the metal poles that separated the fans from the players.

  He looked right in Morgan's eyes, even though he was being rushed by joyous fans, all desperate to touch the man who won them the game. But his eyes, those blue eyes that one could drown in, stared at Morgan. He shook his head, rustling his long, shaggy hair from his eyes, and he mouthed the words, "Date? Tonight?"

  Morgan could feel her father glancing at her from her left, but she paid it no mind. She nodded ever so slightly. Larson's face split into a grin, one of excitement and triumph, and he howled out with the fans in celebration.

  But the eyes of her father were on her still. Morgan glanced over to see her father glaring sternly. "You know Brent Larson?" he shouted over the roaring crowd.

  Morgan did not know how to respond. Finally, after glancing around and waiting a little too long to answer, she leaned over and said, "He won a date with me."

  Mr. McMinn's eyebrows knotted in a look of disb
elief. He shook his head, then took his daughter by the elbow and said, "Whatever. Just get me an autograph if you think of it."

  ***

  Morgan was waiting at her desk on the seventh floor, watching the stars in the sky outside her window twinkle over the bustling city. She had said goodnight to her father and headed back to work, knowing that Brent would be waiting on her. The office was deserted and quiet, which made Morgan feel strange. She was so used to the hustle and noise of the seventh floor that the darkness and quiet made it seem like a different place.

  She knew he was coming for her. She did not know when.

  After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Morgan stood from her desk and gathered her things. "I don't have to do this," she said to herself, mumbling, "I don't have to go on this date."

  But to turn him down? Was that really her? And she had never been one to welch on a bet before...

  "But I could lose this job over him. No man is worth that."

  Morgan did not stop to think about how Brent Larson made her feel. Not just the physical... Even though he had a way of looking at her that made her body ache and throb for touches and kisses. No, it was also how he made her feel pretty, feminine, and sweet. There was just something about that man that she was drawn to...

  "I can't lose this job!"

  Morgan grabbed her purse and made her way to the elevator. "I'll just leave before he gets here. And I'll put him off for as long as I can."

  Before Morgan could punch the button to call for the elevator, the bright silver doors opened wide. Morgan gasped as her eyes landed on the handsome Brent Larson. He stood there, freshly washed and cleaned up after the game, wearing tight dark blue jeans and a blue and white t-shirt. His face glistened, as it was freshly shaven, and Morgan could smell the musky scent of cologne, which must have just been spritzed on. It was the same cologne that made her dizzy with desire when they found themselves alone in the elevator. Morgan's eyes wandered down and she saw that, in Brent's hand, he held a small bouquet of white roses.