by Ann Jacobs
They’d talked nearly every night, sometimes for hours, other times for just a few minutes. She felt like she knew him, deep inside, even though they’d only met in person for a few stolen moments. Tonight…
Well, tonight would take care of itself. Meanwhile she had some cheering to do.
Already the crowd was making plenty of noise and the players hadn’t even come on the field for warmups. A brisk wind had pennants dancing around on top of the stadium. Small planes towed ads for various businesses, and a giant helium-filled balloon bounced on its tether on the wall above the south end zone. Larger-than-life images of Gamblers players past and present flashed in unison on two jumbotrons.
Marly loved it. The excitement. The beginning of another thrilling season, this one where she could yell not just for the team as a unit, but for Bobby. Even if he did nothing but pace the sidelines carrying a clipboard.
The day couldn’t have been better. Not a hint of rain on the horizon, and that was good. So was the fact it was a comfortable seventy-three degree day in mid-September. Coming home after a successful season opener on the road, the team was certain to be fired up for their old nemesis, the Milwaukee Marlins. Bobby had mentioned when they talked last night that the team was out for revenge since the Marlins had blown out the Gamblers the last game of the previous season.
Liz Grady, a fellow cheerleader, joined Marly in the formation at the end of the tunnel where the players would emerge. “Who’re you trying to catch the attention of today?” she asked.
“You can pick from the rest of them. I want Bobby Anthony.” Marly and Liz watched the players come out of the tunnel as they waved pompoms along with the rest of the Gamblers’ Molls who had formed a double line for the players to go through. “He’s so hot. Tall, dark and sexy. We’re going out after the game.”
What was Marly saying? What was she thinking? Here she was, drooling about getting involved with a player even though she’d had no intention of becoming a football groupie. She guessed Bobby had changed all that.
Liz kept her pompoms dancing, but she shot Marly an incredulous look. “How’d you manage that?”
“We ran into each other—almost literally—when he was here for rookie camp during cheerleader tryouts. We’ve been talking on the phone ever since.” Liz didn’t need to know those calls had been fodder for her fantasies, or that Marly was a lot more involved than she’d planned to be with the rookie signal-caller. “He’s...”
“I know, I know, he’s got you creaming your panties, just thinking about him. Just keep in mind how many other women are doing the same.” Liz paused for a minute, watched Keith Connors warming up his arm with one of the receivers. “Did you hear, Keith lost his wife during the offseason, right after their baby was born? His mom’s staying with him, taking care of the baby until they find a permanent nanny. I wonder if he’s getting lonesome yet. I sure wouldn’t mind fucking him until he can’t see straight. Bet he’s horny by now.” Liz glanced toward the stands where a lot of the players’ wives and girlfriends were sitting. “I don’t see his mother over there.”
Was Liz thinking… No, she couldn’t be. “She could be in one of the luxury boxes,” Marly pointed out.
“Yeah, or she could be home with the kid.”
“If I were you I’d stay far away from Connors. I heard one of the cheerleaders went groupie on him last year, and she was tossed off the squad. Management doesn’t take well to cheerleaders chasing their married players.”
“Yeah, I know. Still, a girl can always dream. Besides, Connors isn’t married anymore.”
For the next few minutes, while they waited for the National Anthem and coin toss, Marly stared at the number four on Bobby’s jersey. The legendary Brett Favre wore that number. The Gamblers had probably given the number to Bobby because he’d worn it at Tulane and it hadn’t already been issued to a Gamblers veteran, not because it also happened to belong to one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time. But Marly saw the coincidence as a sign that good things were going to happen for the rookie.
Dark-brown hair, a little on the long side as if he’d been too busy to find a barber shop, made Bobby look adorable, and awfully young. Or maybe he looked young because he was young. Straight out of college, he looked the part of the golden rookie, chomping at the bit to get his chance. He could make it with her right now. Let Liz lust after team captain Keith Connors.
Just looking at Bobby made Marly start to salivate. His long, lean, muscular body tempted her to explore…to taste…to drive him so crazy he’d take her like the alpha jock she was sure he’d be when they got between the sheets. Not that his baby face didn’t turn her on, because it did. Big time.
She couldn’t have lusted after Bobby any more if she’d made up an order for her dream lover and had the Gamblers’ general manager fill it for her on draft day. Smooth, tanned skin with no more than a hint of a dark beard she was sure would thicken as he got older framed deep-set brown eyes—not hazel but clear, coffee-colored eyes that had held her gaze for more than a second as he passed by her on the sideline, clipboard in hand. Damn, but his smile was to die for. She could hardly wait to taste those inviting, firmly chiseled lips that framed gleaming teeth. Again, she amended, recalling that one mind-blowing kiss one sweltering day in June.
Marly sighed when the Milwaukee team went three-and-out and the Gamblers took over on their own twenty yard line. Keith Connors trotted onto the field, his attitude as sure, cocky as befitted a seven time all-Pro. He always liked to come out passing, and this time was no exception. Lined up in the shotgun, he took the snap, looked out to find his receiver…
Omigod! That hurt, just watching Connors get blindsided and knocked flat on his back. The tackler then came down on top of him and the ball popped loose. Luckily it was recovered by one of the Gamblers’ offensive linemen, probably the same one who’d missed the block on the Marlins’ all-pro linebacker. Marly took a deep breath. Like everybody else in the stadium, she hoped Keith wasn’t badly hurt.
When he didn’t get up right away, the team’s medical people swarmed onto the field. The crowd went silent. They knew as well as Marly did that if Connors was out, Bobby was in for a quick and probably terrifying baptism of fire. It looked as if that would probably be the case when the EMT people drove a cart out onto the field. She looked along the sideline, trying to find Bobby among the other players.
There he was, talking with the quarterback coach and offensive coordinator. He stood by the stretcher and shared a few words with Keith before putting on the helmet he’d been holding. Shoulders squared, Bobby trotted onto the field and into the huddle. Marly stood, her gaze locked on the rookie quarterback as he lined up under center and took the snap.
He handed off to wiry running back Dan Morales then ran the opposite direction. No, Bobby still had the ball. And no protection from a lineman on the bootleg play. Bobby looked downfield and found his receivers covered before tucking the football and running. Twenty-six yards later, a Marlins safety finally shoved him out of bounds.
Less than a minute went by before the Gamblers scored. Bobby was three of four for a touchdown. Not bad for a rookie’s first series as a pro. Marly made sure she was in his line of vision and shot him her sexiest smile along with a thumbs-up. Before the players went to the locker room at halftime she handed Bobby a note. Liz gaped at her, obviously surprised that Marly would be so blatant. “All it says is that I’ll meet him outside the players’ exit after the game.”
She knew Liz must have thought she was a QB groupie. Her friends had teased her about that since she first told them she was going to try out for the cheerleading squad. Despite the fact their date had been in the works for months, she guessed she must be a football groupie, something she’d been vehemently denying to her friends who’d teased her for going out for the Gamblers’ cheerleading squad last spring. But Marly loved the game. She loved the Gamblers, and she was proud to be a cheerleader.
She didn’t mind the teasing, because she
knew why she’d done it. However, she hoped Bobby Anthony didn’t think she was a groupie. If that was the only reason he was going out with her…
She suppressed the spear of hurt that the thought provoked, but quickly pushed it away. She liked Bobby, and if she was a groupie, it was for one specific guy. She wouldn’t care if he was the number one quarterback or the water boy, though she certainly didn’t mind looking at his big, toned body. Not that the body was all she was interested in. From the late-night conversations they’d shared, she’d learned she liked his attitude, his sense of humor, his open affection for his mom…just about everything about him. And she wasn’t about to let Liz’s or anybody else’s opinions spoil her excitement about their upcoming date.
“What’s that, Anthony?” Third string quarterback Ellis Tripp gestured toward the folded scrap of paper Bobby was looking at.
“A note.” Ninety percent of his mind was on what Coach Lyle had just said about what they had to do to hold their lead. The rest focused on Marly, who looked even hotter today than she had the day they first met. “From one of the cheerleaders,” he added when Ellis looked confused.
“If all it takes is to play a few downs to get hot babes crawling all over you, then I’d better start working harder in practice so I can get a shot at some of them.” Ellis grinned, his sun-roughened cheeks crinkling like paper when he curved his lips. At thirty-eight, the journeyman quarterback was past the stage of jockeying for position since he’d gone from sometimes-starter to third-string hanger-on pretty smoothly over the sixteen years he’d been in the league with various teams.
Bobby hoped his own star would rise, not hit a downward spiral the way Ellis’s had. “Come on now, you know your wife would kill you if you started playing around with the groupies.”
“Guess so. You gonna take her out?” He gestured toward the paper in Bobby’s hand.
“Yeah. Where’s a good place to go after the game?” Last Sunday he’d gone straight home when the plane landed instead of taking his teammates up on what had sounded like it might become a wild celebration of their victory. Ellis scratched his head. “Probably the Fifth Quarter over on the river. That way a lot of her buddies will see her with the stud of the day. That ought to make her happy. Come on, it’s time to finish this game.”
“Yeah.” He’d managed pretty well so far. Bobby gave himself a pep talk as he trotted back onto the field. Thirty minutes more of playing and his NFL debut would be a success, assuming he didn’t panic and the defense managed to stop the Marlins’ Brand Carendon from tossing any more seventy yard touchdown passes the way he’d done just before halftime. While the receiving team was on the field, Bobby found Marly near the bench and said, “I’ll meet you outside the players’ exit. It may be a while, though, because I’ll have to do a postgame interview.”
Marly grinned, her eyes sparkling. She looked cute in her uniform with its short skirt and boots and bare middle. “You sound like you’re more worried about that interview than you were about playing your first series in the pros,” she said, clearly teasing him.
“Maybe I am. I’d played football before, a whole lot more than I’d given interviews in front of TV cameras.”
“You’ll do fine. You know, I like you all wound up and glistening with sweat the way you are right now. Now go win this game for us.” With that she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his cheek.
When the game was over, Bobby figured he’d played all right. The Gamblers won the game by three, and he’d thrown for two touchdowns and only one interception. But he wasn’t at all sure he’d aced the postgame interview. Hell, he’d never before faced what seemed like hundreds of microphones, or gotten spots in front of his eyes from staring into the harsh lights that had shone directly at him. Doing interviews wasn’t something he’d practiced, since the only time he’d had to talk with reporters in college had been after his one bowl game appearance.
Back at his locker, he wondered for a minute if he ought to change out of the suit he’d put on to appear in front of the network cameras.
The hell with it. He’d lived through the torture of trying to come up with honest but tactful answers to stupid and leading questions. Answers that didn’t make him sound like an asshole or an idiot. Questions about the game, the likelihood of Keith’s absence for a few games or more, even about how he felt about the Gamblers and his teammates. Bobby figured Marly would probably like him to look like the Gamblers’ quarterback, not the green rookie he was. Hanging the T-shirt he’d been about to put on back in his locker, he loosened his tie and left his shirt open at the collar so it wouldn’t keep choking him. Sooner or later he was going to have to get used to dressing up, he supposed. Besides, he wanted to be with Marly now and it would take time to change.
He’d better get going. It wasn’t in him to make a woman wait longer than he had to. As he made his way out of the dressing room, he had to restrain himself from sprinting. After all, he told himself, if she was a proper groupie she should be the one panting after him, not the other way around.
Chapter 2
Bobby had looked good enough to eat in his red and black home game uniform. But in the gray pinstriped suit he had on now, he looked every bit the successful young executive. Only his hair, still damp and curling above the collar of a pale-blue shirt, gave a hint he might have recently come off the football field and out of the interview room. “I loved watching you play,” she told him when he stopped in front of her and took her gear bag out of her hand. “You’re damn good for a rookie.”
His grin warmed her heart and her body. “Thanks, baby. I’m counting on playing some more later today, with you. Shall we go over to the Fifth Quarter?”
No shy guy here. Marly liked her men self-confident to the point of egotistical, and she’d never met a quarterback who wasn’t, except maybe Ellis. But he didn’t count since he was married and about ready to hang up the pads. “Let’s.” She didn’t mind being Bobby’s arm candy, not at all. As a matter of fact it pleased her that he wanted to show her off to the big contingent of players and fans the rustic sports bar and restaurant always attracted after a Gamblers win. “Where’s your car?”
“In the lot over there. What about yours?”
“I came with one of the other cheerleaders. I figured you’d be taking me home.”
“Your home or mine?” His dark eyes twinkled, as though he might be teasing her. When she’d asked about taking him apartment shopping after the preseason was over, he’d told her about the place he’d lucked into—a condo on the riverfront that belonged to a former Gamblers scout.
She really wanted to see the place he’d described as too big for just him, but she didn’t want to sound too eager. “We’ll see. You know you look almost as good in a suit as you did in your uniform.” Marly crooked her arm through his and noticed how he slowed his pace to accommodate her shorter legs. “You’re too good to be true—hot as all get-out, and polite, too.”
When they reached his shiny red Escalade pickup truck, Bobby set their bags on the backseat then opened the passenger door. “My mom taught me to treat the ladies right.”
Marly watched him circle in front of the truck to get to the driver’s side. She liked the way he moved, with purpose, comfortable in his body like so many athletes were not when taken out of their work environment. When he slid behind the wheel, he leaned over and took her hand.
“I’d really like to kiss you hello.” His deep drawl poured over her, soaked in like butter melted and sunk into hot buttermilk biscuits.
She felt herself growing wet between her legs. This was definitely the man of her late-night dreams. “I can hardly wait for you to kiss me.” For starters.
“Good.” His breath smelled sweet, like toothpaste and mouthwash. As he lowered his head, she got a glimpse of his long, dark lashes, his strong brow.
And then he kissed her. But it wasn’t just any old peck. It was the real thing, a tongue-tangling, mind-boggling locking of his firm, mobile lips wi
th hers. He framed her face between his big, calloused hands, pressing the back of her head against the cool beige leather upholstery.
She had to regain her self-control or she’d be taking one of those big hands and drawing it to her breasts, her damp sex. When he broke the kiss and turned to take the wheel, she still wanted more. Now. She wanted Bobby to take control over her the way he’d overwhelmed the Marlins’ acclaimed defense.
“Hold that thought. Right now I’m hungry for something hot and spicy. Not that you’re not both.” He shot her a sexy smile that got her even hotter.
“I am?” she asked, her tone as innocent as she could make it, wanting him the way she did.
“Yeah. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be almost ready to pass on food for a long, hot roll in the hay—or rather in the king-size bed at my place. We’ll pass the building on the way to Fifth Quarter.” Bobby backed up and headed for the gate. He frowned at the dark-green Lexus, one of the few cars left in the lot. “Keith’s car’s still here. Guess they must have taken him to the hospital in an ambulance. I hope he’s going to be okay.”
For a minute, Marly doubted that last statement. Most backup players she knew would be thrilled that the guy in front of them was out of commission. But then she figured Bobby might really be concerned for Keith’s well-being. After all, from what he’d told her during one of their long phone conversations, the two men had grown up in the same west Texas town that had produced not only them but also the Rebels’ Dave Delaney and his coach, Colin Zanardi. “Did you know Keith back home?”
He glanced her way as he made the turn onto Riverside. “Not really. I saw him play in high school, but he wasn’t especially interested in messing around with annoying grade school kids. Of course I can’t blame him. I didn’t much like being followed around by the younger boys when I was playing high school ball, either.”
Still, that connection had to have meant something to both men. “How did it make you feel when you saw him go down today?”
