by Cindi Madsen
Yeah, she’d forgotten how to do something vital to life, even with decades of practice, so she wasn’t going to hold her breath on her follow-through magically improving.
Or apparently she was going to, but in an incognizant way that…man, he smelled good.
“Charlotte?”
“Hmm?” His instructions and the reason they were standing so close, his body wrapped around hers, came barreling back to her. “I mean, yeah. That makes sense. Aim, swivel, throw. I think I got it.”
He stepped back to give her space, and she set up the way he’d showed her. The percentages on weight distribution helped—she was good at percentages. Silently chanting the things he’d told her in her mind, she hurtled the ball.
It didn’t go far, although it was definitely one of her better throws. Never mind that she’d given up on the sports thing as soon as they stopped torturing her with it in PE class.
“Good,” he said, and he retrieved the ball and had her try again.
“I’m not going to be throwing in the game, though, right?” Her second toss was better but still rather short in the yardage department. “I’d rather catch. Or better yet, just hold out my hands like I’m going to catch it while you throw to other people.”
“Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.” Lance brushed the sand off the pigskin and fitted his pinky and ring finger between the laces. “I’ll start with a gentle toss.”
She lifted her arms, ducked her head, and squinted one eye closed. At the are you kidding me expression he gave her, she decided she should’ve closed both eyes—that way she wouldn’t have to see the incredulity.
“Eyes open, chin up. I’ll be gentle, I promise. All you’ve got to do is clamp your hands around the ball when it nears.”
“Sure, it sounds easy, but—”
He tossed it, even though she still wasn’t ready, and she automatically closed her hands around the football. It wobbled, but she managed to catch it with the help of her boobs. Ouch.
“See, I told you it didn’t take any effort to catch my passes.” The cockiness in his grin kicked it up a notch. “I’m just that good.” He blew off his fingertips like one would blow the smoke off a gun after firing it, then he waggled them in a hand-it-over gesture. “Toss it back and we’ll keep playing catch as we move farther and farther apart, until we figure out your range. If we have time, we’ll practice a few basic plays.”
…
Lance backed up, the football gripped tightly in his right hand as he surveyed the field—or beach, as it were. Charlotte had missed the two passes he’d thrown at her earlier in the game and had beat herself up after each time. He could probably wait for Jack, one of Mitch’s teammates, and the other groomsmen on their team to run his route. She was wide open, though, and if she’d catch just one pass, it’d do wonders for her confidence. He cared more about that than winning the game, in spite of bets and bragging rights with his brother.
Crazy, but somehow true. He couldn’t think about why exactly right now, nor did he want to.
Their eyes locked, and Charlotte’s practically screamed don’t throw it to me, her eyebrows punctuating the statement.
Just trust me, you’ve got this.
He lobbed the ball the five or so yards toward her, a gentle pass with extra arch to give her time to get under it.
She winced but kept her eyes open, her hands reached for the ball, and…
“I caught it!” Her mouth hung open, and she gaped at the ball like it was a foreign object she’d never laid eyes on before.
“Run,” he shouted, and she seemed to realize they were in the middle of a game. She jolted into motion, and he rushed forward to help block as she sprinted toward the goal line.
Since there were no refs to call holding and all he cared about was getting Charlotte into the end zone, he fisted a handful of his brother’s best friend’s shirt, holding him at bay. Hunter managed to gain a step on him, dipped his shoulder, and shoved him back.
A few more steps and Charlotte would score.
Lance wasn’t going to get to his brother in time to block, but as Mitch dived for her, she completed a beautiful dodge, pivot, and weave move he definitely hadn’t taught her.
She crossed the line and slowly spun to face him, shock still written across her pretty face. She glanced at the ball in her hands again. Then she spiked it into the sand and started the cutest celebratory dance he’d ever seen.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah.” Her hips shimmied back and forth, her booty getting in on the action. “How much longer do I have till I get called for unsportsmanlike conduct?”
“Another sixty seconds at least,” he said—mostly because he liked watching her dance. Liked the huge grin on her face and the way it made her cheeks stand out.
Warmth and pride mingled inside his chest.
The rest of their team came forward to offer high fives, including the bride-to-be, who joined in with her own set of celebratory dance moves. When they’d been forming teams and Stacy had said she wanted to be on his team as opposed to Mitch’s, Lance had said, “Seems like that might cause a fight.”
She’d replied with, “That’s the point. Then we can have makeup sex after.”
Lance’s gaze had met Charlotte’s across the huddle, his plan to roll his eyes and share a joke about it with her. Couples, am I right? But then he’d accidentally noticed her curves in that tiny tank top and thought about how long it’d been since he’d had sex, and suddenly he was ready to start a fight to find a way to make up. Only he knew that wouldn’t be the end result with Charlotte.
After doling out high fives to the rest of the team, she was standing in front of him once again. It was his turn to properly congratulate her on the touchdown, only in this instance, he didn’t know what was proper.
She surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you. I didn’t want you to throw it to me, but that was really fun. Probably the only touchdown I’ll ever make, too, so I don’t even care if the other team gave it to me.”
“No one gave that to you. You earned it.” He hugged her tighter to him, basking in the feel of having her in his arms. “That pivot move was amazing.”
She pulled back, her forehead bumping the brim of his baseball cap, that amazing smile of hers still curving her lips. The second their eyes met, a zip of electricity shot through him. Another current coursed through his body as she inhaled, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her smile wobbled, and she quickly dropped her arms.
She felt it, too.
She swiped the strands of hair that’d fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. Then she punched his shoulder. “Thanks, coach.”
He lightly punched her shoulder back. “Anytime, James.”
As he’d hoped, her confidence grew from that completed play, and he was able to see her celebratory dance one more time before they called the game.
But as they walked back to the hotel, she stayed by Stacy’s side, close enough that he wondered if she was avoiding being near him after that moment they’d had in the end zone.
If he was smart, he’d give her the space and follow her lead. He told himself it was good that one of them had self-restraint or self-preservation or whatever the hell it was.
Even as he was also cursing it and the distance between them.
That’s it. From here on out, I’m going to shut those stray thoughts about her down.
They were finally getting along, and the business side was coming together. No need to ruin it all for a few days they’d both later regret.
Chapter Eleven
Right as Charlotte was contemplating if she should change into pajamas and watch some TV before crashing for the night, Stacy had texted to say they were hitting the resort’s giant hot tub and that she should meet them there. After their football game on the beach, her muscles could use some heat and jets. Plus, she really liked Stacy and her two bridesmaids, Bridget and Grace. They’d taken her right in, and she wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep a
nyway. She was still riding the high of doing better than expected this afternoon.
The good thing about basement level expectations was that something as simple as not falling on her face and managing to catch the ball during an official game—twice—was a win.
As she walked toward the bubbling water of the hot tub, her confidence wavered slightly. The other girls were so tall and beautiful and tan. They looked like they hit the gym on a regular basis, too.
Charlotte rarely saw the sun besides through her office window. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the gym, although she often walked to work, which was a good three miles there and back. Of course she usually grabbed a pastry on her way…
“Come on in,” Stacy yelled, waving her toward the luminescent blue water. “It feels amazing.”
Expelling a deep breath, Charlotte slipped out of her swimsuit cover-up. The halter top of her red and white polka dot bikini supported and hoisted the girls nicely, and the bottom had the mini-est of skirts, so in addition to helping to cover her generous hips, at least her butt cheeks weren’t hanging out. She slipped into the water, hissing at the heat.
Immediately a pink drink with an umbrella was thrust into her hands.
On instinct, she nearly refused it. This was a work trip. But she was off the clock, and Lance wasn’t here.
“Cheers!” Stacy lifted her cocktail, Bridget and Grace followed her lead, and Charlotte thought what the hell. They clinked glasses, and Charlotte fought off brain freeze as the slushy, heavy-on-the-rum drink slid down her throat.
“Wow, that’s so strong it’ll walk right into your cup,” Charlotte said, and the girls laughed.
“I love your cute Texas twang,” Stacy said.
“I don’t have a twang.” She gestured to the girls with her drink. “Y’all are the ones with accents.”
“Not here in North Carolina, honey,” Grace said, and they all laughed. Yes, she liked these girls a lot. Never before had she clicked with a group of women so quickly, and she wondered if it was because of the situation or the football connection or if it was because she was usually more reserved around new people.
The heat and jets were working magic on her muscles, and complete relaxation had just set in when Stacy sat up straighter. “Oh look. The guys are headed this way.”
Charlotte’s heart began beating faster as she froze in place, too afraid to look. She hoped “the guys” didn’t include Lance—or at least she tried to, but the amount of anticipation that whirred up at the thought of seeing him told a different story. It suddenly seemed like it’d been a long time since they talked, which was silly. After the game they’d retreated to their individual rooms, and since he had a lot of calls to return, she’d texted to say she might as well complete the paperwork she needed to. She’d given up asking him to fill out the termination forms and began typing in her own answers that she’d simply have him approve later.
The real reason she’d wanted to stay in her room, though, was because she’d hugged him without thinking today, and she needed a little distance to keep her head right. It always got so messy around him.
Finally, she dared a glance over her shoulder, and there he was, next to his brother. He was turned away from her, talking to Mitch as he ever-so-casually ripped off his T-shirt. Even in the dim light, she could see all the grooves and dips. The lean muscled body. The trail of dark hair disappearing into…
Yeah, not going there.
She sipped at her drink, cursing when a sucking noise came out after only one gulp. How dare it be empty when she needed it most! She chewed on the straw, way too aware of each step closer Lance took in her peripheral.
Stacy, Bridget, and Grace scooted aside as the guys stepped into the hot tub, and Charlotte noticed Lance’s movements were a bit stiff as he climbed down the steps. He did a double take at her, so apparently he hadn’t expected her to be here, either.
Mitch’s gaze homed in on his fiancée, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. “Thought we’d work out our muscles.”
“Great minds think alike,” she said, standing and giving him a kiss. Apparently they’d already made up after the game, not that they’d actually had a fight. The love-buzz vibe coated the air around them, drifting over to Charlotte even as she willed it away. It was nice to see such a happy couple who were clearly crazy about each other, even if it also awoke a yearning she liked to pretend didn’t exist.
Of course after the rearranging that’d happened to accommodate the guys, the only open space was to her right. As Lance slowly lowered himself next to her, she stared straight ahead. When she’d packed her swimsuit, she’d known that being in it around her boss was a possibility. But she figured it’d be more like a few towels away if he came out to the beach after she’d already set up, and the reality was different anyway. Especially with their thighs so close that one tiny movement would make them brush.
The water undulated as he straightened and bent his right leg.
“Is your knee bothering you?” she asked.
“It’s just a little stiff. I’ve slacked off on my workouts.”
Her eyes roamed over his chiseled torso, even more impressive up close, and she bit back the it certainly doesn’t look like it that’d poised itself on the tip of her tongue.
He draped his arms over the edge of the hot tub. “Don’t let me get soft and pudgy sitting in the office too long.”
“As you can see, I’m probably not a good person to be in charge of that,” she said without thinking, and then he was looking at her and her heart was beating too fast and the heat was making her dizzy—both the embarrassed heat and the water temperature.
“I…” He swallowed. “I’d like to say a lot of things about that, but I’m afraid you’ll throw the handbook at me.”
“I do carry my pocket-sized edition on me at all times.”
He laughed, and she joined in, and it dissipated a dash of the tension. “I’ll just say that you look beautiful tonight. Like you did earlier today, and yesterday—like you have since the moment you stormed in my office.”
She raised an eyebrow in warning.
“What? You said compliments were okay. Remember how much you like my beard?” He reached up and ran his hand across it, a mischievous twist to his lips.
“So much regret about saying that.”
“Can’t take it back now, though.”
“I can do whatever I want,” she retorted, reaching for her drink before remembering she’d already finished it.
Everyone else was chatting amongst themselves, leaving the two of them in their own personal bubble.
Charlotte was wondering if she should break out—simply excuse herself in the name of talking to Bridget or Grace.
But then she glanced at Lance’s leg again and the scars crisscrossing his knee. She curled her fingers into a fist so she wouldn’t do something stupid like brush her fingers across them. “Does it bother you a lot? Your leg?”
“Here and there it flares up, which is typical of all my friends who’ve played a lot of ball. We all have that knee or shoulder or joint that makes us say cool old-man things like a storm’s-a-coming. I feel it in my bones.”
She laughed, but she still hated that he had to deal with it. She was sure it was true—that every athlete did have an injured spot or two that would forever bother them. She frowned as her mind reel came up with the hit on the sidelines that’d ended his career. When none of his teammates were open, Lance had run the ball for a first down. He’d gone out of bounds to avoid the oncoming slew of defensemen and to stop the clock. The hit from the giant player on the other team was late, and there’d been a flag, but it was also too late as well.
“Yeah, but if that guy hadn’t hit you so hard, maybe…” The what if path was one he’d probably rather avoid. “Is it hard not to be bitter? You gave so much to your team, and they dropped you without even waiting to see if you’d recover.”
“Don’t go feeling sorry for me,” Lance said.
“One, they didn’t drop me. I told them to find someone else—it was what was best for the team. I’d already had one ACL surgery, and unlike the first one, I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Recovery was longer, and with all the added scar tissue and worn-down cartilage, the doctors warned me it’d always be weaker. They told me that if I tore it again, I might not have enough left to fix.”
“And two?”
He wrinkled his forehead.
“You said ‘one,’ so I assumed there was a two.”
Understanding smoothed his features, and his mouth kicked up on one side. “I got sidetracked and would’ve forgotten. This is why I need you around. You keep me on task.”
“Truth,” she said with a smile he returned.
“Two, every athlete knows the risks. When you’re young, you think you’re invincible and that you’ll be the exception. But we get paid a lot of money for a decade or so, and we’re well aware we can’t keep at it forever and need to make that money last. I would’ve liked another eight to ten years, but that’s life. It’s just like on the field. If the play you wanted to work gets shut down, you regroup and make a new one.”
His gaze went hazy, turning to another place and another time. “That also took longer than I would’ve liked. It didn’t help that right when I was losing the team, I also lost—” He clamped his lips and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, for a while it felt like I’d lost everything, and I drifted afterward, having a hard time finding my sense of purpose. Until now.”
“I’m glad the team’s bringing it back.”
“Me, too.” He twisted toward her, making their bubble that much smaller. “I… I’ve never really admitted that to anyone.”
“Well, according to HR guidelines, anything employees tell me in confidence, I keep in confidence. As long as it doesn’t pose a threat to another employee or the company.” She bumped her shoulder into his so he knew she was joking. “I also have something to admit…” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve decided to cut my athletic career short. It was a today-only thing. If I mess up my knee, I won’t be able to wear my shoes, and I really love my shoes.”
