Tackling Her Heart

by Alexandra O'Hurley

  Wasn’t that the truth? “Well, those guys taste blood after that little incident on the field tonight.”

  Maggie’s body stiffened a little. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “I mean, how many teammates take one of their own down in order to save someone on the other side?”

  “Not many, I’d think,” Maggie said lowly, twisting Sofia’s ankle this way and that.

  “Makes one wonder if Jennings is really ready for the NFL if he needs Marc Anders to take down his opposition,” Sofia said, knowing she was baiting Maggie. Jennings was an NFL sensation, coming back from a terrible knee injury in college to make it onto the pre-season roster just shy of his thirtieth birthday.

  Maggie stopped what she was doing and glared up at Sofia. “Jennings had six catches, an interception, and three touchdowns tonight. Just what about that performance makes him not ready for the NFL?”

  “If Brian had been on the field, would Jennings have looked so good?”

  Maggie put Sofia’s foot down and stood. “I think you’re just fine.” Maggie turned and started to walk away.

  “Brian was your boyfriend, right?” Sofia continued on. “Was Marc getting a little revenge for what Brian did to you, or was he saving your new boyfriend’s ass?”

  Maggie spun around. “My new boyfriend doesn’t need my brother to save his ass. And what Marc chooses to do on the field is his business, not yours.”

  “But people are going to want to know, Maggie.”

  Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t speak for Marc. But I can’t say I’m sorry Brian got rolled off the field on a cart.”

  Sofia smiled. “Did you ask your brother to hurt Brian tonight?”

  Maggie looked thunderstruck. “No! I would never ask him to do that.”

  “Okay,” Sofia answered. “But there might be those who think it. Maybe you should tell me what really happened. Clear the air and make sure the story is told correctly.”

  Maggie’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Sofia. “Who are you?”

  “That would be Sofia Figueroa, the woman who destroyed Maddox’s reputation.”

  Sofia twisted to see Marc standing behind them. His hair was still wet and his dress shirt unbuttoned, and if Sofia wasn’t wrong, he was slightly out of breath. He’d run here to stop her, being the pain in the ass he was.

  “Ms. Figueroa, I have nothing to say to you except to leave me and my family alone,” Maggie spat and walked away.

  Sofia turned to Marc, who glared at her the same exact way Maggie had. It must be a family trait. Sofia stared Marc down and lifted her chin. “You wouldn’t tell me the story, so I have every right to dig for it elsewhere.”

  “Fine. You want the story?”

  Sofia reached for her recorder and clicked it on. “Of course.”

  “Not now. Tonight. Meet me in Magnussen Hotel’s bar at ten.”

  What was he up to? “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

  Marc nodded and walked away, her gaze drawn to his perfectly formed ass. Once he was gone, she headed into the throng to get some sound bites from golden boy Jennings. Too bad her mind was still on Marc Anders.

  Chapter Three

  Marc sat at the dinner table, his fingers absently tapping on the top. His parents, sister, Jennings, his sister’s best friend Kelsie, and he sat finishing their coffee after dinner, a dinner Marc struggled to get through. He was supposed to be there to officially meet Maggie’s new boyfriend, but that introduction had already happened on the field when Marc had taken Brian down.

  Kelsie smiled at everyone around the table, her gaze finally landing on Marc before she turned to his parents. “I’m so glad you asked me to join you here in Baltimore. It’s a beautiful city.” Her gaze rounded back to Marc, and her face flushed as she smiled coyly at him.

  Kelsie had been Maggie’s best friend for as long as Marc could remember. She’d spent more time in the Anders home than her own growing up, and his parents had practically adopted her along the way. Kelsie had also had a long-standing crush on Marc, one he did everything in his power to squash over the years. There was no attraction on his part. After all the years, he did have a slight brotherly sensation while in her company, but that was all she riled in him. Kelsie wasn’t the kind of woman he needed in his life; she was much too sedate.

  The Iceman needed fire—someone who would heat his blood.

  Someone like—

  “Man, I don’t know if a thank you is still in order or not,” Jennings said in a low voice, pulling Marc from wherever he was drifting.

  You were thinking about her. Don’t be coy with yourself. “No, no thank yous. Brian was being a dick and needed to be taught a lesson.”

  “Are you going to get fined, though?” Jennings asked.

  “Like I said on the field. It’ll be worth every penny. Just the look on his face was enough to brighten my mood. After what he put Maggie through, he deserves about twenty more hard tackles like that.”

  “Well, I know not to piss you off,” Jennings said with a chuckle.

  Marc lifted his coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. “Don’t hurt my sister and you won’t.”

  “I don’t plan to,” Jennings answered, his stare unsure.

  Marc often had that effect on people. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve and his father had taught him how to hide his emotions, both on and off the field. “Good to know,” Marc said before glancing at his watch. He stood and looked across the table. “It’s been an enjoyable evening, but I have somewhere I need to be.”

  “You’re leaving already?” Marc’s mother asked, her frown one she used to help guilt him into doing what she wanted. “Your father and I are only in town until tomorrow evening.”

  “It’s unavoidable—an interview I agreed to. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Marc answered, walking over to press a kiss to his mother’s forehead. He followed suit with a kiss to his sister’s cheek and two handshakes for his father and Jennings. “Enjoy your coffee.”

  He approached Kelsie, who lifted her cheek slightly, almost begging for his kiss. Instead, he took her hand and shook it, not needing to add fuel to her fire. Marc saw the disappointment in her gaze, but tried to ignore it. He didn’t want to hurt the girl, but he simply didn’t have those same feelings.

  Marc headed out of the dining room and turned into the hotel lounge. Sofia sat at the bar, her long, shapely legs crossed and getting the attention of every man in the room. Including Marc’s. He stifled the little thrill at seeing her, and reminded himself she was the enemy. Marc still wasn’t sure why he’d asked her here and had no clue what he was going to do to get her off the story. She’d wreaked enough havoc with his family.

  But she sure looked good while doing it.

  He approached her, climbing into the empty seat to her right. Sofia’s attention was on the man to her left, so it appeared she didn’t know Marc had arrived.

  “Come on baby, let me buy you a drink,” the man begged. “A woman as beautiful as you shouldn’t be alone.”

  “No, thank you. I’m meeting someone.”

  “Come on,” the man said, putting his arm around Sofia’s shoulder and stepping closer. “Just one drink, baby.”

  Sofia pulled the man’s arm off her. “I said no. And I mean it. Please stop.”

  The guy was handsy, moving the removed hand to her hip. “You know it’s rude to refuse a drink, baby.”

  Marc had had enough. “She’s not your baby. The lady said to leave her alone.”

  Both Sofia’s and the man’s heads swiveled to look his way. Sofia’s wide gaze looked almost thankful to see him. She wouldn’t be thankful soon. Not after what he was considering doing.

  Marc’s gaze drifted to the guy. His bloodshot eyes and wobbly demeanor told Marc this might not be as easy as he’d thought.

  “I didn’t ask you, now did I? Beat it,” the guy said, tossing a thumb toward the door.

  Marc stood to his full six foot five inch height and glowered at the man
. The drunk’s expression changed completely. Even intoxicated, he seemed to know he’d bitten off more than he could chew, which was good. The last thing Marc needed was for the guy to have a false sense of bravado and put him into two fights in one night. The drunk lifted his palms in mock surrender. “Sorry, man.” He gathered his drink and wandered down to the other end of the bar and on to another unwilling victim.

  Sofia watched the guy go, then turned to Marc. “I could’ve handled that, you know.”

  “Yeah, it looked like you were handling it just fine,” Marc said with a snicker.

  “I didn’t need you to ride in like a white knight.”

  Marc eyed her, and her lifted chin. The woman needed a little humility, that was for sure. Was he the one to give it to her? He damn well hoped so. “A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”

  Her jaw clenched and she stared for a moment. “Thank you,” she finally said, so low he could barely hear it.

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

  Sofia’s eyes narrowed. “Thank you.”

  He felt his lips stretching into a smile at her acquiescence. “So why don’t you let me buy you that drink?”

  She opened her lips, as if she would deny him, but he ignored her and lifted his hand to get the bartender’s attention.

  The bartender walked over quickly, a wide smile plastered over his face. “What can I get for you, Mr. Anders?”

  “What will you have?” he asked, his gaze going to the glass already in her grip. Water? He looked at her, curious.

  Sofia glanced down at her half empty glass. “I don’t drink. Plus I’m working.”

  Working? This wasn’t working; she just didn’t know it yet. “Ever?”

  “I’ve had wine on a rare occasion.”

  “Sweet or dry?” Marc asked her.

  Sofia licked her lips. It wasn’t something she’d consciously done, but he hadn’t been able to take his stare off her swiping her tongue over her full bottom lip. He suddenly wondered what she’d taste like. “Sweet, I guess.”

  Yes. She’d taste sweet. “Give the lady a glass of Moscato. I’ll have a Scotch and soda.”

  The bartender left them for a moment, and Marc gazed at her. She didn’t look at him, her normal locker room bravado gone. Sofia was nervous. Or was the bravado all an act?

  “So, why did you ask me here?” she asked in a small voice. “Why couldn’t we do this at the stadium?”

  “Do you have a problem being here with me?” Marc asked.

  Sofia finally turned to look at him. “No.” Her chin turned back up and he saw a glimmer of her daring return. “I don’t have a problem being here. Just curious what kind of game you’re playing.”

  He smiled. The bartender approached, so Marc kept his lips closed until after he’d taken his first sip. The amber liquid warmed his belly, making a contented sigh nearly come from his lips. What he wouldn’t do to go home and sink into his hot tub to relax his body. A stiff drink would have to be the second best thing. “You wanted answers. I can give you answers. For a price.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “What price?”

  Marc took another sip. “I have a room upstairs where we can talk privately.”

  Sofia looked around the bar. “There’s almost no one here. This is private enough.”

  “No. If you want the information, you’ve got to come upstairs.” Marc was willing to go to extremes to shut the woman up, but even tonight’s plan made him edgy.

  Her gaze caught his and she seemed to be searching him, from the inside out. It was apparent she didn’t trust him, and she shouldn’t. He was pushing the borders of appropriate behavior. Oh, who was he kidding? He was rushing past those borders and breaking all the rules of decency.

  Sofia drained her wine glass in one long gulp, and her chin lifted. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Had it really been that easy to tempt her to a room? A smile twisted his lips. Sofia wasn’t going to know what hit her.

  Chapter Four

  Sofia rode up the elevator in near silence. The anxiety in the air between then was thick enough to squelch any conversation. Yet conversation was the reason she was there and her mind was drawing a complete blank. Her mind kept replaying that locker room scene with him brazenly naked and letting her gaze roam over him.

  When she looked at him now, she couldn’t get a read on Marc. He was playing at something, what she wasn’t sure. There was no reason to go to a hotel room with him, other than her own morbid fascination with the man and the tiny glimmer of hope he’d touch her.

  He wouldn’t. He was The Iceman.

  There was no way he’d try to seduce her after what she did to Maddox, even if it was a mistake on her part—one she’d apologized for. Okay, so maybe the apology wasn’t to Maddox’s face, but she’d written the retraction and apology and her bosses had printed it. And that fact was the only reason she’d ultimately agreed to go up with him.

  No matter how much she wanted him to touch her, it would be inappropriate.

  That fact didn’t stop her nipples from hardening. Her panties were slick with her cream, and a steady throb pulsed between her legs. The thought of being in a room alone with Marc Anders made her feel like a teenager on prom night. She was the belle of the ball and on the arm of the hottest jock in school, instead of the awkward wallflower she’d been the first time around.

  And was he hot. His huge, muscular body made her feel petite. Being a hair over six foot, she didn’t often feel small next to anyone. That’s one thing she loved about her job. No one gawked at her for being a gangly legged giant when she was surrounded by giants. She felt slightly normal in their world—except for the not having a penis part. The guy’s club was still tight and didn’t like women invading their turf.

  It still smarted that Marc didn’t think women belonged in her profession. Yet she was still attracted to him, much to her chagrin. But then, if he truly believed that …

  “If you think women don’t belong in sports reporting, then why offer me this interview?”

  The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened with a chime. Marc motioned for her to exit, but she stood there a moment longer, like a petulant child. Any second and she’d feel the need to stomp her foot and cross her arms over her chest to add to her current ridiculousness. He hadn’t answered her question and from the look on his face, he wasn’t going to. She finally gave up and exited the car, catching the doors just as they started to close.

  Marc held the door open before climbing out himself and then stared down at her. “I never said women don’t belong. You put words in my mouth and made assumptions.”

  “But …” She thought back to the conversation and reviewed what he’d said to her mentally. “You said I didn’t belong.”

  “The locker room doesn’t open until ten minutes after the game. You were early. You didn’t belong in there then.”

  Sofia’s eyes grew wide as she realized she’d accused him unfairly.

  “But then, that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Laying blame where there is none?” Marc said quietly.

  She sucked in a breath. The comment stung. “Will that ever stop hanging over my head when it comes to you?”

  “Maddox can’t seem to escape it. Every interviewer asks him about it, even though you printed your little apology. So why should you have it any easier?”

  Maddox still suffered? She felt bad for that, as she’d never want an innocent man to struggle because of her. Maybe he was due that apology, face to face. The next time she was reporting close-by she’d have to see if she could make it happen. After the article, though, her editors seemed to give her and Maddox a wide berth. “I never meant for him to be hurt like that. I thought the information was valid. And in all the cases, but his, it was.”

  Marc dug into his pocket and pulled out a key card. “I brought you up for privacy. I’m not going to argue in the hall.” He spun and walked away from her.

  What was there left to argue about? Sofia watche
d him retreat, wondering why the hell she’d agreed to come up to his room. His bullshit tale about finding a private place for the interview was as transparent as the nighties she used to model. After a deep breath, she followed him, knowing she’d do it for the story.

  She headed to the end of the hall where he stood beside the door, staring at her, impatiently waiting for her to join him. One foot in front of the other, she padded down the thickly carpeted hallway, the normal clicking of her heels swallowed up. It was if she wasn’t there at all, the volume turned down so low all she could hear was the beating of her own heart and the sound of the air rushing in and out of her lungs.

  When she arrived, he silently opened the door and stood back to let her in. She turned and entered, the room black. He crossed the threshold behind her, the thick door closing with a heavy click that made her jump. Enclosed in the darkened space with him, the hairs on the back of her neck rose and she wondered what he’d do next. Her body thrummed, goose bumps skittering over her skin as she anticipated a stroke of his hand, the brush of his lips.

  Neither came and she silently admonished herself as she recognized she wanted him to do those things, even if it would threaten her journalistic integrity. The minute he put a finger on her, she should back down from the story. Should. She wouldn’t, even if he did, only because she was greedy.

  Not greedy for the money, or the attention the story would get.

  Sofia hungered for time with him. His presence alone inflamed her like no one she’d ever met. The magnetic attraction she felt was life altering and something she couldn’t simply walk away from.

  He flipped a switch, light invading the darkness. Sofia narrowed her lids slightly to grow accustomed and then turned to look at the room. It wasn’t just a room, but a suite—a full living room, with a settee and two Queen Anne chairs on either end, surrounding a marble coffee table sat nearest her. That helped her relax a little. They’d conduct the interview here, where it felt more appropriate.