by Peggy Webb
Grinning, he put the telephone book back onto his cluttered desk and picked up the newspaper. Ignoring the sports, he flipped to the entertainment section. The Atlanta Ballet was in town. That had to be it. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the phone and ordered a ticket. He half hoped the girl on the other end of the line would say, “Sorry, we’re sold out.” But she didn’t. She said his ticket would be waiting at the door.
He stood and stretched. It was a good thing he had soccer practice this afternoon. All that exercise and fresh air might prepare him for an evening of puny music that sounded like it was squeezed through a plastic straw. Even worse, grown men would be cavorting around in tight silk britches.
He went into the hall and plucked his favorite baseball cap off the hall tree. God, Doc was cute when she tried to flirt.
o0o
Janet went straight to Mr. Jed’s apartment. He came to the door with a copy of the Wall Street Journal in his hand. It made sense to her. According to Molly, her daddy had been such a whiz at playing the stock market, he’d managed to retire two years ago at the ripe old age of forty-eight.
“Come in, my dear. This is a pleasant surprise.” He opened the door wide, and led her into an expensively furnished apartment that still managed to look inviting. “Did you find that dog?”
“I did.” She told him briefly about Harvey’s condition and his other owner, Dan Albany. “Do you know him?”
“He’s a friendly sort of fellow, Janet. Dedicated, sincere, Molly would even say charming.”
Janet could barely contain her laughter. She wanted to say, “Stop the hard sell, Mr. Jed. I’m not planning on buying him.” Obviously, Molly had already told her daddy about Janet’s meeting with the dreamboat, and had him primed to advance a romance. Molly was probably the most romantic one in their group.
“Half the women in Tupelo are trying to get him to the altar,” Mr. Jed added. He was something of a romantic himself. His membership in Match.com was proof of that.
“No doubt,” she said. She wasn’t about to ruin Mr. Jed’s Saturday by admitting that she had no intentions of leading Dan Albany to the altar. She just wanted to teach him a much-deserved lesson.
Or did she? Remembering her ill-fated romance with a Rob Jenkins, she almost cringed. She and Rob had shared anatomy class, a dedication to medicine, and a love of ballet, symphony and opera. She’d thought they were going to share a future. Until he broke it off.
Still, she forged ahead with her plan. She was stubborn to the bone: when she set out to prove a point, nothing could deter her, not even common sense.
“I wonder if you could tell me where Dan Albany has soccer practice?” she asked.
“Hmm.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Just thinking out loud.” Mr. Jed looked off into space, and if Janet didn’t know better she’d say he’d lost his train of thought. Was he thinking about her and Dan Albany or was he thinking about his own cyber-romance?
“Mr. Jed...”
“Two o’clock. The practice field on the south side of the school.”
“How long will the practice last?”
“Dan usually keeps the kids an hour, sometimes just a bit longer.” Mr. Jed gave her one of his sweet smiles. “My dear, I hope this means you’re making friends in town.”
“I love this town, Mr. Jed.”
It was true, and just evasive enough to give Molly’s dad something to mull over besides the Wall Street Journal.
“Good. I hope that means you’ll stay. You know, Molly will be through with her schooling soon, and she’d love nothing better than having you here.”
“If I get an offer from the hospital, I’ll probably take it.”
“There’s no reason you shouldn’t. Top of your class and all that.”
“Thank you.” Janet was proud of her accomplishments. Furthermore, she despised false modesty. She considered herself straightforward to the bone.
Of course, the game she intended to play with Dan Albany could be evidence to the contrary. She decided not to think about it. Instead, she visited with Mr. Jed a while, and then went to her apartment to get ready.
As she was bundling up against the chill, she thought about Dan. Gracious, he was cute when he tried to be gallant.
The soccer field was just a block down the street from her. She could walk it in a few minutes. Before she went outside, she drank a big glass of orange juice. Vitamin C. With her heavy work schedule she couldn’t afford to come down with a cold.
Then she pulled up her hood and started down the street.
o0o
Dan saw her coming. She was wearing enough clothes to outfit an expedition to the frozen tundra. But even under all the clothes there was no mistaking the dark red hair that escaped her hood and the fluid, gliding way she had of moving.
He hastily lined his team up for practice kicks into the goal; then he went to meet her at the side of the field.
“Janet. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Just out for an afternoon stroll.”
Dan could barely keep from laughing out loud. She was no more out for a stroll than he was a polka-dot elephant. For some unknown reason, she had come to see him. He was inordinately pleased by the idea. And he could hardly wait to see what she was up to.
“What a coincidence that you happened to walk this way. I’m just finishing soccer practice.”
“Really? How fascinating.”
Her eyes got darker when she lied and her nose wrinkled up. He had a hard time keeping from reaching up to touch that pert little nose.
“I’d be glad for you to watch the practice. Unfortunately, the boys will be leaving in about five minutes.”
She looked crestfallen. “Oh, that’s too bad. I would so love to learn more about the game.”
He wasn’t fooled; he was merely fascinated. “You would?”
“Yes. I used to play some with my brother. She’d allowed Brett to bully her into one game when she was sixteen and he was fourteen. One smart kick on the shin, and she’d quit the field. Her soccer experience had lasted a total of three minutes. “That was many years ago, of course, when we were both young.”
She watched Dan closely to see how well he was buying her story. She couldn’t tell. All she could tell was that he looked delicious in his navy sweats.
“I’m a little rusty on the rules,” she added.
The unspoken invitation was so obvious that only a fool would have missed it. Make me an offer, she was saying. Although Dan had known he’d take her on the field the minute he saw her walking down the street, he decided to play with her a while longer.
“The encyclopedias have excellent descriptions of the game. Most of them even have diagrams of the fields.”
“Well... yes...” She flashed him a provocative smile. She was getting better at flirting, he noticed. “But it seems such a shame to waste a Saturday sitting inside reading an encyclopedia.”
“The library has some great books on soccer, too. I’ll recommend some that you can check out and save for a rainy day.”
She could have strangled him. “That’s a grand idea. Still...” She paused and looked into the sky, shading her hand against the sun. “It’s such a beautiful day.” If he didn’t take that hint, she guessed she’d have to ask him point blank.
Dan decided to put her out of her agony. “I have a wonderful idea.”
“You do?”
“Since you’re here and I’m almost finished with practice, why don’t I give you a few pointers?”
“You’d do that for me?”
He loved her imitation of a wide-eyed innocent. But there was absolutely nothing innocent about the wicked gleam in her eyes and the provocative way she stood.
He grinned. “You’re going to love this private lesson, Doc.”
He took her hand and led her onto the playing field. His team of thirteen-year-olds crowded around to be introduced. Afterward, she waited while he talked with them about their next game.
But she couldn’t quit now. She was committed. One man had already dismissed her as too busy and too dedicated to her career for marriage. She’d be damned if another would do the same.
Finally the last of the soccer team left the field, and she was alone with Dan. His incredible blue eyes raked her from head to toe.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“I beg your pardon?” She pulled her hood tighter around her face.
“I said, you’re wearing too many clothes. You need to take some of them off.”
“For what?”
“Soccer.” He grinned at her. “You weren’t thinking of something else, were you, Doc?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Neither was I.” He reached out and began to unbutton her coat.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Habit. Good manners, you know. Helping ladies on and off with their coats.”
Just in time, she remembered her purpose and bit back a sharp retort.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He slid the heavy wool parka over her shoulders and tossed it on one of the wooden benches that lined the field. Then he caught the tail of his sweatshirt and stripped it over his head. Underneath he was wearing a flannel shirt. “Here. Put this on. It’s lightweight, but it’s designed to keep out the chill.”
The shirt was still warm from his body. It also smelled faintly of him, a clean, spicy, soap smell. She hugged her arms around her torso, pulling his warmth closer.
“Cold?”
“No. Just adjusting the shirt.” She began to smooth down the tail. “It’s a little big.”
“It’s never looked so good. Are you ready for your first lesson?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then listen closely, Doc.”
Listen? That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. She sat down on the bench and waited. She saw the very devil dancing in his eyes as he propped one foot on the bench and began a long-winded technical lecture that would have bored the pants off even the staunchest soccer fan.
If he thought he was going to get the best of her, he was sadly mistaken. She called on all the powers of her scientific mind to listen.
When he had finished the lecture, he grinned at her. “Did you get that part about fouling?”
“Yes. If a player fouls, the opponents can be awarded a direct free kick, a penalty kick or an indirect free kick.”
He was impressed. “And do you remember the size of the playing field? That’s very important.”
“In international competition the field may be one hundred ten to one hundred twenty yards long, and the width may extend from seventy to eighty yards. The field is the same length in college competition in the U.S., but the width can be sixty-five to seventy-five yards wide. Anything else, Coach?”
“That’s amazing.”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“Then I’d say you’re more than ready to play.”
Tossing her mittens onto the bench, she smiled at him. “I’m equal to whatever play you have in mind.”
Dan watched her sashay toward the goal line. She had spunk. He’d always admired that in a woman. Of course, she wasn’t really interested in soccer. She was simply playing a cat-and-mouse game with him. And he was happy to oblige. It fit right into his own game plan.
He tossed the ball onto the field. “Defend your goal, Doc.”
He dribbled the ball expertly toward the goal, using fancy footwork designed to show off his skills. He knew he was grandstanding, but he wasn’t above such tactics. When the stakes were this high, anything was fair.
She ran toward him and tried to kick the ball away. Her toe connected with his shin. He could have easily dribbled around her and gotten a clean shot at the goal; but he hedged, enjoying the sight of her trying to act as if she liked the game.
She was hopelessly inept, and within three minutes she’d peppered his leg from ankle to knee with kicks. He thought briefly of his pads lying on the front seat of his car. It was just his luck that he’d chosen this practice session not to wear them. He’d have a few bruises, but that was a small price for victory.
Suddenly he pulled away from her, sending the ball racing down the field in front of his expert feet. He drew back his foot. The ball arced in the air and landed between the goalposts with a loud thunk.
“Beautiful,” Janet called.
He turned and started running toward her. “Not half as beautiful as you.”
Before she knew what was happening, he had tackled her. He hit the ground first, breaking her fall.
Her face was pressed against his broad chest and her legs were tangled with his. She raised herself on her elbows and stared down at him. “I didn’t know tackling was a part of soccer.”
“This is a new game.” Holding her around the waist, he rolled over, pinning her underneath him. He was smiling. “The name of this game is Truth.”
“Truth?” Before she had come to the soccer field, she had counted on being completely in control. Somehow Dan had managed to wrest control from her. It was time to leave and regroup. She squirmed under him, testing her possibilities of escape. That was a mistake. He was stretched full length on top of her, and her move made her stunningly aware of every inch of him.
He smoothed back her tumbled hair. “Yes. Truth. You can start by telling me why you’re here.” His voice had gone husky.
Ah, but he was clever. And she liked it. She’d have been disappointed to find he wasn’t a worthy opponent. And his hand on her face. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch. She’d never known a man’s hands could be so gentle and yet so persuasive. It felt as if her bones melted under his touch. Scientifically, she knew that couldn’t happen, but what did science know of romance?
She weighed her options. She could lie to him, but he’d never believe it. She’d have to change her game plan—advance the action, so to speak.
Dropping her voice to a seductive purr, she looked straight into his blue eyes. “Don’t you know why I came?”
He bent so close his breath stirred the hair at her temple. “For this?”
His mouth took possession of hers. The slow, tender persuasion of his kiss made her senses reel. She’d expected harshness and domination. Dan Albany kept surprising her.
Subtly his weight shifted. It was impossible not to notice how perfectly they fit together. And how right he felt. Ahh, he was dangerous. And she was falling, falling into the delicate trap he had set. A little while longer and she would pull herself free. She reached for his head and wound her fingers into his hair.
“Hmm.” She didn’t know if she had made the sound of contentment or if he had. No matter. The kiss was sweet anesthesia. They were both going under.
Dan had meant to make the kiss swift and hard and quick. He’d meant to prove his domination and send her on her way, wiser and more cautious and aching for more. Instead, he was the one aching for more.
He rolled to his side, taking her with him, never losing contact with her mouth. Ahh, she was delicious. And so giving. A great tenderness got mixed up with passion. This had to stop.
He drew back and looked into her eyes. It took great effort to remember that they were only playing a game.
“Did you get what you came for, Doc?”
“Is that a victory chortle I hear, Coach?”
“Yes.”
She moved so close to him that she could feel the buttons on his flannel shirt pressing into her chest, even through the sweatshirt.
“It’s a little early for a celebration. I haven’t quit the field yet.”
Pressing her mouth against his, she began her assault.
; Chapter Four
Her lips stroked across his, as sugary sweet and soft as the inside of cream-filled cupcakes. His hands glided into the silky curls at the nape of her neck and urged her closer. Drugged by the sweet wine of her kisses, he forgot that he was playing a game.
He couldn’t get enough. His hands began to move, tracing her body, flowing over her with the soft tenderness of a love song.
Where was the victory? she wondered. Where was the sense of conquering the enemy, vanquishing the opponent?
They couldn’t be lying on the hard ground of the soccer field. Some trick had transported them to Eden. She was woman; he was man. She was his Eve; he was her Adam. Together they were discovering romance.
Good Lord, she didn’t have time romance! She pushed away, and Dan Albany stopped kissing her. She didn’t know whether to thank good manners or Divine Intervention.
“Quitting the field so soon, Doc?”
“Not quitting the field.” She stood up on legs that felt wobbly. Still, she managed a triumphant smile. “Just quitting while I’m ahead.”
“You are?” He rose with easy grace and cupped her face, turning it this way and that, studying her with the thoroughness she used on bacteria under a microscope.”Is that a blush I see?”
“No. It’s the flush of victory.”
“You won, did you?” His eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.
“I think I proved my point rather nicely.” She pulled out of his grasp and walked to the nearby bench. Picking up her, she turned to face him again. “When I want to, I can definitely be your type. Good day, Coach.”
She walked quickly away, triumphant in her victory, totally unaware that she was still wearing his sweatshirt.
He watched her until she was out of sight. Then he gathered up the soccer balls and sprinted to his pickup truck. Without his sweatshirt and her body heat, he was suddenly cold. He turned on the key and let the motor run, blowing on his hands to warm them until his heater could kick in and take away the chill.
Snatches of old country-and-western love songs came to him, and he began to sing in his loud but passable baritone. A couple of his students, chasing their dog down the sidewalk, heard him singing and stopped to yell, “Hey, Coach. What’cha doin’?”
