by Kelly, Liz
Lolly’s lips twitched.
“What?” Vance slowly brought himself back up to his full height. “Go ahead. Say what you’re thinking.”
A few beats of silence passed before Lolly decided she had nothing to lose. “I…have heard,” she started tentatively, “that you, Coach Evans, have a lot of experience with women’s breasts.” She rushed on, “So perhaps you would be very qualified to create a better bra.”
Pursing his lips in an effort to hide his astounded grin, it only took a few seconds for him to respond. “Clearly then, you’ve had a lot of experience with the male package. I’d love to hear all about your research.”
“Hmm.” She frowned. “I certainly walked into that.” Reaching into her canvas bag, Lolly pulled out what looked like a squishy toy you couldn’t wait to get your hands on.
“What the hell is that?” Obviously intrigued, Vance moved forward and plucked the gold-colored gel cup from her hand.
“It’s the coming thing! At least, that’s what my partners and I hope. As part of the graduate program at the College of Textiles, students from engineering, chemistry, and design form teams to create something new. Since fashion design is more my thing, my principal responsibility to the project is product testing.
“Since your baseball camp starts in a few weeks, we were hoping you’d ask a few of the kids to wear our cup and give us feedback.” She shook the canvas bag. “We’ve made prototypes in several sizes. They slide into a traditional jock strap, but due to the nature of the gel material they should mold themselves better to the body, feel less bulky, and hardly be noticeable. In theory, the gel is designed to go directly against the body, creating a suction cup effect, eliminating the need for the jock strap. But until we get some of your players to try it both ways, we won’t know if the suction is effective.”
Vance turned the cup over and around, chuckling at the malleability. “Well, it’s pretty cool; I’ll give you that. But it’s already hard enough keeping those boys’ hands out of their pants without giving them this on top of it.”
Lolly stepped in close to snatch her prototype back, muttering about ‘boys and their toys’. She turned it inside out showing him the specifics. “A little heavier than the traditional cup, you’ve got the protection from the titanium shield here, surrounded by the gel material that conforms to the body. We’ve done impact tests to make sure it holds up. Now our concern is the sweat factor. These really hug your…well, hug everything snugly. I’m told nothing moves around. That it feels a lot less bulky between the legs and makes running less abrasive.”
When she received no response, she glanced up.
Vance Evans was studying something, but it was not her prototype. Her eyes roamed his handsome face trying to decipher what he found so enthralling.
“You smell good,” he whispered. “Good enough to eat.”
Her breath hitched.
“Lolly DuVal.” His long-lashed lids dropped to partly conceal his eyes. And even though they already stood in close proximity, his broad chest and wide shoulders seemed to be moving in, backing her up. “Have I heard that name before?”
“Oh, ah…well, there are a lot of…um, DuVals running around Henderson.” She felt as if she’d been spun around one too many times. “In fact…my cousin Henry, he’s on your team. He’s the one who suggested I contact you.”
“Hmm. Is that right? You’re from Henderson then?”
“I am,” she said, continuing to back up.
“And you’re clever. The right height. Too pretty for your own good.” He said these things not as compliments, but as if he were ticking off a list. “You busy tonight?”
“I, ah—ooh….” She grimaced, her foot springing off the floor. She reached down to soothe it and bumped her backside into the end of a padded training table.
“You’re in pain.” Suddenly the coach was all business.
“I ran a half marathon yesterday. My feet haven’t forgiven me.”
“Let me guess. You made the mistake of wearing new shoes.”
“No, same running pair I’ve always had.”
“What do you mean, ‘always had’? How old are they?” Without fanfare he picked her up by her waist and plopped her down on the table behind her. He crouched down and slipped off her sandals.
“I don’t know. I guess I bought them when I started college.”
“Scoot back. How long ago was that?”
She slid back until her legs and feet were no longer dangling off the table. “Five years or so.”
Vance’s head shot up. “You’ve had the same running shoes for five years?” he yelled.
Lolly blinked several times, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Well, I don’t actually run…much.”
“I thought you said you ran a half marathon.”
“Well, yeah. Yesterday. But before that…I guess I probably haven’t run in years.”
Vance put his hands on his hips and scowled at her. “You ran a half marathon. Yesterday. With no training.”
“A friend of mine needed somebody to run with after her boyfriend injured himself, so I said I’d do it.”
His sexy lips hung open and his movie-star eyes shifted back and forth over her face. It was obvious that this was information he found hard to compute. “Look,” he said, exasperated, “you can’t just go out and run a half marathon.”
Lolly lifted her chin. “And yet, I did.”
He mumbled something that sounded like ‘Christ Almighty’ and bent his head over her feet. “I don’t see any blisters. Your legs have got to be sore.”
He looked like he wanted to run his hands up her legs to check for injuries, but stopped himself. “Do you mind if I check you out? Obviously there’s some kind of trauma. I’m not a doctor, but I’ve had paramedic training. And I’m a runner—a real runner,” he added in a scolding tone that had her wanting to hide her face. “I’ve run every day for the past five years so I’ve had my own share of sore feet,” he said more kindly.
“Paramedic training?”
Vance reached under the table and brought out a towel, rolling it up as he spoke. “I’m a cop and a coach. Paramedic training comes in handy. Here,” he said, handing her the towel. “Lie down and tuck this behind your neck for support. Let’s get your spine as straight as we can. Good. Now, with your permission, I’m going to gently prod around. Let me know if anything hurts.”
Lolly closed her eyes as the infamous Vance Evans’ hands examined her ankles and calves. She silently laughed at the thought of telling her cousins about this. She hadn’t been in the man’s company for half an hour, and yet he’d managed to get her on her back and was working his way up her body.
“Obviously, you’re in good shape. You’ve got great legs,” he said as a matter of fact. “Good muscle tone.”
“I play a lot of tennis. Golf some. Oh, and I do Boot Camp three times a week.”
“Still, to run that distance without training—you must be quiet the athlete,” he said. “Your ankles seem fine. Your calves too. Nothing hurts?”
“Not like the shooting pain in my feet.”
When his hands made their way back to the bottoms of her feet, Lolly immediately jumped and sucked in a breath.
“Shh,” he soothed. “Easy now. Try to relax. Your arches are cramping up. I can probably massage some of the kinks out.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a massage therapist too,” she joked through a grimace of pain.
“No formal training,” he admitted, his thumbs sliding up and down the center of her foot. “But I’ve had my share. Enough to know what feels good.”
“This probably isn’t appropriate,” she protested…weakly. Because in that pain-pleasure way, this was starting to feel good.
“Why? You got a boyfriend with a possessive foot fetish?”
She shook her head. “Kicked him to the curb.”
Vance’s focus was all on her foot, stretching it back so her ankle flexed. “What’d he do?”
Lolly stared at the ceiling. “Nothing,” she sighed. “He was just a little too milquetoast. Figured I’d set him free so he could find his milquetoast counterpart.”
“What the hell does that mean? Milk toast?”
“You know. Bland. I mean, he was nice…safe…boring,” she whispered.
Her thoughts drifted to poor Davis. He’d definitely been blindsided by the break up. But there was no easy way to tell him that she needed more fire, more passion. That she longed for someone who would take control and make her lose control. There was no good way to tell a man he just wasn’t doing it for her.
“Guess a girl who can run a half marathon at a moment’s notice needs someone who can keep up with her.”
“I guess,” she sighed.
The soothing manipulation of her ankle was replaced by a languid scraping of knuckles just forward of her heel. The repetitive motion triggered all manner of fireworks shooting up the inside of her thigh. She sucked in a breath. Now that’s what I’m talking about!
“Don’t want to be accused of being boring,” Vance chuckled. “And since you aren’t busy tonight—”
“Who said I’m not busy?”
His hands stopped. “You just told me you kicked your boyfriend to the curb.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not otherwise engaged.”
His hands started again, making sure fireworks were launching up the inside of her other thigh. “Playing hard to get?”
Lolly braced herself on her elbows so she could look down the length of her body at the man with his hands all over her feet. Good Lord, he was crazy sexy. “Really? I’m in a secluded room, in an empty school. Exactly what part of this scenario looks like I’m playing hard to get?”
“When you put it that way, it almost sounds like you’re looking for trouble.”
“Coach Evans, if I were looking for trouble I’d be suggesting you massage more than my feet.”
The deep pressure he applied to the center of her foot ricocheted to her groin, causing a deliciously hungry sensation. “Only an amateur would need more than your feet.”
“I am so playing with fire,” Lolly said, lowering herself back to the table.
“Close your eyes,” he demanded, his voice suddenly rough. “Just let me try to convince you….” She obeyed as his voice trailed off and his fingers went to work. She wanted to moan, but broad daylight and his puffed-up ego held her in check.
Even though they were alone. All alone.
“I’m only touching your feet. Only the soles of your feet.” Then his voice went just a little lower, a little sexier. “I’m not going to touch your ankles,” he said. “Or your shapely calves.”
No he wasn’t touching them, but of course hearing him utter the mere words brought on the longing for him to do so. Suddenly her ankles and calves were throbbing as much as the arches of her feet. She struggled to focus on where he was touching her. Both thumbs pressed into the center of one foot, kneading their way out to the edges, devouring the muscles made tender by the run.
His voice went husky and quiet. “Or knees. I promise I won’t touch your knees.”
Oh, God. Now her knees longed for his hands, his magical touch. The rumors she’d heard about him must be true. Vance Evans was able to do in five minutes what Davis couldn’t get done in a year.
“Or your thighs,” he whispered. With her eyes closed she wasn’t sure, but she could swear he was leaning over her. “I won’t touch the inside of your thighs.”
Really? Because she was this close to begging him to do just that. In fact, she wanted to say yes to all he seemed willing and able to do. Apparently after a long bout with milquetoast she was now craving the whole spicy enchilada.
As his hands continued to manipulate her feet, toes, and ankles, her mind wandered off into a daydream about an infamous Vance Evans affair.
His expert hands began long, deep, penetrating strokes that pushed her forward and pulled her back. She bit her lip, straining against the promising sensations clustering at the juncture of her thighs.
“Come on, Lolly,” he encouraged as a lover might. “Come…with me…tonight.”
She couldn’t laugh because honest to God he truly did have her on the verge of exploding. Touching nothing but her feet! How was this possible? Her brain was scrambled. Her groin was throbbing. Exactly what she’d been craving. And it felt way too good to stop of her own volition. The only thing that could save her now was divine intervention.
So didn’t it just beat all when not a moment later, divine intervention walked into the room.
Chapter Two
As the training room door flew open, Vance pulled his hands off Lolly’s feet and held them up like he’d been caught mid-crime. Since guilt didn’t register in his emotional IQ, he chalked it up to the abruptness of the interruption. Piss poor timing if you asked him.
“Hey there. Oh, sorry to interrupt.” Brooks pulled up short when he realized Vance wasn’t the only one in the room. Vance watched him do a double take as Lolly rose from the training table and then witnessed the slow dawning of that good-ole-boy grin his buddy was so well-known for. “Lollypop? Is that you?”
“Lollypop?” Vance’s head snapped around.
As if in slow motion, Lolly batted those heart-breaking, sapphire-blue eyes at his best friend. “Brooks?” she said in awe, like she was witnessing the second coming of Christ.
“What the hell?”
Brooks stepped up to the training table, offering his hand like he was some fucking Prince Charming, as the one Vance wanted for himself gracefully swung her crazy-long, perfectly muscled legs over the side of the table. Brooks helped her stand with a look of euphoria on his face. “What the heck are you doing here? I didn’t think I’d see you ’til tonight.”
“Tonight?” Vance felt a little sick.
“I came home early to meet with Coach Evans. I’d like his help gathering research on my graduate project.”
“I’m sure the coach would be happy to help,” Brooks said, smiling over at Vance like this was the best day of his life. “That right, Vance?”
“That’s right. I’m officially offering up my own bat and balls for whatever Miss DuVal may require.”
Lolly shot him a look as she stepped into those tiny but provocative heels. “Great. Then I’ll leave you two to…do whatever it is you two do,” she stumbled. “Coach Evans, thank you for your help.” She nodded in his direction. “Brooks, I’ll see you shortly before eight?”
“Pick you up at your momma’s,” he said.
Lolly flashed him a brilliant smile. “I am looking forward to it. Imagine, Darcy getting married.”
“Well, it’s just an engagement party. Which means she’s managed to get Lewis on her hook. It remains to be seen if she can reel him in to the altar.”
“Is that any way to talk about your sister?”
“Hey, Lewis might be as rich as Midas, but he’s as absentminded as they come. I’m only saying Darcy has her work cut out for her.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing both of them tonight. And you too.” She blushed, heading toward the door.
“Oh.” She stopped abruptly. “My feet!” She spun around and gifted Vance with a look of unadulterated hero worship. “You cured my feet!”
Vance felt his chest puff up like the Grinch’s when it grew three sizes that day. “I told you I’m good with my hands.”
“Indeed,” she agreed, her eyes locking with his. “You are very, very good with your hands.”
And with a twirl of that short red sundress, she was gone.
The men stood looking after her even when there was nothing left to see.
“She looks good, don’t she?” Brooks turned toward Vance, beaming.
“How the hell do you know Lolly DuVal?” Vance growled.
“What do you mean?” Brooks looked at Vance like he had three heads. “It’s Lolly…DuVal.” Vance responded with a blank look. “She’s a close personal friend of Darcy’s. Been running around our
house for years.” When Vance only shook his head he went on. “DuVal! She’s one of Henry’s cousin’s—Henry, your center fielder.” Still nothing. “Molly and Pamela’s cousin!”
“Molly DuVal!” Vance hit his head. “I thought her name sounded familiar. Yeah, Molly DuVal with the big….” His hands gestured exactly how big. “And the wild….” He gestured again. Brooks just nodded. “Well, that explains a few things then.”
“What things?”
“Never mind. The point is you know who she is and everyone she’s related to. How do you do that?”
Brooks squinted. “I’ve lived here forever!”
“So have I, and I couldn’t come up with any of that. That’s why you are going to win the race for mayor hands down if you ever stop dicking around. You remember everybody’s name.”
“Because people are important to me. You certainly remember the people with whom you’ve done business.”
“That’s different. That’s about making money.”
“Exactly. You like money. You appreciate money. You understand money. Therefore it’s easy to remember the names and faces and personal histories of those people who help you make money. Money is important to you.”
“Of course.”
“Well, there’s the difference.”
“I’m not following.”
“Women aren’t important to you. In fact, you don’t even like them.”
Vance laughed. “I think you, of all my friends, are the most aware of just how much I like women.”
“Nope. You don’t. You don’t like women. You don’t even like talking to women. You certainly don’t appreciate women. And although none of the male species actually understands them, you don’t even bother to try.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I love women!”
“No. You enjoy the female body. Like you enjoy aged whiskey or a Cuban cigar. But the way you talk about women, the way you treat women? Dude.”
Vance tried to find words with which to argue, but nothing came to him. “So, clearly, when it comes to women, I need a tutor. But so do you.”
“What?”
