Chasing Jillian: A Love and Football Novel (15 page)

Twenty minutes later, Kade Harrison had been sent home for the day. He was probably getting benched on Sunday too. Seth was watching film again. He glanced down at the clock on his phone. A couple more hours of this, and he could go home for the evening.

Everything would look better after he got some sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

A
FTER AN AFTERNOON
full of girl power and wine with her best friend yesterday—she was sure the neighbors enjoyed their dancing around her living room to “Shake It Off” and various other “he sucks” anthems—Jillian awoke the next morning to a wildly pouncing kitten and a stress headache. She knew she had to get her ass out of bed and get to the office. She had so much work to do today that Seth would be the last thing on her mind. She flopped back into the pillows with another groan.

“You don’t have to take that from him,” Kari had told her yesterday. “If he can’t see all the wonderful things about you that I see, he’s not worth your tears. There are other guys too. Go in there with your head held high and pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Jillian said.

He’d said they were friends. Even if she was currently pissed off at him, she didn’t know how to deal with the friend part. She couldn’t stand to believe that maybe that had been a lie too. She couldn’t imagine her life without him at all, at least right now.

Jillian walked into the Sharks’ training facility on shaky legs an hour and a half after forcing herself out of bed. The guys weren’t scheduled to practice until this afternoon. The building was quiet as a result. She sank into her desk chair.

If she’d felt sick to her stomach over the argument she’d had with Seth yesterday, it was even worse today, and she’d pulled over twice on the way to the office to race for a ladies room. It was time to confess: She needed to tell John the truth. She and Seth were involved with each other, she’d broken his rule, and she’d better accept the consequences. She’d brought one of her cloth grocery bags to pack the few personal effects in her desk before she asked for a few minutes of his time.

Sharks security would search the bag before she was allowed to slink away with her tail between her legs. They’d enjoy cataloging the Sharks coffee mug; a little framed photo of Kari’s baby, Marcus; a small box of tampons; and a container of breath mints, she was sure.

John didn’t tolerate employees who lied to him. Anyone stupid enough to do so was fired on the spot. He’d warned her several times not to get romantically involved with the players. It was time for her to come clean, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t leaving his office with a job. She logged on to her desktop and read some e-mail while she waited for John to arrive. Well, she tried to read some e-mail. She kept reading the same sentence over and over. She couldn’t concentrate.

John breezed through the double doors into the building ten minutes later, and Jillian got up from her chair to walk into his office. She’d seen pictures of newborn colts trying to stand up and walk. She had a lot in common with one of them right now. Hopefully, she wouldn’t collapse into a heap or barf on John’s office floor.

“Jillian, how are you feeling today?”

“I’m okay,” she said. She really wasn’t, but she needed to talk to him.

“I have some things I’d like you to do this morning,” he said.

“I need to talk to you first,” she blurted out.

He glanced up from the tablet he was working on. “You’re pretty pale. Maybe you should sit down,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so maybe I should just say it.” God, she wished she was anywhere else in the world right now.

He sat back in his chair and stared at her for a minute. “Are you giving me your two weeks’ notice?”

“No,” she said.

“You’re moving to Australia?”

“No.”

“Maternity leave?” He smiled at her.

She shook her head. She appreciated his lightheartedness, but right now, it was all she could do to not cry—on top of the wanting to vomit and praying she could make it to a bathroom in time.

“Sit down,” he said. “Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “I don’t think this can be fixed.”

“What happened?”

“Remember when you told me you’d fire me if I got romantically involved with one of the players?”

“Yes, I do,” he said. He leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on the desk, and steepled his fingers.

She sank into the chair in front of his desk before her legs decided they couldn’t hold her up any more. “I have been seeing Seth Taylor. I didn’t mean to get involved with him. We were just friends. But we’ve been spending more and more time together, and he kissed me, and I . . . ” She heaved a long sigh. “We’re involved. And I’ll have my resignation on your desk as quickly as I can write it.” She got to her feet; she was still shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. She reached out her hand to him. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out.”

He didn’t shake her hand.

“I think we’d better talk about this. Do you understand why I made that rule?” He nodded at the chair in front of his desk again, and Jillian sat down once more.

“Your assistant getting involved with a player interferes with her job,” Jillian answered.

“I’ve lost three assistants in the past three years. Two of them left after dating players and the relationships ended badly. The other assistant got married and got pregnant shortly after the wedding.” He shook his head. “I’m tired of training and retraining new assistants. I had hoped you might be different.”

His displeasure made her feel even worse.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“Jillian, your private life is your own, but I have to tell you right now: I thought you were smarter than this. The vast majority of these guys aren’t in it for the long haul. They want someone temporary. They tire of whoever it is they’re with, and they find someone new. I don’t think that Seth is unique.” He let out a sigh. “Do you realize, for instance, that the divorce rate among NFL players is higher than the national average?”

“He hasn’t asked me to marry him.” She bowed her head. She couldn’t stand the disappointed look on John’s face. It would have been easier if he’d told her to pack her things and get out.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re an attractive young woman, Jillian, and you have a lot to offer any man, but you want a future and a family. I don’t think he can give that to you. Please choose someone else.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Find a software engineer. A doctor. An attorney. A man who wants a family. Not Seth.”

Jillian got to her feet. “I’ve packed my things, so I can be out of here in ten minutes or so. Again, thank you for the opportunity.” She gave him a stiff nod, turned, and put her hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not firing you, Jillian.”

“Excuse me?” She turned around to stare at him.

“I can’t afford the time it will take to interview for your replacement right now. You can stay, but I am letting you know that if your relationship interferes with your work, I will not only fire you, but you will not get a reference.” He folded his arms across his chest. “If you want to see him, go ahead, but I’m not happy about it.”

She gave him another nod.

“Vivian has the notes from the 5K planning meeting yesterday. I’d like to see what progress you’ve made on the projects I gave you.” He reached out to grab the receiver of his desk phone. “I’d also like you to start the arrangements for the poker game I talked to you about last week.”

Jillian opened his office door and walked numbly back to her desk.

Chapter Eighteen

J
ILLIAN MANAGED TO
get through the next several hours at the office by delving into her full in-box. She didn’t want to think about John’s words; they hurt too much. She had told him the truth. She’d expected to be upbraided as a result, especially since John had warned her repeatedly that there would be consequences to her actions.

She’d lived in a house with foster parents, but she’d never really had a dad. John had taken a somewhat fatherly interest in her since she’d been working for the Sharks. She’d worked hard to win his approval. He’d responded by advising her on things like the safest funds to invest her 401(k), or passing on the name of the mechanic who worked on his cars when she needed work done on her Honda Civic.

She understood that John was angry with her. She deserved his anger, but it felt like he’d pulled the rug out from under her this morning. She was embarrassed and humiliated. She tried not to dwell on it as she threw herself into the multiple projects that needed to be completed before she could go home for the weekend.

John had registered his disapproval with her, but he’d made it personal even though he’d told her a thousand times before, “It’s not personal; it’s business.” Jillian loved her job, but she didn’t want another encounter with her boss like this morning’s. She understood that she could have avoided the whole thing by staying away from Seth in the first place. She’d offered to resign. John didn’t accept her resignation. She wondered how she could redeem herself in his eyes besides working hard and rebuilding his trust in her, one day at a time.

S
ETH WALKED THROUGH
the administrative area of the Sharks’ offices on his way to the locker room. He glanced over at Jillian’s desk. He wanted to talk with her, but now wasn’t the best time. They needed privacy. He needed to tell her how he felt.

Jillian looked pale and upset. She held her desk phone receiver to her ear as she scribbled notes on a pad; she didn’t glance up as he walked by as she usually did. He shoved the door to the locker room open with one hand and grabbed for his phone with the other.

J
OHN LEFT THE
office at four o’clock that afternoon to meet up with some colleagues for a drink. He gave Jillian a nod and said, “I’m out for the rest of the day. I’ll see you on Sunday at the stadium.”

“I’ll be there,” she said. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too.” He didn’t smile.

She blinked back more tears as he walked away. She could go home in an hour. She was planning on going for a walk after work, but she really needed some chocolate. Maybe she should buy a candy bar on the way home. She was musing on which type of candy bar she wanted most when Amy Hamilton Stephens walked in with a gorgeous bouquet of Casablanca lilies, peach roses, and snapdragons.

“Hey, Jillian.” Amy crossed to her desk and held out the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Happy Friday,” Amy said and dropped into the chair next to Jillian’s desk. “I told my delivery guy I’d bring these on my way home.”

“It’s nice to see you, Amy.” She stared at the gorgeous flowers. “Who sent these?”

“Can’t tell you. Customer/florist confidentiality, you know.” Amy gave her a grin.

Jillian grabbed the small white envelope out of the arrangement, tore it open, and read,
Buttercup, let’s stay out late on a school night
.

“Well?” Amy said.

She jammed the card back into the envelope, stuck it into her pants pocket, and glanced over at Amy. “Did Matt ever do anything that really hurt your feelings when you first met?”

“Of course he did. He’s not perfect. I’m not, either. I accepted his apology, and he’s accepted more than one of mine too.” She put her elbow on Jillian’s desk and rested her chin in one hand. “I’m pretty sure the anonymous flower-sender wants to tell you exactly what a dumb-ass he is, how sorry he is, and how much he wishes you’d forgive him.”

“I’ll consider it. Maybe.” Jillian sniffed her bouquet. “He does have nice taste in flowers.”

Amy gave her an impish grin. “Hey, Emily’s home next week for a few days. We still want to have lunch with you. We can meet you here, if that works.”

“I would love that. Why don’t you both pick a day that works best for you, and let me know? There’s a really great lunch place about a mile away.”

“I’ll ask my sis and get back to you.”

Amy’s phone chimed. She grabbed it out of her pocket, looked at the screen, and raised an eyebrow.

“Is something wrong?” Jillian said.

“My husband just texted me that our kids are staying with his mom tonight and he’s got plans for us. He also sent a selfie. I gotta go.”

“A selfie?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Amy said. She jumped out of the chair and hugged Jillian good-bye. It was somewhat amazing to see how fast a pregnant woman could move. “I’ll see you next week.”

Jillian laughed as Amy ran through the lobby to the parking lot. She heard Amy’s car roaring away moments later. Maybe someday she’d have a husband she’d drop everything to spend time with too.

An hour or so later, Jillian picked up her bouquet, grabbed her purse, and headed out for the evening. Even more than a candy bar, she wanted a quiet evening at home. Maybe she’d read or play with CB. She really needed to rest and recharge, and she was still thinking about John’s comments to her earlier.

Maybe she should talk the whole thing over with Kari tomorrow. It was always good to get another perspective. She’d have plenty of time to think about the day while she drove home; traffic in the Seattle area any time after three
PM
on a Friday was a nightmare. She could figure out a solution while she sat in stopped traffic on 405, breathing auto exhaust and watching people in other cars pretend they weren’t using their smartphones while driving. She could always pull off at the next exit and get some coffee or something.

Mostly, she wanted to get home, put the flowers Seth had sent her on her kitchen counter to enjoy, and not think about anything else work-related for the rest of the evening.

After employing a patchwork of freeway/surface streets/lesser-known shortcuts, Jillian pulled up in front of her apartment an hour later. CB pounced as Jillian let herself into the apartment.

“Okay, kitty, okay. Let me get your dinner,” Jillian said.

CB greeted this with a
prrt
and wound around her ankles. She fed the kitty, changed into sweats and a T-shirt, and threw her dirty clothes into the washing machine before grabbing out a clean load from the dryer. She pulled up a channel called
Healing Music
on Pandora as she considered what was in the freezer for dinner.

Maybe she should put her clothes back on and get something that looked a little more appetizing for dinner. It would be good for her to get out a little and quit dwelling on her problems. She had just gotten up off the couch to walk into her room when she heard a knock at the front door.

“Who is it?” she called out.

She hadn’t flipped the lock when she came home, and Seth strolled through the front door of her apartment like he owned the place. Her stomach dropped away as she stared at him.

“It’s me,” he said. His eyes strayed to the gorgeous bouquet he’d sent.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He crossed to the living room couch, sat down, and rested one of his ankles on his knee as he shoved a pile of clean laundry away with one hand. “You must have gotten over what you had yesterday, Buttercup. I saw you at the office earlier.”

“That’s a ridiculous nickname. Why do you call me that?”

Of course he wouldn’t call her “honey,” “baby,” “sweetheart,” or any other typical endearment. It wasn’t his style. His lips curved into a smile as he glanced up at her. He was drumming his fingertips against the back of the couch. His expression was casual, but his eyes never left hers.

She grabbed the stack of her freshly folded underwear off of the coffee table. She wondered if she could stash the underwear in a kitchen drawer without his noticing. She felt a little weird that he’d now seen the silky, pretty things she’d treated herself to.

“I think it fits you.” He glanced over at her laptop. “What are you listening to?”

“Music without a beat,” she said. She should thank him for the flowers. He was probably thirsty after sitting on the freeway too. “Would you like something to drink? I have filtered water, milk, juice, beer—”

He cut her off. “I see the casual mystery guy isn’t around.”

“No, he’s not.” She took a deep breath. “Why would you care?”

Seth got to his feet, crossed the room, and stopped inches from her. “I care a lot.”

She opened her mouth, reconsidered what she was about to say, and shut her mouth again. She should say that she was sorry for overreacting. She should tell him she was going to save the little florist card he’d sent for the rest of her life. She should do a lot of things, but right now, all she could do was stare at him.

He sent one hand through his hair. He seemed to make a decision as he stared at her. He reached out for her hand. The stack of underwear she held fell to the carpet.

“I came over here because I have something to tell you. I . . . I didn’t tell you the truth the other day, and I’m sorry. I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time now, and I was too chicken to say so.” He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried. I dream about you at night. I want to be wherever you are, all the time. You said you wanted to be friends, but I don’t want to be just friends anymore. I want you. I hope you want me too.”

She was breathless. Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t have formed words if her life depended on it. He moved a bit closer to her. She didn’t move away. She breathed in the woodsy scent of the soap he liked and felt the heat of his body against hers and the big, roughened hand that was gentle on her cheek.

“I know there’s no other guy in your life. If there was, he would have arrived on the scene a long time ago.” He stroked her hair. “If you’re with someone else, if we’re ‘just friends,’ I can’t do this,” he said. He pulled her against him with a quick movement tipped her chin up, and his mouth came down on hers. She reached out to grab a handful of the soft cotton of his shirt. She hung on, and he held her.

He lifted his head enough to murmur, “I can’t do this, either.” His tongue slid over her lower lip, and she tasted the water he must have been drinking before he walked into her apartment. Their mouths clung and shaped to each other. Her arms snaked around his neck. She slid her fingertips under the neck of his T-shirt to feel the smoothness of his skin. He pushed her T-shirt up, and one hand moved to cup her bare breast. She let out a moan as he tickled her nipple with his thumb.

“Imagine what else I can’t do.” The warmth of his breath brushed her ear. She felt the scratchiness of his cheek against her own. He nibbled on her earlobe. “I want it all, Jill. And I want you.”

“I want you too.” Her voice shook. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

He continued a gentle back-and-forth motion with his thumb on her nipple, which pebbled under his touch. Her knees were getting weak. She listened to his heartbeat as her knees turned to jelly and she leaned against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his T-shirt, feeling the muscles in his shoulders bunch and flex as he held her a little tighter. He was hard against her belly. She moved closer.

Jillian thought she was safe from all the feelings she had for him, as long as Seth thought she wasn’t available. She could spend time with him, talk with him, and laugh. There was no pressure. She could be herself, and he could be himself. There was no fear of rejection or the awkwardness of an unwanted confession. Of course, it was all going to be different now, and how would that be for both of them? She couldn’t think about it right now, especially since he’d just streaked the tip of his tongue around the shell of her ear.

His voice was a dark, sensual rumble, and his mouth traced her collarbone. “Are you still mad at me?”

She shook her head. “Are you still mad at me?” she said.

“No.” He grinned at her. “What should we do now?”

“We could kiss some more,” she suggested. She felt his chest move with silent laughter.

“Oh, we could. Or I could pull your clothes off and do every last thing to you I’ve dreamed about doing since we met.” He let that sink in for a few seconds. “The blinds are still open, aren’t they?” His voice dropped. “I’m sure your neighbors will enjoy it.”

“You really dreamed about me?”

“Almost every night.” He pulled in a breath. “I can’t wait to see if reality is better than my dreams.”

She stood on her tiptoes and leaned her forehead against his. “Come to bed with me,” she whispered.

He bent to scoop her up in his arms. A few long strides later, he deposited her on her bed and followed her down. She reached out for him. She buried her nose in his neck and took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe this was happening, but she was going to enjoy every second.

“Jill.”

“Hm?”

She was in the midst of an exploration of an evidently sensitive patch of skin on the underside of his jaw with her tongue. She felt him shudder. She shoved the T-shirt he wore up so she could run her fingers over his smooth chest, and he captured her mouth with his own. Her hands moved over him, and he stripped off the T-shirt she wore. He dropped it over the side of the bed.

“Now we’re talkin’,” he muttered. He sucked Jillian’s nipple into his mouth, and she arched to meet him. He was pulling at her sweat pants with one hand and stripped them off. She tried to wriggle out of her underwear, but he put one big hand in the middle of her belly. “That’s my job.”

He pulled them off with his teeth. Slowly. By the time he tossed the black silk panties over the edge of her bed, she was shaking, her breath coming in short, hard pants, and she melted into the bedding. The only thing she was wearing right now was navy blue toenail polish. Seth got to his feet.

“Where are you going?” She was not going to beg. Well, maybe she might. Where the hell was he going?