Impulsive (3 page)

Jess caught a quick glimpse of the long flight of cement steps
before she squeezed her eyes shut and shoved her face into his neck. Between
hasty prayers, she railed at him. "If you drop me, I swear I'll..."

"I'm not going to drop you. Even if I did, the worst to
happen would be your bony butt putting a crack in the concrete."

"Funny. I didn't know gorillas had a sense of humor." A
second later, "Don't fall. If we fall..."

"You'd land on top of me, and maybe break a fingernail. Big
deal. Besides, if you're so blasted worried, why don't you pipe down and stop
wiggling? And it would help if you'd get your thumb out of my left eye so I
could see where we're going."

"Sorry." She moved her hand, but kept her grip on his
hair. "So, how long have you had this Rhett Butler complex?"

"Didn't know I had one," he wheezed. "But this
ought to cure it once and for all."

They stopped again. Jess kept her eyes closed. Waiting. Gulping
deep breaths and inhaling the clean, crisp scent of him with each one. He
smelled of chlorine, shampoo, and warm male flesh.

"Let loose of my hair and give a knock on the door," he
told her.

"Put me down and do it yourself," she countered,
relieved to see they were finally off the staircase and standing in the upper
hall.

Contrarily, rather than do something so logical, he rapped at the
door with his knee.

From inside, a male voice called, "Who is it?"

"Ty James. You got a minute?"

"Sure. C'mon in."

Ty couldn't quite grasp the doorknob past Jess's derriere. "I
don't
suppose you could open the door?" he asked her dryly.

She smirked. "Would the hen unlatch the chicken coop gate for
the fox?"

"Forget I asked."

By squashing her between himself and the door panel, with his nose
wedged flat against her breast, Ty got hold of the knob. The door flew open,
aided by their combined weight, and the two of them stumbled into the room. Somehow,
Ty kept his feet beneath him as he lurched for the office couch and dumped Jess
unceremoniously onto it. As he hovered over her, Jess griped loudly, "You
can back off now, he-man."

"Only when you let go of my hair," he retorted.
"I'm sort of attached to it, you know."

Jess had the grace to grimace sheepishly as she unwound her stiff
fingers from his golden mane.

"Good grief, man! What in the world is going on?"

Ty swung around to face the other man, one of the team owners.
"Tom. I'm sorry to barge in here like this, but I caught this woman, who
claims to be a reporter, hiding in a locker in the team locker room. Now, I
know we have to keep a good rapport with the press, but this—"

"She is a reporter," Tom broke in, peering around Ty's
shoulder and recognizing Jess. "And a damned fine one at that."

"You know her?" Ty asked, his face a reflection of
surprise as his gaze swept from one to the other.

From the couch, Jess waggled her fingers at the older man.
"Hi, Tommy. Can I use your bathroom while you two chat?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Your purse is in the bottom, right-hand desk
drawer, honey. Right where you left it."

"Thanks." Jess levered herself off the couch and quickly
skirted past Ty. She retrieved her purse and headed for the private restroom
adjacent to the office. "I won't be long."

"Take your time, Jessie," Tom advised, shaking his head
in wonder. "Lord knows, this isn't the first time I've caught you looking
a fright, but this really takes the cake. What in blazes have you been up to,
anyway?"

With a full head of snow-white hair, twinkling blue eyes, a robust
laugh, and a moderate-but-growing potbelly, Tom more resembled a clean-shaven
version of jolly old St. Nick than the staid bank executive he actually was.
Santa's look-alike didn't appear very jovial, however, as he leveled a warning
frown at Ty. "If this randy stud has dared..."

Ty threw up both hands and backed up two full steps. "Whoa!
Wait just a doggone minute here! In the first place, I'm the guy who pried her
skinny bones out of that jammed locker, or she'd still be in there sweating and
cursing to beat the band. In the second place, I wouldn't touch her with a ten
foot pole, even if the pair of you weren't a hot item."

"A hot item?" Tom echoed, the furrow in his forehead
deepening as his eyes narrowed. "Care to enlarge on that statement,
James?"

"Oh, for the love of Mike!" Jess stopped dead in her
tracks, swiveling to glare at Ty. "Talk about stupid jocks! You, Tyler
James, have got to be the prize idiot! Tom and me? Having a fling? Pray tell,
how did you, in a few scant seconds, arrive at such an asinine
conclusion?"

"Yes," Tom added in a huff. "I'd like to know,
too."

"Well, let's see." Ty mockingly pretended to contemplate
the notion. "First, you two know each other well enough to call one
another by your first names. And it's Tommy and Jessie no less. Then there was
a 'honey' thrown in for good measure, and the little matter of her purse in
your desk drawer, and the fact that she obviously knows her way around your
private office well enough to find the restroom on her own. Last, but not
least, was that comment about you having seen her looking a wreck before, which
led me to assume you've seen her mussed after a rousing bout in bed
perhaps—especially after you jumped to her defense like a jealous lover."

"Or an irate godfather, which is precisely what I am,"
Tom informed him tersely. "If I wasn't afraid I'd break your damned jaw
and put you out of commission for the season, I'd ram my fist down your throat!
Why, I'm a married man! And Jessie... well, that'd be the next thing to incest!
Just the thought is a preposterous insult to both of us! For two cents, I'd
trade
you off to the worst team in the league." Tom paused in his
tirade, then added grumpily, "Problem is,
we're
the worst team in the
league. In both leagues."

Ty, his face hot with embarrassment, stammered, "Lord... love
a duck! I sure have stuck my big foot into it this time, haven't I? Look, Tom,
Jess, I apologize. I was reading things all wrong, I guess, but it was an
honest mistake. I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry."

"You certainly are!" Jess agreed vehemently.
"You're the sorriest son-of-a—"

When Jess emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, she looked
marginally better than she had before. Her hair, while neatly combed, was just
as limp and lackluster as ever. Her face, free of the sheen of perspiration,
was also void of makeup at the moment. Also, without a change of clothing, her
top was only slightly less damp than when Ty had first freed her from that hot
locker—though she did smell of soap and water now, and less like sweaty old
sneakers—a major improvement in itself.

Through the closed door, she had heard the men arguing, though she
couldn't make out their words. Now, as she entered the room, Tom was wearing a
cat-that-ate-the-cream expression, while Ty was slumped in his chair looking
decidedly sulky.

"Welcome back, Jessie. You'll be glad to know that everything
is settled."

"Yeah," Ty muttered. "According to dear old Tom,
we're going steady."

"Pardon me?" Jess inquired.

"Dating. Seeing each other. Spending time together. Tripping
the light fantastic," Ty enumerated sarcastically. "As in, I'm your
guy, and you're my girl, until Tom doth us part."

"You're kidding, of course," she concluded with a sickly
grin. "He is joking, isn't he, Tommy?"

Tom gave a satisfied smile. "On the contrary, my dear. He's
one hundred percent on track."

Jess's face clouded. "Back up. I think I've missed something
vital here."

"It's really quite simple, Jessie. After hearing about your
problems today, it struck me that you need a little help getting your foot in
the door with the team," Tom went on to explain. "And what better way
to be a part of the 'inner circle' than to be dating one of the members? The
players will open up to you much more readily if they think that's the case,
more so than they would if they thought you were simply interviewing them for
your in-depth report on the Knights. In fact, I don't know why I didn't think
of it before. It's ingenious, if I do say so myself."

"You just did," Ty grumbled.

"And I don't think it's quite as clever as it is
ludicrous," Jess added. "For heaven's sake, Tommy. Who in his right
mind would ever believe I could be dating Ty James?"

Ty gave a vigorous nod. "See there? I'm not the only one who
thinks your idea is full of holes, Tom. The guys just wouldn't buy it. She's
not my type at all. So, that lets me off the hook, right?" Ty started to
rise, eager to make a swift exit.

"Wrong," Tom declared. "Sit your butt back down,
boy."

For her part, Jess glared daggers at the handsome quarterback.
"Wow! Your ego is alive and well, isn't it?" she sniped.
"Listen, hot stuff. When I said nobody would believe it, I meant that no
one would believe I would lower myself so far as to date some muscle-bound jerk
with a toothpaste smile and his brains in his jockstrap."

"For both your sakes, you'd better make them believe
it," Tom inserted seriously. "Jessie, you have a job to do here, and
I'm depending on your story to help give the team the shot in the arm it needs.
We're the new kids on the block, the newest NFL expansion team. We need some
good, up-beat media exposure. We need the new sponsors it could pull in, the
revenue it could generate. I'm counting on you, girl. All us co-owners are.
We've got a lot invested here, more than most of us would care to lose.

"As for you, Ty James, you have more at stake than that
paltry fifty-thousand-dollar fine I'm willing to dismiss. Your pro-football
career could be in jeopardy should we decide to cut you and give your position
to Jack Hays. Who else would sign you up this late, except maybe as a
third-string back-up quarterback? Team rosters are already filled for the year.
So make up your mind, son. Do you want to play the game, or warm a bench on the
sidelines? The decision is up to you— and Jess, of course."

Ty bounded from his chair. "That's blackmail, and you know
it!"

"Powerful persuasion. Maybe even dirty pool. But blackmail?"
Tom shook his head. "Besides, it's not as if I'm asking you to marry her.
Just escort her around. Take her to team functions. Parties. Rallies. Whatnot.
What'll it hurt? Furthermore, if you make it clear that she's your girl, it'll
keep the other guys from trying to hit on her—and from sucking up to me through
her—once word gets out that she's my goddaughter."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence and all the praise,
Tommy. I'm surprised you didn't try to get me a spot as the team mascot,
complete with a suit of armor," Jess groused. "Why don't you just let
me do my job the way I see fit, and let it go at that?"

"Because the future of this team is too damned important,
that's why," he retorted heatedly. "All I'm asking is a little help
from you two, just a few weeks of your time, and we'll all reap the benefits.
Jess, you'll get your story, with all the inside information and exclusive
interviews. Ty, your position as quarterback and your full salary will be
guaranteed. And, hopefully, the team will get the backing and the boost it
needs so badly. Then you can both go your separate ways, and never speak to
each other again for all I care. What do you say, kids? Will you do it? For me?
For yourselves? For the Columbus Knights?"

Ty rolled his eyes, slanting a look at Jess. "If he says,
'For the Gipper,' I'm gonna puke." Then, "Okay, okay, but I want that
fine revoked in writing. Signed, dated as of today,
witnessed,
and duly notarized. I don't trust you, you crafty old
codger.
Not after this."

Jess groaned. "Why do I just know I'm going to regret this,
big time?"

"You?" Ty exclaimed in disbelief. "My entire
reputation is about to go down the tubes."

"What reputation?" Jess scoffed. "Your status as Stud
of the Month, maybe? Or Gridiron Playboy? Big whoop! It might do you wonders to
be seen, for a change, in the company of a woman whose IQ is larger than her
bust size."

He slid a lingering leer over her torso, boldly assessing her
chest. With a shrug, he jeered, "Well, they say more than a mouthful is a
waste, anyway. I guess we're about to find out, aren't we, sweetie pie?"

Ty hit the turf so hard he heard his teeth rattle, despite the
protection of his mouth guard. This made the third time he'd been sacked this
afternoon, and the team had only been practicing for an hour and a half. He
couldn't blame his blockers, though he would have liked to. No, the fault lay
entirely with him—and with Jess Myers. She hadn't shown up yet, but he was sure
she would. Which was why his concentration had been shot to hell and back since
he'd first walked out on the field. Just waiting for her to appear, even while
he was hoping against hope that she wouldn't, was fraying his nerves to shreds.