by Impulsive
Jess grimaced. "I hope not, but I suppose it's inevitable."
"I think so, too," Claudia put in, draping her arm around Jess's waist. "So be prepared for it, honey. By the way, I hope you're serving crow with this pizza, because I deserve a big portion. You were fantastic out there tonight, despite all my predictions of doom and gloom."
"She's right, Jess," John Derry added, placing a peck on her cheek. "We're extremely proud of you. Your dad and brother would have been, too."
"And Alan," Ty said. "You did him proud, Jess."
"So did you." Jess returned the compliment, her smile edged with sorrow. "As did the whole team. It would have been a shame to lose this one, but we won it in grand style. I just wish Alan could have been part of it."
"I don't doubt that he was," Ty told her, his tone unusually reverent. "In spirit, if not in body."
The phone began ringing before nine o'clock the following morning. Ty made the mistake of picking up the bedroom extension on the first call. It was a reporter from a Columbus newspaper, wanting an interview with Jessica Myers, the new female kicker.
"Why call me?" Ty stalled.
"Because all I'm getting is her answering machine, and I was told you two are a couple. I figured maybe I could reach her at your place."
"How did you get my number?" Ty asked irritably. "It's unlisted."
"A friend of a friend," the guy hedged.
"Well, you've struck out, pal. No one's here but me," Ty lied. "And don't call here again. You know the drill. If you want any information about any of the team, call the Knights' office."
"What was that all about?" Jess asked when he hung up.
"Word's out that you're a woman."
Jess made a show of lifting the sheet and looking down at her nude body. "Well, what do you know!" she mocked. "I think they're right!"
"Cut the comedy. That was a local newspaper reporter. A 'friend of a friend' gave him my phone number, and yours, too, apparently—after informing him that our team kicker is one Jessica Myers, and my current flame. He wanted an interview with you."
Jess sighed. "Oh, brother! I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but I was hoping for later. And I'll bet I know who ratted."
As one, they declared, "Bambi."
The phone rang again. Automatically, Jess reached for the receiver. Ty forestalled the movement. "Let the machine get it. Chances are, it's someone else we don't want to talk to just yet."
"You skirted the other call awfully well," Jess commented. "Now that I think about it, you didn't admit anything. Not that J.D. Myers and Jessica/Jess Myers are one and the same, or that you're dating me or even know me at all. As I recall, the word 'she' never passed your lips. You're pretty slick there, James."
"I've had a lot of practice handling reporters," he replied off-handedly.
"Yeah, I'll say you have!" she chuckled. She knocked him back on his pillow and flopped atop his chest. "How about 'handling' this one again, lover boy?"
That was just the start of things. By eleven o'clock, the message tape on Ty's answering machine was full, and a sheaf of faxes littered his desk. There were communications from several Ohio newspapers, all three major TV networks, plus the sports channel, the news channel, and a number of radio stations. All left their numbers, requesting an interview with Jess at the first opportunity. She'd also retrieved duplicate messages from her own phone and E-mail, via the laptop computer she often left at Ty's place for convenience sake.
"Holy cow!" Jess exclaimed in awe. "I can't believe this! You'd think I was just nominated for an Oscar or something!"
"Well, honey-bun, my advice is for you to get to work on a press release that will satisfy them all in one fell swoop. As for personal interviews, CNN would probably be your best bet. That way the other networks could pick it up from them and you could get by with doing just one. At least for now."
Jess's jaw dropped. "No way, José. There is no way on God's green earth that I'll consent to a live interview and have the entire U.S. and most of the civilized world criticizing everything from my looks to my kicking ability, to my unmitigated gall at joining a professional football team. Not to mention digging into my background and personal life."
"The shoe pinches when it's on your foot, doesn't it?" he commented wryly. "When it's your butt on the line, with everyone shooting questions at you left and right. You should have thought of all this before you signed that contract."
Jess groaned. "I did, but not thoroughly enough, I guess. Mainly, I just wanted to do this for Alan, and to help out the team."
"Which you are," he conceded. "You've also put the Knights in the spotlight along with your own sweet self. Nothing like a little notoriety to stir up team spirit."
"For which Tommy will no doubt be eternally ungrateful," Jess grumbled. "Lord, what a glorious mess I've gotten myself into this time. You'd think, at some point or age, I'd learn not to be so blasted impulsive. But no, not me. I just leap in with both feet, regardless of the consequences."
"Hey! Impulsive is good," Ty argued. "You've just got to learn to be selective along with it. Now, about that interview."
After much debate, Jess finally agreed—with certain rigid stipulations. There would be no questions about her love life, past or present. She would not answer any queries she considered too personal. She would discuss her career as an investigative journalist, and her accomplishments while on the OSU women's soccer team. Additionally, she okayed CNN's request for brief related interviews with her mother, some of the other Knights, and with a few select friends and former professors. Jess also insisted that the interview take place at the stadium, rather than her own home, and that she remain seated throughout, to distract attention from her height.
It took her three hours to select an outfit both she and Ty deemed attractive and feminine enough without looking frilly. She took extra pains with her makeup, had Ty do her hair and help with her manicure—something she almost never bothered to do—hooked her favorite earrings through her ears, and left the rest to Providence.
The piece, limited in length at Jess's request, ran on CNN Wednesday and was replayed on Thursday. Her succinctly worded press release also hit the newspapers in mid-week. In accordance with her present luck, it hit the UP wires and was printed nationwide. The phone and fax kept ringing, until both she and Ty were forced to have their numbers changed.
"I'm so sorry about all this hassle," she apologized for the tenth time in as many minutes.
Ty looked up from his personal phone directory, from which he was pulling names of those people to whom he had yet to relay his new number. "Don't sweat it, babe. Like I said, my number was out to too many people who shouldn't have it, anyway. I just don't want to forget to notify anybody who actually needs to know it. Like Barb. Unfortunately, I can't just skip her and give the number to Josh, as much as I'd like to."
The messages had continued to come in from across the country, and not just from the news media. How the average citizen had obtained her number, and her home address, Jess would have liked to know. Her best assumption was that they had tapped into some computer file somewhere. A mailing list, maybe. Heaven knew, once you subscribed to that first lousy magazine, everyone in the world was sending you junk mail, having bought your address from the original company.
At any rate, on top of all the E-mail, et cetera, she was also receiving cards and letters in abundance. Her mailman was about to have a hernia—or go into a maniacal rage and buy a gun! Not all of the missives were complimentary or encouraging, either. A woman from Iowa, obviously big on religion, wrote that Jess should be ashamed of herself. She should stop trying to be a man, get married, raise a family, and fulfill her God-ordained role as a woman. That was only one of a number of disparaging comments from both genders sprinkled among the good.
The messages that surprised Jess most, however, were from men—male admirers who sent more than casual greetings— encompassing everything from lewd offers to marriage proposals. Most were
gushing, others graphic in the extreme. Some even went so far as to have flowers and candy delivered to her at the stadium. One fellow actually mailed her a pair of red satin thong panties, included his phone number, and asked her to wear the gift when she called him.
"When polar bears vacation in Tahiti!" was Jess's flabbergasted reaction. "Good grief, Ty! This is asinine! These guys don't actually think I'm going to respond to them, do they?"
He replied with an agitated frown, "I imagine they're hoping you will. Damn! This is getting out of hand. I never suspected you'd be collecting your own weirdos and groupies, like—"
"Like you and the rest of the hot-shot jocks?" she interrupted with a wry grin.
"Yeah," he grumbled. "Next, someone will want to start a Jess Myers fan club!"
She searched quickly through a stack of letters. Pulling one out, she waved it at him. "Got it right here, T.D. But you'll be glad to know this one is from a girl. She wants to join her high school football team, but so far they've succeeded in blackballing her. As of Wednesday, I am officially her most revered idol."
All in all, Jess was glad to accompany Ty to Indianapolis on Friday and escape the deluge of attention. They were finally going to get to watch Josh play in a soccer match.
"I hope his coach doesn't stick him on the bench the whole while," Jess fretted.
Ty chuckled. "You're worse than I am, Jess. Anyone would swear you were the kid's mom, the way you fuss over him."
"Does that bother you?" she asked hesitantly.
"Heck no. Especially since I know that with you it's sincere, not just some act you're putting on to impress me. You'd be surprised at the number of women who've resorted to such underhanded maneuvers in the past. Nothing ticks me off faster."
"I suppose, being a football star, you have had more than your share of women who would employ any kind of trickery to get into your bed," she mused sourly.
"You don't know the half of it, but you might by the time all is said and done. Wait until you find one of these guys who are mooning over you lurking outside your apartment, or sitting in your car after a game, or knocking on your hotel door and claiming to be someone from room service. You can't imagine how devious and persistent they can be, or how utterly annoying."
"Maybe this will all blow over soon. Anyway, it's nice to get away from it for a while, at least. Josh is going to be thrilled that you've been able to make it to a match at last."
"Just don't be shocked if he's happier to see you than he is to see me," he told her with a droll look. "You're the soccer champ, and now you're even kicking for the Knights, which ranks you right up there with the Mighty Power Rangers in his book."
"Don't worry. You'll always be his hero, Ty. After all, you're his superstar daddy."
"Speaking of which, you started your period this morning, didn't you?"
"Yes. No more PMS on top of all the other stress, thank God. Sorry. I know I've been something of a bitch the last few days."
"You've been great, considering. I was just a little afraid you—that you might be pregnant."
"What!" Jess stared at him in utter disbelief. "Ty, we've been going through condoms at a ridiculous rate. In fact, I've been considering buying stock in the darned company!"
"We skipped a couple of times, though, and I thought maybe we'd flubbed up."
"When?" she prodded. "When did we not use one?"
"That night in Phoenix, when you got plastered and all but attacked me," he related. "You had me so fired up, I completely forgot, and that's not the kind of mistake I'd like to make often."
"Oh, so it's all my fault?"
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it," she insisted. "It takes two to tango, Tyler James, and I wasn't the only one dancing."
Ty gave a harried sigh. "I know. Listen, I didn't intend for this to escalate into a fight, Jess. I just said I'm glad you're not pregnant. I was railroaded into one marriage that way, and I wouldn't want a repeat performance, that's all."
"Well," she sniffed, "thank you so much for your high opinion of me. May I echo that sentiment and inform you that you are one of the most distrusting, exasperating jackasses I've ever had the pleasure to bed down with? And here's another news flash, buster. If I ever do find myself pregnant with your child, you can rest assured I will not coerce you into marriage. I am perfectly capable of raising a child by myself, with or without your help."
"Fine," he snapped back, his eyes flashing angrily. "Now let me tell you something, sweet pea. If you do end up bearing my child, you will marry me, Jess. I will be a part of his or her life, and yours—till death do us part. Any future kid of mine is going to see me day in and day out, not long-distance the way it is between Josh and me."
Jess sneered at him. "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. I won't be hustled into marriage before I'm ready, either. So stick that in your shorts and sit on it!"
"So, when do you think you'll be ready?" he asked, taking her completely off guard.
She shook her head, totally confused by his swift change of tactic. "I haven't got the foggiest notion. Why?"
"Because I think I've fallen in love with you, you aggravating shrew!" he declared loudly, clearly peeved. "At the moment, I'm not too thrilled about it, but there it is. I just don't want to rush into anything. I'd rather we take our time, get to know each other better, be absolutely certain it would work for us. Then, I suppose we could make that fatal leap into wedded bliss."
Jess's insides were hopping around like Mexican jumping beans. Ty loved her! Oh, sweet heaven, he really did! It was a dream come true—Cinderella and all her favorite fairy tales and fantasies wrapped into one! It was all she could do not to let out a wild whoop of pure joy. Instead, given his surly demeanor, which was less than princely by anyone's estimation, she replied huffily, "I love you, too, you arrogant toad! But wedded bliss? You and me? Don't kid yourself, James. More like scratch and squabble."
"Probably," he agreed with a nod. "But that could be fun, too, as long as we make up after every spat and the only scratching you do is in the heat of passion."
"You're horny again!" she accused. "Already. Still."
He grinned. "That's what being a toad is all about, sweetheart."
"Well, just cool your jets, Romeo. You've got a week's wait ahead of you," she reminded him smugly, then added smartly, "Gee, I hope you don't go into withdrawal and start twitching or foaming at the mouth. How would you explain that to Josh?"
CHAPTER 19
At the start of the game against the Steelers on Sunday, Ty thought to ask Jess, "Is being on your period going to affect your kicking any?"
Jess glared at him with feminine disdain. "Try to keep up, Tyler. We're almost into the twenty-first century. Today's women do not glisten; we actually perspire. We do not swoon at the sight of a tiny mouse; we go out and buy a mousetrap. Nor do we take to our beds at the first sign of a cramp; we pop a couple of Midol and go about business as usual."
She stalked off, leaving him to digest her impromptu lecture. Gabe, having overheard most of Jess's tirade from a few feet away, approached his friend. "Whooeee! What did you do to tick her off, T.D.?"
"The best I can figure, she's in a snit because I told her I think I love her. You'd think she'd be happier about it." Ty shrugged. "Go figure."
"Don't have to," Gabe said, almost before the words were out of Ty's mouth. "But I am trying to figure out how a guy with a college degree and thirty-two years under his belt can still be so stupid about women. Any idiot knows you never tell a woman you think you love her. You keep your big mouth shut until you're sure. It's a wonder Jess didn't rip your head off and present it to you on a platter."
Ty glanced toward Jess. She was standing stiffly, her back to him. "She won't stay mad long. She never does."
Gabe was more skeptical. "I don't know, man. She might decide your ass is grass and play lawn mower, and then head for greener pastures—and some fellow who's more sensitive about her feeling
s. If I were you, I'd get a ring on her finger before someone else steals her away—at least an engagement ring. Unless you really don't care if she stays or leaves."
"So what do you suggest, oh wise one? Do I run out and buy her an engagement ring and present it to her in a big slice of her favorite chocolate cake?" Ty wisecracked.
Gabe's lips quirked. "Not unless you want to go fishing for it a couple days after she swallows it—and that's only if you're real lucky and she doesn't require major surgery to remove it. If you want my advice, you either take a more traditional route—down on one knee and the whole bit—or you come up with something more original. But whatever you do, Ty, remember that this is a sacred moment in a woman's life. Make it romantic."
Ty sighed and gave his friend a cynical look. "You sound like Ann Landers. What do you do in your spare time, Gabe? Scour advice columns and marriage manuals?"
Gabe grinned. "Nah. I just listen to Corey. With both ears and my whole heart."
"Will you please stop trying to sell me on some fast, fancy car, Ty?" Jess and Ty were out, for the third day in a row, shopping for a replacement car for her.
"Sure," he agreed. "When you stop considering models that look like Fred Flintstone's jalopy, or something your grandmother would drive. Get wild. Get crazy. Get something with a little pizzazz, Jess. After your second spectacular game, without a single missed kick, you've earned it. You deserve it."
"I can't afford your brand of pizzazz," she informed him flatly. "I want something economical, with good gas mileage and a decent insurance rate."
"Okay, okay. But you have to admit, a station wagon is a stupid pick, and you need a van like you need three armpits."
Jess shrugged. "I want something substantial. What I'd really like is one of those sport utility vehicles. They're heavy enough to suit me, have lots of space plus seating, and four-wheel drive would really come in handy in the snow when winter sets in."