“Ahh….I’ve never been to a strip club where they put their clothes on instead of taking them off. I hope you didn’t pay a high cover charge at this place because they are doing it all kinds of wrong.”
She surprised him yet again. Clayton figured she’d either be pissed and rake him over the coals or be too embarrassed to want to discuss it. But, this woman was neither. Roxy might hate him but he found her intriguing.
Clayton shrugged, “I’m not really a strip club kind of guy, never saw the purpose really. Why pay to see women you can’t touch? I’d rather have my own free show someplace more private, instead of a champagne room.” Taking the remaining two steps it took to enter her office and shut the door, Clayton stood with his back against the door.
“How prestigious of you. Well, this was neither so we’re good.”
He continued to watch her without shame as she sat in the high-backed black leather desk chair and began putting on her shoes. Still no sneakers, leather boots again. Interesting. He blatantly eyed her cleavage as she bent forward, pulling her jeans down over the tops of her boots. A simple V-neck long sleeved Steelers shirt and fuck if he didn’t find it sexy.
What in hell?
“Ready?” She asked as she stood, snatched her backpack off the desk, and started toward him.
Looking down, he smirked before looking back up and straight into her eyes.
“Yeah, I’d say I’m definitely ready.”
“Well, that’s clear. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or horrified?”
Roxy stopped halfway between her desk and Clayton and pointed at the obvious bulge in his track pants. “Do you need to take care of that in the restroom before we go or….?”
Had she really just asked him if he needed to jack-off?
“No, we can do it here.” Since she found herself so entertaining, Clayton decided to see how far she’d take it before the cool, in-control woman in front of him disappeared.
“YOU can certainly not choke-the-chicken in my office, thank you very much.”
Not even a smirk, a smile, nothing. Still, she was as cool as can be. She was good.
Clayton would’ve found it funny himself especially since he hadn’t heard anyone since the age of thirteen say choke-the-chicken, but his current state didn’t allow the humor in.
“Roxy?” He said her name, he heard it himself but hadn’t a clue what he intended to say following it.
A different expression crossed her face; he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Understanding? Sympathy? No, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
“Okay, look you don’t have to explain if that’s what you’re worried about. I know how bodies function, Karz.”
“What?” No act, he really was confused by her statement.
“I work in a mostly men’s field; I’ve seen plenty of erections and I know it’s nothing personal—more of a natural response to the female form, no matter whose or in this case not even a Cowboy’s cheerleader form, either.” Her laugh pissed him off.
Roxy grasped onto the door handle and looked at him, waiting for him to move. However, her last comment had him standing like a brick wall, challenging her.
“Excuse me,” she said and still Clayton didn’t budge.
A standoff at eight thirty in the morning with the quarterback made her feel small, a feat in itself. No matter, his size wouldn’t intimidate her nor would his stare. Nobody intimidated her. Maybe if she kept telling herself that, soon enough it’d be true.
“How about this? Move your ass, Karz if you don’t want to find my knee handling that hard-on for you.”
Clayton stepped aside for no other reason than the fact he’d put money on her following through with her threat. His eyes followed her as she left the office but his feet remained where they were.
A light knock at the door had him opening it and looking out into the green-eyed devil in black engineer boots and ripped jeans.
“You coming or what?” Roxy asked him.
He almost snapped off some smart-ass comment, asking if that was an offer, but he preferred to live to see the end of the day.
“Yes, ma’am.” Grabbing his duffle bag, he positioned it over his non-disappearing erection. Seriously, what kind of sicko did it make him that her snotty look did it for him? It had been too long. That had to be the answer. Had. To. Be. Right? Shit.
Roxy locked her office door and slipped her keys and ID badge into her backpack. Turning toward Clayton, she was practically touching him they were so close. Not that she hadn’t noticed his size before, but standing with her eyes level with the base of his throat, she really realized how impressively built he was. Of course, she told herself that she only noticed because his physique mattered in his rehabilitation.
“Umm….so, you’re gonna drive us, ready?”
“Whoa! Drive? Where are we going?” Clayton asked as he started following her….again. Seems he’d follow her lead.
“Your therapy awaits.”
“Not here?” He asked as he quickened his strides to keep up with her. The woman could move when she wanted to.
“Missy, forward my calls to my voicemail unless Dr. Monroe calls. I need to speak with him ASAP so direct his call to my cell; you have the number, thanks.” The woman watched Roxy with a dubious look before turning her eyes to Clayton and speaking.
“And, where are you two off to?” Why was she asking him? Clayton had seen catty girls before but they never ceased to amaze him. He wondered what exactly Missy’s issue with Roxy was—it was clear there was some disdain between them.
“I haven’t the foggiest, ask the boss lady. I’m merely the beautiful woman’s chauffeur.” Holding out his arm, Roxy eyed him suspiciously before linking her arm in the crook of his elbow. As they neared the door, she looked over her shoulder and sure enough Missy’s eyes were glued to the pair.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning—I’m not sure if I’ll be back this afternoon or not.” The receptionist only nodded. Seeing the snotty twit speechless was absolutely priceless.
“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
Who was this man and what the hell had happened to Clayton Karz?
He held the door open for her as they walked out and she followed him toward the parking lot in front of the clinic. She eyed her bike as they walked by but didn’t say a word.
Clayton watched her from the side and caught her gaze on the Suzuki.
“Nice bike, huh?” he asked her.
“The Hayabusa? Oh yeah, hella nice bike.”
He was just about to ask her how the hell she knew what kind of bike it was when he pressed the button to unlock his car and she turned to him with excitement clear in her eyes.
“Seriously, the Shelby is yours? I saw this in the lot the last few days and drooled.”
“Yeah?” Her confession surprised him. After all, they hadn’t really been the most cordial.
“Definitely. Six speed transmission, right? Can I drive?” The broad had balls that was for sure.
“Yes, six speed and hell no, you can’t drive!” Humor was clear in his voice but she was serious. It had been years since she’d been behind the wheel of a Mustang and never a Shelby. However, Roxy understood his protecting of his baby. Shit, she wouldn’t let anyone else drive this beauty either. Over the past year, she’d lost count how many had asked to take her bike for a spin—never had she handed over the keys, and never would she. Hell, no. There’s just something’s too precious to share.
Running her hand along the smooth black dash as she melded into the cradle feel of the black leather bucket seat, Roxy released the slightest moan of appreciation. The sound hadn’t gone unnoticed—not by a long shot.
“Ahh….you okay?” he drawled.
Her mouth slightly twitched upward on the right side before she caught herself.
“Sorry, but this car is gorgeous—which, obviously you know. Hello, pussy magnet, right?”
His head whipped to face her. Not that the statement s
hould shock him coming from her, but it had. Pussy magnet? For the love of god. How could a woman spew such crude language and he still find her absolutely hysterical at the same time?
Clayton’s panty-dampening smirk appeared. “Right on.”
Holy shit. Roxy squeezed her thighs together, but even that didn’t help relieve the ache between her legs. The man infuriated her and her body’s reaction to him infuriated her even more. She had worked with athletes by the droves and most were appealing to her, but Roxy had only seen a select few outside of a professional relationship. Besides, Clayton wasn’t the type of man who would be interested in a woman like her anyhow. Not that that was a bad thing. To each his own, right? Well known for his playboy ways and for his Playboy women for that matter. That was one thing she’d never be mistaken for.
“Sports car lover, huh?” Slipping on his sunglasses, which he pulled from the visor above his head, Clayton played the part of speed racer far too well.
“You could say that, I guess.” The man had no clue how true that statement was. She’d put money on the fact she could drive circles around Mr. Clayton Karz if it came down to it on a track. One thing she knew was horsepower and she sure as hell knew how to handle it. Although, since she wasn’t here to make friends with him or idle conversation, it would keep.
He considered asking exactly what she meant by the statement but decided against it. Most females tended to like flashy cars. Hey, that was just another perk to having his name on the pink slip of the damn thing after all.
“Where to?”
“You know where Keystone State Park is?”
Of course, he knew where it was. He often jogged there since there was a great path next to Keystone Lake.
“Yeah, I know where it is.”
Turning the key, the engine purred to life and so did Roxy. At that moment, she made up her mind to spend some quality time with the Suzuki this evening. Sometimes a girl needed to please the need between her knees and other times when sex wasn’t an option? She just needed to rod the piss outta the 1340 cc’s. Sometimes Roxy wondered why she hadn’t been born a boy. The thought made her smile. Her love of fast things, not-to-mention her undeniable addiction to football, was far from the fru-fru she had believed a female would adore. The Coach’s words replayed in her head; her father would’ve been proud of the woman she had become and that was good enough for her.
So maybe he took the corners a bit too fast, and maybe he hit the freeway even though it wasn’t necessary, but it felt good to show off a bit. The only thing better than the throaty six cylinder spitting out pure torque was her throaty laughter as first gear practically launched them at the last set of lights.
“Alright coach, what’s the plan today?”
“Coach, huh? I like that, actually.” Toting her backpack, Roxy started across the parking lot towards an open grassy area. As usual, Clayton followed her.
“I’m sure you do.” He shook his head and regretted his words already. That’s all he needed was to give her something to toss in his face later on. The smile wasn’t planned—it just sorta happened.
“We’re gonna stretch, then, we’re gonna play some catch.” His eyes were focused on her hands as she pulled a football from her bag.
“Seriously, catch?”
Roxy nodded.
“Me and you?”
She nodded again.
“You’re shitting me?” He reached for the ball and she pulled away before he could snatch it.
“As truly lovely as that sounds, no, I’m not shitting you. It’s me and you, c’mon putz.”
As much as he thought about giving her hell, he fought the urge. One less day stuck in the clinic with Skippy counting his laps and attempting yoga with Jocelyn, Janessa? Whatever her name was, the better off he was.
Chapter 9
Four hours. It had been four hours since they arrived at the park and it felt like twenty minutes. He’d take this over a morning spent inside the clinic on the machines any day. He’d put money on the fact Roxy would, too. She was different today. Relaxed. Calm. Actually, fun. They stretched and damn if the broad hadn’t had him folding himself in yoga positions—even without Josephine. Jacinda?
It sure as hell hadn’t been a hardship watching Roxy demonstrate the different positions. Hell, as a matter of fact, it had Clayton wondering if she was that willing to use her flexibility in the bedroom. Because, damn, the woman had her curvy self bent and twisted and all without complaint.
More than could be said about him, that’s for sure.
He might be in shape but Roxy was making it abundantly clear how little flexibility he possessed. She, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
It felt good tossing the pigskin around. Of course, Roxy was no wide receiver or tight end, but she held her own in a simple game of catch. He’d been on the field practicing passing plays with Michael Brooks and a few of the running backs. But, he’d always felt on display. Coaches, assistant coaches, special teams coaches, trainers, all eyes were on him and just waiting for a fuck-up. He had been favoring handing the ball off to a running back over a passing play because of this. And, that’s no way for a league leading quarterback to play.
“We need to talk about your rehabilitation and the changes we’re gonna make.”
Clayton wasn’t sure if she had meant tomorrow or if she had meant today still. Honestly? He wasn’t willing to risk the answer—so he decided to continue their day, if she’d agree.
“How about we get a drink and then you can tell me all about how you plan on torturing me?” He wasn’t quite sure why he felt nervous but he did just the same.
A drink? Had he just asked her out?
The term a man’s man was well known and men strived to be that guy. But, she was and had always been a man’s woman. Does that make sense? To Roxy it did. Lord, how many times had she been placed ever so nicely into that lovely little friend zone? More times than she could count. Most of the time it was a damn fine place to be. But then again, she’d been put there when she’d have given anything else to be so much more.
No doubt, that’s exactly where Clayton Karz had just placed her, the friend zone. Great. But, it’s a helluva lot better than bitter battling enemies, especially when they were striving towards the same goal.
It still burned some. Not that she expected anything different from Clayton; Roxy could only imagine the women he toted on his arm. Most likely, they were little perky Barbie dolls like Missy the receptionist.
Why did she care? She didn’t. Did she?
“You’re driving; I guess I’m at your mercy.”
Not the most enthusiastic answer, but coming from her, he’d take it. Although, they had seemed to mend some fences this morning—even if she did insult him on his pitiful yoga moves and less than stellar stretching.
“Sports bar okay?” He had just assumed as they sat parked just outside of First Downs Sports Bar.
“No, I require five star dining with a bottle of Don Perignon and fresh lobster tail.” Roxy rolled her eyes just for him knowing how much he loved it so.
“C’mon, smart-ass.” He hated to egg her on but her honesty was refreshing and funny.
Walking inside the bar, the multiple televisions caught his attention in the dim lighting.
“I didn’t know there was a ballgame today,” he said.
“Yeah, ahh….we’re playing the Red’s.”
The fact Roxy knew shouldn’t have surprised him but it did. Tell the truth, he got a God’s honest kick outta the chick. He’d dated—okay, maybe dated was the wrong word. Clayton had screwed around with a lot of women and more than a few had professed to not only know sports but claimed to love them—especially football. It had all been fraudulent, but he’d never cared if the women were phony. It’s not like he’d had ever planned on anything serious with any of them anyway.
Now? Still, he felt the same….or at least that’s what he continued to tell himself, even if he was often lonely.
Rox
y hadn’t seemed phony and she not only knew football but it was clear enough that she loved the game. It was refreshing.
“Baseball fan, are ya?”
“Not one iota.” She laughed when she saw his expression.
“Then, how do you know who the hell we are playing?”
“Adam Greinder had heard I was working in Pittsburg and he asked if I wanted to go to the game Friday night.”
“Adam Greinder? As in the star pitcher for the Red’s?” He eyed her speculatively.
“You know him?”
“Hell, no. How do you know him?”
“After Adam’s shoulder surgery in Cleveland, I was brought in for his rehab. Two months and he was pitching better than before going under the knife. We became friends and have kept in touch.”
Huh. So, it must’ve been him that she didn’t care for.
Hearing that she’d stayed in touch with a former patient to the point that the man called her and invited her to his games made him wonder—what was wrong with him?
“You going, then?” She looked at him, confused by the question.
“Going where?” Roxy had already forgotten what they had been talking about. However, in her defense, Clayton’s eyes felt as if they bore into hers. Where had this man been in the previous days?
“Friday, to the game?”
“Oh no, sorry brain bubble there. No, I’m not going.” Roxy sat in the high back bar stool next to him at the bar. It made her smile. There were plenty of open tables and booths around but she knew he choose the bar for its unobstructed view of the television with the ballgame on it. You could take the athlete outta the game, but never take the game outta the athlete.
For a brief moment, Clayton considered the option of asking Roxy if she’d like to attend the banquet with him on Friday evening, but quickly decided against it. The woman didn’t even like him. This morning had been the only time they’d been together for more than five minutes without fighting—he wasn’t willing to risk screwing that up now.
“What can I get you two?” the bartender asked.
“I’ll have a MGD and she’ll have….” Clayton eyed her waiting for her order.
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