“Who knew you had a rebellious streak in you.”
“There’s plenty you don’t know.”
Crap, why did she go and say that to him? Talk about inviting him to delve into her personal life.
“It would be fun to find out,” he replied with a wink and, yep, there went that flirty smile again. Her stomach flipped a little. So much for thinking she was immune to him.
She shouldn’t have come tonight.
“Where’s everyone sitting?” That’s better, a nice neutral question. Too bad she couldn’t retract her earlier statement.
Drake stopped, causing her to stumble a little. His arm curled around her waist, preventing her from face planting into the ground or, worse, a complete stranger’s lap.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to stop suddenly. Here we are.”
Tamara lifted her head and saw a sea of red, white and blue. “Did you get the entire US Olympic team into this stadium?”
“No,” he chuckled. “Not quite.”
“I don’t see any seats.”
“No, neither do I. Damn, I should’ve gotten someone to save a couple.” Drake grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I’ll find us a space. The session’s about to start soon, and I don’t want to miss a single moment of it.”
The next minute she was being dragged through the group of people. She recognized some of the guys from the track team. Fortunately, they weren’t paying attention to her being dragged along by Drake.
She didn’t know how he managed to find anything in the mass of people, but suddenly she found herself being pushed down into a seat.
“Save this one. I’ll be right back.”
Tamara put the jacket she’d been carrying on the seat next to her as Drake disappeared back into the sea of bodies around them. Where was he going? What was he doing?
Before she could ask herself any more questions, he returned, holding two streamer sticks. He handed over her jacket and one of the sticks. He plopped down next to her as the music sounded to begin the night’s events. When it finished, she leaned in toward Drake so she didn’t have to yell over the crowd.
“What time is Mitch’s event? Do you know?”
“Well, he’s in two. The individual medley and 400m freestyle. I think the medley race is first.”
“What are his chances?”
“He killed it in the heats, but then again he had the luck of the draw and had a heat that didn’t have any real medal contenders. Poor guys, their one chance of perhaps getting to a final obliterated because Mitch was in their heat.”
Tamara couldn’t imagine how those competitors must have felt to know they were racing against one of the best swimmers in the world. “Maybe, but, on the other hand, they could’ve been thrilled to know someone of Mitch’s caliber was competing against them. They’ll be able to brag when they get home that they raced with the best of the best.”
He grinned, appearing to like her analogy. “It’s what the Olympics is all about isn’t it? Doing your best and embracing the spirit of the Games.”
“Yep.”
Just then the racers walked out. Drake leaned forward so Tamara followed suit. She picked out Mitch easily. She might not follow swimming, but she’d have to have been living under a rock the last year not to know what Mitch looked like. His face had appeared a lot in the press for a few weeks. Along with Brett Hunter, who she also noticed in the group of finalists.
“Wasn’t there some sort of scandal involving Mitch and Brett Hunter?”
Drake’s lips thinned momentarily before relaxing. “Yeah, there was.”
The more she thought about it the more the story formed in her brain. “Mitch’s girlfriend at the time cheated on him with Brett. Right?”
This time a frown appeared on Drake’s face. Oops, touchy subject. Of course, it would be. Mitch was Drake’s best friend.
“Sorry,” she touched his arm. “None of my business.”
Drake laid his hand over hers. “It’s okay. And what do they say? A picture tells a thousand stories. Or something like that. No more talking. The race is about to start.”
The starting gun sounded, followed by the splash of eight competitors hitting the water simultaneously. Tamara watched as the swimmers pounded their way down the pool. It appeared to be close.
“Where is Mitch?”
“Center lane.”
As the competitors turned beneath the now choppy waters, Mitch had hit the front.
“Yes. Keep going, Mitch.”
Drake’s muttered words had her turning to watch him. His focus on his friend’s race was so intense, if she clapped her hands by his ears, it would be unlikely he’d notice. Sitting forward in his chair, hands clasped in front of him, he looked to be swimming each stroke with Mitch.
With every second that passed, Tamara watched Drake more than she watched the race. Suddenly, he jumped up and started yelling, and she diverted her attention back to watching the pool.
Mitch and the guy in the lane next to him were neck and neck. There was a loud slapping sound as the swimmers hit the wall.
“Whoa, that was close. Do you think Mitch won?”
Drake sank back down to his seat. “I don’t know. I think he did. Shit, that Australian swimmer is good.”
As a loud roar went up around them, Tamara checked out the screen and saw that Mitch’s name was first.
The next moment she found herself swept up in Drake’s arms. “Woohoo, he won! He won!” He smashed his lips onto hers in a celebratory kiss. It shouldn’t have been anything more than a quick peck. They were standing in the middle of a crowded arena, with US athletes surrounding them. Yet the kiss quickly turned into anything but casual.
Her arms went to inch their way around his neck when a small part of her sensibility kicked in. She wrenched her lips away from Drake’s.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Look where we are.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I know, I’m sorry but we just saw history being made. It’s worth the risk.”
He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle that had her covering her ears. She couldn’t stay angry, not when Drake was so happy for his friend. She took a step back and watched the proceedings going on around her. Mitch was out of the pool, accepting congratulations from everyone. He walked to the edge of the stands. Tamara thought he was looking for Drake. She was wrong. Mitch smiled big for someone in the crowd. She peered past the people in her row and caught a glimpse of the person who Mitch was gazing at.
“Is that Julia Ashland Mitch is looking at?”
“Yep, it sure is.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Nope. They belong together. They just haven’t worked it out it yet. But they will. They’re meant to be together.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Who’d have thought Drake Roberts was a romantic.”
“Just like I don’t know everything about you. You don’t know everything about me.”
Bam, she just got burned. “Fair enough.”
The excitement from Mitch’s win had died down and everyone around them started sitting down in preparation for the next race.
Tamara wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay and watch the rest of the program. But walking out in the middle of race wouldn’t win her any friends with the people in her row. She watched the race, her interest gone.
This had been a mistake. She should’ve stayed in her room.
The race finished, and she stood and clapped for the winners.
“I think I’ll go before the next race.”
“What? You can’t. Mitch is racing again.”
And there was no chance Drake would let her go until she watched him.
“Fine. I’ll stay, but after his race, I’ll be leaving.”
“We’ll see.”
Tamara opened her mouth to argue but snapped it shut when Drake returned his attention to the pool.
Yep, she should’ve stayed in her room.
7
After his late night, Drake didn’t want to practice, but he had no choice—he was at the Olympics.
“I can see from where I’m standing how much you want to be here.” Len’s words made him smile. He knew him so well. “Mitch sort of had a good night last night.”
“Yeah, he was pretty buzzed when he got back to the room.”
“It’s not every day you get your name in the history books.”
Yeah, no chance of that happening for Drake. His knee was hurting a bit more this morning than it had yesterday. No doubt from his over exuberant reaction to Mitch’s win. Doing his laps would only exacerbate the tightness in his knee.
Time to be honest.
“Len, my knee is a bit sore this morning. Do you mind if we do a modified workout?”
“How bad?” concerned laced Len’s voice, and he now wished he hadn’t mentioned anything to him. If he hadn’t been so stupid yesterday as to kiss Tamara, he could’ve had a session with her and his knee might not be so bad today.
“If I take it easy today, I’m confident I’ll be fine to get back into everything tomorrow.”
“Have you spoken to either TJ or Tamara about getting them to look at it?”
Again the truth needed to come out. “Tamara had a look at it yesterday and suggested a massage and a couple of other things.”
“And did you follow up on that, or did you forget about it?”
Drake winced at the implication that he deliberately avoided his treatment. There was no need to regale Len with all the details of everything that happened yesterday.
“No, I didn’t forget. There was a misunderstanding, and it didn’t happen.”
“Do I need to talk to TJ about this? Is someone not doing their job?”
Great, now he was going to get Tamara into trouble when it was all his fault.
“No, TJ and his team are doing a good job. It’s me. I’m going to look for her now and see if I can get some work done today.”
“Make sure that you do. I don’t know what’s going on in your head at the moment, but whatever’s happening, you need to get it sorted out quickly.”
“Yes, Coach.” He wanted to walk away. He didn’t need to be chastised anymore, but Len had that listen to me look in his eye.
“You know what’s at stake here. And I don’t need to say, it but time isn’t on your side. Your heat is next week. You need to get a handle on the injury. This could be your last shot, Drake. Make it count.”
“I know. And I want this. I really do.”
Len clapped him on the shoulder. “Then don’t be your own worst enemy. Don’t let your pride prevent you from seeking the treatment you need. I don’t know what you’re worried about; you know TJ has a good team.”
“I know.”
His coach nodded, seemingly satisfied he got his point across. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Len disappeared down the path, and Drake turned to head toward the training building. Time to stop being a massive wimp and face his injury head on. He meant what he said—he wanted this. He wanted to get to the final of his event. Winning would be the icing on the cake.
* * *
Standing in the doorway of the shared office, Drake studied Tamara for a few moments. Her hair was caught up in a bun on the top of her head, tendrils escaping the tight confines and whispering against her cheek. She was reading a report or something. Her brows pinched together in concentration, and she tapped a pencil against her lips. Lips he itched to taste again but knew wouldn’t be possible. Not if he wanted to be able to complete his training session tomorrow.
“Knock. Knock,” he said as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden doorframe. The pencil dropped out of her hand as her head whipped up.
“Drake? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you training?” The questions fired at him like a starter’s gun going off.
“Hi, I’m here and not at training because my knee is sore.” No sooner had the words left his mouth before Tamara was up and walking over to him.
“What’s happened? How badly is it hurting? Do you think you’ve done more damage since I last checked it out?”
He would’ve laughed at the way she kept sending her questions his way, if not for the concern making her normally light eyes dark. He wanted to reach out, touch her cheek, and reassure her that everything was fine.
“Okay, how about you let me answer some questions before you start firing any more at me.” He inclined his head toward the visitor’s chair in front of her desk.
“Sure. Sit.”
Drake let his backpack slide off his shoulder and hit the ground with a thump. He sat in the plastic chair, stretching his sore leg straight out in front of him. Tamara sat down on the corner of the desk, close to his leg. Close to him. Close enough for him to inhale the sweet, floral fragrance that seemed to float around her.
He sat for a few moments and collected his thoughts. “So we were supposed to have a session yesterday and we didn’t.” He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting him. “No, let me speak first. I’m well aware that it’s my fault yesterday didn’t happen. I overstepped your boundaries not once, but twice.” He unleashed his flirty smile on her. “But I’m not going to apologize about it because I enjoyed kissing you. And, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
She sighed. “You know that can’t happen.”
Drake studied her. Her cheeks were flushed. He expected to find her eyes brimming with annoyance that he brought up their kisses again. Instead, what he found was a soft look of yearning in her blue depths. A quick blink later and the look had faded away.
Interesting, for all her demands to keep her distance, what would she do if he decided to touch her leg? Slide closer and maybe do more than kiss her. He wouldn’t mind getting to know what she hid beneath her practical work clothes.
No. For God’s sake, keep your dick in your pants and your head in the game.
“You’re right, and I need your help.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’re admitting it finally. Now we can get to work.”
“What do you mean I’m finally admitting it? I agreed to follow through with your treatment plan a couple of days ago. If that’s not an admission, I don’t know what is.”
“But you’ve never asked, that’s the difference. Acknowledging that you need help is a big step.”
“Semantics. I still don’t want you to tell TJ about it. Len knows, but I can trust him not to blab it around. We’ve been together a long time.” He flicked a look at his watch. “Now can we go through this plan and get started? I want to be able to get back out on the track tomorrow. I can’t afford to miss anymore sessions.”
When Tamara moved from her place on the side of her desk, he wanted to grab her hand and bring her back closer to him.
Yep, he was losing it. Why now? Why this woman? Why was she making him lose his focus and forget the end game? He dated a lot of women. He liked to mix things up. He’d never imagined he’d settle down. At least not until he was in his mid-thirties. He planned to enjoy his retirement from running. For once, he was going to be selfish and do what he wanted to do—like travel to the Caribbean and just sit on the beach. Now he wondered if it wouldn’t be too lonely to do that. Wouldn’t it be better to share it with someone else? Would Tamara want to travel, or was her focus going to be totally on her career?
“Drake, did you hear me?”
Jolted out of his thoughts, he focused his attention back on Tamara. Had she been talking to him?
She threw her pen down on her desk. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? I thought you were going to take this seriously?
Drake sat forward with a thump. “Jesus, Tamara. I’m here. Okay? My knee is hurting. Can we just get started so that it can be fixed and I can run? After all, that’s your job, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. But I can’t do my job if the person I’m trying to help isn’t listening. Can I?”
Anger swirled around
them, both of their chests rising and falling in agitated movements. The way Tamara’s hand was flexing open and closed, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that what she really wanted to do was thump him in the chest.
“I’m listening now.”
Way to go and aggravate the situation even more, dickhead.
“You’re impossible,” she said as she threw her hands in the air. “And I’m so tired of this, but I’m not going to be accused of not doing my job. So move it, Roberts. Get your ass down to the main training room. Get settled on one of the beds, and then we’ll start your treatment.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what you plan on doing?” he asked warily, as a small smile, no, more like a sinister smile, stretch across her features.
“Nope, because I already did. You just weren’t listening. Go, Roberts, before I change my mind and tell TJ all about how you’re being so difficult. I bet your coach would love to hear that too.”
Yep, he deserved every one of those barbs she had just thrown at him. He’d told Len not thirty minutes ago that he’d do whatever it took to get back on track and the moment he stepped into Tamara’s office, he started dreaming about life after the Olympics.
More than his knee was screwed. His whole mind was screwed, and he had no idea how to unscrew it.
* * *
Two hours later, Drake limped out of his shower and flopped down on the bed. Whatever Tamara had done to his knee, it felt worse than it had when he walked into her office.
“I thought she was supposed to help me, not torture me.”
“Who? And I thought you liked it rough,” Mitch said.
Drake didn’t have the energy to do anything but flip the bird at Mitch. “Tamara York. She’s a masochist.”
“The team trainer? The same one who you raved over, after you first hurt your knee, about how wonderful her hands were? Dude, you need to work on your bedside manner if she’s gone from being fabulous to psycho.”
Drake dragged his tired body up until he rested against the headboard of the bed. “I may have pissed her off, and she decided to take it out on me.”
Fighting to Dream (The Elite Book 2) Page 4