Mitch laughed. “Yeah, refer to previous comment work on your bedside manner.”
“Right. Anyway,” he turned serious for a moment. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to run. My knee is really hurting even though Tamara said what she did would loosen up the tight muscles.”
“Dude, don’t talk like that. You’ve got to trust her. I don’t believe she wouldn’t have given you an after treatment regime to follow.”
“She said to have a hot shower, then rest. Plus the usual bullshit of drink more water and ice the knee.”
“Yeah, I can see you’re really following those instructions.” Mitch stood and headed for the door. “Drake, this is the Olympics. Do whatever you have to do to get your ass out on the track. I’ve got to practice. Later, dude.”
As the door shut behind Mitch, Drake rubbed his hands down his face. He’d been so tense when Tamara had started working on his leg. So worried that his body was going to react to her touch in the most embarrassing way. He hadn’t gotten a hard-on from her touch before. Why he was panicking this time, he couldn’t understand. Sure they’d shared a couple of kisses and maybe he’d had the odd erotic dream about her and him in this room. On this bed.
Drake groaned. Way to go. Now he needed a cold shower. Maybe he should go get some ice and put it on his knee. And while he was at it—maybe on his groin too.
8
Once again Tamara found herself sitting at the practice track at the crack of dawn, watching a lone figure run around the track under the watchful eye of his coach. Len had asked her to observe Drake’s training sessions to make sure she could tell him if Drake looked like he was getting uncomfortable. She was surprised Len would ask something of her. Surely, he would have coached Drake long enough to know when his charge wasn’t looking good. Oh, she knew Drake would push through the pain. After all, it had taken a lot of convincing to get him to even agree to being treated.
Since their argument in her office, Drake had been less than talkative with her. He’d grunted a few times when she asked him if she was hurting him. And there had been no more invitations for her to join him at any swimming events. She knew Mitch had swum and won a couple more medals.
She still thought it had to be hard to be best friends with one of the most successful Olympians in recent years. When Mitch had won the other night, there’d been no hint of jealously from Drake, only happiness and excitement. Did that success make Drake want it even more?
Why did it matter to her anyway? It wasn’t as if she were in any position to ask Drake about it. He was just another athlete she was charged to treat. They may have shared a couple of kisses, but from what she heard through chatter among the other athletes, Drake was having some fun with a trampoline competitor from Great Britain. Had he asked her to watch the swimming?
Oh God, stop being so pathetic. She should be happy he’d backed off. After all, getting involved with an athlete was at the top of her don’t do lists. All she had to do was remember Mary-Anne and how her career had been derailed by a scandal when she got involved with a baseball player she was treating. Breaking the team rules had effectively killed any future chance she had of working on a high profile team. Luckily for her, the player she got involved with stood by her, and now they were expecting their first baby. But Tamara had worked hard to get where she was. This was her career, and, while Mary-Anne might be content to play happy family, Tamara didn’t want to be beholden to a man for financial security. Her parents had taught her to be independent, and she planned to keep it that way.
A whistle blowing pulled her out of her thoughts and back to where it should be—watching Drake run.
At the edge of the track, Len and Drake were deep in conversation. Practice session finished. Time for her to do what she was being paid to do.
* * *
When Drake walked into the treatment room, Tamara breathed in and out deeply, letting the tension from her thoughts at the track drain out of her.
She patted the bed in front of her. “You ready to get started?”
Drake dumped his backpack under the bed and hopped up. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You looked good out there this morning,” she commented as she poured some massage oil into her palm and rubbed her hands together.
“Yeah, I felt okay.”
Once she’d warmed the oil to her satisfaction, she placed her hands on his hair-roughened thigh. The muscle tensed immediately beneath her fingers, as it always did. So far, Drake had been unable to relax enough to let her give him an effective massage. It wasn’t a problem they’d had when she’d treated him previously. Was being here really stressing him out? The need to win starting to overwhelm him?
“Relax. I can’t help you if you’re continually tense. It defeats the purpose of a massage.”
“I am relaxed.”
Tamara laughed softly, and the muscle tightened even further. “That’s not what my fingers are telling me.”
Drake grunted, and she puffed out a breath of frustration. The last thing she needed was to be tense herself. If she was, then she’d transfer that energy to Drake. She dug her fingers into his thighs, massaging out the knots built up from his workout around the track. She smoothed her hands over his knee; she would return to that area in a few moments. She concentrated next on the muscles around his shin before sliding her fingers underneath to work on his calf. The muscle felt tighter than normal.
“Did you strain your calf?”
“No.”
Okay, this couldn’t go on. She stopped her massage and observed Drake as he lay on the bed. His arm was flung up over his eyes. Definitely not the pose of someone who was supposed to be relaxing.
She waited. How long would it be before he asked her why she’d stopped?
One.
Two.
Three.
“Why did you stop?”
“Because I did.”
He went to sit up. “So we’re finished.”
“No.” Tamara placed her hand on his chest and pushed him down. Even through his t-shirt, the heat from his flesh warmed her palm. Immediately, her body responded with a rush of desire sparking from her fingers right through her down to her toes.
Big mistake.
She’d just made a big mistake.
Drake’s fingers closed around her wrist when she went to pull her hand away.
“Drake?”
“You want to know why I’m always tense, Tamara? You want to know why I can’t relax around you?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer as he yanked her forward and she fell onto his chest. “This is why.”
His hand cupped her skull and his lips crashed into hers. They moved over hers, encouraging a response from her. And she gave it. Because she couldn’t deny it, she’d been wanting to taste him again too. It was crazy to do this. Hadn’t she been lecturing herself earlier about keeping professional distance?
But one kiss would be okay. She’d be able to keep it under control and not let it develop into anything more. She couldn’t.
Drake softened his assault on her lips. The hand holding her wrist released its hold and slipped down to rest on her butt.
Leaning over him was uncomfortable, and she needed to stop this before it got too out of hand.
As if sensing her thoughts, Drake released her lips and rested his forehead against hers. He then moved so that his lips brushed against her ear. Stopping the shiver wracking her body from that contact was as impossible as stopping a freight train.
“You’re driving me crazy, Tamara York. Having your hands on my leg when I want them somewhere else has been torture.”
The reason for him always being tense suddenly made sense. But it was still wrong. The timing was all wrong.
“We can’t do this, Drake,” she protested weakly, as she didn’t resist when he moved over on the narrow massage table and tugged her until she had no choice but to climb up beside him.
No doubt, she was losing her mind. Her hormones had taken over her brain.
It was the only explanation for why she was doing the exact opposite of what she should be doing.
The guy lying next to her was a player. Hadn’t she just reminded herself earlier about the rumors flying around about him?
“What about the trampoline competitor? Aren’t you two an item?”
“Who, Nina?” he laughed. “Nina is happily involved with a stockbroker back in England. She’s someone I met at the London Games. I was happy to see her, that’s it.”
“Oh.”
Did she want to believe him? Could she believe him?
A finger beneath her chin forced her to look up into Drake’s face. Amusement etched his features. Laugh lines crinkled around the corners of his eyes. His whole demeanor seemed lighter, more relaxed than when he’d first walked into the room.
“You’re not jealous, are you, Tam?”
Maybe a little. Okay, maybe more than a little, but she wouldn’t tell Drake that.
“No. Not even a little bit.” And as much as lying next to him on the massage bed felt wonderful, it was a very bad idea. Regardless of the fact that the door was closed, someone could still burst in on them.
“Hmm. I don’t think I believe you, Miss York.”
“Tough.” Tamara struggled against Drake’s hold, and to her relief he loosened his grip on her.
“Before you go,” he murmured and she didn’t have it in her to stop him as he leaned forward and captured her lips once again. There was no seduction in this touch, just sweetness and a longing. She knew the longing came from her. Longing that things were different and perhaps they could take this further.
Drake broke the kiss and then smiled at her. Her insides melted a little further. God, it was going to be even harder to resist him now. But resist him she must. The arms holding her to him disappeared from around her, and she slid her legs to the ground. She gripped the side of the bed, waiting for her jelly legs to stiffen up so she could safely stand without falling into a puddle of goo.
Giving herself a mental shakedown, she returned her attention to Drake’s face. Looking lower could be dangerous and tempting. If her body was still throbbing with want and need from his kiss, she could only imagine that his body was in a state of arousal too.
“Okay, are you ready to get started again?”
“Sure.”
Nodding tersely, she went back to the small table and poured oil over her hands again. With a deep breath, she turned back to the table. Ignoring the urge to look at Drake’s face, she narrowed her attention to the task at hand.
Her hands hovered over his knee. She could do this.
9
Today was the day. Today was the day when his Olympic journey would end, or it would continue. Today was the day of the heats of the 1,500m. His one and only event at the Games. Sure, he could’ve tried to qualify for the 800m or even the 4 x 400m relay race, but he’d decided that concentrating on one event would be better than spreading himself thin. Besides, there were younger guys who were faster than him. They deserved their chance at living out their Olympic dreams, not to mention representing their country.
At 6:00am the air was cool, and the track loomed in front of him, an endless circle of blue with the bright white lines delineating the lanes.
Nerves volleyed in his stomach. Nerves were good. They helped the adrenaline rush needed for him to run.
He walked toward the track. One walk around should be good. He knew by the time his heat happened in four hours, the sun would be higher. The temperature would be warmer. And the track would feel different. But he needed this one last walk. When it was just him and the track. Maybe for the last time.
That first step was the sweetest, the track surface springy beneath his feet. No matter what happened in this arena in a few hours, he would enjoy every second of it.
Drake sensed more than heard the presence behind him. He figured it was another athlete wanting some quiet time before the chaos of the day filled the stadium.
He turned to see who was interrupting his contemplation. Tamara stood a few feet away, her hands slipped into the pockets of her team suit. Even the trainers were given the same uniforms as those competing.
“Hey,” she said softly as she walked up to him.
“Hey, yourself. This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know really. I just knew you’d be here.”
“I’m not sure what to make of that,” Drake commented. Over the past week, they’d worked steadily on improving his knee, and he had to say it felt good. There had been no more kisses, although there were a couple of times Drake had been tempted to bridge the distance between them, pull her into his arms and kiss her. He’d been impressed with his resistance skills.
“Well, I know you train first thing in the morning. I’ve watched you. It made sense that you would be here today of all days.”
“You’ve watched me?” The news shouldn’t surprise him, but it did.
Given the way her eyes rolled, Tamara clearly didn’t believe him. “Of course, I’ve watched you. I’m your trainer. How else do you think I know the best way to treat you each day?”
Drake shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured you were good at your job. Besides, I never saw you.”
“That was the whole point. If you saw me, you were likely to do something stupid like hide if your knee was giving you grief. This way you had no idea I was there, and you ran like you normally would.”
Everything made sense to him now. How he’d go in and tell her he was fine. She’d then give him a look. The same look his mom had given him when he’d been little, and she knew he wasn’t telling the truth. Just as he’d done when he was five, he found himself spilling his guts on how his knee really was doing.
“Right. Well the need to watch is over. After today your job will be done.”
Hell, could he sound any more defeated?
“No, my job isn’t done for another few days.”
“Well, of course, what I meant was your job of watching me will be over.”
Tamara shook her head at him. “Never took you for a guy to accept defeat before you’ve even raced. You know your knee is fine, Drake. You’ve run the last few days without any pain or discomfort at all.”
“Yeah, I know,” he puffed out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s just, well…”
“There are younger, faster competitors in your heat, right?”
“Yep.”
Admitting his vulnerabilities wasn’t something he liked to do. With his race time approaching, the apprehension he always felt before big races began to make itself known in his body. His stomach rolled, and he tamped down the urge to throw up. Tamara would love it if he tossed his cookies at her feet. The pressure to make the semis and the finals was stronger this time than ever before. In his heart he knew this was going to be his last meet. How he was going to tell Dad was another issue he would deal with later. He’d managed to push his father’s expectations to the back of his mind while he worked on getting his knee better. Now, standing on the track, it all came thundering back.
“You beat younger guys at the trials to make the team, Drake. You’re here—they’re not. So you have as good a chance as any one of the other competitors in your event to make the finals and win.”
“I know.”
“But?”
Hell, couldn’t she leave it alone? Couldn’t she let him go through this by himself? Why was she standing here asking him all these questions?
“But nothing. My race is in a few hours, and I need to prepare. What I don’t need is someone questioning me about things she knows nothing about.”
“Fine.” Tamara turned and walked away from him, her spine ramrod straight. She faced him suddenly again, her lips thinned in anger. “Just for the record, the only reason you’re running is because of me. Think about that while you prepare.”
He was a total asshole. Hurting her hadn’t been his goal. Yes, it was. Okay, so maybe he wanted to lash out. Blame som
eone else for his misgivings. He owed her an apology.
Drake remained rooted to the spot as he watched her retreating back. He flexed his knee and waited for the stab of pain. Nothing. She was right. Everything she said she could achieve, Tamara had. Her fingers had worked magic on his tired muscles. The exercises she’d given him had kept his knee flexible but in no way caused him pain while he trained.
As Tamara disappeared from his view, he turned his attention back to the track. This is what counted. Right here. He walked over to the starting line, closed his eyes and tried to imagine what the arena would look like at the time of his heat. How full would it be? Would Mitch be sitting in the stands watching? Yes. There was no way his best friend wouldn’t be. He hadn’t missed any of Mitch’s events. It would be weird not seeing Dad in the crowd. At least with Dad not here, he wouldn’t see Drake’s fall from grace.
Way to talk yourself up, jerk.
Yeah, the voice in his head was a jerk, but he had a point. Just like Tamara had said. He had lost the race before he’d even run it. Something he’d never ever done. Why was he doing it now?
* * *
The crowd noise flowed over Drake as he stood at the starting line. He shook each leg out. His muscles felt loose and ready. TJ had given him a quick rubdown before he headed out to the arena. Drake hadn’t asked where Tamara was. No doubt she was busy with another athlete.
Focus.
This was his moment. What he’d spent the last year working on since he’d won silver at last year’s World Championships. He hadn’t had the best campaign in London in 2012. His goal had always been to make the finals here in Rio. Somehow, he’d lost sight of that. He could say the pressure from Dad to succeed at all cost had taken the joy out of running. To win the medal Simon Roberts hadn’t been able to achieve when he’d competed in the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. He didn’t know, but what he did know, now was not the time to be thinking about it. Now was the time to live in the moment.
Fighting to Dream (The Elite Book 2) Page 5