Chapter Nine
Tanya had never hyperventilated. Not even during her first playoff game when she lined up opposite a three-hundred-pound woman with a reputation for bone crushing.
She finished straightening her shirt, and then stuck her head inside a random locker to breathe without the risk of being heard.
That man was way more trouble than she’d expected. When her guard was down, the feelings came flooding in. So she tried to temper them. Pretend he was someone else. Limit the kisses. Cut off the cuddling. No matter the distance she put between them. No matter the mind games she tried to play. He still made her feel things beyond the orgasm.
“You looking for something?”
She jerked her head at the sound of his voice and hit the shelf above her. Son of a bitch. She groaned.
“Ouch! Are you okay?” He was behind her, rubbing her head and hooking an arm around her waist like he had every right to touch her like that and comfort her like this. Intimate. Caring. Way more than a booty call would do. But that was all this was allowed to be.
So why did she feel like leaning into him and letting him kiss her freaking “booboo”—among other things?
She blinked up at him through watery eyes. “I’m good.” Liar. Liar.
“Good.”
She turned her back to him, picked up her duffle bag and went back to rubbing her burning head. “I just need to sleep it off,” she said.
There. The opening to walk out. But her feet didn’t move.
His smile softened. “Hasn’t a trainer ever told you it isn’t good to sleep after you hit your head?” His hand slid to her hip again and his thumb strummed a sexy rhythm on her waist.
Her head felt better. Hell, all of her felt better when he looked at her like this. And so it began again. The desire so deep it scared the hell out of her. The lust so loud she couldn’t ignore it.
“Then I guess I shouldn’t sleep,” she said.
He shook his head and dropped his lips an inch closer to hers. “Someone should keep a very close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.”
She nodded. “Jill is gone.”
“Then I’ll do it.” He kissed her, and she melted.
Mmm. She’d wanted her mouth on his the entire time he’d been touching her, filling her.
Her brain was so fogged over by his kiss that she didn’t even bother to look in the mirror before they scrambled out of the locker room and into the empty gym. Overheated and ready for more, she rushed toward the front door, sensing Cam right behind her.
“Hey! I didn’t know anyone was still here.”
Terrell? Tanya turned to see her brother standing in the doorway to their father’s office. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Been here. Came in while you two were dancing around in the ring.”
One meeting and the guy thought he ran the place. “Listen, I don’t know exactly what happened this afternoon, but Pop’s not going to sell. I’m going to take care of things once and for all tomorrow.”
“How?” Cam asked.
For a split second she’d forgotten he was there. She hesitated. She really didn’t want to let him in any more than she already had. And that was kind of laughable, because man, oh man had she let him in. But if she had a shot in hell at keeping this just sex, then she had to draw the line somewhere.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
Hurt flashed in his eyes. “Okay.”
Terrell walked toward them. “Well, I have an idea, too. I’ve been researching fundraising ideas, and I found one that’s gonna make a killing. Hands down. You ready for this?”
No. Her going to the bank was the only idea they needed.
“A bachelor auction,” he said, and then he let out a whoop. “We’ll hold it right here, and have Cam as headliner. How about that?”
What a dumb idea. She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him to leave this to her. She would find a way to save the gym. He needed to find a job.
“That could work,” Cam said. “I did a bachelor auction a few years ago, and the charity raked in the cash. We had a lot of fun too.”
He and Terrell shared a laugh that made her skin bristle. What kind of fun was he talking about here? She cut off that train of thought. Not her business.
She looked at her brother with disgust. “Terrell, I appreciate you trying to help, but this is a gym. A serious gym. There’s no way Pop would go for something like that.” Her father was as practical as she was. And reputation meant everything. “Just leave it all to me.”
“I would, but Pop put me in charge.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Of what?”
“The gym.” He swung the master set of keys on a lanyard around his neck.
So he did run the place? Tanya reached into her pocket for the single front door key her father had given her. Pop really was giving up if he handed everything over to Terrell.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m going to talk to him.” He may have put his son in charge, but he owned this gym, and his daughter still had a say. And she wasn’t ready to give up yet or to turn this place into a meat market.
She stalked toward the front door.
“T, don’t be like that,” Terrell said. “We can work together.”
“Hey, I thought we had plans,” Cam said.
Yeah, she’d thought so too. But suddenly she wasn’t in the mood. “Another time,” she said.
She tramped up the steps to her father’s apartment and pounded on the door. No answer. It was too early for him to be in bed, but too late for him to be out. Panic mixed with annoyance, and she turned the knob. Unlocked. Unlike her, the man was awfully trusting.
“Pop!”
No answer again. What the hell?
She pulled her phone from her duffle bag and dialed him.
“Hello.” He sounded … sleepy.
“Pop? You okay?”
He cleared his throat and answered, “Yes.”
“Where you at? ’Cause I’m at your place, and you aren’t here.”
“I’m … at a friend’s,” he said.
Sleeping at a friend’s? Her stomach dropped. That kind of friend. Oh God. She didn’t want to know this.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. She didn’t have a clue. If he would just step up and take charge again, she’d feel a whole lot better. “I saw Terrell at the gym and he’s … he has some ideas I don’t think you would approve of. It’s still your gym, Pop. Please don’t give up yet. At least be there with Terrell to guide him.”
He cleared his throat. “I need a break, Tanya. It’s been a long time coming. And I believe in Terrell like I believe in you.”
She heard whispering in the background. Definitely a female. The friend. She shouldn’t have called. “Okay. Fine.” For now. “Talk to you later.” Tomorrow. After she walked out of the bank with thirty grand in hand. Then everything could go back to the way it had been.
• • •
Friday morning, Cam pulled into the roundabout in front of East High with a carload of teenage girls making more noise than a stadium full of diehard fans during overtime.
“Don’t open your doors,” Corinne said. “Not yet. Let the anticipation build.” She squealed.
He looked at his cousin like she was an alien, then he glanced in the rearview mirror at her three bouncing friends who were just as wired as Corrine.
“Oh my God! Look at Raylee Santana,” one of the girls said. “Close your mouth, girl, or you’re gonna be catching flies. You know she’s like, ‘Who is that?’”
Corinne waved a hand over her head. “Oh, she knows who it is. What she’s really thinking is, ‘I should’ve been nicer to Rin when I had the chance.’” She snapped, and her friends laughed.
“She’s going to be real nice to you now,” another girl said.
“Wait! There’s Wyatt.” Corrine slapped a hand over her mouth and leaned closer to the tinted window. “Deep brea
th. Okay. On the count of three. We get out, and we don’t even look at him. Let him look at me. Ready?”
Cam shook his head. What the hell was going on in here?
“One, two, three.”
Commotion. A few “Thanks, Cam”—with extra emphasis on his name. Three doors slammed. And then quiet.
Damn. He could not see himself the father of girls like that. No way. He would raise his daughter to feel as special and powerful walking to school as she did if she showed up in a limousine. It would be about her, not what she had. But that was easy for him to say now that he had what he had.
He parked around back and waited until 8:00 a.m. when the students were in homeroom to enter through the front doors and check in at the office like Coach Pratt had instructed him to do.
“Remember how to get there?” asked the smiling secretary who hadn’t been around when he’d been going to school here.
He nodded. “There’s not a football player in this school who will ever forget his way to the weight room.”
It had been East High tradition for the football team to have weight training first period during the spring semester followed by study hall. It allowed them to stay in shape over the off-season and keep up their grades too. And it had been something Cam always looked forward to. Today was no different. Even though he was attending more for motivation than for a good, hard workout.
He hung a left down a mint green hallway that led in the opposite direction of the stairwell. He had exactly nine minutes before the bell would sound for the end of homeroom. He didn’t want to get caught in a swarm of people, but he wanted to see Tanya. Real quick. He just wanted to make sure everything from last night turned out okay. She hadn’t been happy with Terrell.
“Hey!” He poked his head around the doorjamb.
The man who had been sitting at Tanya’s desk faced him. “Cam Simmons! What can I do for you?”
Cam faltered and looked around the small room like somehow he’d missed her. “I was looking for Tanya Martin.”
“Ah. Not in today. I’m Vance Royhill, the sub.”
Was she sick? Was something wrong? “Thanks. Sorry to bother you.”
He backed out of the room and headed in the direction of the stairs. With his phone in hand, he texted: Stopped by ur office to say hey. Where u at?
No answer came by the time he reached the weight room, so he tucked the phone into his jacket pocket and left it inside Coach Pratt’s office while he focused on motivating the football team. But in the back of his mind, he wondered why she wasn’t in school today.
It was ten o’clock by the time he made it back to his car. The minute he did, he called her cell phone. She didn’t answer. She was sick. She had to be. What else could be going on?
He drove the half-mile to her apartment and took the back stairs he only knew existed because she’d lured him up each step with the swing of her hips and the sparkle in her eyes. But that had been nothing compared to last night. He unzipped his jacket on the heat of the memories.
When he reached her apartment, he knocked. But nobody answered. What if she was really sick, so feverish she couldn’t get out of bed to answer the door? Her nephew mentioned a key. But that would be weird wouldn’t it?
He knocked again. Louder this time. He could always go downstairs and see if Mary or Grace were here.
The door opened, but it wasn’t Tanya.
“What’s up?” croaked a clearly hung-over Jillian.
“I wanted to see Tanya.”
“Not here.”
“What do you mean she’s not here? She’s not at work either.”
“Calm down, lover boy. She took the day off, something about going to the bank. But don’t hold me to that because I wasn’t exactly sober when I came in. Heck, I’m not exactly sober now. But she’s fine. And I’m going back to bed.”
She shut the door, and he stared at it. The bank. Her plan to fix things once and for all at the gym. She was going to borrow money from a bank and pay back interest rather than borrow it from him. No strings. He shook his head. That was ridiculous.
He jogged to his truck, determined to stop her, even though he had no idea where she banked. But she was fairly predictable, and she wouldn’t put her money outside the neighborhood. In fact, she struck him as a credit union sort of woman, so he swung past the red brick building on French St. first, looking for her lime-green Kia. He slowed his speed, scanned the cars parallel parked in the street, and then pulled into the lot. Nope.
The only other bank he knew of in South City was Northern Savings & Loan on the corner of Third and Pope, so he hightailed it over there just in time to see her walk out the front doors. Her chin was up. Her strides determined. Her eyes blazed straight ahead. She got the money. He was too late. Or not. He knew her well enough to know a denial wouldn’t have resulted in anything less than refusal to be ashamed.
He swung into a spot in front of the bank and rolled down the passenger side window. “Hey!”
She stopped and looked in the direction of his voice. Her face wrinkled, and then she shook her head and walked on.
He jumped out of the car and caught up with her. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t even know why you’re here. This doesn’t concern you.”
“You weren’t at school. You didn’t answer my texts. I was worried.”
She shot him a cold, hard look. “You don’t have to worry about me. I do just fine on my own.”
His shoulders slumped. “So I take it you got the money.”
“Again, it’s none of your business.”
He cupped her elbow and tugged until she stopped. “Quit being such a hard ass.” He smoothed his hand up her arm and rubbed his thumb against the patch of skin peeking out above the collar of her winter coat. “Talk to me.” Only this time it was more of a plea. He hated the idea that he was in a position to help someone who wasn’t willing to take his help.
She exhaled and her posture softened.
“Thatta girl,” he said. His hand moved to her neck, where it warmed her cold skin.
She stared up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. “Looks like we’re having a bachelor auction.”
She didn’t get the money. He tried not to look relieved. But he didn’t want her assuming debt or paying interest when his bonus for being name Super Bowl MVP alone was three times what she needed. If worse came to worse, he’d make her see that, strings be damned. But right now, this bachelor auction could be the key to keeping peace.
He grinned. “So you’re going to exploit me again?”
“You bet your sweet ass I am.” Her gaze narrowed as she licked her lips and eyed him up. “I want you naked in ten. I don’t care where. Just someplace we won’t get caught. This sucky day might as well suck something good.” She rushed a smile. “Are you driving or am I?”
Her grabbed her hand and pulled her toward his car. For once, he was glad his mother was working a double shift.
“I’m warning you right now, I want it quick and dirty.”
For some reason, her demand stated on the sidewalk outside a busy bank made him laugh. And to his surprise, she laughed too.
“Get in the car.” He held the door open for her.
She stopped with one foot on the running board and wound her hand into the collar of his shirt. “I’m serious. No sweet talk. No cuddling. Quick and dirty.”
Hell, just the words on her lips had his blood humming.
“I can handle that,” he whispered.
But one of these days, they were going to do it his way.
Chapter Ten
Life was easier when she was sleeping with Cam. He was virtually everywhere she went anyway. Might as well put the boy to use. He was a great release of tension from things like bank loans that were denied due to a lack of sufficient credit history.
The whistle blew, and she plowed into Rosie Gomez. Football helped release
tension too.
Coach clapped. “That’s what I call blocking, ladies! Good job! Now hydrate, and lose the helmet and pads. I have something fun planned.”
Tanya trotted to the sidelines flanked by MJ and Jillian. “Something fun planned? Him?”
“He totally got laid.” Jillian pulled her helmet off and dropped it to the ground. “I mean, when was the last time he smiled? Look at him grinning from ear to ear.”
Coach was laughing at something Cam said. Cam. She’d almost said “no” when he’d asked if he could come tonight. But she’d been weak from orgasm and in need of his help with the bachelor auction. So, here he was, looking sinfully sexy in knee-length basketball shorts and a shirt that moved like second skin over his muscles.
“He definitely got laid,” Jillian said.
Yeah, he did. A smile crept across Tanya’s face. They’d managed a quickie in his car before practice. Gotta love tinted windows.
“He looks happy, doesn’t he?” She felt as happy as he looked.
MJ bumped her. “We’re talking about Coach. Who are you talking about?”
She couldn’t hide her smile as they ran back onto the field. To hell with the magic checkbook—the magic orgasm just might save the world.
“Scrimmage,” Coach said. He pitched orange, mesh tank tops at random women. “Everybody who gets a pinnie, stand on my right.”
He pitched one to Cam. What?
The teams separated according to pinnie or no pinnie, and Coach Howl pointed at the defensive line coach. “You’re playing too. No pinnie. Ladies and gentlemen, listen up! It’s one-hand touch. One! If your hand causes someone to eat turf, it’s a fifteen-yard penalty and automatic first down. Got it? This is only going to work if you’re civilized. Nobody wants to be the one who tries to prove something and ends up taking out the Super Bowl MVP. Ya hear?”
Chuckles mixed with nods and “Yes, sirs.”
“Run the plays we’ve been practicing. Concentrate on position and execution. This is about precision not power. Most importantly, have fun. You’ve earned it.”
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