In the Fast Lane (Fast Series Book 1) (12 page)

The rest of the swimmers had made their way over to Jessi’s spot on the bleachers. They all congregated together at the end of practice to get their directions from the coaches. Today, Dalton was in charge. He walked over with his clipboard. He had an air of authority Jessi would have sworn was foreign to him just a few short weeks ago. Now it just seemed to be a natural part of him.

“You guys did well today. We have a lot of work to do, but you’re getting there.” He took a few moments to go over the announcements and laid out the schedule for the rest of the day. Then he stopped, looked around, and smiled to the group. “Coach Jameson is giving you a night off. If you’re over 18
and
out of high school, you are free to leave the facility and do whatever you like from seven until eleven. We’ll start practice an hour late tomorrow. For those of you who don’t meet those requirements, we’ll be showing a movie in the commons. Bring your pillows and blankets. The coaching staff will be providing popcorn and soda—
one
soda each.”

Dalton left the group to a chorus of groans. A little smile played on the corner of his lips. He knew, just like Jessi did, what it was like to be a kid on an Olympic team. After you made it through trials, you lost all freedom, if you’d had any in the first place. That included what you ate.

Jessi noticed that Dalton left out what dietary restrictions the older swimmers were to follow. He didn’t need to tell them “no drinking.” Every athlete knew alcohol was off limits during training, and as the bad boy of U.S. Swimming, Dalton knew it best of all.

Jessi’s trainer broke her out of her contemplations. “Where do you think you’ll go on your night off?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ll probably stay in. I don’t really do the whole going out thing much anyway. Besides, while I’m training, it’s really not that fun. There’s something so depressing about being in a bar and not being able to drink.” This was patently true, but the real answer was that Jessi didn’t really have anyone to go out with. The other swimmers were younger than her and had their own thing going on.

Before she could feel too bad for herself, a familiar blond head started to make its way through the crowd of departing Speedos. “Hello, my love.”

Great
. She could barely breathe, was beet red from exertion, and here was Claudel, weaseling his shady little way into an interview. She could tell by the cajoling tone in his voice that he intended to flirt his way there, too.

“Hi, Claudel,” she replied dispassionately. She didn’t have the energy to fight off his advances right now.

Claudel moved in for the kill. “Jessi, you are swimming so well. I am so proud of you. To come back like that...that’s something, my love.”

“Please,
please,
Claudel, knock it off with the ‘my love’ crap. I’m not in the mood. I’m tired and I’m sore. I just got my ass kicked by Dalton’s workout, and all I really want to do is go to my room, watch something I’ve DVR’d, and go to sleep.” Jessi knew her voice sounded pathetically pleading, but she was desperate to find some rest.

“Great! I’ll join you. That sounds like the perfect evening to me. No wedding shows though, Jessi. Those creep me out.” Claudel reached out to pull her up.

“I’m pretty sure Sawyer’s easing up on curfew doesn’t include letting guys into our rooms. Even the married people can’t be with their partners, Claudel. What makes you think they’re going to let you into the dorms?”

“Jessi, please. I’m a reporter.” Claudel’s accent was all but gone now. He was feeling confident and losing the act. “We’ll just say we’re doing the interview in your room. Besides, you know those rules are meant to be broken. I can’t count how many women I’ve had in my room while I’ve been training.”

By now, Claudel had succeeded in getting her to her feet. She had been far too tired to spend the energy required to fight him. At this, though, Jessi felt a kick of energy.

“I don’t know what the French Olympic Swimming Team does in its downtime, but I know that crap doesn’t fly with U.S. Team. Maybe that’s why we keep kicking your ass.” Jessi sauntered closer to Claudel, bringing her lips seductively close to his ear. “Regardless, Claudel, I’m pretty sure we were dating during at least one of those Olympics you like to brag about, so I seriously hope you were able to sneak a few condoms into your room along with the girls.” That last bit had been harsh and unnecessary. Like Jessi, Claudel was careful. Asshole he might be, but he was ridiculously tedious about his person.

Her venom seemed to work its magic. Claudel had stepped back a little and looked as though he was trying to dig his way out of a hole. She snorted in disgust. He was guilty as hell. She took the opportunity to start walking away. She didn’t care that he might have cheated on her. She’d been pretty sure that he had anyway. At the moment, she just really wanted to be rid of him.

As she left the pool, she looked over her shoulder. Claudel was still standing there, staring at her, a look of contemplation on his face. Great. He was thinking of his next move. Jessi supposed that as long as it didn’t come tonight, he could plot all he wanted to.

Before she exited through the double doors that led to the women’s locker room, she felt the strange feeling of being stared at. She looked around but didn’t see anyone. Then, just as she stepped through the doors, Jessi looked up into the observation windows above her. There, with hands on his hips and looking pissed, stood Dalton.

Double great. Jessi stepped through the doors and prayed for peace.

She really needed to go to church more. Maybe then God would answer her prayers. After showering and pulling on a pair of Team USA yoga pants and white stretch tank top, Jessi felt the stirrings of being a real person again. That changed abruptly as she stepped out of the locker room.

“I cannot believe you slept with that guy.”

She’d taken extra care to take a long time in the shower, hoping to thwart any attempts from angry men looking to confront her. She’d succeeded in waiting out all of her teammates and a certain French reporter, but Dalton was made of stronger stuff. He stood right outside the doors, alone, pacing, and upset.

“How do you know I slept with him?” Jessi said offhandedly, moving past him.

“Pfft, please. Give me a break, Jessi. I’m not blind.”

She stopped, turned around, and folded her arms over her chest. “Okay, better question: How is it any of your business?”

“I’m just concerned for you.”

It was Jessi’s turn to make disgusted noises. She turned and started to walk away. She would put up with a lot, but this was too much.

“Yes, I’m aware of how ironic that is,” Dalton answered her unspoken question. “But I’m your coach, and I need you focused right now.”

Jessi whirled around. “I am
completely
focused right now. Claudel and I are not together. Nor are we getting together.”

“Right now,” Dalton took the liberty to finish to her sentence.

“Whatever. But yes. For what it’s worth, no, we are not getting together
right now
.” Jessi failed to elaborate that she had no intentions of
ever
getting back together with Claudel, but that was a little more information than Dalton deserved. It also fell under the header of “Not Dalton’s Business.”

“Jessi, you can do so much better than him. He looks like a drowned rat, for Christ’s sake!”

“What, you mean his hair?” That was an actual question. The hair really was an entity unto itself.

“Well, yes, that too. But have you seen the guy in his Speedo? He can barely hold it up!”

“Actually, I’ve seen him in much less than his Speedo, and I assure you, he can hold it up quite well.”

“Cute.”

“Seriously, Dalton, when is the last time you saw Claudel? Did you even know him?”

“Yessss,” Dalton replied childishly. “I mean, no, I didn’t
know
him. He was like seventeen. Why would I care? But,” he added hastily, “he wasn’t much to look at and he sure as hell wasn’t much of a swimmer.”

“Like that really matters, Dalton. And besides, he was a fine swimmer.”

“Just the fact that you have to use the word fine proves that he couldn’t swim for shit.”

Jessi snorted again, oddly enjoying the sight of Dalton rattled.

“Well, no, he wasn’t as good as you,” she admitted.

“Or you.” Dalton put in, as though that had anything to do with it.

“So it should matter how good a swimmer my future boyfriends are, or were?”

“Yes.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Um,
yeah
. That’s just obvious, Jessi. I don’t even know why you’d ask.”

“Well he beat your time in the fifty free.”

“I only swam that competitively once, Jessi! And I only won because Sawyer didn’t race!”

“But you held the record.”

“Yeah, I did,” Dalton said, raising his arms. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything.

Jessi pressed in for the kill. “And he broke it. You were there first, and he came along and erased your name.” She raised an eyebrow to make sure he understood that she was turning this conversation into a veiled reference to their previous association.

Dalton’s eyes narrowed. He gave her a look that communicated perfectly if she wanted to play around, he was game. Jessi admonished herself. She clearly hadn’t learned her lesson from playing with fire the first time. Namely, that he, one Dalton McKinney, didn’t play fair.

“Did he break my record in the 400 IM?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “That record is damn near untouchable.” Dalton and Sawyer had traded off the honors of holding it for a couple of years, busting tail to regain it once it was lost. Nobody had been that competitive in a while, so the record stood.

“See, here’s the thing, Jessi.” Dalton sauntered closer to her. “The fifty free is something any guy can do. It doesn’t take much work or finesse. Just dive in, push as fast and as hard as you can for about twenty seconds or so, and then get out, move on to the next event. The 400 Individual Medley takes years of practice to master. You have to be an expert at each and every...stroke.” He bent his head lower. Jessi watched as his mouth turned up a sexy smile.

Oh, he knew she was following along and he liked it! Jessi tried to calm herself, but her heart just wouldn’t stop pounding. Her eyes momentarily dropped to his lips. Mistake. Dalton’s gaze revealed a moment’s surge of uncontrolled lust when Jessi finally pulled her focus back up to it.

“You push yourself for as long as you can, straining as your muscles start to turn on you. But you keep pushing and pushing, harder and faster, just trying to finish, and once you’ve pulled out all the stops, gone through the most difficult strokes, you go balls out with your freestyle until you hit the wall for the last time.”

Oh, my sweet baby Jesus
. If Dalton’s intent was to get Jessi all riled up and flustered, he’d succeeded.

“You hold the record in the 400 IM, and damn, Jessi, that’s impressive.”

Dalton turned and walked out of the room, leaving Jessi to think about sex, his record, and what he was capable of.

Chapter 13

Jessi was out of control. Her breathing was coming just a little too fast for her liking and she felt flushed. Who was she kidding? She was a freaking mess.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered to herself. Verbal sparring with Dalton was always a mistake. The man rose to the occasion with a cockiness that every grown woman should know better than to find sexy...but still did. He knew how to seduce. Blue eyes hooded, voice lowered, he’d even licked his lip while talking about hitting those last fifty meters. Oh, how she wanted him to hit those last fifty meters.

Dammit! She was thinking about sex again! Worse, she was thinking about sex with Dalton! She was an idiot and seriously had to get herself under control. Media—not a problem. She was cool as a cucumber. Dalton—serious problem. Around him, she turned into a horny teenager. As Jessi continued to mentally berate herself, she ran smack into Allie, who had just rounded the corner from where the press offices were located. It appeared Allie was leaving the complex for the evening. She had her red leather briefcase in one hand and was texting on her iPhone with the other. They both shrieked in surprise.