Running Interference (22 page)

He walked to her and cupped her face. “For one weekend before the season officially starts you can.” He brushed his lips against hers. “You name the dates. I'll make the time. I want you to see who I am when I'm there. I want to know if you can love that man. Because if you can, then we're going to find a way to make this work. Long term.”

Marriage? She closed her eyes and kissed him before the naysaying could begin. When his tongue touched hers, her mind blanked. She snaked her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, letting the heat between them evaporate her fear.

“Whoa! Excuse me.” The voice pulled them apart.

Terrell.
Tanya would've given him a death stare if she had any control over her noodle-like body.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But people are asking for Cam.”

“He's busy.” Cam grinned at Tanya.

Terrell wrinkled his face. “Yeah. I saw how busy he was, but people paid good money to mingle with ‘the man,' so he better get his tongue outta my sister's mouth and his ass into the gym.”

That recharged her. “Speaking of asses, I'm gonna kick yours if you don't leave us alone. We'll be out in five minutes.”

Cam didn't wait for the door to swing shut before he pulled her close again. “What can we do in five minutes? You should've said ten.”

She smiled. “We can talk.”

“You want to talk?” He backed her against a row of nearby lockers and nuzzled her neck. “Talk. I have better things to do with my mouth.”

Wonderful things. Like tracing her collarbone with the tip of his tongue, sucking the tight skin between her breasts, and teasing her nipples.

She moaned.

He looked up at her with a sexy smirk. “You're not talking.”

In a minute.

His brows bobbed. “But I can get you to talk.” He licked the skin between her breasts until he reached the sensitive dip in her neck.

She shuddered.

“Do you want it now?” he asked.

Cheater.

“Do you want it now?” he asked again.

Always. Forever.
“Maybe,” she said.

He dropped to his knees and lifted her blouse, exposing her belly. His warm, wet mouth planted chill-inducing kisses over her skin while his hands held her in place. He glanced up at her again. She expected the same question, but instead, he drew his thumb in a firm stroke over her zipper.

“Imagine what we could do if I took these off,” he said.

Oh, she knew!

He rubbed her until she was bucking against him, and then he said, “You want it now, don't you?”

“I do.”

Sliding against her body, he stood. A kiss. A grope. His lips at her ear, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her overheated body.

“Too late,” he whispered. “Five minutes are up. We'll
talk
later.” He backed away from her.

She might have been pissed at his little game if he weren't flushed as hell and bearing the uncomfortable repercussions in his pants.

“You're walking funny,” she said.

He made a face. “Yeah, well you're talking funny. You should up your workout routine. Then you wouldn't be so out of breath.”

She laughed. And as she watched him open the door to leave, she realized life without him was too damn cold. He'd barreled into her quiet corner of the world and made it glow.

“I'll go,” she said.

He stopped and looked at her. “You'll go where?”

“To Boston. Maybe we can work on my fitness level while I'm there.”

His eyes darkened, and his mouth twitched. “You bet we will.”

Then what?
The door swung shut behind him, and bit by bit, her body cooled. Was she willing to leave her family and friends for a shot at life with him? Would she find the answer in Boston?

When she finally made it out of the locker room and into the swarm of people lingering around the gym, Jillian and MJ were waiting for her.

Jillian was bouncing on her toes. “So, how'd it go?”

The details were a little fuzzy, and she stared off into space trying to decide where to start.

“Ooh! That looks good,” MJ said. “She's speechless.”

“Did he tell you who won the date with him?” Jillian looked like she might burst.

Tanya nodded. “He also told me he loves me.”

MJ whooped. “And of course you told him you love him too.”

“Right?” Jillian asked.

Tanya nodded again. This was just so damn cool. All around her people who'd come out in support of her father's gym laughed and mingled. And in the middle of it all was her first best friend, who had turned into so much more.

She looked for him, expecting to find him working the crowd with his gorgeous smile and larger-than-life stories.

“You're going to be logging frequent flyer miles now, girl,” Jillian said. “Good for you.”

“He can come here to visit more often too,” MJ added.

She supposed both scenarios were true. “We'll work it out,” she said, and then she found him … looking back at her. In that moment, she knew it was true.

Here. There. Anywhere. She just wanted to be with him.

He motioned for her, and she didn't hesitate even when she saw his mother beside him.

“Ma, you remember Tanya Martin, don't you?”

Clarice smiled. “Of course I do.”

“Nice to see you … ”
again
, but her mouth snapped shut when his hand slid up her back in a very loving, clearly possessive way.

Clarice's friendly smile mutated into a knowing smirk, and then she nodded. “Nice to see you again, too, dear.”

From behind her, someone grabbed Tanya's hand, and she turned to see her mother's shining eyes. “What a wonderful evening!” Her gaze trailed to Cam's hand still firmly pressed to the small of Tanya's back. “Clarice, Cam, I'm so glad you could be a part of it.”

“There he is!” Tanya's father filled in the gap between Cam and his mother. “The man of the hour.” He smacked Cam's back.

“Anything for you, Pop, but if you ask me, this was an honest-to-god team effort,” Cam said, and he let loose a piercing whistle targeting Terrell. “Get over here!”

So true. She hadn't been the only defender of this gym. The auction had been Terrell's idea in the first place, and he'd stepped up in ways she never imagined. Running the gym? Balancing accounts? Ha! Her family could manage without her—if she ever decided to give them reason to.

When Terrell made it into the group, Pop gave him a hug. Her mother got in on the action too. Tears sprang to Tanya's eyes. Family togetherness. And not because she'd forced anybody to sit together.

“Hey! You really leaving tomorrow?” Terrell asked Cam.

“I was thinking about it,” he said. His hand slid up her back to rest between her shoulder blades. “But with the weather and all, I think I'll stick around a few more days.”

And all.
She played a part in that. Tanya smiled.

“Sounds good, man,” Terrell said. “It'll sound even better if you tell us it won't be another five years before we see you ‘round again.”

Cam laughed as he playfully gripped the back of her neck. Warm and Right. She leaned into him.

“I'll be back,” he said. “Sooner rather than later.”

“You'll be back for the ground breaking of the turf for sure,” Clarice said.

Tanya felt Cam's body tighten, but then he slid his hand over her outer shoulder and relaxed.

“What turf?” her mother asked.

“Oh.” Clarice covered her mouth and widened her eyes. “I assumed everyone knew about it.”

Cam shook his head and smiled. “They do now.”

Tanya filled with pride. If Cam wasn't going to blow his own horn, she would. “He's having the high school field redone. Everything brand new.”

Terrell whooped.

“That's admirable, son,” Pop said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Cam said. “Your generosity has inspired me.” He glanced at his mother, who nodded. And then Tanya felt him take a breath. “Pop Martin Field should be ready in time for next football season.”

Her mother gasped. Her father's eyes glistened. Her brother whooped again.

What a wonderful evening, indeed.

Tanya stayed by Cam's side the rest of the night as he greeted guests and answered questions. So many feelings tussled inside of her. Love. Pride. Gratitude. Shock and awe. This was her life, a life that on some level she'd probably always wanted, a life that she'd never willingly give up.

“You think I can play football,” Cam told the crowd around him, jerking a thumb towards Tanya with a smile. “Have you seen this one?”

A few people said they had, and she tried not to squirm when Cam launched into a story about her. Too much attention, but she'd better get used to it. Loving a man like Cam meant at least part of your life was lived in the spotlight. Not her thing, but she would tolerate it for him.

“She flipped into the end zone like,
Bam! What you mean I only get six points for that
?” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “That's my girl.”

Warmth blossomed inside of her. The kind of warmth that kept you comfortable even on the grayest days. And as she wound her arm around his waist she knew she wasn't going to learn anything during a weekend in Boston that she didn't already know here.

At the end of the night, when the gym had emptied out except for the handful of people playing clean-up crew, she backed him into a corner and lifted onto her toes. This entire night had been foreplay.

“I want it now,” she whispered against his ear.

His magnificent body went rigid, and she dropped to the flats of her feet just to revel in his wide-eyed smile.

“And always,” she added.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her softly.

Never let me go
, she thought.
‘Cause I'm never letting go of you.

“Hey!” He grabbed her by the upper arms and held her away from him so they were face to face. “You know what this means don't you?” His brows bobbed. “The magic checkbook worked,” he grinned cheekily. “And I didn't even have to get out my Lombardi trophy.”

“Oh there'll be no living with you now, huh?” But she couldn't hide her smile. “I see how it is. I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life cutting that ego of yours down to a manageable size.

“Rest of your life?” His dark eyes sized her up, affection shining in his gaze. “That a deal?”

Yeah, it was. Strings and all.

Elley Ardenis a born and bred Pennsylvanian who has lived as far west as Utah and as far north as Wisconsin. She drinks wine like it's water (a slightexaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, andbelieves almond English toffee is the key to happiness. Elley writes books with charming characters, emotional stories, and sexy romance. For a complete list of Elley's books, visit
http://www.elleyarden.com
.

(From
Heal My Heart
by Elley Arden)

Beer did not belong at baseball games. Not on a Sunday afternoon when there were little, jersey-wearing kids in search of foul balls, not foul mouths.

M. J. Rooney rolled her eyes in commiseration at the clearly uncomfortable kid sitting on her left while the loudmouth behind them spewed vulgarities at the first-base umpire, who was no more than forty feet away. How had the kid's dad not said anything yet? He sat on the other side of the boy, drinking his beer like the antics of the man behind them were perfectly tolerable.

They weren't.

The jerk stood for the millionth time today, bumping the back of M. J.'s head with his knee.

She growled and faced her friend and roommate, Tanya, who was seemingly as oblivious to the commotion as the kid's dad. “You know? If I wanted to deal with drunken fools, I could've picked up an extra shift at the bar—and gotten paid for it.”

Tanya's face wrinkled while she chewed a mouthful of popcorn, and then she shrugged her broad shoulders. “Aw, come on. This is fun.”

Not for M. J. The rude person behind her aside, she struggled with being a spectator and would much rather be out on the field, even if baseball wasn't her game. Sitting in a stadium filled with thousands of screaming fans summoned a tsunami of adrenaline, making her muscles twitch. She was pretty damn sure she could throw that ball more accurately than Cleveland's last two pitchers. After all, accuracy was the hallmark of any quarterback worth his or her weight in eye-black.

“Fans, please stand for the seventh-inning stretch,” boomed a voice over the loud speaker.

M. J. stood if for no other reason than to give her muscles some action.

“Is that a Clash jersey?” The Neanderthal behind them snickered as he poked a finger into Tanya's left shoulder blade. “That's a Clash jersey.” He stuck out his yellow tongue. “Girls can't play football. That's a joke.”

Right before Tanya turned around, she flashed M. J. “the look”—the one that said, “Bitch, you're dead,” when directed at the opposing team's cornerback, who was heading straight for M. J. outside the pocket.

“You got a problem with women playing football?” Tanya asked, getting way up in the guy's face, which wasn't hard with her six-foot-one frame.

A few people around them stared, while others obliviously swayed as they sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” Right about now, M. J. would've given anything to have someone take her out
of
the ball game, because if the tightening in her gut was any indication, this wasn't going to end well.

“
I
play football,” Tanya spit. “You wanna make something of it?”

The guy's glossy eyes widened, and M. J. gripped Tanya's wrist in a show of peace as much as solidarity. Where M. J. would do her best to diffuse the situation with words, Tanya, the daughter of a boxing coach, preferred to use fists.