Lady and the Champ (9 page)

“I can’t believe you have a baby,” I say after a few minutes, keeping my voice low.

Austin, sitting next to me on the couch, smiles over my shoulder down at his daughter. “Neither can I, really.”

“She’s so perfect. I don’t understand how you’ve kept her a secret all this time.”

He shrugs. “I just want her safe. I want all my family safe. If people knew I had a kid, the press would be all over her, taking pictures, following us around, harassing me about her mom, you name it.”

“And what’s the story with her mom?” I tell myself I don’t want to know, but I actually do want to know.

“The usual story, I guess you could say. Football groupie, very stupid wide receiver. I don’t think I would have even known Emma existed except Megan decided to basically ask for hush money.”

That hits me a little wrong. “Isn’t it really child support? To take care of Emma?”

“That’s the way I look at it, but Megan did tell me if I didn’t keep paying, she’d leak things to the press, go on talk shows, sell pictures of Emma to the tabloids…” He trails off. “I can’t have that. Not for my little girl. I just want her to have a normal life. Or at least as normal a life as possible.”

I nod. I understand that. “A lot of men would have walked away.”

“Maybe. It didn’t seem right. Now I have joint custody and a big chunk of my paycheck going to a woman I don’t really know and don’t particularly like.” He sighs.

I turn my head a little to look toward his face. Abruptly, I realize his lips are a breath away from mine. My gaze falls to his mouth, and my own lips part, and he leans in…

Abruptly, I jerk my head back to face forward. I can’t get Emma off my lap gracefully, but I start moving carefully to hand her back to Austin.

“I need to go,” I tell him. My voice is shaky.

“Are you sure?” His face is still very close to mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He takes Emma so carefully she doesn’t even wake up. “Just try not to slam the door, okay?” His tone is quiet. He doesn’t sound angry. I give him one last look; he’s smiling a little.

I leave as quickly as possible, and I’m careful not to slam the door.

* * *

O
n the way home
, my brain starts to settle. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I’m a professional—if I have this kind of reaction to every client, I won’t be a professional for long. Just because there’s a low-level, buzzing attraction doesn’t mean I can lose my shit.

Low-level, my ass.

The pragmatic inner voice that always calls me on my shit is right. What’s going on when I’m in the same room with Austin isn’t a low-level buzz. It’s more like the screaming, frantic hum of a million beehives somebody has just poked with a stick. Adding Emma to the mix…well, that was just playing dirty, not to mention turning the buzz up to eleven. There’s no way to ignore that.

Well, you’re going to pull up your big girl panties and do exactly that.

Stupid voice. If it weren’t from inside my own head, I’d slap it silly.

At home, I fling my bag on the couch. It sucks that I’m going to have to go back to get the mat. That’ll have to wait until I can get myself better under control. Maybe I can sneak in—break in through his window, grab the mat, and run.

Forget that. I’d never get past the main gate.

I’m still on edge, anxiety making everything feel prickly and unmanageable as I try to pace it off. Austin will call Dr. Richards and tell him what happened. Dr. Richards will call me into his office, dress me down, and then take me off Austin’s case. He’ll probably fire me, in fact, for not being able to manage a high-profile client. It’ll take me years to get my reputation back…

Oh my God, stop it, Chloe.

In my head, I’ve fast-forwarded myself all the way to my late thirties so I can see the tragic failure I’ve become. Hell, if I let my imagination run much further, I’ll be in an embarrassed-physical-therapist protection program.

I flop onto the couch. I just need to apologize. But first I need to get myself under control.

Digging my phone out of my bag, I find Austin’s contact information and stare at it for what feels like four hours. Finally I take a deep breath, swallow hard, fix my hair—because you can totally tell over the phone if somebody’s hair isn’t perfect—and touch the screen to dial his number.

“Chloe?” He answers right away, like he’s been waiting for me to call. Somehow that makes me a little less nervous. Maybe he’s worried about me.

“Hi,” I say. My heart starts pounding again, and I wonder how I ever thought I was calm enough to do this. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. There was no excuse for me to run out like that.”

“Are you okay?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

“Yes. I just…I don’t know. I kind of lost it. This job is really stressful. My boss is putting a lot of pressure on me to do everything right and be sure you’re ready in time for the championship game and—”

His chuckle cuts me off.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” I demand.

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“Yes, you are!”

“Well, Doc, you can tell me about the stress and the pressure and job security and your boss being a dick all day, and it’s not going to change the fact that I know exactly what’s going on with you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. I can read you like a book, Doc.”

“You can read?”

There. Be pissed off. Remember he’s an asshole. Remember how much you hate football players.

He just chuckles again. “You want me. You want me so bad it hurts.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can smell it on you.”

“What, you’re a bloodhound now?”

“No, I just know when a woman wants me.”

My teeth are grinding together now. “You just assume every woman wants you, which is not even remotely true.”

“Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I don’t want you.” I say it firmly, and it sounds almost like I believe it.

“Tell me you don’t want to do filthy things with me on my massage table while I rub oil over your arms, your legs,
your ti
—”

“Stop it, Austin.” Damn it. It’s pathetic how weak I sound. I clear my throat to make my voice stronger. “You’re out of line!”

“You know what you should do? You should just get it out of your system. Fuck me.”

“
What
—”

“Fuck me oh, once or twice or maybe five times, and then you’ll be able to concentrate. It’ll be better for you, better for me… I’ll get better care because you won’t be thinking about my dick the whole time you’re rubbing me down.”

“That is the worst idea in the history of ideas.”

“I see what you mean.” His tone is thoughtful, which is probably a bad sign. “It might take more than that. I mean, once you get the D from me, you’re going to want it all the time. That could really interfere with my recovery.”

Okay, I’ve had it.

I stand, yelling into the phone now. “You know what’s interfering with your recovery? Your inability to follow directions, and your fucking
obnoxious
personality. I do not ‘want the D’ from you. Do you really even want to get better?”

“Of course I do.” He sounds a little taken aback, and I get some satisfaction from that.

“Then you get ice on that goddamn leg for twenty minutes at a time every four hours until our next session. And you take your meds and do your goddamn exercises, you understand me?”

“Yes, Doc. I got it.”

“And don’t think you can skimp on any of it, because I’ll be able to tell.”

“Yes, Doc.” Now there’s an undercurrent of amusement in his voice, but I’m so pissed I don’t care.

“Next session, we’re meeting at the practice facility.”

This seems like a fair compromise—they have everything I need to properly treat him, but it’s neutral territory.

“That okay with you?” I make it clear in my tone that it had damn well better be okay with him.

“It’s fine,” he answers.

I could leave it there, but I’m not done. “And for God’s sake, act like a grownup. This is a
professional
relationship. Get your head out of your dick.” And I stab the phone screen and hang up on him.

That felt good. Maybe I’ve finally figured out how to deal with him.

Then my phone buzzes. I pick it up to see a text message.

Do you really think my dick is so big my head would fit in it?

Oh my God. I delete the message, determined to ignore him. But the phone buzzes again.

You’re really hot when you’re mad.

I roll my eyes, my hand tightening on the phone as I delete this one, too.

You should yell at me more. I think it helps. I feel better already.

I fling the phone onto the couch and stomp into my bedroom.

There’s no way I’m going to survive Austin Sherwood.

I
’m
about to get myself into a shitload of trouble. But that’s okay, because it’ll be worth it in the end.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Chloe in the last few days, it’s that she’s hella hot when she’s pissed off. Which of course makes me want to piss her off as much as possible.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be recuperating?”

I glance at Orrin, who’s suiting up for practice next to me. It hadn’t occurred to me until late last night that the team was practicing today. It had taken another few seconds to realize I’d been ordered to meet Chloe at the practice facility at the same time team practice was going on. I could have called her and changed the time, but where was the fun in that?

I shrug in response to Orrin’s comment. “Eh, it’s not that bad.”

“You sure? Cause you looked like an elephant stomped on you when they took you off the field. And Coach said you were going to be out for the playoffs.”

“Y’know, Walters, I’m a grownup. I think I can decide if I should be at practice or not.”

He shrugs, still giving me the side-eye. I focus on what I’m doing. It actually hurts like hell to get my pads on, though not as badly as it hurt doing the exercises Chloe left for me.

“Austin Sherwood, you son of a bitch.”

There’s no mistaking that voice. I have no idea how she figured out where I was this fast, but I’m impressed. I’m also impressed when she storms across the locker room, giant naked football players parting in front of her like the Red Sea. She seems completely oblivious, focused on me and nothing else.

I smile at her when she stops in front of me, fists planted on her hips. “Hey. What’s up?”

“You know exactly what’s up, Sherwood.”

She wags a finger in my face. It makes me wish she was wearing a hot librarian outfit.

“I said meet at the practice facility for your therapy session, not meet at the practice facility for practice.”

I hear laughter next to me and glance at Orrin. He seems to be enjoying watching me get yelled at.

“I’m sorry, Doc. I must have heard you wrong.”

“You—” She breaks off and glances around, seeming to just then realize we’re surrounded by half the team, many of them buck-ass naked, all of them attentive. “Come with me.”

“Sure, Doc.”

She grabs my arm and drags me across the locker room. I can hear the laughter following us, the assortment of lewd comments. This is honestly going better than I’d imagined it would. It’s so much fun to get her riled up.

I might feel just a bit guilty that I’m going back on my promise to follow her instructions. Not much, though. Her chains are so easy to jerk, and I just can’t help myself.

We make it to a quiet-ish corner of the locker room and she half-shoves me up against the wall.

Oh, baby
.

“What are you
grinning
about?” she snaps, as if grinning were a federal offense.

“I like the way you’re throwing me around. It’s getting me all hot and bothered.”

Her face is starting to turn an alarming shade of purple, and I wonder if she’s been stress-tested recently.

“Although I have to admit, when I fantasized about it, it was just you and me, not you, me, and a dozen other naked dudes.”

Chloe absolutely flips her shit. I thought I’d seen her mad before—that was nothing. That was a high school experiment-type volcano compared to the Chloe-shaped Vesuvius that’s erupting right now.

“I thought we had an
agreement
, Sherwood! I thought you made a promise. Hell, I thought you actually wanted to play football again this season. Because you know what? That’s not going to happen if you don’t fucking
do what I tell you
!”

She’s so infuriated she’s spitting while she talks, and red patches have risen high and bright on her cheeks. I can’t help but wonder what all that emotion would be like if it were channeled into sex. She just might be able to give me a run for my money in the bedroom. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about a woman. Ever.

Then it starts to soak in exactly how angry she is. How disappointed she is in me. That’s when I start to actually feel bad for pulling this prank on her. All she’s trying to do is her job. And her job is fixing me. So why am I giving her so much shit?

Because it’s fun.

Well. That’s very true. But maybe I should give her a break before her head explodes.

“Okay,” I say, as if I never said anything outrageous at all. “What do you want me to do?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as the red patches start to fade from her face. She swallows and blinks. I have to practically clench my teeth to keep from laughing. I keep my expression neutral so I don’t provoke her. I want to see what she’s going to say.

“I want you to get out of that football gear…” She pauses, obviously realizing what she said. It’s all I can do not to rise to the bait. She closes her eyes tight, her face reddening again, then finishes, “Then we’ll go do your therapy session.”

I give her a nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She looks more than skeptical.

“I said okay, I meant okay.”

“Well, then, okay.”

As promised, I go back to the locker room and change out of my football gear, trading it for the sweats and T-shirt I wore to the practice facility. She’s in the area behind the locker room where we cool down and get any necessary medical attention after practice. It’s empty right now since the rest of the team is out on the field at practice.

Chloe is standing by the hot tub waiting for me. Her expression is distant and a little sad. I wonder what she’s thinking about. I get that twinge of guilt again. I just watch her, soaking her in for a few seconds before I finally take a step toward her. She jumps as if I’ve startled her.

“There you are.” Her voice is calm, but her hands shift nervously on her iPad. “Let’s get started.”

“You all right?” I ask her, and her face tightens again.

“I’m fine.” She gestures toward the hot tub. “Get in.”

“I was expecting something a little more strenuous.”

“Not today. Strip down and get in.” Her eyes meet mine steadily; she’s not letting embarrassment get to her.

I decide not to tease her this time and instead strip down, but just to my boxers. I ease into the hot tub, which is set into the floor, the edge only a few inches high. As soon as I’m in, she touches the controls on the edge, and a few jets start working, gently massaging my lower back.

It feels so good I forget for a second that I’m here with a beautiful woman. The heat seeps into all my sore muscles, and they start to relax.

I moan at the sensation as my whole body starts to loosen up. After a few more seconds to just enjoy it, I roll my head to the side and look at Chloe. “We should have done this a long time ago.”

She smiles. “I’m glad it’s helping.”

“Why don’t you get in with me?”

Her face closes up. That was a step too far, I guess, but that’s what I’m best at. Pushing her.

“That would hardly be appropriate.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’s great in here. Warm, comfy. Some nice water jets. I feel like a big noodle.”

She chuckles, which is what I’m after. Getting her to relax. “You look like a big noodle.”

“Throw in some carrots, a little celery…” I trail off, watching her laugh again. “Soup’s good for what ails you, even if you’re one of the ingredients.”

“Just relax. Let all those tight muscles loosen up.”

“Yeah.” I tip my head back and close my eyes again. “Seems like you’d feel a little better if you did some relaxing, too.”

“I’ll relax later. On my own time.”

I hear her move, and when I open my eyes again to see what she’s doing, she’s checking the thermometer. “I could turn this up a little. Would you like it warmer?”

“Sure.”

She turns the knob and I watch her. Her hair swings around the oval of her face as she straightens. The water starts to get gradually warmer.

“C’mon,” I venture again. “Just put your feet in. You won’t regret it.”

She sighs. I think she’s going to protest again, but finally she reaches down and takes off her shoes, then her socks, and then she rolls her trouser legs up to mid-shin.

I give her a grin. “That’s the spirit.”

Her face tightens and she hesitates, and I wonder if maybe that was the wrong thing to say. But then she turns on the edge of the recessed tub and slips her feet into the water. She lets out a soft breath.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” She doesn’t look at me. Maybe she doesn’t want to admit I was right.

She has to be the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, with the possible exception of myself. I don’t know how I’m going to crack that shell, but I know I’m going to do my damnedest.

“So just relax,” I repeat. “I get the feeling you need it.”

Her eyes fall closed as she says, “Why would you say that?”

“You seem stressed.”

She draws a long, deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I am.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon. It’ll help you to open up.”

Her eyes flick open, and she regards me neutrally. “Even if you’re the reason I’m stressed?”

She has a point there. “Maybe especially if I’m the reason you’re stressed.”

With a little eye roll, she tosses me a glare. “You’re a massive pain in my ass, you know that?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I know.”

Her feet jerk a little in the water, and I know she’s tensed up again. “Why? Why do you act like you do?”

“Because it’s fun?”

“Maybe for you.” Her gaze jerks up to the ceiling, like she can’t bear to look at me. “You have no idea how much pressure I’m under right now.”

“I think I have an idea.”

“No.” She spears me with a glare that’s sharp enough to be almost physically painful. “You have no idea. None.”

“Tell me.” I reach over and touch her calf. “I’ll listen. I promise.” I really do want to hear what’s up with her. I actually do care. More than I thought I did, in fact, now that I’m hearing her talk about it, hearing the strain in her voice. That little twinge of guilt hits me again.

“Believe it or not, you’re a choice assignment.” I chuckle, and she smiles a little. “If I fuck this up, I could lose my job.”

“Why would you fuck it up?”

“Because you’re making everything super difficult, and if I finally crack and punch you in the face, I’ll probably get fired.”

I shrug, keeping it light. “Maybe I like getting punched in the face.”

It’s nice, seeing her laugh even though I know she’s trying not to. “I suppose that’s a possibility.”

I stroke the back of her calf, trying to make it seem more friendly than sexy. It’s hard, because touching her gets me going, but it’s nice to think maybe I’m comforting her.

“If I have my way about it, you won’t get fired. I promise.”

“Even if I drown you in this tub or break your nose?”

“Even if you drown me in this tub or break my nose.” I pause, considering. “Although if you drown me, that might be problematic.”

Another laugh. God, this is nice. I’ve never felt like this with a woman before—relaxed. Comfortable. Even though she appeals to me on a carnal level, I also just like being around her. There’s a vibe there. Like maybe we fit.

She takes a long breath and lets her eyes fall closed again. “I’m the only woman in the group, and I’ve been passed over for a lot of assignments because of it. I need things to work out here. It’s hard, never knowing if they counted you out of the running because you’re actually not good at your job, or just because you’re female.”

I get where she’s coming from. “Well, I can guarantee you’re as good as any male PT I’ve ever worked with. Better, even.”

“That’s good to hear.” Her voice is quiet, and I’m not convinced she believes me.

I settle into the water. It’s one of those times when I feel safe somehow. She brings that out in me.

“I feel like that sometimes,” I tell her.

She blinks her eyes open and stares at me, obviously surprised. “Why? You’re at the top of your game. Everybody thinks you’re great.”

I shake my head, opening my eyes to look at her. “Not about football. About Emma.”

Her eyes widen a little as that sinks in. “Oh,” she says quietly. “What do you mean?”

“How do I know if I’m a good dad? I’m not with her all the time. I can’t even talk about her to anybody. I get on some online parenting forums to get ideas, but it’s not the same as talking to people in person.”

“Can you talk to your mom? Sisters?”

I realize she’s fishing, because I don’t talk much about my family. If I thought she knew anything at all about my mother, the comment would hurt. But I know she doesn’t, so I let it go.

“Sometimes,” I concede. “And she has a nanny who seems to know what she’s doing, so I ask her about things. But still. There’s no way to know. Not really.”

“Well, based on what I’ve seen, you’re doing a good job. She seemed happy when I met her.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

Slowly, I slide out of the water and make my way up to the edge of the tub, sitting next to her. To my surprise, she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes ease open and she looks at me like she’s taking in my face, memorizing it. Her gaze falls to my mouth, and I can’t help myself.

I lean forward and kiss her gently. She lets me, and that surprises me, too.

I suspected all along that she’s not immune to me. If she were, she wouldn’t be so prickly. The reason she gets so mad at me is because she’s fighting the same kind of attraction I’m…well, not fighting. The way she responds to my kiss confirms it. Her mouth opens under mine, and I let my tongue slip past her lips, tasting her.

I’ve never wanted a woman so much in my life. The fact that she’s technically forbidden makes it that much more acute. I want her. I want to strip her bare and sink down into the tub with her and fuck her underwater while the jets tease her ass. My hand drifts to the collar of her button-down shirt and teases a button free.

For a second, she lets me. I start to work on the second button, though, and she grasps my hand. “No.”

“Why not?”

“
I can’t
.”