Running Interference (13 page)

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.

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.”

Cam pulled on his pinnie and sidled up beside Tanya. “Your team's going down.”

She grinned. “We'll see about that.”

His team broke out to an early lead, but only because Tanya's team was caught off guard by a bomb unlike anything they'd ever seen from the back-up quarterback, Lacy Bentz. It wasn't a pretty throw, but a guy like Cam pulled that wobbly ball in and made it look effortless.

Twenty minutes later, things evened out when MJ ran the ball into the end zone. Beneath the good-natured play, Assistant Coach Ray Ross sounded determined to win.

“Trick play,” he said to MJ when they were in the huddle again. “Your call.”

MJ looked at Jillian and smiled.

The next time the ball snapped, MJ gave the ball to Jillian, but instead of heading up field like everyone else expected the wide receiver to do, Jillian started looking for her passing target.

“Fake reverse,” someone yelled.

Cam, who wound up playing defense, made the read and cut towards a sprinting MJ.

Tanya took off too. If she cut between them, he wouldn't have a clear shot at her QB.

“Martin, what the hell are you doing?” Coach yelled.

Playing touch football the way it was meant to be played, positions be damned. Bottom line, if she couldn't get between MJ and Cam, then she'd give Jillian another receiver.

Tanya saw MJ reach the end of her pass pattern, look over her shoulder, and lift her hands just as Cam barreled into view. She glanced back and saw the shadow of the ball on the turf. If she slowed her pace, turned her head, and locked eyes on the ball, she could watch it hit her hands before it dropped into her bread basket. Just. Like. This.

She squeezed the ball to her body, broke right, and fired on all cylinders.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
Her lungs and legs screamed, but she didn't show them any sympathy.

Cam was behind her. She could hear his feet crunching the turf. Jade Wren was closing in too. By now, the whole team was probably in pursuit.

In the split seconds of silence between her breaths, she could feel him getting closer. She didn't dare glance back to see how close. The smallest alteration would impact her speed.

His grunts grew louder. “I got y ... ”

She leaped into the end zone, landing in a tuck and roll. Everything hurt. But the cheers helped.

Someone yelled, “Touchdown!” When she opened her eyes Cam was standing over her with a smile and a hand to help her up.

“Nice,” he said. “You really are faster than I remember.”

Faster? Hell, the speed wasn't what impressed her. What about the agility? “Did I just somersault into the end zone?” she asked MJ.

“Yep.”

“That was amazing!” Jillian rushed toward her.

“That was stupid, Martin!” Coach yelled. “Not worth an injury.”

“How do you feel?” the trainer asked. “Looked like initial impact was with your head.”

“I'm fine. Winded, but fine.” Actually, she was better than fine.
That was all offense, baby.

Who said you couldn't teach old dogs new tricks?

Coach blew his whistle. “Game over. Practice over. See you tomorrow, ladies.”

The crowd around her dispersed, leaving only Cam.

“Whose team did you say was going down again?” Tanya asked.

He grinned. “Yeah well, paybacks are a bitch, Martin. Remember that next week when I take you down on the basketball court in front of your students.”

She made a sarcastic noise and rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

He shook his head. “What I really wish for is a replay of that somersault. I can't believe you did that.”

“
That
was the most fun I've ever had on a football field.” God, she loved this game.

“It would've had a much different outcome if I hadn't been holding back.”

She nodded. “Because you're an elite athlete, and we're just playing around, right?”