Running Interference (3 page)

He laughed then. She'd always been a spitfire. And he had a feeling she was just getting started. He was going to be taking a lot of potshots from her over the next month.

The funny part? He kind of couldn't wait.

Tanya shut her laptop and dropped her head to her desk. That was what she got for Google searching “ways to make $30,000 dollars fast” during her free period. Depressing. Hopefully, the school wasn't tracking her Internet usage. She didn't want to have to explain this.

Sell your body parts.
The sick thing was, two days after learning her father was in serious debt, she'd do it if she thought for a minute it would legitimately result in thirty grand.

She opened her laptop again and read on.

Two minutes later, she was shaking her head and thinking,
Hell, no.
Donating plasma sounded like a lot of pain for little gain. Her hair wasn't long enough. Her breasts were dry. And these days, she didn't have easy access to sperm.

She clicked through the other options, looking at the screen through split fingers. Honest to God, it was pretty hopeless when a trip to the casino seemed like your best chance. She needed a money tree, or a treasure map, or …

A knock on her office door made her jump. She slammed the laptop shut and scurried across the room.
Chill out, Martin.
The blinds on her door were closed. It's not like anyone could've seen what she'd been doing. Still, she pushed through embarrassment to open the door and came face-to-face with Cam. It figured.

This was starting to get ridiculous.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Roaming the halls, paying visits to my favorite teachers.” He grinned, and it was like a command; she grinned too.

“I wasn't your teacher.”

“Depends on how you look at it. You definitely schooled me on the finer points of the layup … among other things.”

Yeah, she had. And he seemed to have no idea how much she'd love to kick his ass now. It would be a little retribution for all the times he'd cried on her shoulder after he'd left home only to forget she existed once he got over the emotional bumps.

“Well, I'm kind of in the middle of my workday, so if you would excuse me …” She stepped back to close the door.

He stopped it with his hand. “You don't look busy. Where are your students? Don't gym teachers usually have class in the gym?

Busted. “It's my free period, but that doesn't mean I'm not busy doing important things.”

“Like?”

She lowered her chin and her voice. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

He laughed. “Walk around with me.”

“What?”

“Show me the school—what's changed, what's stayed the same. I hear Senora Keeley is still teaching Spanish II. You know you want to give her a blast from the past by showing up and sitting in the back of the room. Remember we used to make up those songs that drove her crazy?” He bobbed his bold brows. “If you give me a beat, I'll even rap.”

Nostalgia pulled at her instantly. Life was so much easier back then when all she had to worry about was too much homework or maintaining her free throw percentage.

He was still looking at her expectantly. Damn his charm. As much as she didn't want to make his first visit home in
five years
easy, she couldn't quite say no to that opportunity. Besides, the kids would be bouncing off the walls to meet Super Bowl MVP Cam Simmons.

“Fine,” she said. “But I have to be back for fifth period.”

As they walked the halls, pointing out familiar sights, the years melted away. Then when they reached the Humanities wing, he raced ahead of her and stopped next to a purple locker.

“I wonder if the combination is the same.” The lock looked miniature in his hands.

She laughed as he fumbled. “You can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“It belongs to someone else now.”

“Nah. Once it's mine, it's always mine.”

There was the arrogance she expected from a professional athlete of his caliber. There was something else too, something that stuck in her throat and reminded her of the one and only time he'd had her. But the very next day she'd found him standing right here flirting with the prettiest girl in school, Abigail Glass.

Back then, Tanya's athleticism had made her “one of the guys,” and the boys couldn't seem to get enough of girly-girls like Abigail. Oh, she'd heard all about their infatuations. Cam hadn't been the loudest admirer, but he'd never disagreed. And he'd never looked at Tanya the way he'd looked at Abigail. Since Tanya hadn't been interested in being anyone's second choice, she gave up on the pipe dream of anything more than friendship right then and there. She'd told herself it would be better that way. Romantic relationships were doomed. Friendships could last forever. Or at least that's what she'd thought before they hadn't spoken in five years. Now, she didn't know what to think.

A nearby classroom door opened, and a kid with a hall pass smiled at Tanya. “Hey, Miss Martin.”

“Afternoon, Brian.”

Then Brian saw Cam. “Holy sh … oot!” He caught himself when he remembered Tanya, and then he looked back at the classroom like he wanted to shout out exactly who he'd just stumbled onto. “Are you … ? No way.”

Cam laughed. “I am. Is that still Mr. Ryan's government class?”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, we're talking about the Civil War.”

“Does he still use the wooden pointer on the pull down map?”

The kid clapped his hands together. “Yes!” Then he grabbed his head and gave it a little shake. “This is so cool. Miss Martin, do you know who this is?”

She smiled. “I do.” It was hard not to be a little impressed when the kid was so star struck. Brian was one of her at-risk students, and he ran with a tough crowd.

Cam took a few steps toward the classroom and then looked back at her. “Do you think Mr. Ryan would mind if I stuck my head in and said ‘hey'?”

“Of course not. Brian, how 'bout you take Mr. Simmons in and introduce him to the class.”

“Oh, man! You gotta be kidding me.”

There was something amazing about seeing a tough-talking high school sophomore reduced to skipping.

Tanya stood in the doorway as Cam shocked Mr. Ryan and his class. Within five minutes of stepping into the room, Cam was manning the wooden pointer while Mr. Ryan slouched in Cam's old seat in an epic role reversal.

He moved on to answer questions from the class—everything from what his grades had been like when he was at East to what kind of car he drove. When he said “mostly Bs,” she rolled her eyes, and when he said, “a tricked out Range,” she mouthed, “figures.”

She'd never heard so much laughter come from a history class.

When they finally made it back into the hall, her face hurt from smiling, and a little bit of the anger she'd been harboring had released. It had always been easy to have fun with him.

“That was awesome,” Cam said. “God, I had no idea how much I missed this place.”

Was it anywhere near as much as she'd missed him? Which was something she didn't want to admit. But with him laughing beside her, she couldn't pretend his absence hadn't hurt like hell those first few years. Eventually she'd gotten over it, and now she recognized the dependency for the close call it had been. It was a good lesson, one that taught her to ruthlessly protect her heart from the kinds of emotional strings that strangled people. Her roommate Jillian didn't call her Queen of the One-night Stand for nothing.

“Now where?” he asked.

Considering where her mind had been, she wanted to return to her office without him, but ... “You promised me rapping in Senora's class.”

“I did!”

Senora just about swallowed her false teeth when “double trouble” as she'd dubbed them junior year walked into her classroom. The minute the pudgy woman regained her composure, she tipped on her toes and hugged him. So cute.

Just like before in Mr. Ryan's room, the kids' response to seeing Cam was off the charts. They asked him questions in rapid-fire progression, and he answered everyone with enthusiasm—even the ones he'd already answered for Mr. Ryan's class.

By the time they took their old seats in the back of the room to serenade Senora, the students were on their feet.

Tanya raised her hands over her mouth and sputtered a basic beat to hoots and hollers all around.

“Miss Martin! Miss Martin!” The kids chanted.

Cam broke in with the rap they'd made up while they should've been learning Spanish, and Senora started dancing.

They left the classroom laughing.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Tanya heard a little voice spout a warning.
Protect yourself.
In a month, he would be leaving again. This was not something she wanted to get mixed up with. Friendly but guarded was the only way to proceed.

When the bell rang, she smiled at him. “Duty calls. I'll see you around.”

“Wait! Can't I come say ‘hey' to your class? You know how much I loved gym.”

The hallway started filling up, and his admirers swarmed. The way he actually looked as excited to see them as they were to see him made her smile.

What would spending one more class period with him hurt? “I'll be in the North Gym.”

She backed away, watching him sign binders and book covers, sweatshirts and sneakers. He was the biggest attraction South City had ever seen. Hell, he was even bigger than that. Nationwide. Cam Simmons was
the man
to football fans.

A light bulb flashed in her head. If she could figure out a way to capitalize on that, she'd have the thirty grand to save her dad's gym.

• • •

A whistle blew and Cam's muscles twitched.
Down, boys. Not for you.

This wasn't his practice. This was P.E. class with ten kids running something called “the shuttle” and eight more on the bleachers because they'd either forgotten their gym clothes or presented a doctor's excuse. Who bailed on gym? Never him.

Tanya stood on the opposite side of the court with a stopwatch and a clipboard, and the whistle between her lips. His celibacy since the breakup with Sabrina must've been getting to him, because dressed in navy polyester track pants and an East High t-shirt, Tanya was looking mighty hot. Something he'd thought about more than a couple times as they‘d crashed classrooms around the school.

The whistle sounded again, and ten tired kids dragged themselves across the white line.

“Nice work,” she said. “Now listen up! We didn't have the shuttle when I was in high school. We had the mile. And let me tell you, my mile was faster than Mr. MVP's over there.”

A few snickers sounded, but most of the kids looked like they didn't believe her. Cam played to them by making faces and drawing little circles in the air beside his ear.

“Is anyone else curious to see how Mr. Simmons handles the shuttle?” she asked.

Of course, they cheered—even the kids on the bleachers.

He looked down at his loosely laced high-top sneakers. Despite the athletic pants and T-shirt beneath his North Face jacket, he wasn't exactly dressed for speed.

Buck! Buck!
The chicken sounds started low, but then her students joined in until Cam had to make a move.

“Only if Miss Martin does it too,” he said.

Oohs echoed through the gym, and she looked about ready to pop him. But then she lifted the whistle over her head and handed both it and the clipboard to a redheaded girl sitting on the bottom bleacher.

“You're on,” she said.

“What are the rules?” Cam asked.

“We start behind the line. When the whistle blows, it's an all-out sprint. Top of the key and back. Half court and back. Top of the opposite key and back. End of the court and back.”

“You have to bend all the way down and touch the white lines or it doesn't count,” said the redhead with the clipboard.

“Right,” Tanya said. “And the loser has to run it again.”

“Wait a minute.” He looked at the grinning class. “Is that always the rule, or is that only for me?”

They just laughed.

He hid a snicker. “Fine. Whatever. It doesn't matter, because Miss Martin's going to lose.”

She won. He blamed it on his sneakers.

“I should've tied them tighter,” he said. Along with, “I want a rematch.”

But his vindication would have to wait. She had a sixth period meeting, which meant their fun was done. And he was sorry, because it had been a blast.

“I loved this day,” he said as he stood outside her office.

Had he known he was going to love it this much, he would've been here sooner.
Damn.
Maybe he'd messed up more than he thought he had.

“It was good.” The smile that spread from her lips to her sparkling eyes said she was tempering her enthusiasm.

Same old Tanya. Different too, but enough was familiar to make him think that if he played it right, they could get back to where they'd been before he'd become distracted by his new life. “So … you think maybe after all this fun you'll be calling me soon?”

“I'll think about it.”

He watched her walk away, his smile firmly in place, and then he headed in the opposite direction toward the main exit. At the last minute, he detoured, taking a side door out onto the pavement between the school and the football stadium.

Right there.
That was where the magic happened. He couldn't see the whole field, but he could see enough to spark some memories of touchdowns and trick plays, sellout crowds and after parties that would've made his mother's blood curdle.

Getting with a girl for the first time beneath those bleachers over there.