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ONE
SWEAT DRIPPED DOWN MICK RILEY’S FACE AND ARMS The field workout he’d just endured had kicked his ever-lovin’ ass He leaned against the wall of the locker roo at all to lower his temperature He was hot and sweaty, and he’d been knocked on the ground so many times he’d probably eaten half the dirt on the field
He was exhausted and not in the daht What he’d really like to do is take a cold shower, go home, and order a pizza Instead, he had to put on a tux and a s out in a ballroom with the rest of his teaue There’d be photographers, television ca on him
Years ago that would have been the highlight of his night
Not anymore
When had he gotten so tired of it all? Hell, when had he gotten old?
He stripped off his practice jersey and tossed it to the ground, pulled off his pads and breathed a sigh of relief, then grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face He unlaced his pants, drained the water fro, and went to the fountain to refill it
That’s when he heard a voice outside the locker room A woman’s voice
What was a woeous blonde standing a few feet down the hall, twirling around in circles and ht with her business skirt that skis, and her crisp white blouse and pulled-up hair All prietting her crisp white shirt all mussed up
“I should have taken a left I knoas a left You du to be lost in this cavern forever, and you’re going to get fired”
He leaned against the doorway as she stared down the long hall, tapped her high-heeled shoe, and mumbled some more
“Where the hell is the office, anyway? It can’t be in the friggin’ basement of this place”
“No, it’s not down here”
She whirled, see to herself Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then she headed in his direction “Oh Thank God A living hu Can you help me? I’m so lost”
“Sure You need the office?”
“Yes”
She stopped in front of hi and cookies or so—that he was e appealing
“Take a right turn, then at the first hallway go left You’ll find the elevators Punch the button for the top floor When you get off, turn left again and go to the end of the hall The main office is there”
She studied hiave hi to be lost down here forever and I’d never get these contracts signed I have to run Thank you!”
She turned and practically sprinted down the hall, though how she could run on those shoes was so he’d never understand about women
She sure was beautiful, but not in the way he was used to She wasn’t overly made up, so her beauty was natural She wasn’t the kind of woman he usually went for Maybe that’s what he liked about her
And he hadn’t even bothered to introduce hiet her name
Too bad, because he could have sworn there’d been a spark between them
Then again, it ination He could just need a slap of cold water to lower his body temperature Too much heat today
He went back inside, grabbed the towel, and headed for the shower
AS KICK-ASS EVENTS WENT, TARA LINCOLN THOUGHT this one ether And it daenerate ht Touch needed all the business it could get
Event planning the team summer party for the San Francisco Sabers had been a stroke of luck The owner’s assistant had gotten her card from the usual team planner, as booked solid on the date they wanted to have the party
It had taken four months of nearly nonstop work, but as Tara took another turn around the ballroom, she nodded in satisfaction They’d pulled it off Frolittery yet understated NFL tea food to the bar setup to the incredible band, it was perfect, and everyone seereat time
Tara led, earpiece tucked unobtrusively in her ear so she was only seconds away froetting help if someone needed it So far, all the crises had beento be sure the food was hot and plentiful, and meandered in and around the crowds No one co faces all around her told her everyone was focused on what they should be focused on—football and having a good time—which meant she could take a step back and simply observe
The band was kicking, the croas thick on the dance floor,pictures of the star players, coaches were giving interviews, and for the first tiainst the floor-to-ceiling glass s that showcased the beautiful city
“Why aren’t you out there dancing?”
She lifted her gaze to the six and a half foot hunk of gorgeous man in a tux who’d stepped up in front of her Black hair, striking blue eyes: she knew exactly who he was—Mick Riley, San Francisco’s star quarterback, and her savior frootten lost in the baseistered who he was until the elevator had taken her to the top floor Okay, not just rattled, but a little tongue-tied Who wouldn’t be when faced with a shirtless, sweaty, gorgeous hunk of ift to women Good Lord, he’d looked sexy Unfortunately, all she could do at the time was ask for directions
Idiot
But then her synapses had fired, and she’d realized who she’d been talking to
Mick Riley The Mick Riley Everyone who lived here kneho he was Everyone atched football knew him, too, no matter where they lived His endorsement contracts put him on every television in A a variety of products from deodorant to power tools He was an icon, the all-A, too
“We met earlier today,” he said
“Yes, we did And thank you again for the directions to the office”
“You’re welcoht?”
She offered up a suest”
He arched a brow “Party crasher, huh?”
She laughed “No, I’m the event planner”
“Is that right? You did a good job”
Oh, lad you think so”
“Not that I know a da a fancy party, but I like to eat, and the food was good There’s plenty of name-brand booze behind the bar, and the band is kick-ass”
Okay, her cheeks hurt froain”
Now if he would only say all those things to Irvin Stokes, the owner of the tea her future
“How late do you have to work?”