Overnight Sensation(35)

“Where to, miss?” Miguel asks. I’ve confused the heck out of him this week, as I come and go from a half-dozen different apartments.

“It’s complicated,” I tell him. “Could I borrow your wheels for fifteen minutes while I make my deliveries? I need to get these perishables into the fridge.”

“Of course.” He steps back. “The drycleaner also dropped off shirts for…”

“…Trevi,” I say. His were the last to arrive, because he uses a different shop than the rest. “Load ’em on here. I’ll take care of everything at once.”

My feet are screaming by the time the freight elevator doors open to accommodate the cart.

If Becca was right, I will run the world someday. I only hope that world domination comes with foot rubs.





13





Jason


Every road trip is hard. But usually I’m not feeling quite so discouraged.

We won two and lost two, but my contribution was poor. I’m worried, and I know my teammates are, too. Because they’re being so fucking nice to me right now. Bayer is holding the door for me as we all trudge into the Million Dollar Dorm. And Silas let me pick the music in the cab on the way back from the airport.

That’s how you know it’s bad. If these dudes thought everything was okay, they’d be assholes like usual.

“Pizza and beer at our place later?” Silas offers to our teammates. “I need a dose of Grimaldi’s, but I’m too tired to go out.”

“Sounds good,” Bayer and Beringer both agree.

“Maybe,” Leo says. “Gotta see if Georgia made any plans.”

“Gotta check with the little wife,” Bayer prods him. Then he makes the sound of a whip. But Leo just smiles to himself, like he knows a secret. Leo has two goals from our first road trip. His season is well underway. He doesn’t need anyone’s approval, and he knows it.

Must be nice.

Silas and I ride the elevator in silence and then trudge toward our door. He unlocks it.

“Every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his wandering,” I say as we drop our luggage on the floor like always.

“Shakespeare?” Silas asks.

“Dickens,” I say. “Maybe I jinxed myself quoting Dickens during training camp. Like—now my whole season is going to be like Oliver Twist. ‘Please, sir. May I have a goal?’”

Silas snorts. Then he lifts his nose and sniffs the air. “Do you smell that? It’s like…”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Our place smells like lemons instead of feet.”

“Wow. Huh. I like it.” Silas walks toward the refuge of his bedroom with a happy sigh.

I linger a moment in our living room. I’d been trying not to think about Heidi staying in our apartment, because I have enough distractions right now. But there’s her suitcase, tucked against the wall.

There aren’t any other signs of her, though. The sofa bed has been put away, and every surface is tidier than it usually is. The stack of Sports Illustrated magazines is straight, and there aren’t any abandoned water bottles lurking on the coffee table.

Heidi has been here even though there’s no sign of her.

I grab my travel bag, hoist it onto my shoulder, and trudge toward my bedroom where a nice hot shower awaits. I’m mentally turning on the faucet when I happen to glance down at the bed.

Holy fuck. Heidi has face-planted onto my mattress. She’s lying the wrong way across the foot of the bed, on top of the quilt, asleep. She’s even snoring gently.

One glance is all it takes, and I’m already feeling an unwelcome flash of lust. A split second is all I need to admire the golden skin of her arms as they stretch overhead, and the round shape of her perfect ass in those jeans.

White jeans. And it’s way past Labor Day. Someone’s been naughty. I want to kneel on the bed and peel those off her body…

Fuck. I drop my bag on the floor again and remove my suit jacket, which I drop onto the bag. Then I make a beeline for my bathroom. I lock the door and shed the rest of my clothing and climb under the warm spray.

I will not jack off to the commissioner’s daughter.

Just kill me already.





Ten minutes later I emerge, freshly shaved and wearing a towel. Because it’s my damn house, and I don’t own a bathrobe. Not only have I made tons of noise, but I can hear the chick music blaring from Silas’s room already. We’re not quiet people.

But wouldn’t you know? There’s still a sleeping, off-limits princess sprawled on my bed.

This time she hears me, though. Heidi’s eyes fly open when I open my underwear drawer. “Oh my goodness!” She sits up fast. The stitching pattern of the quilt my mother made for me is carved into her pink cheek. “Sorry! I just meant to sit down for a minute.” She scrambles to her feet and takes a deep breath. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks. Glad to be back.” I wait for her to leave.

She still has that half-conscious look of the recently awakened. As I watch, her big blue eyes travel slowly as she looks me up and down. I can feel her gaze like a caress as she takes in my bare chest and abs. “Wow,” she says, her voice full of appreciation.

“Unless you want to see even more, you might want to step out,” I grumble.