A Stallion's Touch (5 page)

The expression across his face spoke volumes, and the coach suddenly swallowed hard, shifting his gaze around the room to avoid looking directly at the man he was chastising. The tension was palpable, and one of the other players suddenly slammed his helmet against a metal locker.

“Let's do this!” another teammate screamed, all of them anxious to get out on the field and hit something.

After another two minutes of a pep talk, the coach dismissed the team, and they headed in the direction of the field. He sauntered slowly to Nicholas, who still stood where he'd stopped. The two eyed each other warily.

“Why do you have to bust my chops, Stallion?” Coach Brandt questioned. He stood with his hands on his hips, his eyebrows lifted in query. “You are taking us to the Big Game! The Big Game! You're one of the best damn players in the league, and you need to be setting an example for all the others. Instead, you're giving me a hard time!”

Nicholas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He met the look Brandt was giving him with one of his own, wondering why the man felt the song and dance was necessary. Nicholas didn't always do what was expected of him, but he had never once
not
done his job and done it well. And Brandt knew that. In the years he'd played for the team, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd been late for anything and have more than half his fingers left over. To Nicholas's chagrin, Brandt often played to the cameras and the other players, needing to laud his position whenever he had an audience.

“You done?” Nicholas finally asked, clearly not impressed.

Brandt lowered his voice. “Hey, you know everyone already thinks I give you too many passes. Just this morning someone was whining about you being the coach's favorite.”

“Just this morning?”

“Well, maybe not this morning, but I heard it once this week already.”

Nicholas chuckled softly. “I should be your favorite. Me scoring more points and gaining more yardage in a single game is what got you to the championship. Breaking the records I've already set is what's going to win you that championship ring. I know it and so do you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” The man grinned. “So, is everything okay? Nothing we need to worry about, I hope.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Everything's fine. It won't happen again. At least, not this season. I can't speak for next year, though.” He turned to hang the last of his street clothes in the locker, slamming the door closed after pulling a jersey over his head.

Brandt nodded, extending his hand. The two bumped fists, and Nicholas turned in the other direction, following the other players to the football field.

Chapter 4

T
arah had been far from comfortable when she arrived for her dinner meeting with Dr. Harper. Kai, the five-star restaurant he'd selected, was located in the Sheraton Wild Horse Pass Resort and Spa in the Gila River Indian Community near Chandler. The award-winning eatery was renowned for its Native American cuisine, and with the diamond awards earned by their executive chef, it was a member of an elite group of dining establishments. Tarah wished she'd bothered to check the reviews before she'd left the hospital. She shut down the search page on her smart phone and gloomily exited her car.

Walking up to the entrance of Kai, it was obvious she was underdressed. Unfortunately, going home to change wasn't an option since she was past the point of arriving fashionably late. The black slacks and white button-down blouse she wore didn't begin to compare to the designer wardrobes of the other women in the room. In fact, with her thick curls pulled into a high bun and no makeup adorning her fresh face, Tarah looked more like a member of the staff than a patron.

Dr. Harper had already been seated when the hostess escorted her to his table. His stare had been critical, but as he'd risen from his seat to pull out her chair, he'd remained quiet. Admiring the gray silk suit he wore with a white dress shirt and red print necktie, Tarah felt overwhelmingly out of place. Her discomfort was painted across her face like a bad makeup job.

There was a moment of comfort when he dove right into business, quizzing her on the day's training. But by the time the waiter came bearing their appetizers, her discomfort returned with a vengeance. Their conversation had taken a personal turn. He was suddenly asking questions about her relationships and the men she'd dated in the past. When the entrée was set in front of her, she knew beyond any doubt that dinner had been a monumental mistake.

Dr. Harper suddenly sat back in his seat and stared at her. “You don't date much, do you?” he asked, his tone dry and staid.

“Excuse me?”

“You look like you're headed to the grocery store,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her face. “And all we've really talked about is medical procedures.”

Tarah took a deep inhalation of air. “I don't date at all, Dr. Harper. I...”

“Please, call me Thaddeus,” he said, interrupting.

She hesitated. “I don't date at all, sir. And I wasn't expecting...” She paused a second time, choosing her words carefully. “I wasn't expecting to be ambushed with lobster and wine when I understood this to be a business meeting over hot dogs and french fries.”

Dr. Harper laughed. “Touché! I guess I should have been more specific about our dinner plans.”

Tarah rested her fork on her plate and folded her hands together in her lap. “About
your
plans, sir, and yes, you should have. Asking a girl to grab a bite to eat doesn't imply the likes of this,” she said, gesturing with her hands.

The two locked gazes briefly before Dr. Harper snatched his eyes from hers. His cheeks were crimson and he fumbled with the cloth napkin in his lap. “Well, I'm still glad you're here,” he mumbled nervously.

“I'm not sure what you were expecting, Dr. Harper,” Tarah said softly, “but I really believed we were meeting solely to discuss the Barton twins.”

Dr. Harper smiled, shifting slightly in his seat. “You're a stunning woman, Tarah. I was certain you knew I was attracted to you.”

She shook her head. “No. I really didn't.”

“Well, now you do. I would really like for us...”

His comment was interrupted by her cell phone's ringtone. She took a deep breath, glancing down to the number flashing on the screen. “Excuse me,” Tarah said. “I need to answer this.” She pulled the device to her ear. “Hello?”

“Tarah, hey, it's Nicholas. How are you?” His voice was deep and rich, a seductive baritone that resonated through the phone line.

She wanted to smile but she forced herself to keep her expression and her tone bland. “Yes, hello. How can I help you?”

Nicholas was slightly taken aback by her coolness. “I was just calling to say hello. Is this a good time to talk?”

Tarah shot Dr. Harper a quick look. She paused as if she were still listening to something Nicholas was saying on the other end.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, drawing a hand to her chest. “Is it serious?”

She could hear the confusion in Nicholas's voice. “Is what serious?”

She ignored him, still speaking into the receiver. “No, no, it's no problem. If I leave now I can be back at the house in thirty minutes. Just hold on. And
don't
hang up,” she commanded. “I just need to let my associate know.”

Meeting the look Dr. Harper was giving her, Tarah didn't bother to cup her palm over the receiver, unconcerned about Nicholas hearing anything that would be said. “I'm so sorry, but a pipe burst at my house, and my neighbor says water is pouring everywhere.” She stood up. “I really hate to rush off, but I have to leave.”

Dr. Harper stood with her. “Do you need me to follow you home? I might be able to help.”

Tarah gave him one of her brightest smiles, her head tilting slightly. “No, I'll be fine. I appreciate the offer, though,” she said as she grabbed her handbag. “Thank you for dinner. I had a very nice time. I'll see you in the morning.”

Dr. Harper brushed a large hand across her shoulder. “I hope we can finish our conversation soon.”

Tarah nodded. “Of course,” she answered and then turned, almost running out of the restaurant.

Once outside, she moved quickly to her car and hopped inside. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she engaged the Bluetooth on her cell phone. She could hear Nicholas breathing on the other end. “How did you get this number?” she resumed their conversation as she drove into the early evening traffic.

“Are you talking to me?” Nicholas asked, the barest hint of attitude in his tone.

Tarah met his emotion with attitude of her own. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“Whoever that man was you were trying to get away from. So, who was he?”

Tarah laughed. “He wasn't anybody.”

Nicholas wasn't sure what was funny, but he couldn't help but laugh with her. Her infectious tone eased every ounce of tension between them.

She shifted the conversation. “You still didn't tell me how you got my cell phone number.”

“My sister Naomi called Maitlyn and asked for it.”

Tarah laughed again. “Cute!”

“Why haven't you returned my calls?” he questioned.

“Why did it take you so long even to call me?”

“Is answering a question with a question something you do often, or do you reserve these one-sided conversations for select people?”

“Only very special people!”

Nicholas grinned into his receiver. “So I am special to you! That's good to know. You had me in my feelings for a minute there.”

Her eyes rolled, a wry smirk pulling at her lips. “That sounds like a personal problem to me.”

He laughed. “Really, who were you trying to get away from?”

“One of the doctors from the hospital. We were supposed to be having a business meeting, but he...well...it...” she trailed off. She then reflected on what had happened earlier that evening and the huge fiasco she hoped to prevent.

Her tone changed, and Nicholas felt himself bristle with concern. “He didn't do anything to you, did he?”

“No,” she finally responded. “We just got our wires crossed.” Not finding it necessary to rehash how she and the good doctor had gotten off track with each other, she was ready to bring the subject to a close. “It was just time for me to leave, and your call gave me a way out. I guess I need to thank you.”

“Any time. In the future, just text me and I'll be glad to assist. We can have a secret code that we use with each other. Like 911 or something.”

She giggled. “911? Really? That would be some secret!”

“I said or
something
! If you text me 911, I'll know you need me ASAP, and you can trust that I'll be there. But it can be whatever you want.”

Tarah felt a smile appear across her face. “So, how have you been?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess. Focused on the big game coming up more than anything else.”

“The Big Game! That's quite an exciting accomplishment.”

“It is, but I'll be glad when it's over. Between practice, the press junkets and people pulling at me, I've about had enough.”

“What? Nicholas Stallion isn't enjoying all the attention he's getting? Who are you and where did my friend go?”

Nicholas chuckled warmly. “I'm glad you consider me a friend.”

“We are practically family.”

“Please don't say you look at me like a big brother. I'll be crushed.”

“More like a cousin.”

“A kissing cousin, I hope?”

She giggled again. “You don't quit, do you, Mr. Kiss-Me-It's-Mistletoe!”

“You can't blame me for trying. I bet that guy you were with wanted to try, too.”

Tarah cringed at the thought. She didn't bother to comment. A pregnant pause suddenly blossomed between them, and Tarah fell off into her own thoughts. She noticed that neither of them seemed concerned or even aware of the time that had lapsed.

“I'm glad you finally caught up with me,” she suddenly said. “And I'm sorry I didn't call you back sooner.”

“I'm glad, too,” Nicholas responded. “I really wanted to hear your voice again.”

Tarah felt a wave of warmth bubble in her midsection. For the first time since she'd left the hospital earlier that evening, she was completely at ease. Comfort settled over her shoulders like a favorite wool blanket. “Next time you need to call sooner,” she said smugly.

“Next time you should call a brother back when he does call.”

Tarah laughed and Nicholas laughed with her. Their conversation continued as she pulled into the driveway of her home. They talked about the family, their friends, places they hoped to travel, foods they enjoyed. Tarah shared stories about her patients, and Nicholas talked about the other players on his team. It wasn't until hours later, when she realized it was well after midnight, that she thought about saying good-night. But before they disconnected their call, she had one last question to ask.

“Nicholas?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever happened with you and that toddler you were dating? Are you two still a thing?”

Laughing heartily, Nicholas disconnected the call.

* * *

Tarah's sisters were all laughing. The conference call with Katrina, Kamaya and Maitlyn had taken place when Tarah had called to give Maitlyn a hard time about letting Nicholas have her cell phone number.

“If you had called him back, he wouldn't have had to call me.”

Tarah giggled. “Weren't you the one who taught me that you needed to keep a man hanging every now and again so he'll want you more?”

Maitlyn laughed. “I didn't teach you that.”

“Mama taught us that if you need to play games with a man, he's not the one for you,” Katrina interjected.

“I guess that all depends on the kind of games you want to play,” Tarah said jokingly.

“That's why Mama said she's never going to find a good man,” Kamaya teased.

Tarah snapped. “I'm going to find a good man! In fact, I think Nicholas is a very good man.”

The other three women went silent.

“What?” Tarah questioned, wishing they were all in the same room so she could see her sisters' faces. “What's wrong with Nicholas?”

“There's nothing wrong with Nicholas,” Katrina said. “All of the Stallion men are good men. I married one, remember?”

“It's something in their DNA,” Kamaya interjected. “They're all just too special for words! Hell, I'd marry one if I could.”

The trio laughed.

“Nathaniel Stallion is still available,” Tarah noted. “I don't think he's dating anyone.”

“Nathaniel is
not
my type,” Kamaya concluded.

Maitlyn laughed. “You have a type?”

“You know your sister likes them blond and blue-eyed!” Katrina exclaimed.

“We're not talking about how I like them,” Kamaya said with a giggle. “We're talking about how your baby sister is about to toss her goodies at that football player.”

“I have never tossed my goodies at any man!” Tarah said emphatically. “In fact, my goodies are fully intact and perfectly packaged, waiting for the right guy with a discerning sweet tooth.”

Kamaya laughed. “And she has a bridge she'd like to sell us, too!”

“Are you still a virgin?” Katrina suddenly asked. “Because that sounds like you're still a virgin!”

“There is no way she is still a virgin,” Kamaya interjected. “I know for a fact she gave it up to that boy with the squint eye. The one who had eaten the last slice of chocolate cake that Mama had saved for Senior. I know you all remember that!”

The laughter was loud and abundant as they all reflected back on that boy and their father's favorite chocolate cake. Tarah had been head over heels in lust with the star basketball player. She'd been a freshman, young and dumb and excited by the attention the lanky senior forward was paying her. For weeks he took up space in their family room, everyone tripping over him every time they turned around. His last day there, he'd cleaned out the refrigerator, consuming whatever wasn't nailed down, including the last slice of dark chocolate pumpkin cake that their mother had saved for Senior. Everyone in the house had known not to touch the sliver of sweet dessert that had been slathered in a decadent ganache. When Senior discovered it missing, he'd been livid, and the tongue lashing he had given the boy had been the punch line at many family dinners afterward.