Blocked (10 page)

Her breezy, floral scent mingled with the liquid courage in my veins, and before I knew it I was running my fingers into her thick, damp hair.
What the hell am I doing?
God, it felt good, and she tilted her ear toward me like she enjoyed it too. There was a cute little dimple on her right cheek that winked at me. I found myself leaning closer to her face, and considering her impressive height, I didn’t have far to go. Her shiny eyes turned back to me, and she gazed up with such yearning, such depth.

My heart thundered.
Stop seducing me, Devil Spawn!

Those sensuous lips opened for me, their sweetness luring me forward. I held my face over hers, breathing in her smell, and her eyes fluttered shut as she surrendered to me. I stared at her soft features for too long, shocking myself with an insane desire to kiss those sweet lips. Before I totally freaked myself out, I shifted an inch to press a kiss onto her warm cheek, right on her dimple. I could feel her tremble beneath my touch.

My hand still tangled in her hair, I pulled back to gaze into her mesmerized eyes. “I told them I never kiss and tell.”

When I let her go, I heard a little squawk of protest. That adorable noise reminded me of the pressure down below—pressure I needed to do something about. I turned and took swift strides down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Her breathy voice was tinged with desperation.

I grinned. She was just too easy to mess with.

After I relieved my little problem, I emerged from my bedroom and followed the sound of the TV to find Allison, one of Lucia’s agents, hunkered down on the sofa watching CNN. When she saw me come in, she bolted upright. “I was just leaving.”

“No, it’s okay.” I held out my hand. “Stay.” I plopped down next to her. “I need to see if it was obvious I’d been drinking.”

Allison gestured toward the screen. “I’m expecting them to show video from our front yard any second. Two confrontations in one evening—it’s a banner day for them.”

“
Two
confrontations?”

“They were waiting for us when we got home from practice,” she explained. “Lucia freaked out.”

I took that in. “It seemed like she was shaking when I saw her. Why?”

Allison tapped her chin. “She…gets panicked around the media. They’ve said some pretty mean things about her family.”

“Well-deserved things.”

Allison shrugged.

I tilted my head. “Don’t tell me you agree with the jacked-up things her father stands for.”

“I’m a Democrat, and I’m voting for your mother. I just…I like Lucia. I’ve only known her for a couple of days now, but she’s a sweet girl. She works hard. And it’s tough to see her go through all this just because her dad wants to be president.”

I stared at the commercial for antidepressant medication. The list of side effects went on forever…just like the side effects of our parents vying to be leader of the free world.

Allison’s voice lowered. “You haven’t exactly been kind to her, you know. It’s not
her
fault she had to bail on Texas. It’s not her fault we moved her here.”

I felt like a limp, deflated volleyball, and I looked away as I chewed the inside of my mouth. My buzz was all but gone now, and I was hungry again.

The anchorman’s voice drew my attention back to CNN. “
An interesting development in the presidential race today, as we show you the home of green energy specialist Dr. James Thompson near the campus of Highbanks University
.” I watched an image of Lucia’s SUV inching toward the cameras in the fading light of early evening. “
We’ve learned that the son of Democratic nominee Senator Lois Monroe—Dane Monroe—has chosen this location as living quarters for his sophomore year of college
.”

I braced myself as the SUV stopped in front of my house. “
But in an amazing show of bipartisan welcome, Senator Monroe invited her opponent’s daughter to share the home when Secret Service had trouble finding secure living quarters for Ms. Ramirez. That’s right, Governor Ramirez’s daughter Lucia will start soon as a freshman at Highbanks and will live in the same home as Dane Monroe, thanks to the generosity of his mother.
”

Lucia emerged from the vehicle with Allison and Frank flanking her. She seemed to flinch at each shouted question.

“
Amazingly, both candidates’ offspring are scholarship volleyball players at the university. Not only do they share a sport, but now they share a home
.”

They cut to my shuffle through a sea of reporters en route to our front door. I leaned forward to scrutinize my TV self, and thankfully it appeared I was sober. The stupid female reporter hollered the question about us sharing a bedroom, and—
oh, crap
—my massive grin was totally obvious.

“
It appears Senator Monroe’s son is happy about the living arrangement
.”

I cringed and glanced at Allison, who laughed at me.

The video ended, and the anchorman’s face filled the screen. “
With our country bitterly divided on issues, it’s wonderful to see Dane and Lucia putting aside their differences to live together. Perhaps the candidates can learn from their children and treat each other more civilly. Bravo, Senator Monroe.
”

When the reporter moved on to another story, Allison shook her head. “If only he knew how contentious it’s been in this house.”

I thought back to brushing my lips on Lucia’s soft cheek. Things hadn’t seemed so contentious then.

Probably mistaking my far-off gaze as me feeling upset. Allison patted my arm. “At least that story knocked the attention off of Yemen.”

I nodded, then froze. I now had a good idea who had leaked the story about Lucia and me living together.

Chapter 7

D
AYS
L
ATER
, M
Y
H
AND
Z
OOMED
from my face to my lap once I realized I was touching my cheek,
again
. I took a sideways glance at Allison, but thankfully she didn’t seem to have noticed my caress of the spot Dane’s lips had graced. Though the kiss had been a few days ago, I could still feel his warm breath tickle my skin. I could still see his cocky grin as he lingered above me for a moment, gazing into my eyes. My heartbeat had rushed in my ears as I wondered if he would kiss me for real, on the lips this time, aggressive, hot and spicy…

Then he’d just walked away.
He just walked away!
And he hadn’t talked to me for three days. His jagged journey from hate, to kiss, back to hate had given me whiplash. Talk about mind games. Apparently Coach Holter had nowhere near the psychological manipulation skills of Dane Monroe.

“Loosha?”

A feminine voice brought me back to the sports medicine waiting room, and I looked up to find a tiny, blond woman holding the door open. In Texas, nobody would mispronounce my name like that.

Speaking of mind games, now I had to deal with Coach’s mandated nutrition referral. I stood and blinked for a second to slough off my lightheadedness, then approached the nutritionist. “It’s Loo-see-uh.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Botched that one. Sorry. I’m Whitney Randall.”

Doesn’t she know who I am?
When she reached out to shake my hand, her iron grip surprised me.

I felt Allison’s presence behind me before she spoke. “I need to do a sweep of your office.”

Whitney’s elfin nose wrinkled as she looked up at both of us. Though Allison was a few inches shorter than me, she was still close to six feet, and we towered over the Lilliputian Whitney.

“I’m with Secret Service,” Allison offered.

“Oh!” Whitney nodded, though she still seemed confused. “Well, if Lucia’s okay with it, you can come back with us.”

It
wasn’t
okay with me—being forced to see a nutritionist was embarrassing enough without a chaperone—but I didn’t have a choice. I managed a thin smile (the only thin part of me), and we headed to her office.

As Allison’s shrewd gaze scanned the small space, I took in the clean desk, athletic posters on the wall, and food boxes on the bookshelf. But what held my gaze and twisted my stomach was the scale in one corner. I did
not
want to get on that thing.

“I can pull in another chair for you,” Whitney said.

“No, I won’t be staying,” Allison replied, and I let out a breath. Maybe this wouldn’t be as humiliating as I’d imagined. “I’ll be right outside, though.”

“Uh, okay.” Whitney seemed out of her depth.

After Allison left and Whitney had invited me to sit in the chair across from her desk, I asked, “You don’t know who I am?”

“I know you’re a Highbanks athlete.” She grabbed a notebook and sat in her desk chair. “I’m guessing basketball?”

She didn’t know my dad! I loved her all of a sudden. “Volleyball.”

“Got it. Why do you have a Secret Service agent with you?” When I paused, she added, “I probably should already know this, sorry. I don’t watch the news, though—too depressing.”

I certainly could understand. Sometimes I wished
I
could be oblivious to national news, but my dad always ranted about low-information voters. “Is it, um, is it okay if I don’t answer that question?”

“Absolutely! No pressure here.”

Her warm smile helped me relax into the chair. I liked being Lucia, the volleyball player, instead of always being Lucia, daughter of a presidential nominee.

“So, like I said, I’m Whitney, the sports dietitian for Highbanks. I was a diver here a while ago. Did someone refer you to me?”

“I guess my coach did.”

“Wyatt Holter?”

The sound of his name made me twitch. “That’s the one.”

She grinned. “He’s kind of intense, huh?”

“You know him well.”

“Yes, he’s sent me several athletes over the years.” She scribbled on her notepad. “So why does he want you to see me?”

I broke eye contact and looked around the room. My gaze landed on that damn scale. “He thinks I’m fat.”

“He
said
that?” Her blue eyes widened.

“Well, not exactly.” My fingertips brushed my cheek for a few seconds, then I yanked my hand down. A guy as handsome as Dane would never want a girl with a weight problem. “He says I need to get fitter.”

“Are you sure? You look quite muscular already.”

I dropped my head. Highbanks paid her to work with athletes, so she must have felt obligated to say something nice like that.

“What do
you
think, Lucia?”

I looked up. “About what?”

“Do you want to get fitter?”

“Yes. Coach says I need to get to the double block faster.”

“Do you agree with him?”

I paused. “I thought I was a good blocker, but…” I felt my face warm as she continued starting at me. Did she want me to admit that I sucked at my sport? “I’ll be better once I lose weight.”

“Hmm. I want to gather some data first, approach this scientifically. I’m sending you to get a bone scan, to assess your body composition, before we make any changes to your diet.” She picked up the phone and dialed while I receded into my chair and sulked.

She wasn’t going to help me with my diet? Then why was I fricking meeting with her?

“One o’clock next Thursday,” she said as she hung up the phone. “You can make that, right? It’s between morning and afternoon practices, and that’s still a few days before you start classes.”

“We start competing soon, though. I’m not sure we’ll be in town.”

She turned to her computer and brought up the Highbanks University Athletics website. A few clicks and she had the women’s volleyball schedule on the screen. “You’re right—your first games start next weekend. But they’re home matches, so you should be fine.”