Impulsive (14 page)

"When he's on his toes, James can really drill it. I've seen
him shoot some real zingers, straight from the pocket, for the score."

A second speaker agreed. "He's got great hands, and he can
fake-pump with the best of them, but he's got to have better protection."

The first man again, "I agree. He's got some good moves, but
he's got to avoid the sack. At least he doesn't fumble the play very
often."

Jess nearly choked on her Gatorade. Lordy! Maybe it was just her
frame of mind tonight, but she'd never realized before how downright
sensual
football talk and the terms could be! Why, there were more double meanings,
just in this conversation between the announcers, than she could shake a stick
at! Great hands, good moves, balls and pumps. And let's not forget
"protection" in the "sack," or from it, to be more precise.
Still, it was all very provocative when you thought about it in the right
light, which she seemed to be doing now. Since meeting Ty. The guy who could
shoot a real "zinger," from his pocket, no less!

Her headphones fuzzed up, and she lost the connection, which she
should never have had to start with. Jess's attention, or half of it at least,
returned to the field. She'd missed the first handoff, which had gone to Rambo.
Apparently, he'd only made three yards or so. Ty called a second audible from
the line. Cutter Callahan was stopped for a yard loss on the play. Though the
offense was doing its best, the holes simply weren't opening up—oh, heaven's,
there was another one of those suggestive phrases!

Through the static, Jess heard the next play-call through her
headset. "Right, thirty-seven, on three."

She watched as the play evolved. It didn't go as planned. Instead
of going right, per the play-call, Ty pulled a fake pump and threw left,
hitting Rome wide open at the fifty-yard line. Rome eluded two tacklers and ran
the ball in for the touchdown. This time, praise heaven, Alan made his point,
and the Knights only trailed by one.

The remainder of the game was nip and tuck, with neither side
scoring. It seemed the Knights were destined to lose another game, again by a
single point. Then, miraculously, Dino made a pass interception, running the
ball back to the Colts' thirty-four-yard line before being tackled from behind.
Three tries, and the Knights could advance the ball only to the twenty-five,
three yards short of a first down.

Like a bad dream repeating itself, it was all up to Alan again. A
do-or-die situation. Jess leapt to her feet and rushed to meet him as Alan
snapped his helmet strap. "You can do this Alan,"
she
told him. "I know it's a forty-two-yard attempt, but it's a straight shot.
Just get your toes under that ball, and give it all you've got." With a
pat on the back, she sent him onto the field—and started to pray.

The coaches, the fans, the players on the sidelines, all seemed to
be frozen in place as they watched the team assemble for the kick. Ty, who was
sitting out this play, came to stand beside Jess. "Can he do it?"

"He'd better, if he knows what's good for him," she
murmured. "He has the foot for it if he just doesn't hook it."

Alan's stride was off a bit, but he got the kick off without
mishap. The ball sailed through the air, missing the right post by a fraction
as it skimmed over the crossbar, the underside brushing the top of it as it
passed.

Jess clamped her hands to her mouth. "Oh, God! He did
it!" she screamed over the roar of the crowd. The next she knew, Ty had
caught her by the waist, lifting her a good foot and a half off the ground. His
dark eyes were shining up at hers, his lips drawn up in a jubilant smile.
"Lady, you're beautiful!" he declared, twirling her around in
dizzying circles.

The spinning, the incredible kiss afterward, did not make Jess as
giddy as what he'd just told her. With those three precious words, she fell
headlong, irretrievably in love with Tyler James.

"Dad, you kissed Jess." Josh spoke around the bite he'd
just gnawed off his fried chicken leg.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, rug rat," Ty replied,
hoping to steer his son away from the topic.

It didn't work. Josh swallowed hastily. "But I saw you. You
kissed her."

"Yes, I did."

"Does that mean you an' Jess like each other?"

Ty nodded, casting a quick glance at Jess, who looked as if she
were sitting on a pile of tacks. "Of course we like each other, don't we,
Jess?"

"Sure."

"Will you and Jess get me a baby brother?"

It was hard to choke on mashed potatoes and gravy, but Ty almost
did. "Good grief, Josh! What a question!"

"Well, will you?"

"I doubt it," Jess told him, coming to Ty's rescue.
"You have to put your order in way ahead of time, and baby brothers are in
short supply right now. Like when Santa has trouble finding a toy you want for
Christmas, and you have to wait until later."

"Oh." Josh thought a minute, and said, "Order one
soon, okay?"

"Maybe you ought to ask your mom and Dave to do that,
instead," Ty suggested.

Josh scowled. "I did already, a long time ago, but they can't
get one. I think their letter got lost in the mail or something.'

Because they had won their game, the coaches had given the players
the next day off, with no practice. As soon as Ty had learned this, he'd asked
Jess if she'd mind staying over in Indianapolis another night, so he could see
Josh off on his first day of school. Jess could see that it was important to
both of them, and since she didn't have anything pressing the next day, she'd
agreed.

As they delivered Josh home that evening, at precisely nine
o'clock, the little boy asked for the umpteenth time, "You won't forget to
come and see me get on the school bus, will you, Dad?"

"I'll be here," Ty pledged. "Cross my heart."

"Jess, too?"

"Me, too," she promised. "And we'll be here at
eleven-thirty, when you get home again."

After walking Josh to the door and safely inside, Ty said,
"Well, the night's young yet. What would you like to do, Jess? How about
taking in an act at one of the comedy clubs?"

"You don't have to entertain me, Ty. After two days with that
live-wire son of yours, not to mention a terrifically tough game today, you
must be tired. We could go back to the hotel, have a drink in the lounge, and
call it a night."

"Or maybe rent a movie to watch in our room," he
suggested. After a slight hesitation, during which Jess said nothing, evidently
not having caught his full meaning, he ventured, "I... uh... when I called
to have the hotel save our rooms for another night, they'd already rented yours
out again. And there wasn't another available. I did check, Jess. Honest, I
did."

Jess stared at him, her jaw slack and her eyes wide. "And you
didn't think to tell me this before now?" she questioned skeptically.

Ty gave what he hoped was an innocent shrug. "It's no big
deal, Jess. My room has two beds, and we're both adults. I won't turn into a
ravening beast the minute the lights go out."

"We could just head back to Columbus right now," she
told him stiffly, offering an alternative. "We could be home by
midnight."

"You're forgetting our promise to Josh," he reminded
her. "I, for one, intend to keep mine."

Jess sighed. "Okay, okay. But you should have told me right
up front."

"So you could take the bus home with the team? And how would
that have looked, when we're supposed to be lovers?"

"Lovers?" she echoed in a squeaky voice. "Since
when did we evolve from 'dating steadily' to being lovers?"

Again that irritating shrug. "Since tonight, I guess, though
everyone probably thinks we've already slept together. After all, we have been
seeing each other for a couple of weeks already."

Jess gave an irate snort. "And you're not usually the type to
let any grass grow under your feet, I take it. So what does that make me? Just
another notch on your bedpost? One more silver spur on your helmet?"

"No," he snapped, becoming irritated himself now.
"It makes you my woman, at least in the eyes of anyone who cares to
notice."

For several blocks, Jess didn't say a word. Then, suddenly, she
commanded, "Pull in there." She indicated a convenience store.

When he'd parked in front of the store, she got out.

"What are you doing?" Ty asked. He had some idea she
might intend to call a cab to take her to the airport or the bus station.

She grabbed for her purse. "I like popcorn with my
movies," she informed him tartly. "I'm also going to buy a couple of
cold
cans of cola and a package of candy bars. There is no way I'm going to buy any
of that stuff they sell in that minifridge."

Ty heaved a silent sigh of relief. She wasn't taking this as well
as he'd like, but it sounded as if she was willing to cooperate. At least to a
point. "Wait a sec. I'll come with you. If we're going to binge on junk
food, I want to choose some of it."

"Suit yourself."

Inside, he headed straight for the cold beverages. "Pepsi or
Coke?" he asked her.

"What? No beer?" she jeered.

"I thought you wanted cola."

"I do, but I thought all you jocks preferred beer."

"I drink it occasionally, when I'm out with the guys, but I
try to limit my alcoholic intake. And I rarely touch hard liquor anymore. Guess
I exceeded my quota when I was going through that bad stretch."

"The divorce?"

"That, and nursing a bum leg two years in a row, and losing
my son except for weekends, alternate holidays, and a few weeks each summer. I
was feeling pretty sorry for myself back then. In fact, I came damned close to
becoming an alcoholic."

"I'm glad you didn't," she said more mildly. "It
would have been a shame to throw your life away on booze, not to mention your
career or how it might have affected Josh."

"Josh is the primary reason I pulled myself together,"
he admitted. "I didn't want to set that kind of example for him to
follow."

By the time they reached their hotel, they had formed a truce,
albeit a tentative one. Jess couldn't help feeling apprehensive about spending
the night in the same room with Ty. She didn't want to make a fool of herself
over him—not that she intended to throw herself at him and beg him to make love
to her. Nor did she want to come off as a complete prude. And she had no idea
what she would do if Ty made an honest-to-goodness pass at her. Faint dead away
from the shock, more than likely. But this buddy-pal roommate business was
going to take some fancy footwork, lest she slip up and reveal just how much
she
was coming to care for him—which would be totally mortifying to
both of them, no doubt.

Upon entering the room, Ty dropped his bags by the door, went
directly to the television and flipped it on. Following his example, Jess
tossed her purse and overnight bag on the far bed, picked up the movie guide,
and began to scan it.

"See anything interesting?" Ty inquired.

Yes, you,
her subconscious replied silently.
Aloud, she said, "Not really." She handed him the guide. "Have a
look. Maybe something will appeal to you."

You appeal to me,
he thought to himself.
Briefly, he skimmed the listings. "Nope. Nothing here I want to see.
Suppose we just channel surf until we hit something interesting?"

"What about the sports channel? Maybe they're reviewing
today's games, and we'll get to see a few highlights of the Knights beating the
Colts."

Ty vetoed that idea. "I don't usually watch those until later
in the week. Coach will run a tape of the game Tuesday, before practice, and
point out all our flaws then, which is soon enough. Why ruin a perfectly good
victory by watching reruns of all the mistakes you made along the way, not to
mention the commentator's comments, which aren't all that complimentary at
times."

"Well, those two announcers in the TV booth seemed to think
you were pretty terrific," Jess informed him.

Mistaking her meaning, Ty glanced quizzically at the television,
currently set on the weather channel, then back at Jess. "What are you
talking about? What announcers?"

"The ones covering today's game. At the stadium, Ty."

He gave a shake of his head. "I'm still confused. When did
you talk to them?"

"I didn't. I heard them discussing you over my headset."

He stared at her, confounded. "You couldn't have. Those
things are locked onto a preset frequency, so transmissions can't be picked up
by anyone but your own coaches and team."

"Maybe they're supposed to be, but mine must have gotten a
short in it or something, because I could hear those two discussing you as
plainly as I hear you now."