Impulsive (2 page)

He frowned at it, his brows knitting. "I should have
known," he muttered irritably. The prankster had chosen the one locker in
the entire place that invariably stuck—the reason no one used it, except any
unsuspecting rookie recruit who could be momentarily duped.

As Ty was eyeing the locker, watching the door bulge and twang and
wondering what the devil was in there and how he could free it, the
"thing" inside issued a string of obscenities that nearly made Ty's
hair curl. His brows rose in surprise, and remained arched halfway to his
hairline.
Holy Toledo! This was no captive animal! It was human! And female,
at that! What had those lamebrain teammates of his done now?

"Hey! Hey! Calm down in there!" Ty had to yell to be
heard above the ruckus. When that didn't have the desired result, he banged his
fist on the outside of the locker. "I said shut up in there! If you'll
settle a minute, we'll figure a way to get you out!"

She must have heard some of this, because her shouts reduced to
whimpers, and she quit kicking at the door.

"Okay," Ty said. "Now, I'm going to have to find
something to use to jimmy the door open. You just stay put and wait quietly.
I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No!" she screeched hysterically. "No! Don't leave
me! Let me out! Now!"

"Lady, I would if I could, but the door is jammed big time. I
need something to use as a pry bar, or you're going to be in there until love
beads and bell-bottoms are back in style. So just behave yourself, and I'll be
right back to rescue you."

For several seconds, all he heard from inside was her frightened,
heavy breathing. She was panting like some wild creature. Finally, she replied
tearfully, "All... all right. But hurry, please. It's very close and hot
in here. Like... like being locked in a coffin."

"I'll hurry," he promised. "Sit tight."

"As if I had a choice," she quipped shakily.

He stalked off, slipping and sliding with every squishy stride,
delaying his mission of mercy long enough to ditch the wet towel and yank on
his cut-off jeans and his running shoes. Then he headed into the workout room,
considering it the best place to search. He was right. There he found a small
toolbox with an odd assortment of tools used to assemble the exercise machines
and keep them in running order.

Ty returned to the locker, gave a quick tap on the door, and
inquired, "How you holding up?"

"Just dandy," she groused. "I'm swimming in sweat,
my shoulder's numb, I think I've scraped half the skin off my knuckles, and my
knees have turned to Jell-O."

"It could be worse," he suggested.

"Did I mention the nausea and that I've got to pee?" she
countered
miserably. "So if you could speed it up some, I'd really appreciate
it."

"I'll do my best." Screwdriver in hand, Ty set to work
on the warped metal. "What's your name, and how in the world did you get
locked inside there, anyway?"

After a moment of silence, she said softly, "Jessica. My name
is Jessica, but most people just call me Jessie or Jess."

"I'm Ty. Ty James."

"The Knights' quarterback and duly appointed king of the
team," Jess commented dryly. "Otherwise known as T.D. James, for
touchdown, of course."

"And a lot handier with a pigskin than a screwdriver, I'm
afraid," he added. Then, "You never said how you came to be stuffed
in a locker in the team locker room. Did one of those idiot guys sneak you in
here for a little fun and games or something?"

"Get real!" Jess huffed. "Do you actually think I'd
let some jerk stow me away in a tin box for later use, like some play toy, and
then forget me?"

"Sorry! So, what's the story, sister?"

There was a long pause before Jess admitted ruefully, "I was
having a look around the locker room when I heard the team coming in from
practice. I knew I'd never make it into the hall without someone spotting me,
so I crawled inside the first empty locker I found and waited until all the
players left. But when I tried to get out, the door wouldn't open."

"Obviously. However, that doesn't tell me why you were
snooping around the locker room to begin with. What are you, one of those wacky
groupies? An avid fan scouting around for a special souvenir, like maybe a
spare jersey or a jockstrap?"

Jess groaned. "Give me a break! I'm not some star-struck
loony, and I wouldn't touch your jockstrap if it were lined with gold!"

"Your loss," he snickered. "For all you know, it
might be."

"Fat chance," she shot back.

"About the same odds as you electing to hide in the one
locker out of a hundred that always sticks," he retorted wryly. "And
you might try buttering me up, 'cause it wouldn't pay
to
piss off the one person available to rescue your dumb butt." Half to
himself, he muttered, "Geez! You've got to be a blonde!"

"Isn't that a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"
she jeered. "You're blond, at least until you go bald. Most athletes do,
you know. Must be from wearing those helmets and caps all the time. And for
your information, buster, my hair is brown."

"Does it stand up in sharp spikes like your tongue?" he
taunted. "Lord, woman! For someone in need of help, you sure are a
smart-ass! But back to the topic at hand—if you're not a groupie looking for a
freebie, what were you doing in an area that's off-limits?"

After another lengthy hesitation, Jess announced, "I'm a
reporter."

"Aw, for cripe sake!" he exclaimed. "Tell me you're
kidding!"

Jess bristled. "Why? What's wrong with being a
reporter?"

"A female reporter, no less," he added. "Nothing
personal, klutzenheimer, but ear wax is a step up on the biological ladder. As
a group, you're nosy, biased, uninformed, intellectual snobs who wouldn't know
a punt from a peanut."

"As opposed to all you super-jocks," Jess snapped back,
"who are overpaid, undereducated, conceited jackasses who run around
slapping each other on the rear and scratching and spitting in public? Wow! Am
I impressed or what!"

Ty sat back on his heels and malevolently contemplated the door,
and the woman hidden behind it. "You know, for two cents, I'd walk off and
leave you to fend for yourself, Miss Bad Mouth."

"You... you wouldn't dare!" she shrieked.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because... it would be bad for your image. You're one of the
Columbus Knights for crying out loud. And knights are supposed to be gallant,
and slay dragons, and rescue damsels in distress and all that sort of tripe.
They certainly don't abandon helpless women."

"And you actually buy into that line of bull?" he
queried curiously.

"Not really, but..."

"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm not going to
desert you. I fully intend to spring you, so I can march you up to the office
and toss you into the lion's den. I, for one, have had it with snotty,
know-it-all, female reporters who feel it's their God-given right to invade
anyone's privacy at any time, and in any place or set of circumstances. Sheesh!
Next thing you know, a fellow won't even be safe from you in the john!"

Jess gave a haughty huff. "Like I'd want to watch a row of
guys whiz on a wall and all over the floor! Yep, that's my idea of prime-time
entertainment, all right."

"Hey! Whatever trips your trigger, babe! As long as it's not
on my turf." He changed the subject. "Okay, let's give this a try
now. You push, and I'll pull. On three. One, two..."

On the count of three, Ty levered the upper corner of the door
into place and gave a hefty yank. At the same time, Jess threw her full weight
against it from the inside. For a moment, the door still refused to give. Then
it emitted an ear-splitting screech and popped open with the velocity of bread
from a revved-up toaster.

Ty's momentum sent him crashing into the bench behind him. The
bench toppled backward, and Ty with it, as Jess tumbled out of the locker atop
him. They landed in a jumble of arms and legs, with Jess's elbow planted
squarely in Ty's stomach.

"Ooof!" The air whooshed out of him in a pained gust,
and for several seconds, all Ty could do was fight for the next breath and try
to nudge Jess's arm aside. At last, swatting a clump of her damp brown hair
from his face, he managed to wheeze, "Get off of me!"

Jess, slanted head-first over him, was helpless to do so. She
tried, but after being bunched into the locker for so long, her numb limbs
refused to obey her mind's commands. Finally, with him shoving at her, she
simply slid to the floor at his side and lay there in a limp heap, gulping in
breath after grateful breath. Laden though it was with fungal foot spray and
other assorted foul scents, the air outside the locker seemed ever so much
sweeter than it had from the inside.

"Free at last!" she puffed. "God, it's glorious! I
wonder if this is how that poor whale in the movie felt?"

"I have no idea, but he was undoubtedly more graceful and
didn't have needle-sharp elbows. I've been tackled by men twice your size and
had it hurt less."

"You're not exactly Fred Astaire, yourself, you know. Still,
I'm glad you came along and got me out of there. Thank you."

"Your appreciation may wane when I get you upstairs and you
have to answer to the big boys," he warned.

"Maybe, but anything's better than being trapped in that
sweat box."

He rolled his head to the side and got his first good look at her.
She looked like a rain-drenched waif. Stringy brown hair stuck in moist clumps
to a face as red and shiny as a ripe apple. Even her chest, above the droopy,
sopping-wet T-shirt she wore, was slick with perspiration and tomato-bright.
"Are you all right? You look as if you've just spent a week in a
sauna."

"No joke, Einstein. That's what it felt like. I think I'm one
heartbeat away from heatstroke."

Jess levered herself up on her elbows and closed her eyes as
dizziness assailed her. "I really could use a breath of fresh air, some
that doesn't reek of mildew and old sneakers. And a glass of water, if it
wouldn't be too much trouble."

Ty untangled himself from the bench, rose to his feet, and extended
one big hand toward her. "Come on. Let's see if you can stand up without
falling on your keister."

He hauled her upright, his features registering surprise as she
straightened to within a few inches of his own height. She swayed precariously.
Reflexively, he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. "Whoa, gal. Guess
I'll have to carry you."

Jess let loose a wobbly chuckle. "Don't make me laugh. You
try to lift me, and you'll give yourself a hernia."

"Well, you are tall, but you're all skin and bone. How much
can you weigh?"

With that, he bent, hooked one arm behind her knees and lifted her
into his arms. His eyes widened as he staggered a couple of steps before
regaining his balance.

Jess yelped and squeezed her eyes shut. "Put me down, you
fool, before we both end up on the floor again!"

"Oh, clam up, will you?" he grumbled. "Geez, for
such a skinny thing, you must pack a lot of muscle. Guess they're right. It
does weigh more than fat." He juggled her a bit to better equalize his
load, gained a better grip, and stumbled toward the double doors to the hall
with Jess clutched tightly to his chest.

"I wonder," he huffed, "if it's recorded anywhere
that a knight ever rescued an Amazon?"

Jess hissed a one-word reply. "Wagara."

"How's that?" Ty asked.

"Wagara," she repeated succinctly. "It's an
acronym. Each of the letters stands for a word. Figure it out for yourself,
hotshot."

Shades of Gone With the Wind!
Jess still couldn't
believe this was happening. Not to her, and certainly not with someone as handsome
and sought-after as Ty James. Never had one of her boyfriends dared pick her up
and carry her like this. She was simply too tall, too lanky, for any of them to
risk it. Of course, this particular situation was not precipitated by romance,
but it was nonetheless a unique experience for Jess.

Unfortunately, she was too apprehensive to enjoy this
once-in-a-lifetime event to its fullest, especially when Ty reached the end of
the hall and despite her protests began trudging up the stairs with her. By the
third step, Jess was dizzy. Then Ty teetered slightly on the fifth step, and
she went ballistic. On a frantic shriek, her hands balled into fists, each
clutching a big wad of his shaggy blond hair, while her arms tightened around
his neck to the point of strangling him. "Oh, God!" she wailed.
"Put me down! I'll walk! I'll crawl! Just let me down!"

Though he didn't release her, Ty did stop. Leaning against the
handrail for support, he craned his head around in an effort to ease her
choke-hold on his neck. "Geez, lady! Chill out, will you? My ears are
going to be ringing for a week!"

"Down!" she hissed. "Now!"

His lip curled in a derisive smile. "You know, you're one
bossy broad. And nothing toasts my Twinkies quite like a bossy broad." He
hefted her, as if to toss her in the air, then laughed when she let loose a
high-pitched squawk. "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, I remember."
Tightening his grip on her, he proceeded up the stairs.