Just Joe (9 page)

Mattie patted her face dry
with the towel. "Can I look around while you're in the shower?" Her
eyes moved around the room curiously.

"Sure," Joe
answered carelessly, pulling the hem of his jersey from his tight uniform
pants.

"What's behind that
door?" Mattie asked hurriedly, pulling her eyes away from the expanse of
tanned skin presenting itself.

"Training room."
Joe's voice was muffled now as he pulled the jersey over his head.

Mattie scrambled toward
the indicated door without looking back. By the time Joe had removed his
jersey, her hand was on the knob.

"I'll look around in
here while you shower," she told the door, refusing to look at Joe again.

"You forgot your
towel," Joe told her chidingly, moving up behind her to drape it around
her neck. "I don't want you to get sick, sitting around in those wet
clothes."

Mattie took a shallow
breath. "I—they'll dry soon, I'm sure. It's rather... warm in here, isn't
it?"

Joe studied her rigid
profile curiously and didn't answer. Finally, as the silence dragged out, he
sighed. "I'll go take my shower."

Mattie went slack with a
relief she didn't understand as Joe moved to the showers at the opposite side
of the room. A feeling had begun when he lifted her from the stands, as if she
were finely balanced on a taut wire and about to go over the edge. It was like
nothing she had ever experienced before, and it frightened her to feel that way
with Joe. What was happening to her?

The muffled rush of water
as Joe turned on the shower broke into her thoughts. The idea of Joe, standing
beneath the spray of hot water as he soaped his hard, long body made her
suddenly sweaty palm close on the doorknob and twist it to the right. She all
but catapulted into the training room and stood there, looking around blindly.

The room rather strongly
resembled a chamber of horrors from an old Bela Lugosi movie. There were
machines of torture even old Bela hadn't thought of, Mattie observed
interestedly, moving farther into the room. It was all black padding, gleaming
chrome and weights, making Mattie feel as if she had just stepped into another
world. Her idea of exercise was clambering over some rocks to get a shot of a
wild horse. No wonder football players got paid so much money, she thought in
enlightenment. It was obviously blood money for the pain they went through in
rooms like this.

When she heard the rolling
sound of water, Mattie moved toward it cautiously. Dodging benches and bar-bells,
she crossed the room. Tucked into a previously unnoticed corner, blocked off by
a thin partition, was a tub full of bubbling water.

And in it was a huge,
absolutely naked man.

At first Mattie thought he
was dead, so still did he lay. Frozen to the spot in horror, she whispered,
"Oh, my God."

The prayer was loud enough
to bring the dead man's eyes open. Except that he wasn't dead at all, Mattie
realized belatedly. He was just resting in the boiling water.

"Well, hi there,
honey," the man drawled, studying her unself-consciously from the tub.
"Lookin' for something?"

Mattie, horribly
threatened by the sight of this huge man lounging before her, couldn't speak.
Her eyes remained riveted on his face, steadfastly ignoring the massive chest
and long body thankfully hidden under the rolling water.

"You sure are a
pretty little thing," the man continued blithely, shifting to rise from
the tub.

Mattie turned her back
with a muffled shriek, listening as the water sloshed wildly as he rose from
the tub.

"Shy, too," the
man continued musingly, wrapping a towel around his hips. Unfortunately, he had
big hips and a small towel and quite a bit of him remained uncovered.
"Still, you can't be too shy, sneaking into the locker room like this.
That's okay, honey," he assured her blithely, moving to stand in front of
Mattie. "I like women who know what they want. Especially if what they
want is me."

When he reached for her,
Mattie backed away like a hunted animal, her eyes wide with shock. The phrase,
out of the frying pan and into the fire, kept chasing through her mind as she
backed away from her pursuer.

"Aw, come on,
honey," the man wheedled. "You don't have to play hard to get with
me."

"No, please,"
Mattie pleaded softly, holding out her arms in front of her as if to ward him
off. "I didn't— I wasn't looking for you. I didn't know you were here.
Please, let me leave."

The man laughed
triumphantly when Mattie came up hard against a wall, halting her retreat.
"You found me anyway, angel. Must be your lucky day."

When his hands closed over
her shoulders, Mattie screamed as an unreasonable fear overtook her. It wasn't
a delicate, feminine sound, but a full-throated, frightened shriek, a nightmare
sound.

The man's hands tightened
instinctively around her shoulders, his eyes blank with shock. "Now what
did you want to go and do that for, lady? I wasn't gonna hurt you."

Whatever else he had been
going to say was lost in the sound of the door as it burst open.

Joe came charging into the
room, his eyes wild as they searched for Mattie and found her held against the
wall by one of his teammates. Mattie's captor had fifty pounds on Joe, but that
didn't seem to matter as Joe grabbed his shoulders and pushed him roughly
against the wall.

Joe's hair was still wet
and tousled, Mattie noticed inconsequentially. He had obviously been in the
middle of dressing when he had heard her scream. Although he did have on his
jeans, the top button was undone, and his shirt was open completely, revealing
a broad chest covered with whirls of dark hair arrowing down to that open
button. The shirt clung damply to his skin in places, serving only to emphasize
his sheer masculinity. Witnessing the rage in his eyes, Mattie didn't know who
she was more frightened of at the moment, Joe or her captor.

"What did you do to
her, Jackson?" Joe snarled dangerously, his hands tightening on the other
man's arms as he kept him pinned against the wall. "What the hell did you
think you were doing?"

Jackson read the wild rage
in Joe's eyes and answered in a soothing tone. "Joe, I didn't hurt her. I
wasn't trying to hurt her, okay? I was just joking around."

"You frightened
her," Joe roared, his face tight with anger and—fear? "You made her
scream."

"I didn't mean to
scare her," Jackson insisted, not moving, not willing to give Joe an
excuse to hit. Bill Jackson wasn't stupid. He didn't tangle with tigers
protecting their young, and he didn't fight with a man protecting his woman.
"Lady," he pleaded quietly. "Tell him I didn't hurt you."

"He—he didn't hurt
me, Joe," Mattie said dutifully, as wary of Joe in this mood as Bill
Jackson was. "He really didn't hurt me."

Joe didn't even seem to
hear, his eyes focused intently on Jackson. "You had her pinned to the
wall when I came in. She sounded terrified when she screamed."

"Joe, I thought she
was one of the fans. You know how they sneak in here sometimes. I thought she
was looking for a little action."

"This is my friend.
She was waiting for me."

"I understand that
now, Joe," Bill told him carefully. "I hung around after the guys
left so that I could have the whirlpool to myself. When she came in, I
thought—well, you know what I thought. I was just having a little fun."

"Don't
ever
touch
Mattie again," Joe warned him dangerously. "Don't ever get near her
again."

Bill held his hands up
peaceably. "Your lady is safe from me, Joe."

Their eyes held for one
more tension-fraught moment before Joe moved slowly away, releasing his
teammate.

Mattie let out a deep,
relieved breath as the anger faded from Joe's eyes and they seemed to focus
once again on her.

"Mattie, are you all
right?" His voice was achingly gentle now, and Mattie could only nod.

Bill Jackson moved away,
but neither of them noticed as Joe's hands cupped her face. "Are you sure
he didn't hurt you?" Joe's voice pleaded for reassurance, and Mattie gave
it to him.

"He didn't hurt me.
I—I shouldn't have screamed like that."

"He shouldn't have
touched you," Joe corrected harshly.

"I think he
understands that now," Mattie agreed seriously, her eyes meeting his. Her
hands lifted and closed around the bulging muscles of his upper arms.
"Thank you for—" She broke off awkwardly, her eyes skittering away
from his. "I was so scared..."

Joe muttered a muffled
curse and pressed her gently against his hard, straining body, offering silent
comfort. "You're okay, now, Mattie," he whispered into her hair.
"I'd never let anyone hurt you. Never."

Mattie closed her eyes on
the words. She believed him. She heard the hard conviction in his voice.

Oh Joe, she wondered in
silent despair, where were you ten years ago when I so badly needed that
protection? Where were you when I wasn't strong enough to protect myself?

Mattie shuddered
delicately at the memory of that time, then sighed, comforted, as Joe tightened
his arms around her.

He was with her now. He
would always be with her now.

Four

Mattie walked reluctantly
down a passageway that seemed to stretch forever. Her footsteps echoed
hollowly, emphasizing her hesitancy. Joe had said to meet him in the players'
lounge, Mattie thought vexedly, but was this the passageway he had shown her before
the game or had she fallen down Alice's rabbit hole? Mattie was so preoccupied
with looking for the White Rabbit that her first inkling of another presence
came when her bent head rammed solidly into a massive, masculine chest.

The force of that blow would
have knocked any ordinary man off his feet or at least back a step or two.
Mattie herself landed ignominiously on her delicate little backside. The bull
elephant in front of her didn't even flinch.

Mattie's stunned eyes
focused on cleat-encased feet and rose...and rose...and rose slowly over
dirt-smudged white uniform pants, muscular thighs—each easily the size of a
baby redwood—a tight waist and a massive chest with the number 53 spread on the
straining jersey. The man's shoulders stretched forever, Mattie thought with
awe. And that was with no pads beneath the uniform. Then Mattie's eyes lighted
on his face, and she swallowed audibly.

He looked mean. Very mean.
The bottom half of his face was covered with a scruffy stubble, as though he
hadn't shaved in two or three days. His jaw was square and hard.

Mattie swallowed again.
"H-hello..
.sir."

A deep, rusty voice boomed
like the wrath of God from that massive chest. "What are you doing
here?"

If it was an accusation,
Mattie was ready to admit to any crime. She was also ready to turn tail and
run. She may be little, but when faced with a male mastodon, she could be
quick. It took another second or two of panicked planning—escape routes to
South America and such—before Mattie's normal good sense reasserted itself. Joe
had asked her to be here, she reminded herself bracingly. If all else failed,
she could run like hell.

With that comforting
thought firmly in mind, Mattie picked herself up delicately, testing gingerly
for any broken bones or life-threatening contusions. Not immediately finding
any, she deigned to answer. "I'm looking for Joe Ryan."

This time the rumble was
derisive. "You and half the female population of Texas.''

"No, really,"
Mattie insisted. "Joe asked me to meet him here."

"Sure, little girl.
Wives
wait here. Ryan ain't married. Beat it." Number 53 was brusque. He'd
heard it all before.

Mattie was irritated.
Fleetingly the realization that she wasn't having much luck with Joe's
teammates ran through her mind. Before she could consider a wise course of
action, she began heatedly, "Listen, Mr.... 53—"

But Mr. 53 was not
listening to the troublesome little lady berating him. His eyes had drifted
beyond her, and the hard, mean face and wild eyes softened like chewing gum on
a July-hot sidewalk. Mattie's tirade halted abruptly, leaving her open-mouthed
in absolute astonishment.

Number 53 brushed past
Mattie—Dumbronkowski was the name sewn on the back of the jersey—and met the
slight woman coming down the tunnel. She was almost as small as Mattie herself,
a pretty redhead with flashing green eyes and a slim build. Slim, that was,
except for the fact that she was easily eight months pregnant.