The Back-Up Plan (17 page)

She climbed out of the car and opted to leave her purse in the car. As an afterthought, she reached in and locked the doors to protect her purse. She slammed her door and started in the direction of the locker room only to be jerked back.

“Dang it!” Donna tugged at the tail of her sweater which had gotten caught in the car door. She tried the handle just in case the lock hadn’t engaged, but it had. She pulled and pulled before she admitted defeat.

“This could only happen to you, Jacobs,” she muttered as she twisted out of the sweater and left it hanging in the closed car door.

Rubbing her arms to ward off the chill, she strode back toward the dressing room. Just as she reached the building the door burst open and more than a dozen showered and changed players poured out. A number of “hello doc’s” greeted her.

“If you’re looking for the coach,” one player spoke up, “he’s still in there.” He motioned back toward the dressing room.

“Thanks. I’ll just wait for him out here.”

“In case you change your mind about waiting in the cold and dark” another young man offered “I’ll prop the door so you can get in.”

Donna watched as he wedged a rock between the door and its casing. “Thank you.”

The still-high-on-victory team members sauntered across the parking lot and piled into the remaining cars and trucks. On second look, Donna realized that girls were waiting in those vehicles. Hank wasn’t the only one who had a date after the game tonight. Whooping and hollering into the night, one driver after the other peeled out of the parking lot, girlfriends squealing with delight.

To be that young again, Donna mused.

The silence seemed deafening after the last squeal of tires faded in the distance. She rubbed her arms and gazed up at the starless night. The moon peered back at her like a half-closed eye. Goose bumps prickled across her bare skin and she shivered again.

“Come on, Hank.”

She edged closer to the locker room door. She listened for some sign of him. Music. She heard music, but nothing else. Light poured from the crack around the door, slicing the darkness.

This was ridiculous. Standing in the dark, getting colder by the second while a warm room lay just on the other side of that door was just silly.

She eased the door open and stuck her head inside. Steamy heat engulfed her. She took a deep breath and stepped into the locker room. A solid click sounded behind her. She whirled around to stare at the closed door. The rock must have rolled away when she opened it. She shrugged. Didn’t matter anyway. Everyone else had already left.

Donna couldn’t recall ever having been in a boys’ locker room. Plain utilitarian tile covered the walls and floor. Years of use had dulled the white to a dingy gray. The area was relatively clean and smelled of soap and men’s cologne. Royal blue, Hornet blue as Hank called it, lockers filled the center of the room. Benches in the same bright color surrounded the lockers.

“Hank?”

No response. Not that anyone could hear her above the music. Loud, pulsating music. She peered around the long row of lockers. No Hank.

Throwing caution to the wind, she continued through the dressing room.

On the other side of the lockers Donna discovered a door that led to a weight room. Work-out benches and equipment filled the space. No Hank in there. The next door led to the showers and bathrooms, she supposed. She hesitated. Should probably go back and wait by the entrance. The team poured water or something all over Hank. Maybe he was changing clothes. She moistened her lips and tried to stifle the giddy sensation spiraling inside her at the thought of him naked.

“Hank,” she called again, risking a peek inside the door. She had guessed right. Toilet stalls. Urinals. But no Hank.

Muffled by walls, the music’s volume diminished behind her as she entered the bathroom area. She listened, straining with the effort. She could hear something besides the music, but what? Taking one hesitant step at a time, she moved further inside. She should at least let Hank know she was here. That seemed as good as an excuse as any for venturing further into this male territory. A row of white sinks hung on the wall opposite the toilet stalls and urinals, the mirrors above them foggy from the hot moisture in the air.

She tilted her head and listened again. Her gaze dropped to the floor and she frowned. She tracked through shallow puddles with each step she took as she rounded a tiled partition.

Water.
Running water
. Donna stopped dead in her tracks. She raised her head slowly, realization dawning. The shower room. A half dozen or so shower heads protruded from the tiled walls. She had walked directly into the shower room. Right before her eyes, not a dozen feet away, Hank Bradley stood completely and gloriously naked. Steam rose from the hot water spraying over his body.

Propriety told her she should turn away, but she couldn’t. His arms were raised, his fingers working through his thick, dark hair, helping to rinse away the remaining lather. The suds slipped down over the wide expanse of his shoulders, down his back, and over his tight buttocks. Donna’s breath left her, but her eyes continued to follow the path of bubbles. Down long, muscular legs to dissolve in the water puddling around his feet.

Unable to do anything but stare at the man she stood there, her mouth and throat as dry as the cotton balls in the glass containers in her exam rooms. Donna’s heart pumped faster and faster until she felt lightheaded. Desire burned hot inside her. Her breasts ached with that same burn.

His heels became his toes and she stopped breathing at all.

He had turned around.

Her head spinning, she reached for the damp tile wall for support. Her gaze made the journey back up his strong legs. She hesitated briefly on his scarred right knee. The football injury. Her eyes traveled upward, over muscled thighs to…“Oh, Lord,” she murmured.

She forced her gaze to continue beyond that mesmerizing spot. Muscle rippled with his every movement as her gaze moved over his taut abdomen and chest. A sense of longing roared through her with such force that it overwhelmed all other senses. He swept the damp hair back from his face and opened his eyes.

He blinked, then his gaze locked on hers. He swiped away the water running over his handsome face.

She struggled, open-mouthed, to say something...anything, but the words simply would not come. Finally, she blurted, “Oh, my God!” She whirled around and hurried back toward the entrance. She reached for the door, fumbled with the knob.

“Donna, wait!”

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cool steel door. She was an idiot. She never behaved this way...never got herself into these situations.

His hand was on her arm now, pulling her around to face him. Donna forced her eyes open. Water beaded and dripped on his muscular body. He had carelessly wrapped a towel around his narrow hips.

“Don’t run away,” he whispered, pulling her closer. His touch was gentle, inviting—not demanding. He gathered her in his arms.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she murmured, her cheek pressed against his damp chest.

Hank lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers. His lips moved slowly, gently against hers. After kissing her mouth, he kissed her cheek...her closed lids...her forehead...and then her nose. Need ached fiercely inside her. She wanted him so much.

He lifted her against him and her arms went automatically around his neck as he carried her to the nearest bench. He straddled it and sat down, drawing Donna’s legs around him. His towel fell away. Her breath caught at the feel of him pressing against her panties. He groaned and his lips moved over her neck. He held her tightly with one arm as his free hand sought out her breast. She arched into his touch. He squeezed then bent to torture the nipple through the thin fabric of her dress and bra. Donna cried out, pressing down to meet that thick heat nudging between her thighs.

Hank leaned her back down onto the hard bench, his mouth possessing hers in a kiss so frenzied it made her senseless. She clung to his broad shoulders. She slung off her spiked heels and locked her legs around him. He felt wet and wonderful in her arms. Hard and wanting. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, in and out, mimicking the rhythm pulsing inside her.

He fumbled with her dress, shifting it out of the way and slipping his hand between her legs. He touched her. Donna moaned, hardly able to bear the pleasure of it. She hadn’t been touched in so very, very long.

She froze. “Wait!” She pushed hard against his broad shoulders. “Stop. We have to stop!”

“What?” he rasped, his breath ragged and warm against her face. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on hers. “You want me to stop?” he asked, a combination of shock and frustration contorting his features.

Donna squirmed from beneath him, stood quickly and righted her clothes. “I can’t do this. I have to go.” She backed toward the door. “I’m sorry. I just...” He looked dazed and confused, and unbelievably sexy sitting on that bench utterly naked. And she felt like a fool. She was a fool. What had she been thinking? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

He shot to his feet, pulling the towel around his body. “Wait.” He forked his long fingers through his hair. “Let me get dressed and I’ll take you home.”

Donna shook her head. “I’ll walk.”

“No! No. It’s late, I’ll drive you. Just give me thirty seconds. Please,” he added more with his eyes than his mouth.

She searched for a reason not to wait. An excuse to run away. But nothing rational came. “All right.” She turned her back and walked to the door.

How could she be
here
…doing
this
?

As promised, in less than a minute he reached around her to open the door—fully clothed in Hornet blue sweatshirt and jeans. Donna rushed into the darkness, the cold air almost taking her breath. He stayed right behind her but thankfully didn’t touch her.

When they reached the passenger side of his car, he spotted her sweater. “What happened?”

“Don’t ask,” she muttered. She couldn’t look at him.

They rode in silence to her house. She jumped from the car before he could round the hood to open her door. She fumbled in her purse for her keys, her hands still shaking. How had she let this happen? She couldn’t do this. She could not get involved on that level with a man like Hank Bradley. No matter how much her love-starved body screamed otherwise.

He made her do things she’d never done before. Made her forget all else but him. He was too dangerous to her control…to her plans.

When she got the door open and turned to say good night, he smiled down at her—the most amazingly sweet smile she had ever laid eyes on.

Her whole body reacted. How did she handle this man?

“I still can’t believe we won that game,” he said. “Did you see the look on Stevens’ face when he realized he’d made that touchdown?”

She nodded stiffly. “It was an amazing game.”

“I almost cried,” he admitted sheepishly.

Her tension ebbed and a faint smile pushed over her lips. “I did cry,” she said softly. She wanted to cry now.

He looked at the floor for a moment before he spoke again. “I guess I’m the one who got carried away this time.”

Donna moistened her lips and resisted the urge to throw herself into his arms and beg him to carry her up the stairs to bed. “Good night, Hank. I enjoyed the game.”

He reached out and touched her cheek, his expression bittersweet. “Good night.”

A car screeched to a halt in the street in front of Donna’s house. She frowned at the sound, squinting to make out the culprit.
Patty
.

Donna’s heart stumbled. “Something’s wrong!” She pushed past Hank and hurried across the porch to meet her sister on the steps.

“You need to get to the clinic right now.”

Her voice sounded strangely high pitched. Fear crawled over Donna’s skin, clawed its way up her spine. “Where’s Melissa?” The blood froze in her veins.

Hank came to her side.

“Melissa’s fine, Donna.” Patty’s voice broke. “It’s the clinic, there’s been a fire.”

Chapter Nine

The red lights of the fire truck pulsed in sync with the blue lights of the patrol car. The strobe of the lights an alternating rhythm to the pounding in Donna’s head. Fire hoses coiled and stretched like long snakes as the firemen worked to roll the hoses up after disconnecting and draining them. Donna listened through the haze of disbelief as the fire chief explained how lucky she was.

The Mini-Market down the street had been so jam-packed after the football game that one shopper had used the clinic parking lot as overflow. He heard the clinic’s smoke alarms blaring as he walked past. His prompt report had kept the fire’s damage to a minimum.

But the term minimum was relative…and when considered with Donna’s incredibly miniscule bank balance, the damage was devastating.

When it was safe to do so, Fire Chief Thomas led Donna and Hank through the clinic to the rear of the building. Black soot clung to the freshly painted walls. The acrid smell of smoke and melted electrical wiring permeated the air inside the clinic.

“The damage isn’t that bad,” the chief said, shining his wide-beam flashlight onto the ceiling in the hall.

Donna’s gaze followed the beam of light. Most of the ceiling was blackened. At the far end of the hall the blackness turned to a more charred look. A light fixture, or what used to be one, was burned beyond recognition.

She closed her eyes as a sinking feeling sucked away the last of her energy.

“Doesn’t seem to be any structural damage. Smoke and stink mostly, other than the electrical and a little damage on the ceiling here. No evidence of foul play. Every indication points to a defect in the electrical system.” Thomas nodded. “Yep, I’d say you were really lucky tonight, Dr. Jacobs.”

Somehow she didn’t feel too lucky. The electrician’s warning echoed through her.

“Duck River Electric pulled the meter until the electrical repairs can be made,” the fire chief went on as he led the way back to the front entrance. Donna made it as far as the lobby and stalled, too overwhelmed to go any further. Hank and the chief stepped out into the parking lot, the sound of their voices distinct through the open door. She tried to follow the gist of the conversation but couldn’t. Mental exhaustion disabled her ability to process what she heard. The array of lights from outside flashed and flickered across the walls of the lobby.