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Men and Sports

Dear Man Tamer:

My boyfriend loves sports. Sometimes I think he loves them more than he loves me. He is always going to games or watching them on television. Our entire social calendar is planned around baseball, hockey, football and basketball season. Now he’s talking about taking up golf! What can I do to save this relationship?

Hates Sports

Dear Hates Sports:

This is a tough one. For many men, sports are like a religion. They identify with teams and players and are invested in the outcome of games. But these are only games and the trick is to show the man in your life how much he is missing of real life—i.e., a relationship with you—by being so involved in sports. I suggest you start by attempting to distract him by planning fabulous evenings alone. Favorite foods and hot sex are usually winning distractions. Some women have had success in learning to love sports and sharing them with their men, but if you do this, I suggest insisting he meet you halfway and learn to love movies or ballet or whatever your passion is. After all, a relationship is a partnership. You shouldn’t do all the work. In the end, you may have to confront him with an ultimatum. Does he choose sports or you? If he chooses sports, your heart may be broken, but at least you won’t have wasted your life on someone who couldn’t give you the love you need. Let me know how it goes!

The Man Tamer

RACHEL WATCHED Wild Man Kelly’s departure. Her fingers still tingled from the touch of his tongue. Her breasts felt heavy and aching, and the dull throbbing in her groin testified to how fully turned on she’d been within mere seconds of first laying eyes on him. He’d had her so under his spell that if he’d suddenly laid her back on the buffet table and begun stripping off his clothes she wouldn’t have protested.

She shifted and squeezed her thighs together, breathless at the thought of herself laid out among the chocolate tarts and cream puffs, a half-naked Garret looming over her.

He’d certainly lived up to his nickname so far. If she didn’t have serious business to discuss with Denton, she wouldn’t have minded getting to know Garret better. Not that he was at all her type, but he would probably be fun for a fling—provided he didn’t get too wigged out by her occupation.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Denton asked. “I haven’t got all evening.”

Denton’s prompt pulled her back to the present. “Have you made a decision on the afternoon slot on KTXK?” she asked.

“No. I’ve got a chance to buy the rights to reruns of Space Cadet Coeds.”

“Space Cadet Coeds?” Was he for real? “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Number one in Japan last year,” he said. “I think it’ll be a big hit.”

“Who’s going to watch a Japanese import when they can have a hometown star?” She drew herself up to her full five feet six inches. “The Man Tamer is the number-one relationship column in the state,” she said. “A Man Tamer television show would draw the coveted twenty to forty-year-old female demographic, plus it would increase readership for my column.”

Denton waved away her words as if he was brushing off a pesky fly. “I’m also thinking about filling that slot with a show all about lacrosse. If would be a great way to build interest for the team.”

“You said yourself lacrosse is already hot. Why would you need a show about it?”

“Lacrosse is something that appeals to both men and women. Especially with a star like Wild Man on the team. Who’s going to watch your show but a bunch of women with man troubles?”

Only every woman in the city, if you put it that way, she thought. In her experience, every man was some kind of trouble. “So what if the show mainly appeals to women?” she asked. “That’s a lot of viewers. Not to mention with my training in psychology and the strong following I already have with the magazine, I could be the next Dr. Phil.”

Denton looked pained. “Rachel, you apply dog-training techniques to handling men. It’s a cute concept for a column, but I just don’t see it translating to television.”

“It’s not dog training!” she practically shrieked. Noticing half a dozen people turn to look at them, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to remain calm. “My columns promote the use of proven behavior modification techniques.”

“Dog training,” Denton repeated.

“Call it what you want, but it works. I have hundreds of letters from satisfied readers who’ve tried my man-taming techniques and transformed their relationships.”

Denton looked thoughtful. “So you’re telling me you can take any man and turn him into the perfect tame boyfriend using your techniques?”

“Of course.”

“Even someone like Wild Man Kelly?”

She glanced toward where Garret was standing by the keg, surrounded by half a dozen admiring men and women. He stood with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a plastic cup, a casual, slouching pose. The too long hair, beard stubble and general demeanor spoke of a quintessential bachelor who didn’t care much about his appearance. No doubt his apartment was a sty and his idea of a balanced meal was a slice of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other. Hundreds of women had written to her about similar men in their lives.

“I’ve seen worse.” Of course, none of those men had managed to reduce her to a whimpering mass of hormones within two minutes of meeting her.

“Then maybe we can make a deal.”

“Huh?” She blinked at Denton, coming out of her lust-induced fog.

“I’ll make you a little bet.” Denton actually rubbed his hands together, a gesture she had never seen outside of a B-movie. “You apply your man-taming principles to Garret Kelly to tame him and if you succeed, you can have your show.”

“That’s fantastic!” In her elation, she almost hugged Denton, but restrained herself just in time. “This will be the easiest bet I ever won.”

“Don’t count on it,” Denton said. “Kelly’s got way too much testosterone in his system to tame.” He chuckled. “I don’t call him Wild Man for nothing. And from what I hear, that applies to both on and off the field.”

She glanced toward Garret again. A short brunette was beaming up at him, her expression telegraphing the message, Take me, I’m yours. So maybe Wild Man wouldn’t be a pushover. No one ever said she didn’t like a challenge.

“I can handle the Wild Man,” she said, a thrill running through her at the thought. Okay, so she’d like to handle him in more ways than one. All in good time….

“Denton, how marvelous to see you!” Rhonda, her timing impeccable as always, descended on them in a perfumed cloud. She offered her cheek to Denton, who obligingly kissed her. Rhonda made a show of just now noticing Rachel’s presence. “Hello, Rachel. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Of course not. Why would you notice little old me?” She took a step closer to Denton, in an attempt to keep him from being completely lured away by Rhonda’s black-belt charm. “Denton and I were just discussing our plans for a television show based on my Man Taming columns.”

She ignored Denton’s frown and kept her gaze fixed on her sister.

Rhonda’s smile vanished, replaced by an expression more appropriate for funerals and firing squads. “Oh no! Please tell me you aren’t going to embarrass yourself—not to mention the rest of the family—by taking these ridiculous ideas of yours public.”

“Hello? I write a monthly column with a circulation of over two hundred thousand. I’d say that’s pretty public.”

“The Man Tamer is one of Belinda magazine’s most popular features,” Denton said. His defense of her pleased Rachel, though she suspected the billionaire just liked pitting the sisters against each other. The socially acceptable equivalent of female mud wrestling.

Rhonda’s expression didn’t lighten in the least. “I suppose reality television and daytime talk shows prove the general public has a taste for sensationalism,” she said. “Still, it’s difficult to accept that a beloved family member would lower herself so.”

Only Denton’s presence and fear of making a public scene saved Rachel from slapping her sister. She forced a saccharine smile to her face. “Just think of it as my way of helping people to get the most out of their relationships,” she said. “I know how interested you are in philanthropy.” Rhonda was on the board of half a dozen Dallas charities—not because she was so interested in the underprivileged, but because it kept her name and face in the spotlight.

“Speaking of charity…” Rhonda latched onto Denton’s arm and fixed him with a dazzling smile. Rachel thought about telling her to lay off the teeth whitening. It was starting to look a little scary. “I wanted to discuss the upcoming fund-raiser for the Children’s Hospital….” Ignoring Rachel, she steered Denton away, a determined tugboat towing a not-so-reluctant barge.

Rachel headed back toward the buffet table and a fresh plate of strawberries—and a pile of napkins. She was going to drown her frustrations in chocolate and plot her next move with Garret Kelly. A positively evil smile shaped her lips as she pictured herself, on Garret’s arm, introducing him to Rhonda. “This is Wild Man Kelly,” she’d say. “The star of the Dallas Devils and my very good friend.” One older husband—no matter how wealthy and socially prominent—wasn’t a match for a muscular hunk with a sexy foreign accent. Rhonda would be positively green. A good color on her, Rachel thought.

“MEN LIKE GARRET KELLY think they’re happy living the way they do, but that’s only because they don’t know what they’re missing.” The following Monday, Rachel stirred sweetener into her iced tea and eyed Moira across the café table. “I can show men like him how to improve their lives.”

“For your sake, I hope it involves regular sex,” Moira said. “That’s something that’s been missing from your life for a while.”

Rachel ignored the dig. “I can’t let myself get distracted by my personal desires,” she said. “This is serious business. If I can prove my man-taming principles work on a he-man like Garret Kelly, I can have a whole new career in television.”

“That’s a big if.” Moira added pepper to her salad. “A man who goes by the nickname ‘Wild Man’ might not respond well to taming.”

“I’m not going to fail.” No matter what Denton or Rhonda or anyone else thinks. “I’m going to devote all my energy to this project. I will have that television show.”

“I guess there’s nothing that says you can’t enjoy yourself while you’re at it,” Moira said. “After all, Garret Kelly is awfully sexy. If you like the big, brawny type.”

The memory of Garret’s mouth wrapped around her fingers made Rachel squirm in her seat. “Yeah. He’s all right.”

“All right? Girl, you should have seen the women drooling over him at Denton’s party. And he asked about you.”

She blinked. “He did? What did he say?”

“I mentioned that I was your friend and he said you were very interesting. But he said it in a way that meant he was interested in getting to know you better.”

“Well, that’s good. It should make my job easier.” If she could keep from getting distracted by her own rampant lust.

“So, are you just going to walk up to him and announce that you’re the Man Tamer, here to transform him?” Moira asked.

She shook her head. “No. Denton’s decided pairing the two of us will make a great publicity stunt. The Wild Man and the Man Tamer—get it? Part of his plan to gain as much press as possible for the Dallas Devils and his new star player.”

Getting Garret to go along with the scheme might be a little tricky, but if anyone could do it, Denton could. The man was a master manipulator. He’d play up the publicity angle and Rachel would pretend to go along. If Garret was like most men, he’d have no clue she was working to tame him. It was part of the beauty of her techniques and one reason they were so successful.

She took a bite of salad and chewed thoughtfully, then, anxious to move the conversation away from her impending transformation of Wild Man to Perfect Boyfriend, she asked, “How are things with you and Dave?”

Moira slumped in her chair. “The man is addicted to hockey, basketball and now lacrosse. There’s some game on almost every night, and of course he has to watch them all. I’d get more attention from him if I painted my body like a scoreboard.”

“Hmm. Maybe he’s taking for granted you’ll always be there. Have you tried ignoring him? Purposely staying away?”

“Would that be ‘withholding affection’?” Moira asked.

“Exactly.”

“I’m afraid he wouldn’t even notice. And where would that leave me?”

Better off? Rachel thought, but she didn’t say it. “Then do you love him enough to resign yourself to being a sports widow?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Moira fiddled with her fork. “I do love him. And I think deep down, he still loves me. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being taken for granted this way.”

“Then maybe it’s time to punish his bad behavior,” Rachel said.

“How do I do that? Disconnect his cable?”

Rachel smiled. “That’s one alternative. But I was thinking of bringing another man into the picture. Make Dave jealous.”

Moira’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? If Dave’s deserted you for professional sports, you can give him a taste of his own medicine by paying attention to someone else.”

“Right.” Moira looked around. “And where are all these men vying for my attention?”

“They’re out there. You haven’t noticed them because you’re giving off ‘taken’ vibes. You just have to make yourself available and someone will show up.”

“Spoken by someone who hasn’t had a steady boyfriend in two years.”

“It’s only been a little over a year. And I didn’t have trouble getting dates before my column became so high profile.” At least, Rachel hoped that was the reason. She hated to think men avoided her because of something in her personality.

“Speaking of high profile, did you know your sister’s on the front page of the Lifestyles section of today’s Morning News?”

“What is it this time?” Rachel said. “The Children’s Hospital fund-raiser or the Junior League tea?”

“She’s the hostess with the mostest for the Winter Fantasy Costume Ball. Apparently it’s a big honor.”

“And so much more socially acceptable than a tacky daytime television show or bestselling magazine column.” Rachel wrinkled her nose. “Well, whoopee for her. I’ll have to call and congratulate her.”

“Don’t let her get to you, Rach.” Moira stabbed at her salad. “You know you wouldn’t trade places with her for anything. I can’t imagine anything more boring than spending your days in meetings and planning sessions with a bunch of other society matrons.”

“The money she has would be nice, but you’re right—I wouldn’t trade places with her.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t envy you,” Moira said.

Rachel laughed. “Oh, you’re wrong there. Rhonda is exactly where she always wanted to be. Why would she envy me?”

“Maybe because you’re younger, cooler and free to do pretty much anything you want—including date hot guys like Garret Kelly.”

Rhonda, envious? The idea was absurd but cheering. “I guess I do have it pretty good,” Rachel said. “Not that Garret and I are dating.” Yet.

“But you are going to be seeing a lot of him,” Moira pointed out. “I take it the two of you are supposed to make public appearances and stuff?”

“Something like that.” Rachel poked at her salad, searching for a chunk of avocado, a shred of cheese or a candied walnut—something besides greens. “Apparently, Garret’s contract obligates him to do publicity for the team, and I’m just going along for the ride.”

“Except you have an ulterior motive.”

She nodded. “Except for that. But Garret doesn’t have to know that. It will probably make it easier on me if he doesn’t. Then he won’t be trying so hard to resist my techniques.”

“What about you? Are you going to resist his techniques?” Moira laughed. “I’m thinking you shouldn’t try too hard.”

“Very funny.” There was no denying the sparks that had passed between her and the hunky athlete at Denton’s party. Who was to say she shouldn’t use that attraction to her advantage? This was serious business, but no one said she couldn’t have fun in the process.

GARRET WAS JUST getting off work Tuesday when his phone rang. “Hullo, mate,” he said as he flipped open the phone.

“Is this Wild Man Kelly?” a feminine voice teased.

“The one and only,” he said, playing the hale-and-hearty chap despite his wariness that some fan had got hold of his private number.

“This is Rachel Westover. We met at Denton Morrison’s party?”

He grinned, uneasiness fleeing. “As if I’d ever forget. Need help with any more chocolate?”

“Um, no. But I was hoping to get together soon.”

The knowledge that she’d remembered him, and sought him out, pleased him no end. “How about tonight? I’m just getting off work, so I’ll need to clean up a bit, but I could meet you at say—” he checked his watch “—six-thirty?”

“Work? Do you mean, practice?”

“No, I mean a real job. Lacrosse players don’t pull in the ready like American football players and such. We have to work for a living like regular blokes.”

“So what do you do?”

“I have my own fire and safety company. We install alarm systems, fire extinguishers, that sort of thing in homes and businesses.”

“Who knew? So do you want to meet for drinks at six-thirty? There’s a club on Fifteenth Street. Tangerine. Do you know it?”

“I can find it. I’ll see you there.”

On the drive to his apartment, Garret thought about Rachel. He knew very little about her beyond her name and that she worked for Denton in some capacity. And that she had amazingly soft skin and a passion for chocolate. Not a bad foundation for a new relationship, he supposed.

He’d heard no more from Denton about whatever publicity stunt he’d been hatching for him and Rachel. Maybe the team owner had had second thoughts about the Wild Man having a girlfriend.

Garret’s contract obligated him to do whatever Denton came up with to promote the team, from making commercials to escorting beautiful models to high-profile events. But what he did on his own time was his business. Rachel Westover was a woman he’d just as soon keep all to himself.

He turned into the lot of his apartment complex, an upscale place owned by Morrison Enterprises. As he was climbing out of his car, Bud Mayhew waved at him from two spaces down. Mayhew was another newcomer to Dallas, as was most of the team. He hailed from Alberta, Canada, and was a pretty quiet guy, letting his skills on the court speak for him.

“Want to come up later and watch the hockey game?” Bud asked, loping over to join Garret.

“Can’t, I’ve got a date.”

“Oh? Who with?”

“Lady named Rachel. Met her at Denton’s party.”

Bud grinned. “Moira’s friend, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“If she’s half as good-looking as Moira, you’re a lucky man.”

Garret glanced at his friend. This was the first time he could remember Bud commenting on a woman. “So you thought Moira was a beauty?” Personally, he didn’t go for the skinny, small type. They looked too fragile for a big guy like him to have anything to do with.

“Sure. She was great. And taken.” Bud frowned. “Though that Dave guy she was with was a real ass.”

“I could get her number from Rachel. You could call her up.”

“No thanks.” Bud took a step back, shaking his head.

“Why not, mate? It’s just a phone call.”

Bud shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground. “What would I say? I’d sound like an idiot.”

Garret grinned. “We’re all idiots, mate. Especially when it comes to women. Accept that and you’ll be a lot better off.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in proving it every time I open my mouth.” He took another step back. “Go get ready for your date. See ya around.”

“See ya.” Garret waved at Bud, then took the steps to his apartment two at a time. He could have told Bud that he himself was once the shy, retiring type who had learned to overcome his reticence and get the girl. Of course it would all be ballocks. Garret never found it difficult to talk to people, men or women. The only advice he had for Bud was to get over himself and just do it.

In the past it had been pointed out to him that this wasn’t particularly helpful, so that was the end of his advice giving. And he wasn’t much for taking advice, either.

After all, no one needed to tell him that he and Rachel had started something at Denton’s party. With any luck tonight, they’d keep things going in a very good way.

RACHEL STEPPED INTO Tangerine and let her eyes adjust to the light. There was a good crowd for a Tuesday night, and a DJ was spinning dance tunes from a booth overlooking the smallish dance floor. She spotted Garret at a tall table near the bar and made her way through the crush to him. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had trouble finding a parking spot.”

“No worries. I haven’t been here long.” He signaled the waitress. “What can I get you?”

“Diet Coke with lime.” She settled into her chair. “I don’t like to drink and drive.” Not to mention she wanted to keep all her wits about her when dealing with him.

“Smart woman. I took light rail so I’m free to get blotto.”

It took half a second for her to realize he was joking. That crooked-tooth grin of his did serious things to her insides. Get a grip, she reminded herself, and looked out over the dance floor. She told herself she needed to evaluate him objectively before she began the actual work of applying her man-taming principles.

She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing a striped button-down shirt, tails untucked, over a dark green T-shirt. He had shaved. For her? A good sign.

All in all, she decided her initial impression of him was accurate: good-looking, casual attitude toward dress and grooming, masculine and self-confident. And sexy. She couldn’t forget sexy.

His grin transformed into a knowing smile and he winked. “Caught you looking,” he said.

She couldn’t stop the hot flush that engulfed her face. The curse of being fair-skinned, she told herself.

Her drink arrived and she took a long sip, trying to rein in her libido. She had a job to do here. Garret obviously had rough edges that needed smoothing and she was just the woman to do it. Contrary to what Denton thought, the object was not to emasculate the man, only to bring his behavior up to a higher level.

“You look great,” he said. “I’m really glad you called me. I’ve been meaning to ask Denton for your number.”

Did this mean he didn’t know about Denton’s plans for them? “Has Denton talked to you about me?” she asked.

“No.” His smile faded. “Is there something I should know about you and Denton?”

“No! I mean, I’m a writer for a magazine he owns. Belinda magazine?”

“Never heard of it. But then, I don’t pay much attention to that sort of thing.”

Now she was certain Denton hadn’t mentioned his scheme to play the “Wild Man meets the Man Tamer” card in the press. And she wasn’t going to be the one to tell Garret. With luck, Denton would forget the publicity angle, though she fully intended to hold him to the terms of their bet. Better change the subject. “Tell me about Australia,” she said. “How long have you been in the States?”

“A couple of years. I got to know a lot of Yanks when I was doing a tour in Iraq and they convinced me this was the place to be for lacrosse. I played on a good team in Queensland and was able to land a roster spot with the Denver Mammoth. Then Dallas was awarded an expansion team this year and Denton recruited me for that.”

The strains of Vivaldi coming from her purse made her jump. She grabbed for the bag. “Sorry, it’s my phone.”

“Of course.” He made a face but said nothing more.

She flipped open the phone and checked the number. Rhonda. What was she doing calling this time of evening?

Rachel shut off the phone and stuffed it back into her bag. “It was my sister. I’ll call her back later.” She shifted in her chair and returned her focus to their previous conversation. “You were in Iraq?” she asked. “As a soldier?”

“No, I was there as a tourist.”

She made a face. “Very funny.” Maybe the war wasn’t a good topic for casual conversation. “Why lacrosse? Why not basketball or rugby or something else?”

He shrugged. “I played rugby in school, but lacrosse was what I was good at.” His grin returned. “It’s a sport that requires you to be very good with your hands.”

“And you’re good with your hands.”

“That I am.” He took a long drink, eyes locked to hers.

If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn her drink was spiked. How else to explain the tingling in her nerve endings and the flush of heat through her body?

She pushed back her chair. “Let’s dance.”

He shook his head. “No thanks. I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. It was like trying to move a boulder. “Come on,” she said. “I thought athletes were supposed to be light on their feet.”

“Not this one.” But he let her pull him out of his chair and lead him toward the dance floor. “Don’t come crying to me when your toes are all black and blue.”

“Oh please. There are no steps to this kind of dancing. Just move with the music.”

Two minutes later she was doing her best not to laugh. But she didn’t hide it well enough.

“Don’t think I don’t see that smirk,” he said. He waved his arms in the air like a man trying to flag down a plane. “I told you I wasn’t any good at this.”

“You’re terrible!” she said, bending double with laughter. She had never met anyone with such a lack of rhythm. “I hope you play lacrosse better than you dance.”

“Come to a game and see me. The first one is next week. We’re playing the Calgary Roughnecks.”

“Maybe I will come.” She knew as much about lacrosse as she did bocci ball, but she was willing to make certain sacrifices for the sake of her career.

The music switched abruptly to a slow, dreamy jazz riff. Garret stopped flailing about. “This is more like it,” he said.

The next thing she knew, he was pulling her into his arms. His chest was a hard, warm wall she was pressed against, his arms wrapped securely around her. She told herself she should pull back, put some distance between them. Things were happening too quickly and she needed to think.

But being close to him like this felt better than a full-body massage. Not to mention he was a much better dancer at this speed. They swayed together in a gentle rhythm that made her think of other moves they might make, more intimate rhythms they might respond to.

His hand slid down to the base of her spine. The heat of his touch radiated straight to her groin. She squirmed, letting him know he should back off, but that only succeeded in grinding her pelvis against the hard ridge of his erection. She looked up and his eyes met hers. “See what you do to me?” he said.

“You should keep your hands to yourself,” she said.

“Sorry. I can’t seem to help myself. It’s getting to be a habit where you’re concerned.”

One habit she wasn’t sure she wanted him to break. “Have you been drinking champagne again?” she teased.

“No, I’m intoxicated by you.”

It was a terrible line, but delivered in heated tones, in that sexy voice of his, it made her melt. This wasn’t going at all as she’d imagined.

He bent closer, his mouth very near hers. She shut her eyes and held her breath, anticipating his kiss. She was dying to know what his mouth would feel like. She needed to know.

Instead he pushed her away. She opened her eyes and sighed out her breath in exasperation. And men claimed women liked to tease!

“Song’s over,” he said. But his gaze remained fixed on hers, his eyes dark, intense.

She whirled and started blindly across the floor, intending to find the ladies’ room. She needed to get hold of herself. After all, she was the Man Tamer. She was the one who was supposed to be in charge here!