Читать книгу Passion Overtime - Pamela Yaye - Страница 12

Cyclists in spandex shorts and wraparound sunglasses clogged the bike trail at Centennial Park. Pressing down the heel of her Rollerblade skates, Kyra slowed and waited until she was past the ten-man group before resuming her speed.

Chest heaving, arms swinging like a skier catapulted off a mountain, she shot down the hill on her Rollerblades, feeling as light and as free as a jaybird. Seagulls squawked, dogs barked and the sound of children’s laughter rippled on the sultry, red-hot breeze. After a stressful day, in-line skating was just what Kyra needed to clear her head.

Invigorated by the scents and sounds of summer, she skated up the winding path and decided to do a third lap through the park. Kyra didn’t know if she’d be able to get out of bed tomorrow, but she wasn’t ready to pack up and go home.

Kyra plucked her tank top with one hand and wiped her forehead with the other. Sweat dripped off her face and chunks of hair clung to the back of her neck. Insects buzzed around her, but she was feeling too good to be bothered. Next month, her sorority sisters would be back in town for their ten-year reunion and there was no telling what trouble they’d get into this time.

Punching up the volume on her iPod handheld, she moved her shoulders and hands in tune to the beat. The Destiny’s Child song made her reflect on her college days. Lately, she’d been doing a lot of self-examination. Ever since Terrence showed up, she’d been having one flashback after another. Turning away from her thoughts, she chose to admire the bright, fragrant flowers swaying in the breeze.

Joggers ran alongside their dogs and seniors strolled leisurely along the narrow trail. A bare-chested man in shorts and a baseball cap came into view. The corners of Kyra’s mouth drooped slightly. He was perfection. A ten. A living, breathing, dream. Six feet four inches of sexy. The word beautiful was the most abused word in the English language, but the man jogging towards her was gorgeous. Muscular arms, pert nipples, a chest begging to be touched. Following the hard contours of his waist, her eyes moved slowly up his shoulders to his lips. His cap shielded his forehead, making it impossible for her to see his entire face, but she’d recognize the familiar shape of Terrence Franklin’s mouth in the dark.

Her heart swayed like a daisy in the breeze. Should she pretend not to see him, or dive into the bushes? Kyra wiped the perspiration from her face. Sweat wasn’t cool, neither was funk. Her tank top was damp and she smelled as if she’d slept in a men’s locker room. Since Kyra wasn’t sure whether he’d even seen her, she decided to just keep on trucking.

When they were just a few feet away, he stopped and fell into step beside her. “Funny seeing you here,” he drawled. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Kyra slowed but didn’t stop. He sounded sincere, but the expression on his face said touchdown. The roguish sparkle in his eye matched his wide grin. Kyra had no proof, but she had a sneaking suspicion Terrence had orchestrated this meeting. But as she considered the likelihood of it, she realized it was next to impossible. Terrence was good, but he wasn’t that good. There was no way for him to know she’d be on this trail at this time of the day. “Hey, Terrence.”

He pointed with his chin to the trail. “Mind if I join you?”

“Actually, I was just leaving,” she said, skating backward out of his reach. “I promised my mom I’d come over for dinner.”

“Then I’ll walk you to your car.”

Her legs shook like a straight man in heels, and she suddenly didn’t have the energy to stand, but she stayed shoulder to shoulder with him all the way up the hill. His cologne had notes of cedar and stimulated her senses. Then there was his chest…his nipples…the slope of his rock-hard abs.

Kyra fanned her face. It was hotter than a Texas heat wave, but where on Earth was his shirt? Was he an exhibitionist or had some crazed female fan mauled him in the parking lot? “What does SKW stand for?” she asked, spotting the scripted initials on his right bicep.

“Selma Kay Williams.”

“Was she an ex-girlfriend?”

“Nope. My great-grandmother.” The expression on his face was one of pride. “She was an integral part of my life when I was growing up, and this tattoo is my small way of honoring her memory.”

Kyra almost melted onto the hot pavement. It was the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard a man say, and she was touched deeply by his confession.

“How’s work?” he asked, feeding her another gorgeous smile. It was definitely one of his best. “Get all that paperwork done that’s been keeping you so busy?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. What, was he psychic now, too? “Things are fine.”

“I can tell you’re very good at your job.”

His gaze was powerful, crippling, more potent than a double shot of whiskey. Good thing I have my sunglasses on, she thought. I’d be blinded by all that sexual energy.

“I hope your boss knows how lucky he is to have you.”

Her gaze slid down his physique. Wrong move. Toned arms, muscles as hard as steel, long legs. Terrence Franklin was dark, fine and broad. The kind of man even a woman with amnesia wouldn’t forget. There was nothing sexier than a guy who’d just finished working out, and Kyra felt a swoon coming on.

“I spoke to my agent this afternoon,” he told her. “Teams have been calling to see if I’m interested in coming out of retirement.”

“Are you?” Kyra felt like the ground might slip out from under her. How could anyone withstand this heat? she wondered, running her tongue over her lips. Wanting to put all those Psychology 101 courses to good use, she tore her eyes away from his nipples and asked, “Is returning to the NFL a viable option?”

Silence fell between them.

“When I first busted my knee, I thought I’d be out for a couple months, maybe three, but as time passed, I realized it was a lot worse than the doctors originally thought.” He pushed out a ragged breath. “I miss the game, but my surgeon made it clear that continuing my career could result in permanent damage.”

“That must have been hard to hear.”

Head down, he tugged at his baseball cap, pulling it down past his eyebrows. “I had another five, six seasons left in me, and it was tough walking away from a game I’ve loved since I was nine.”

His voice was hollow, his tone flat. “I never won a championship and that kills me more than anything. More than my knee, more than my friends who turned their backs on me, more than all the women who…never mind that.”

“What do you miss most about the game?”

He lifted his eyes to her face, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m embarrassed to say this, but I miss everything about playing in the NFL. The thrill, the excitement, the energy. Out on that field, I’m invincible. Fans surround me on every side, screaming just for me. There’s nothing like it, Kyra. It’s a constant adrenaline rush. It never ends. Long after the game is over, I’m still hyped up and ready for more.”

“You had an incredible ten-year run, Terrence. Few players can say they walked away from the sport at the height of their career, healthy, sane and whole. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. “It’s all good, though,” he insisted, with a firm nod. “I might be down, but I’m not out. I read for a small part in the new Robert De Niro movie, and my agent assured me I’d get the role.”

Her heart fell. A Robert De Niro movie? When was he going to tell her about his acting aspirations. Kyra had dozens of questions, but before she could ask a single one, he said, “Did you like the bouquet?”

Kyra shot him a look. Goodness gracious, how did he know about that? Choosing to keep her personal life private, she dodged his question by playing dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It never came? That’s weird. I got an e-mail confirmation hours ago.”

“You sent the fruit basket?” Shaking her head, as if unable to believe what she was hearing, she rubbed a hand along her forehead. Charles hadn’t sent it? But that didn’t make any sense. He should have. After all, he was the one who’d embarrassed her at the Azure Bar & Lounge, not Terrence. “I’m shocked. I don’t know what to say.”

“You hated it, didn’t you? Damn, I should have gone with real roses.” Stopping abruptly, he turned to her, his eyes soft and his smile apologetic. “This was my way of starting over. I remembered how much you loved exotic fruit, and thought you’d like it.”

“I did,” she blurted, wishing she could hit Rewind and snatch the words back. Encouragement was something Terrence didn’t need. Her mind was closed to the idea of seeing him outside of work, but she thanked him for the bouquet. “It was very sweet of you, Terrence. The staff loved it.” She added, “I saw some faculty members eating from it when I left this afternoon.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Returning the compliment, he inclined his head to the right and gently touched her shoulder. “You’re a very special woman, Kyra, and you deserve the very best that life has to offer.”

Kyra arched her eyebrows. Terrence lived for drama and excitement, and she was perceptive enough to know the star athlete was only after one thing. Refusing to fall for his slick line, she said, “Terrence, you don’t even know me.”

“That’s why I’m here. I want to change that. We were friends once and—”

She met his gaze head on. “I don’t need any more friends.”

“Is this about Charles?”

The truth stuck in her throat. “Yes and no.”

“Are you guys serious?”

Kyra felt her face flush. She’d given new meaning to stretching the truth, but what choice did she have? Terrence had more questions than Katie Couric during a sit-down interview, and he wasn’t easily satisfied. “He’s a good, decent man and I’m not willing to jeopardize a great—” she stumbled over the word “—relationship by being friends with you. It’s nothing personal, Terrence. It’s just not worth it.”

“Do you love him?”

How had a conversation about an edible fruit basket led to this? she wondered, retrieving her car keys from her pocket and dangling them between two fingers. There was a time when Terrence had been her best friend. They’d lie in bed for hours, talking, joking and planning for their future. But that was a long time ago. Ten years, to be exact. And she didn’t feel comfortable talking to him about her relationship. In part because she didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. Nothing about Charles thrilled her. He was just…okay. A hard-working, decent guy who’d be a good husband and provider, so why wasn’t she sprinting to the altar? “My private life is none of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

They slipped into silence. Unable to control herself, her eyes strayed to his chest and slipped down his stomach. Kyra roped in her emotions before they got the best of her. Lusting led to fantasizing, and in the last three days she’d done enough daydreaming to last her a lifetime. Personal history aside, she was paid to do a job, and flirting with Terrence wasn’t one of the requirements. They were working together and it didn’t matter how many gifts he sent her, she wasn’t going out with him. Not in a romantic sense, anyway. Charles didn’t light her fire, but he was safe. He wouldn’t hurt her, and that beat tall, dark and sexy any day.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Terrence asked.

“Yes. I informed the assistant coach that we’d be coming and Mr. Mayo is very excited to meet you.”

“Do you know what I’m excited about?”

Terrence lowered his head and for one fear-packed second, Kyra worried he would kiss her. The closer his mouth came, the faster her heart beat. When his lips were just inches away, she forced a cough. “Oh, look, we’re here,” she said, backing up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Feeling a sudden burst of energy, Kyra waved goodbye and skated over to her red car. A minute later, she chucked her Rollerblades into the truck, tugged on her sneakers and hopped into the driver’s seat. Lurching out of her stall, she shot through the parking lot and disappeared into rush-hour traffic.