Plunge (Alpha Athletes 1)

“I know about you, Blaine Crews.”

I chuckled. “And what do you think you know?”

She twisted her lips together. “Your reputation has made it to the United States. Your reputation with women,” she added.

“I hope it’s a good one.” I waggled my eyebrows. I knew what the press reported about me.

“You seriously don’t care what people think about you? That you’re known as the swimming Casanova?”

“Don’t give a shit.” I pressed my thumb into her wrist. “I like women. I like beautiful, sexy, smart women.”

I saw her chest rise with a deep breath.

“And this is normal for you? You pick up women outside the ladies’ room?”

“This might be a first for me, but you sort of fell into my arms.”

“I didn’t fall. You ran into me and knocked me over.” Her brows knitted together. It was cute and feisty.

“I also caught you, didn’t I?”

“How do I know you didn’t knock me over on purpose?” She folded her arms over her chest, pressing her breasts together.

“You don’t.”

She tried to smile, but a tear slipped from her lashes. Damn it. A crying woman was usually something I tried to avoid, but she was so fucking beautiful I was running out of reasons to turn around and walk away.

There was only one way this was going to go.

“Come on.” I grabbed her hand in mine and led her toward the back exit. “You’re upset. You need a shoulder to cry on.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“But you didn’t say no.”

I pushed through the swinging door and we emerged into the parking lot. The lights from the arena lit up the sky. It hadn’t sunk in yet that less than two hours ago, I had broken the world record in that building while my entire country watched.

I was a star. I was their hero. I was Blaine Crews.

Chapter Eight

Ava

My laptop seemed as discouraged by the heat as I was. It sputtered and clicked when I turned it on. I wanted to try to get as much of Blaine’s story together as I could. I looked at my phone. I had a few hours before Vic wanted everything on the server.

First I wanted to record my notes from our interview, and then I was going to head to the aquatics center. I needed to see for myself what was going on at the swim facility. If I was lucky I might be able to interview someone who worked in the building. Maybe there would be another swimmer trying to get in the pool who would be willing to give me a few quotes.

It would be difficult to get a statement from an Olympic representative, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t give them a chance to comment. I looked at my watch. I needed to get over there.

I pulled a bottle of water from my bag. I had stocked up on snacks and water at one of the markets on the block.

I wanted to crawl under the covers and shake the remnants of jet lag along with the encounter with Blaine, but I had work to do. I needed this job. I had to power through until this story was on the server.

I felt the adrenaline awaken my senses as I pieced together the details into a narrative that explained what Blaine experienced this morning. What if this was only the first account? What if more of the venues weren’t ready for athletes?

I could comb the city, unearthing the deficiencies, exposing the Olympics for what they were. What Blaine had done for me was huge, but I didn’t want to be indebted to him for giving me a one-of-a-kind exclusive that no one in the press corps had. Part of me knew people would pay big money for the kind of access I had to him.

I piled my hair on top of my head, fastening it with a clip. The wispy ends fell around my face. I brushed one aside and remembered Blaine’s fingers grazing my skin. I closed my eyes for a second. And let myself remember.