Game On (Game On 1)

“You can’t stop for a second!”

“Sorry,” he said, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry. Starting now, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

Without another word I turned away, tapped in the security code and leapt through the doors into the building. My heart was pounding unnaturally fast. The moment I stepped into the lift, I sagged back against the mirrored wall.

What the hell just happened?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I’d stumbled across the kind of man I used to find irresistible, or that he’d managed to stare right inside my brain to locate my weaknesses. The thrill of being wanted while pretending not to be interested was a game I’d played over and over during my youth. I’d grown up since then. I’d done more than my share of getting mixed up with men who were all ego and muscles, and he reminded me exactly why I’d given them up.

Unfortunately, my body hadn’t got the memo yet.

.

Chapter 2: Mini Clones Of Bree

“Ahh, that’s freaking cold!”

“Sorry, Jesse. It will be better soon, I promise.”

“I’ve never had an ice massage before. Now I know why!”

The blond soccer player writhing with discomfort on my table had suffered a Grade 2 ankle sprain during the last Warriors match after an aggressive tackle. He’d taken a nasty fall, and with the weight of his opponent’s boot stomping down on it, he was lucky his ankle hadn’t broken.

“It’s not so different to applying an ice pack,” I told him, circling the ice cup over his injury. “If this doesn’t help, I swear I’ll never do it again.”

Jesse laughed in spite of his soreness. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Has there been any improvement since Sunday?”

“Not much. Painkillers help some but once they wear off I’m back where I started.”

The frustration was clear on his face. I’d seen the same expression many times over the years. Working with sports injuries was mostly rewarding, but I’d watched grown men crumble because their careers had been ruined by something which, for others, would merely be an inconvenience. Jesse’s case wasn’t career-threatening by any means but his sprain would put him out of action for at least two weeks, maybe longer.

“These things take time,” I told him. “I’ll do my best to get you back on the field as soon as I can.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I trust you and your voodoo techniques.”

“Hey,” I laughed. “This is legitimate! I can’t believe you’ve never had an ice massage before.”

“I’m new, like you. I was scouted in high school. I’ve been playing soccer since I was a kid but I’ve never had this level of care before.”

His words triggered something in my head. When I first joined the Warriors, I did some research about the players so people wouldn’t think I was a complete noob. Not only was Jesse Shaw scouted in high school, he was the youngest player the Warriors had ever signed. Originally from Phoenix, Jesse’s parents moved to Westberg so he could work with the team he’d supported his whole life. The fact that he didn’t mention what a big deal he was only multiplied my respect for him. If he could just keep his feet on the ground while working alongside some of the biggest egos in the sporting world, his career would thrive.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, choosing to pretend I didn’t know the truth. “My ignorance about the team is becoming very clear right now. I could tell you a few things about English teams. Over here, I’m lost.”

“In England you call it football.”

“It is football. It physically hurts me to say soccer.”

A knock on the door interrupted our laughter. I glanced up to find Will standing in the doorway.

“Leah, Richard’s looking for you. Are you nearly done here?”

Concern was etched on Will’s face, distorting his attractive features. The only times I’d ever seen him look that way were the rare occasions he found a crease in his shirt.

“Kind of. I need to finish this massage and strap Jesse up, then I’m free.”

“Okay. Richard said to tell you to go to his office as soon as you can.”