“(Chris) “Katie, seriously. He’s a jock with entitlement issues. What about that could I possibly like?”“Well…” Her friend trailed off and Chris could hear Katie’s fingers drumming a pattern on the table. “You guys have a lot in common.”Chris snorted and started mixing the salad with two large forks. “What, we both convert oxygen into carbon dioxide?”

“Following their line of vision, he found the distraction. The damn tennis team, running the perimeter of the football field in some half-assed formation, following their fearless leader. They weren’t looking at the field, weren’t yelling or causing a scene. Just concentrating on keeping up with Chris.Having been a teenage boy himself, the draw was obvious. Teenage girls. Short shorts. No brainer. At thirty-four, he was past that.Except his eyes didn’t seem to get the “I’m Too Old For This” memo. They were tracking Chris like a hawk tracks a field mouse.”

“His tongue swept in, gentle and sweet, but also intense. She tasted spearmint, like he’d been chewing gum. He smelled like grass from the field.One hand smoothed a path up her back under her sweatshirt but over her tank. His palm made lazy circles on her back that mimicked the rhythm of their kiss. It was a light, almost reverent touch, and she finally knew what Katie meant when she had once said she loved kissing so much she could do it for hours alone. If this was how it was supposed to be done, sign her up for a marathon event.”

“His smile was slow to spread over his face. As it grew, something warm slid through her belly, warming her from the inside like a pumpkin spice latte on a cool fall night.Red alert. That’s a ten-forty-two. Charming jock in progress, proceed with caution.He took her hand in his, shook it once, then let go. Very proper, very simple. And it would have stayed that way had she not looked him in the eye and seen it.Hunger, as clear as if he were a starving man looking at a T-bone.And that was the T-bone’s cue to make for the hills.”

“(Brett) “Never been to a football game either?” His voice lowered to a gravelly hush. “Well, like I said. We’ll make up for lost time.” He bent down and kissed her. “See you Friday?”Dazed, all she could contribute was, “Yeah, Friday…” before he turned and went back to his car.She walked inside, shut the door, leaned her back against it and concentrated on the rise and fall of her chest. It felt like he’d stolen her breath. And her heart. She was pretty sure he had taken a small piece of it with him.”

“She’d been given gifts before. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets. Weekend trips to the Bahamas or a day at the spa. Expensive—but meaningless—trinkets that showed Dax didn’t have a clue what to give her, that he didn’t listen to her. Things that could be meant for any woman. Nothing that said she was special, that what she thought and wanted mattered.A set of aluminum bleachers full of teenage boys meant more than any of those things combined.”

“As she relaxed against his chest, he pulled her in closer. Turning her face into his shirt, she breathed in the calming scent that was him. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into the fabric.One big hand stroked over her head, down her long ponytail to rub her back in soothing circles. “No, I’m sorry. You’ve told me before it made you uncomfortable and I pushed. That was an asshole move. You’re entitled to your feelings and I shouldn’t fight against them. I’m sorry.” He dropped a kiss on her temple.And with that little apology, she stepped off the cliff of denial and fell headfirst into love with Brett Wallace.”