For the Win (25 page)

Will Lainey's snarky-but-lovable cocaptain, Jaime, ever admit that she has a crush on the team's physiotherapist? Or will she use her undeniable speed to keep running?

Keep reading for a sneak peek at Jaime and Alex's story in

KEEPING SCORE

Coming Fall 2016!

1

JAIME CHEN DIDN'T HAVE
a good explanation as to why her mind was occupied with dirty thoughts while she stared at Alex Martinez's butt. Objectively speaking, it was a pretty great ass, but he was her sworn enemy—the man who was hell-bent on seeing her spend the rest of the season riding the bench. And yet, for the last two hours, she couldn't tear her eyes away from him as he bent and squatted in those stupid black track pants in the dark treatment room of the New York Cougars' stadium.

It wasn't just his looks causing these unwelcome thoughts to fill her head. It was the careful way the Seattle Falcons' physiotherapist tended to each of her teammates like they were the most important person on earth, making her wonder if he would be the same way in bed.

“I know what you're thinking, Jaime,” Alex said, not bothering to look up from the nasty scrape he was cleaning on Alyssa Adeyemi's knee.

Jaime straightened in her seat. There was
no
way he could actually guess that she was wondering whether he had any birthmarks on either of those firm, squeezable cheeks. Nevertheless, a flush of red crept up her neck. “Okay, I confess. I'm having erotic fantasies about my loofah and Tropical Temptations bodywash.”

“Your ankle is swollen like a balloon again. Ice and elevation are essential to your recovery. A shower is not, so keep your butt planted in that chair until I can assess you. Don't even dream of sneaking out of here before that.”

“Fine.” She huffed, blowing a rogue strand of hair off her face. Maybe a shower wasn't essential, but she'd be damned if she was going to walk into a postgame meeting with her agent wearing her stinky uniform and sweat-soaked underwear. Unlike some of her teammates, she did not consider the stench of her perspiration to be a badge of honor. The moment the referee blew the final whistle, all she wanted was to scrub off the thin film of dried salt and mud from her skin. But as usual, one man stood in her way.

He turned and stalked toward her, causing her heart to pound harder with every step. It took every ounce of her self-control to not flinch as he grabbed the edges of the chair next to her thighs, forcing her to meet his stern, black eyes. His face was so close, their noses were almost touching. “I'm serious, Jaime. If you leave without a checkup, I will hunt you down and strap you to this table until I'm through with you.”

Well then.
That kind of overbearing command shouldn't have sent ripples of excitement down her spine, but it did. Further proof she was losing her mind. He walked away without giving her a chance to respond.

With dread curdling in her stomach, she watched the long hand on the cracked analog clock on the far wall limp forward another minute. It was now exactly four o'clock. She was supposed to be in Manhattan in thirty minutes, and even after factoring in her penchant for fashionable lateness, that meant she needed to be in a cab in ten. There was no way Alex would be done with the rest of her teammates by then.

Her agent had called this morning and insisted on a meeting after her game today against New York. Face-to-face talks were a rarity and almost always meant bad news. The fact that she hadn't managed to secure an endorsement deal of any kind in the last three years since she and Jillian had been working together pretty much sealed her fate. Once Alex finally released her from the treatment room, Jaime was going to be dumped by the only person who had believed she could become a star.

She sighed and tapped her fingers along her thighs. “Saving the best for last, Martinez?” She wasn't one for delaying the inevitable. Her philosophy on bad news was the same as it was for everything else: dive in headfirst.

“Something like that,” he muttered with a roll of athletic tape between his teeth.

“You know, they say delayed gratification can lead to—”

“Don't even finish that sentence.” He sprayed Alyssa's knee with iodine before taping a gauze pad on top. Her teammate hissed so loudly from the cold sting that Jaime felt her pain across the room. The man had an endless repertoire of ways to torture them. “Acute injuries get treated first.”

She knew that, and she had no intention of jumping the line. Hell, she didn't even want to be in the damn line in the first place. Despite Alex's persistent belief to the contrary, her ankle was just fine, thank you very much. A little bit of pain and swelling was an inevitable part of being a professional athlete.

Okay, maybe a lot of pain and swelling, she corrected herself as a sharp jolt exploded through to her shins. Still, it was all perfectly normal.

She perched forward on her chair and rested her chin in her hands to watch Alex remove the ice pack from Joanna Nelson's ribs and inspect the bruise underneath.

“Almost done.” Alex walked over to the small sink along the wall to wash his hands. “You're up next, Chen.”

Relief washed over her. Maybe she would fit everything in after all.

“Cramp! Mother-effing cramp!” Alyssa cried out, clutching her hamstring.

Or maybe not. Jaime sighed as Alex whipped back around and massaged her teammate's spasming muscles.

She glanced at the door and bit her lip. She really shouldn't postpone a checkup, but if she left now, she could at least shampoo her hair, maybe even swipe on a quick coat of mascara. Otherwise, she wouldn't have the chance to shower until she was back at the hotel in Newark.

She counted the steps to the door. Seven. She could make that before Alex even knew she was gone. He would be furious if she snuck away.

Then again, he was always in a bad mood.

Her mind made up, she slipped out the door and bolted for the shower, knowing he was going to make her regret this decision later.

JAIME'S ENTIRE BODY
HUMMED
with energy as she stepped out of the cab. Life as a professional soccer player gave her lots of opportunity to travel, but she rarely saw the outside of the stadiums and three-star hotel rooms. Games on the East Coast were tightly bundled into long road trips to save on flight costs, and as much as she loved being with her teammates, the endless hours on the bus and excessive togetherness started to wear on her after a while. This latest road trip was the worst yet. The Falcons were only two games into a six-game, twenty-day trip. A few hours of soaking up the big city was exactly what she needed to rejuvenate her before two more weeks of traveling up and down the coast.

The restaurant that her agent, Jillian Nichols, had recommended looked exactly as she imagined a New York City bistro to be: dozens of mismatched square tables squeezed into a thin slice of space, and servers with chic bow ties flitting about at the speed of light. Her agent was waiting for her in the far corner of the room next to the floor-to-ceiling window. They greeted with a quick hug over the table.

Jaime sat down, laced her fingers on top of the table, and arched her brow. “Finally had enough of working pro bono for me?” She wanted to get the bad news out of the way. Afterward, they could at least enjoy a nice meal together without the pressure of disappointment weighing on them.

“Nah, charity cases are good for my reputation. Besides, I like the challenge. But first things first, I'm sorry I couldn't make the game today. However, you are going to like my excuse for not being there.” Straight down to business, as always. The woman, who was barely older than Jaime's twenty-five years, carried herself with a sophistication Jaime could never imagine attaining. But one thing they had in common was their tenacity to go for what they wanted. Jillian was the only agent who'd even considered taking Jaime on as a client, and she fought ruthlessly for her, like it was a personal mission to prove all the other sports agents out there wrong.

“Let me guess, having to choose between rooting for me or for your city is like being forced to choose which of your children you love more?”

Jillian sipped her water, but she couldn't keep the smile from creasing her eyes. “There's a reason I never plan on having kids of my own. But this is better. Much better.”

“An endorsement deal?” Endorsements were the ticket to financial security for an athlete, but more than that, they were the ultimate marker of success. The biggest damn pat on the head from the rest of the world she could ever hope for. Plus, Jaime flat-out needed the money. Canadian players like her just didn't get the attention, or the endorsements, like the other players in the league. The fact that she wasn't tall and blond knocked her down a few rungs in the popularity contest.

“No.” Jillian's sharp blond bob was cut at the perfect angle for accentuating a decisive headshake. “Those would be a lot easier to get if you were still a track star.”

It was the never-ending conversation between them. Jaime had reached a moderate level of success as a sprinter, medaling in the 4 x 100 meter relay at the last Olympics, but she wasn't a track star. Never had been. Her heart lay in soccer. When the opportunity to play professionally arose, she made the decision to quit track altogether. It hadn't been an easy choice, but it wasn't as hard as she expected, either. She loved soccer and loved being part of a team. The Falcons were everything she'd dreamed of. These girls were the family she never had.

“In spite of it all, I really do have some good news that I wanted to share in person.” Jillian's eyes shifted to the bistro entrance, recognizing someone. “Jaime, I want you to meet Barrett Campbell, features editor at
Sport Fitness Magazine
.”

Jaime forced herself to bite back the nervous excitement building in her stomach and greeted the sharply dressed man with a firm handshake. He looked to be in his early forties, judging by the flecks of gray in his wavy hair. For the love of god, stay calm and don't say anything stupid.
Sport Fitness Magazine
was one of the largest glossy sports magazines in the world. Even a passing reference to her name would be a feat.

A nearby server approached their table the instant Barrett settled into his seat. Jaime ordered the first item on the menu, unable to focus on anything but the well-dressed man in front of her.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Chen. You've caused quite a stir with that photograph.” He flashed his phone at her, already loaded with an image from her Instagram account. It was one of her doing a handstand on a narrow log stretched over a ravine earlier in the summer. A small brown squirrel happened to run along next to her head the moment the photo was taken, tiny hind legs lifted to make it look like it was emulating her. Thanks to the little critter's amazing sense of timing, the photo had gone viral, getting more than a million likes in one day.

Jaime forced a smile onto her face. She was a professional athlete. A multisport Olympic medalist. And her only real claim to fame was getting photo-bombed by a rodent.

“The angle of the shot makes it look more daring than it actually was.” She was known for her crazy antics, but she wasn't stupid. The ravine was only about eight feet deep.

“I know we're all on a tight schedule,” Barrett said with a casual smile, “so I'll get down to it. Are you familiar with the Bodies of Sport issue, Ms. Chen?”

She nodded slowly, not daring to blink in case the moment disappeared out from under her. The annual Bodies of Sport issue was the biggest photo spread in the world of professional sports.

“How would you feel about appearing as one of our featured bodies in this year's issue?”

“Me? You want me to be in your magazine?”

“Not just in the magazine. We want you for the cover.”

Holy. Shit.
She looked at her agent for confirmation that this wasn't a joke or a delusion crafted by her wicked mind. Jillian nodded.

Her. They wanted her. Jaime Chen. Loudmouthed runt of the soccer world.

She inhaled deep into her belly. Say yes. Don't say anything other than yes. “Are you just asking me because of all the criticism you got for the lack of diversity last year?” Dammit! The words spilled out before she had the chance to stop herself.

Barrett sputtered, nearly knocking over his coffee as he set it on the table.

Jillian gave her a warning look but didn't interfere. She knew Jaime well enough to realize this was important.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I think you do.” There she went again, acting like her own worst enemy. The Bodies of Sport issue was predisposed to beautiful blondes who couldn't win a medal if their lives depended on it. Not once had an Asian athlete been featured, much less made the cover.

Barrett cleared his throat, his genial expression fading. “Your background has certainly factored into our decision, but I assure you this is not a token inclusion. We're taking a new editorial direction this year. Given your sizable following on social media, we think this is a great opportunity for synergy.”

“And by ‘synergy' you mean bringing a new readership to
Sport Fitness
?”

Barrett responded with a knowing half smile. “Of course. We always welcome the opportunity to expand our reach. Soccer is one of the fastest-growing sports in the country. Millions of children and their parents spend their Saturday mornings playing and watching the game. It's a hugely untapped market. But this isn't just a marketing ploy—this is about celebrating the dedication and outstanding achievements of athletes around the world. For your cover shoot, we're thinking something sexy and vibrant on a private beach in Hawaii. Are you comfortable appearing in a bikini?”