Impulsive (8 page)

"The least you could do is buy some sexy silk undies. What's
with all the cotton? You planning to join a convent?"

"I doubt they'd accept me. I'm a Methodist. Now, I hope
you'll understand if I ask you to leave. And take those stupid falsies with
you, if you please."

"Oh, come on, Jess. I've apologized. Let bygones be bygones.
I don't want to eat alone, and it's too late to make a date with someone else.
Besides, I'm supposed to be seeing you exclusively, which, if you really want
to know, is putting quite a crimp in my social life these days."

She jerked her thumb toward the street outside, her expression
unrelenting. "Wagara, Romeo. Wagara."

The Knights had their third preseason contest that Sunday. It was
a home game against the Minnesota Vikings, and the new climate-controlled
Castle-Dome, built to accommodate a whopping hundred thousand fans, was barely
half-filled. Perhaps because it was still preseason, or maybe because the
Knights had lost their first two matchups, one at home and one away. The
Seahawks had really dented their armor last week in Seattle, but to be fair
they had made a fair showing against the 49ers in the preseason opener, losing
by only six points, the total of two missed field goals by their rookie kicker.

Corey Rome must have been watching for Jess. The minute Jess saw
her, the woman waved for Jess to join her down front, on the first section of
seats behind the home bench.

"I saved you a seat," Corey told her, then laughed.
"Not that there aren't plenty to choose from, but these are reserved for
us." "Us" being the wives, children, and special friends of the
players.

"Thanks," Jess said with a smile. "And thank you
for your help the other day. I know you probably don't get such strange calls
every day."

Corey chuckled. "I've had weirder calls, believe me."

For two days after Ty had left her apartment, Jess had stewed.
She'd fumed. She'd cursed Ty for the arrogant ass he was. Then she'd phoned
Corey Rome, the only woman she'd met lately with a figure anywhere comparable
to her own, and presumed to ask the model's advice. Corey had been a doll about
the entire subject, not at all bitchy or superior—which was why Jess was
sitting next to her now, wearing a stretchy new satin-and-lace, barely padded
"Magic" bra beneath her ribbed knit top.

Corey's eyes twinkled. "So? It looks good. How does it feel?"

"Odd," Jess confided in a near whisper. "More
confining than my sports bras, but lighter, too. I didn't know they made them
so pretty these days, without those stupid removable pads."

Corey winked. "Hey! We've come a long way, babe. A little
polyester fiberfill in the right places, and whallah! Instant cleavage! And
who's to know? In the heat of passion, a guy is going to be eyeing what's
popping out over the lace, not what's supporting you underneath or on the
sides."

"Are you sure it isn't too much? Too drastic a change?"
Jess asked self-consciously.

"Absolutely not," Corey assured her. "Now, sit up
straight before I'm tempted to strap a yardstick to your back. Show those
puppies off, girl!"

Once the game got under way, Jess got caught up in the action and
forgot all about her slinky new undies. Having attended OSU, she'd been a
dyed-in-the-wool Buckeye fan, and had evolved into an enthusiastic football fan
overall, enjoying both college and pro games. While so many women complained of
being football widows on weekends and Monday nights, Jess was usually glued to
her TV set, happily munching popcorn and playing "armchair
quarterback." That, or freezing her buns off in Ohio State's horseshoe
stadium, bravely courting pneumonia and the flu.

Of course, this was still August, as muggy and buggy as it could
get outdoors. Contrarily, while it was a relief not to have to sweat and swat
mosquitos, in some inexplicable way, being
ensconced
in such a perfect-weather atmosphere took away from the spectator ambience
somehow. All this comfort at a football match would take some getting used to,
Jess supposed.

The first quarter was slow and relatively uneventful, ending in a
scoreless tie. "I realize no one wants to get injured in preseason, but
this is ridiculous!" Jess griped.

"I know," Corey agreed with a bored yawn. "You'd
think they were all afraid of getting those boss uniforms dirty, as if they had
to do their own laundry!"

The team uniforms were undeniably sharp. Crimson and silver, they
were designed to emulate as closely as possible the battle outfits of
knights-of-old. From a distance, the jerseys actually looked as if they were
made of chain-mail armor, the front of each adorned with a pair of crossed
swords and the player's number on a scarlet shield. Likewise, the helmets were
fashioned to resemble a knight's helmet and sported a horse's head on the
sides, the symbol used in chess to designate the knight's piece. For each
touchdown, sack, or other important personal achievement, a silver spur would
be added, affixed to the wide band of red that encircled the outer edge of the
helmet.

Naturally, the cheerleaders had to have outfits to complement the
team, though in their case a lot of liberty had been taken with the theme.
Known unofficially as the Columbus Dames, the formal title given to a female
member of the order of knighthood in olden days, they had chosen not to dress
as "ladies." Rather, they wore short skirts, which again appeared to
be made of metal, much like the skirts of tasses on a suit of armor. Their
sleeveless, bare-midriff tops were cunningly cut in imitation of a breastplate.
By contrast, those cute little cowgirl getups the Dallas cheerleaders wore were
almost modest!

Thankfully, the pace picked up in the second quarter, as if the
players had finally gotten the feel of the field and the measure of their
opponents. Moreover, the players were still vying for various slots on the
teams, needing to prove to their respective coaches that they were the best men
for their positions, before final cuts were made in preparation for the regular
season. No one wanted to be relegated to second or third string
for
the year, warming the bench until a player was injured or ousted.

The Vikings made the first touchdown, and the Columbus crowd booed
their disappointment of the Knights' defense. It wasn't until the final minutes
of the half that the Knights' offense caught fire. They marched steadily down
the field, down by down. Then, from the Viking forty-yard line, Ty aired a
bomb. Gabe "Rocket" Rome made a spectacular diving catch, landing in
the end zone. With the others, Jess and Corey leapt to their feet, cheering
madly. The point-after was good, and once again the quarter ended on a tie.

Toward the end of halftime, as everyone was getting settled again
for the second half, Jess noticed a couple of cheerleaders staring pointedly in
their direction. One in particular seemed displeased about something. Jess
nudged Corey. "Who is that redheaded Dame giving you looks that could
kill?"

Corey looked, then laughed. "Oh, that's Bambi. Isn't she a
deer?" she joked. "And those daggers she's shooting are aimed at you,
girlfriend, not at me."

"Me?" Jess exclaimed. "But I haven't even met her.
Why would she be mad at me?"

"Because you've got Ty, and she wants him. Rumor has it he
took her out once, before you came along. I'd say a single date wasn't enough
for her. After all, in these circles, dating the starting quarterback is quite
a coup, especially if you manage to hang on to him for a while."

"I see. So my dating him automatically makes me her
enemy," Jess deduced. "Seems rather sophomoric to me, but then what
do I know?"

Corey shrugged. "As they say, forewarned is forearmed. Don't
be surprised if she or some of the others, out of pure jealousy, try to make
trouble between you and Ty."

That was a new concept for Jess. As far as she could recall, she
couldn't name one person, particularly another female, who had ever expressed
jealousy toward her. If anything, that shoe had always been on Jess's foot,
envying other girls for their more attractive looks and greater popularity.

Trying not to be obvious about it, Jess studied her
"rival." Though Bambi
was of average height, there
was little else average about her. Her fiery hair fell in a thick tangle of
curls halfway down her back. It framed an incredibly pretty face, complete with
a cute little nose that made Jess feel like an aardvark by comparison. Then
there was the girl's abundant chest, perhaps her most outstanding feature. Jess
wondered how long it had been since Bambi had seen her own hooves... er, feet!
Years, most likely.

Not having met her, Jess didn't know how Bambi, even with that
ridiculous name, measured up in the brains department. But with her other
attributes, Jess supposed it didn't really matter if the woman was a certified
airhead. The guys would still be stumbling over each other to gain her
attention.

As the team came back onto the field to begin the third quarter,
Jess was grateful for the distraction. She'd learned years before that it did
little good to dwell on her own deficiencies, though at times like this they
were hard to ignore.

The Vikings were all revved up now, and out for blood. They scored
three touchdowns, adding twenty-one points, in quick succession. Try as they
might, the Knights still couldn't get their act together. Because of their weak
offensive line, Ty was sacked twice. When he did connect with a receiver, his
teammate either dropped the ball or was hit for a loss. Finally, they did
score, and even made the two-point conversion afterward.

In the first minutes of the final quarter, the Knights' kick
receiver—a lightning-fast little guy by the name of Carlos "Chili"
Rodriguez—ran the ball back seventy-two yards for a spectacular touchdown. The
spectators came to their feet, cheering wildly, then groaned in tandem as the
kicker missed the follow-up point.

Somehow, for the duration of the game, the defense held the
Vikings from further scoring. With fifteen seconds showing on the clock, the
Vikings fumbled. The Knights gained possession of the ball on their own
fifty-two-yard line. It was obvious to all that with no time for anything else,
this was going to be a "Hail, Mary" attempt. The Vikings went for the
rush, but the Knights' defense held long enough for Ty to set his feet and
throw.
It was the most perfect pass Jess had ever seen, as the ball spiraled toward
the end zone, hitting Shane Griffin square on the numbers. The crowd went
collectively nuts.

The score was twenty-eight, twenty-seven, in favor of the Vikings.
One point would tie the game. Two would win it. It seemed every fan in the
stands was shouting for the two-pointer, for though a tie would automatically
send the two teams into overtime and perhaps give the Knights another chance to
score, it would allot the Vikings that same opportunity.

What they had hoped would be a victory party turned out to be a
pity party at the Romes' house. Several of the major players and their partners
gathered there to commiserate with each other. The coaches and team owners were
noticeably absent, as was the shame-faced kicker. Though Jess had tried to back
out as well, Corey was having none of it. Moreover, Jess was still supposed to
be Ty's current flame, and was therefore expected to show up to lend her fellow
a sympathetic shoulder.

"We almost did it, dammit!" one disgruntled player
grumbled, aping the various comments of his comrades. "I could throttle
that Alan Crumrine! What the hell did that boy do, put his shoes on the wrong
feet?"

"More likely, he screwed his head on backwards," a
running back offered. "Sort of like our little Destiny here." He
hugged the cheerleader to his side, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"I resent that remark," she piped up.

"No, you resemble that remark," Dino told her with a
chuckle. "Come to think of it, so does our
deer
Bambi."

Bambi struck an offended pose, her lower lip projecting in
a
sultry pout. "As if you're some sort of genius, Sherwood. I saw you fumble
that ball tonight. Maybe you ought to try Super Glue next week."

Dino shook his head. "Nah. I might get high on it, like you
do, carrot-top. Warp my fantastic brain cells."

"Get a life, you creep," she shot back.

Gabriel Rome chuckled. "Better watch it, Dino, or Bambi will
whack off your ponytail. You don't want to lose your talent like Samson lost
his strength when Delilah cut his hair short."

"God forbid!" someone else put in. "Lord knows we
need all the talent we can muster right now, and then some."

"I vote we let the cheerleaders play the next game,"
Heidi suggested with a sneer. "We sure couldn't do any worse than you guys
have been."