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Authors: Janie Mason

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“Maybe less than that.”
 
He stood and straightened his necktie.
 
“I have an applicant coming in to interview for the assistant’s position.”

Thank God.
 
Al had been a real bear since Annie, his long-time assistant, had suddenly resigned.
 
Judging from the file folders, papers and event calendars strewn across his desk, the office wasn’t running like the well-oiled machine Al was used to.

“I’ve had three temps in the week and a half since school started and they’ve all been completely incompetent.”
 
Al lowered his head and began consolidating piles, offering no further comment.

Wonder what caused Annie to leave so abruptly
?
 
Assuming he’d never know the answer, Sean swallowed his curiosity and described Beau
Turnell’s
call.

“You’re right,” Al confirmed.
 
“If Butch can’t pull his grades up, our hands are tied.”

Some of the tension in Sean’s neck muscles eased.

“However, there is another bottom line to consider.”
 
Al turned a ratchet between Sean’s shoulders with a blade-sharp look.
 
“Beau
Turnell
is one of the most generous athletic boosters this school’s ever had.
 
If he pulls his support, we’re
gonna
have to do some major scrambling to make up the financial loss.”

Understood, loud and clear.

“And a so-so season won’t make that an easy task.”

Okay, so they’d lost the first game last week and Butch was going to be benched this week.
 
It was still early in the season.
 
In two weeks they could find themselves on top.
 
But chances were, without his starting quarterback, those changes wouldn’t happen.
 
Sean knew he had to do something, and fast.
 
First thing was not to panic.
 
Why hadn’t he stuck his Tums in his pocket?

“Yes, sir.”
 
His mind scrambled.
 
Maybe he could force Butch to attend tutoring.
 
Hell, he could spend his weeknights tutoring the kid so he knew Butch wasn’t blowing it off.

Slow down.
 
Think.
 
A turnaround would require a concentrated effort.
 
Maintain your focus on teaching, coaching and possibly tutoring, for the next three months.
 
Sensing a long battle ahead, Sean felt his stomach tighten.

Thankfully, the clicking of a woman’s heels in the tiled hallway saved him from having to reply to Al’s not-so-subtle threat.

Sean turned to see a beautiful young woman, dressed in a tight fitting red suit, halt in the open doorway.
 
One glance at her left him as speechless as if he’d been sacked by a three hundred and seventy-five pound linebacker.
 
Her red hair was long and hung in loose, playful curls and the V-neckline of her tailored jacket hinted at lush breasts.
 
He let his gaze slip downward.
 
Her short skirt highlighted the most perfectly shaped legs he’d ever seen.
 
She stood about five foot-six, but that was only with the aid of red high-heels that were equal parts sexy and deadly.

Their gazes met for a fraction of a second before hers traveled on to Al Matthews.
 
But even that blink of time was enough for Sean to know this woman was dangerous.
 
With one look of those emerald green eyes she’d zapped his ability to move a muscle.

“Mr. Matthews?”
 
The lady in red directed her inquiry to Al, who picked up a piece of paper from the closest stack and rounded his desk.

“Yes.
 
Miss Thompson?”
 
Al glanced down at what Sean assumed was her job application.

“Yes, but please, call me
Gigi
.”
 
Full, glossy lips spread into a bright smile and she extended her manicured hand in greeting.

Frozen, lifeless as a tackling dummy, Sean could only imagine shoving Matthews out of the way, falling at her feet and pressing wet kisses to her fingertips.
 
And then, since he’d always been a thorough kind of guy, he’d kiss his way up her arm and cover every luscious inch of that delectable body.

Hello
.
 
Nix the tackling dummy analogy.
 
From the way his heart was pounding and his dick was rising, it was clear his involuntary body functions were performing at top capacity.
 
Good thing he’d changed into a jock strap and loose-fitting sweatpants for football practice otherwise, he’d be embarrassing everyone in the room.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Thompson,” Al said, obviously not willing to forgo formalities.
 
He gestured Sean’s way.
 
“This is Sean Fitzgerald.”

Her gaze returned, and Sean’s body temperature spiked while every nerve ending tingled.

“Mr. Fitzgerald is a history teacher and our new varsity football coach.”

Some primal instinct forced Sean out of his momentary paralysis.
 
He reached for her hand, taming the urge to trap her in his arms.
 
Her delicate hand disappeared inside his, but her grip was firmer than he’d expected.
 
With that confident shake, and the head to toe red,
Gigi
Thompson was
smokin
’ hot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sean.”
 
She quickly released his hand.

He liked that she hadn’t called him Mr. Fitzgerald.
 
Too bad she’d been in such a hurry to break their physical connection.
 
He’d wanted to linger in it like a hot shower.
 
“No, it’s my pleasure.”
 
Good God, had his voice just cracked?

“Am I interrupting?”
 
She looked from him back to Al.

“Not at all.”
 
Al turned to face Sean.
 
“I think we’d said all we needed to say.”

Sean’s mouth went dry.
 
How was that for cryptic?
 
Would his teaching position be on the line if the team didn’t produce a winning season?

“If you’ll excuse us, Miss Thompson and I need to begin the interview.”
 
It was obvious Al expected a swift exit.

Frustrated by the admonition and dismissal, Sean did his best to give
Gigi
Thompson a sincere smile before heading toward the door.
 
It wasn’t until he’d made it halfway down the hall that reality hit him like a nose-tackle in the gut.

What if she got the assistant’s job?
 
How could he possibly stay focused on his work with that walking, talking wet dream distracting him every day?
 
No way could he concentrate on all that was involved in proving himself worthy of this job with a perpetual hard-on.

As he pushed open the outer door and headed toward the stadium, he cursed his luck.
 
Sean hitched the strap of his bag across his chest and sprinted toward the field.

Why couldn’t she have been fifty and happily married with half a dozen kids?

“Please let her blow the interview,” he said, half meaning it.

Chapter Two

Gigi
felt like a champagne bottle ready to launch its cork.
 
It had taken every ounce of self-control not to hop up on the chair and squeal with delight when Al Matthews offered her the job.

She hustled outside and headed toward her car as fast as her heels and slim skirt would allow.
 
Butterflies skittered around her stomach, crowding out the hunger she’d felt earlier.
 
School had dismissed and the parking lot had thinned, so as she approached,
Gigi
caught sight of the vintage sports car.
 
Her hurried stride faltered as she recalled her parking mishap of an hour ago.
 
If only there’d been enough time to drive around and snag a spot on the street.

The piece of paper with her number was still under the wiper where she’d left it, rustling in the warm afternoon breeze.
 
Gigi
glanced at the car’s passenger door as she approached.
 
Was the blemish visible from a distance?

No, she couldn’t see it until she’d stepped between the cars.
 
If her Escort had been a darker color, the mark would be close to invisible.
 
Unfortunately, tiny flecks of its distinctive yellow paint stood out against the car’s glossy black.

Her high spirits, however, kept the mishap from dragging her back down into the doldrums.

“What’s done is done,” she said to convince herself.
 
All she could do was make amends with the owner when he or she called.
 
Not wanting to add to the damage, she circled to the passenger side of her car and got in.
 
After a quick glance to make sure no one was close by, she hiked her skirt up past her hips so she could maneuver over the console and into the driver’s seat.

Even before starting her car, she dug inside her purse for her phone.
 
She had to call Heidi and share her good news.
 
Gigi’s
hands shook with excitement as she hit the speed dial.
 
She wound down the old crank window for ventilation as the phone began to ring.

“Rafferty’s.”

“I got it!”

“Oh,
Gigi
, that’s so great!
 
When do you start?”

“Tomorrow.
 
Mr. Matthews seemed desperate for me to start A-S-A-P.
 
It’s such a relief.
 
Since yesterday was my last day at the insurance agency, I needed to find a job quickly. I was a bit worried.”

“I could tell.
 
Are you going to share the news with Pete the next time he calls to beg you to come back?”

Gigi
rolled her eyes.
 
“I wish he’d stop calling.
 
It’s not like he needed me anyway.
 
That office was a ghost town.”
 
Her ex-boss could only drink so much of her coffee, and if the phone didn’t ring, there was absolutely nothing for her to do.
 
“You should see the mess on Mr. Matthews’s desk.
 
This man really needs me.”

Gigi
thought of her neighbor, Annie, and her sudden departure from her job here.
 
The woman was the most organized person
Gigi
had ever met and she’d have a heart attack if she saw the mess on Al’s desk.
 
Gigi
might not have as much experience as Annie Marcum, but she hoped she could make up for any technical shortfalls with copious amounts of determination.

“So, what’s he like?”
 
Heidi’s question took her thoughts to Al Matthews.

“He seems to be very by-the-book.
 
He insisted on calling me Miss Thompson and didn’t hit on me or give me any perverted looks.”

“Good man.
 
Did you wear the dress I loaned you?”

Gigi
didn’t bother to stifle her snicker.
 
“You’ve got to be kidding.
 
I want to be taken seriously, but that doesn’t mean I have to dress like Marian the Librarian.”
 
They’d had this same conversation the night before.
 
“I won’t pretend to be something I’m not,”
Gigi
reiterated.
 
“So, I like to wear clothes that fit my curves?
 
Just because I don’t disguise my breasts doesn’t mean I’m a sleaze.”

“I know, but the men you worked for in the past didn’t seem to understand the difference
,
” Heidi said.
 
“I’d hoped you might give the new guys time to build up some fashion tolerance.”

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