Read Online Just This Once by Rosalind James - Free Book Online Page B

to his knock, she was forced to
amend her opinion. He stood smiling at her, filling the doorframe. Arms, chest,
thighs, check, she sighed as she looked up at him. Why couldn’t he have just a
little bit of a pot belly?  
    “Morning. Glad to see you’re ready to go. Bang on time, like
always,” he said, giving her a kiss that did nothing for her good intentions.
Especially as she couldn’t resist sliding her hands up his upper arms to his
shoulders for the pure pleasure of holding onto them again. Which made him
shift his weight, put his hands on her waist to pull her in closer, and kiss
her just a little bit more.
    “Sure you want to do this walk?” he said at last, with a
devilish grin. “I’m feeling a bit tired. Maybe we could think of something else
to do instead.”
    She laughed. “You said you were taking me on this thing. I
think I’d better hold you to it. And I don’t believe you’re a bit tired.”
    “I don’t know. Didn’t sleep so well last night. Something
missing. How did you sleep?”
    She turned red, cursed her fair skin yet again. “Not so well
myself. Let’s go on this hike, OK?”
     
    “I meant to ask you,” she said once they were on their way. “The
morning paper had some stories about rugby games. I’m confused. I thought the
season was over. Why are there still professional rugby games going on?”
    “That’s Sevens, not Union.” Seeing her bewilderment, he went
on to explain. “Different version of the sport.”
    “So there are two different kinds of professional rugby, and
they’re both played in New Zealand? That seems like a lot of rugby, especially
for such a small country. Do people watch both?”
    He laughed. “I haven’t even mentioned League, have I. Never
mind. Can’t have too much rugby. Not in En Zed. It’s our national sport. Maybe
our national religion. They play both League and Union in Aussie, too, though. Of
course, we think we play the real rugby—Union. League players will tell you
their version is better, faster. They’ll try to tell you it’s tougher, too. But
we may have a wee bit to say about that.”
    “I guess I’ll have to watch some games and judge for
myself,” she decided. “I have a feeling, though, that it’s all going to seem
tough to me. It’s about tackling, right? And being in that big ball of people,
pushing on each other?”
    “Yeh,” he responded, hugely amused. “You could say it’s
about tackling. The ‘big ball’ is the scrum—the way we restart play. Each team
tries to move the other backward, while the team in possession tosses the ball
in. It’s a bit of a physical contest. There are heaps of rules about the scrum,
but that’s as much as you’ll want to know. Are you keen on sport?”
    “Not exactly. I told you I used to watch football with my
father sometimes. But I never knew much about it. I watched because he liked to,
and I liked to be with him. But I felt sorry for the losers. They always looked
so sad.”
    “You’re right about that. Nobody likes to lose. That’s what
makes you bust a gut, though, to keep it from happening. And not to let your
mates down, of course.”
    “I suppose it’s not that different from anything else,” she
mused. “Just more straightforward. There are lots of times when I don’t feel
like making the extra effort at work. I guess I go ahead because I don’t want
to fall down on the job. Or to let people down. If I don’t do it, somebody else
will just have to pick up the slack.”
     He nodded. “Not so different.”
    “Of course,” she added, “Nobody’s trying to beat me up.
There is that. I think I’d give up pretty fast if someone came flying out of
the copy room and tackled me while I was trying to finish my budget.”
    “Could be. We’ll hope you’re not put to the test. Tell me
about what you do, then.”
    “I’m not sure that’s much more interesting than the rules of
the scrum. But I work for a women’s fitness company. We sell workout