“C.A., crawl up there on Sullivan’s knees, will you, we’ve got to get some more warm bodies in this seat.”
“But I—” Kay began lamely just as Jeff jerked her up and unceremoniously deposited her upon the unoffered lap of a scowling Sullivan. Sullivan’s dark head turned from the window just as Kay was thrust upon him. Their faces almost bumped; their eyes caught, and Kay shuddered at his fierce expression.
“I’m sorry, Sullivan, I didn’t mean—”
He turned to look back out of the window, mumbling unconvincingly, “Doesn’t matter.”
All the heavy doors slammed shut. “Shall we be off?” Sam Shults said over his uniformed shoulder. Putting the car in gear he jerkily pulled away from the curb. The high-spirited passengers began to sing loudly as Sam headed for the valley highway.
Two passengers did not sing along.
Once on the freeway, Sam accelerated the powerful car. He increased the speed so rapidly that Kay, who’d been perching precariously on Sullivan’s hard knees determined not to touch him any more than was necessary, was thrown helplessly back against him.
Immediately she was apologizing and struggling to sit up. Flattening a hand to his broad chest to push herself away, she said, “Sullivan, I didn’t mean to.” She was up again, perched on his knees.
Sullivan sighed, smiled and gallantly pulled her back down to him. “It’s all right. Get comfortable, we’ve a way to go. Put your arm around me and hold on before you get hurt.”
Gratefully, Kay did. She cautiously draped an arm around his shoulders, lightly clutching his neck. To her surprise, Sullivan’s long arms came around her and he gently settled her close to his warm chest.
It was paradise. It was hell.
Soon they reached the stadium. Together, Sullivan and Kay ran onto the field to the approving applause of thousands of cheering fans. Waving and throwing kisses to a crowd much larger than either had dreamed of, the golden couple, wearing dazzling smiles, slowed to move along the stands, cheerfully signing autographs and shaking hands.
The blowing of the referee’s whistle found the center for the Q102 team bent down over the ball, hands firmly on the pigskin, knees bent, bottom pointed skyward, ready to snap the ball to the waiting quarterback. The quarterback, lean brown hands reaching between the legs of the nervous center, called the play in a deep and commanding voice.
Kay snapped the ball to Sullivan and the game between the Q102 Spinners and the Channel Ten Glossies was underway. Sullivan rapidly backpedaled, the ball held in his strong right hand. Kay, not quite certain what she was to do now that she’d handed him the football, ran toward the opponents, looking back over her shoulder at Sullivan.
Sullivan pumped once, then threw a spiraling pass to Jeff Kerns. Perfectly thrown, the ball landed right on target and Jeff, after catching it, managed to run five yards before he was tagged by a laughing anchorwoman from the channel ten news team.
Kay clapped happily, lined up for the next play and bent over the ball, clasping it on the ground. She let her eyes slide up to the pair of well-tended brown hands in position between her legs. Those hands belonged to Sullivan and he was hunched so closely over her she could feel his body heat, his breath. Kay shivered, bit her lip and looked back down at the ball, determined to keep her thoughts solely on the game.
Sullivan, his lean body bent close to Kay’s, tried just as desperately to keep his mind on the game. It was difficult with that cute rear, clad only in white shorts, pointed in the air. It was agony to put his hands near those creamy thighs, waiting to receive a snapped ball, when what he really wanted to do was stroke and caress the soft and temptingly touchable flesh. It was extremely hard to lean close to her slender back, his eyes helplessly drawn to the fragile nape of her neck where wisps of silver hair, coming loose from under her cap, curled
“But I—” Kay began lamely just as Jeff jerked her up and unceremoniously deposited her upon the unoffered lap of a scowling Sullivan. Sullivan’s dark head turned from the window just as Kay was thrust upon him. Their faces almost bumped; their eyes caught, and Kay shuddered at his fierce expression.
“I’m sorry, Sullivan, I didn’t mean—”
He turned to look back out of the window, mumbling unconvincingly, “Doesn’t matter.”
All the heavy doors slammed shut. “Shall we be off?” Sam Shults said over his uniformed shoulder. Putting the car in gear he jerkily pulled away from the curb. The high-spirited passengers began to sing loudly as Sam headed for the valley highway.
Two passengers did not sing along.
Once on the freeway, Sam accelerated the powerful car. He increased the speed so rapidly that Kay, who’d been perching precariously on Sullivan’s hard knees determined not to touch him any more than was necessary, was thrown helplessly back against him.
Immediately she was apologizing and struggling to sit up. Flattening a hand to his broad chest to push herself away, she said, “Sullivan, I didn’t mean to.” She was up again, perched on his knees.
Sullivan sighed, smiled and gallantly pulled her back down to him. “It’s all right. Get comfortable, we’ve a way to go. Put your arm around me and hold on before you get hurt.”
Gratefully, Kay did. She cautiously draped an arm around his shoulders, lightly clutching his neck. To her surprise, Sullivan’s long arms came around her and he gently settled her close to his warm chest.
It was paradise. It was hell.
Soon they reached the stadium. Together, Sullivan and Kay ran onto the field to the approving applause of thousands of cheering fans. Waving and throwing kisses to a crowd much larger than either had dreamed of, the golden couple, wearing dazzling smiles, slowed to move along the stands, cheerfully signing autographs and shaking hands.
The blowing of the referee’s whistle found the center for the Q102 team bent down over the ball, hands firmly on the pigskin, knees bent, bottom pointed skyward, ready to snap the ball to the waiting quarterback. The quarterback, lean brown hands reaching between the legs of the nervous center, called the play in a deep and commanding voice.
Kay snapped the ball to Sullivan and the game between the Q102 Spinners and the Channel Ten Glossies was underway. Sullivan rapidly backpedaled, the ball held in his strong right hand. Kay, not quite certain what she was to do now that she’d handed him the football, ran toward the opponents, looking back over her shoulder at Sullivan.
Sullivan pumped once, then threw a spiraling pass to Jeff Kerns. Perfectly thrown, the ball landed right on target and Jeff, after catching it, managed to run five yards before he was tagged by a laughing anchorwoman from the channel ten news team.
Kay clapped happily, lined up for the next play and bent over the ball, clasping it on the ground. She let her eyes slide up to the pair of well-tended brown hands in position between her legs. Those hands belonged to Sullivan and he was hunched so closely over her she could feel his body heat, his breath. Kay shivered, bit her lip and looked back down at the ball, determined to keep her thoughts solely on the game.
Sullivan, his lean body bent close to Kay’s, tried just as desperately to keep his mind on the game. It was difficult with that cute rear, clad only in white shorts, pointed in the air. It was agony to put his hands near those creamy thighs, waiting to receive a snapped ball, when what he really wanted to do was stroke and caress the soft and temptingly touchable flesh. It was extremely hard to lean close to her slender back, his eyes helplessly drawn to the fragile nape of her neck where wisps of silver hair, coming loose from under her cap, curled
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