seductively against damp flesh. It was all he could do to keep from lowering his lips to press heated kisses there, mindless of the thousands of people looking on.
The game continued and Sullivan’s performance rapidly deteriorated from brilliant to just plain lousy. His passes missed the mark by a mile. He fumbled the snap more than once. He was tagged far behind the line of scrimmage numerous times. Before the first quarter had ended, channel ten was leading Q102 by a score of seventeen to nothing.
Only Sullivan, and perhaps Kay, knew where the problem lay. When Sullivan unceremoniously informed Kay he was changing her playing position, that she would switch with Rita from accounting, Kay merely nodded, though Rita, disappointed, protested. Unmoved, Sullivan told Rita it was for the good of the team. The trade took place.
Sullivan relaxed and became the formidable competitor he’d been in past years. Kay was delighted with her new position and when, later in the game, Sullivan threw a perfectly aimed pass into her upraised waiting hands, Kay squealed with delight and took off running for the goal line. She’d gone only a few yards before a muscular blond salesman on the channel ten team caught up with her.
He grabbed for her T-shirt, pulling it hard, and Kay, excitement and momentum carrying her, forgot it was only touch football. She tried to wrench away from the grinning, good-looking Dave Kelso. She heard the tear of her shirt just as she hit the grassy ground. The big blond man came crashing down on top of her. Kay, unhurt, a good sport, laughed and the man on the ground with her laughed, too. Kay was on her back, the football still clutched tightly in her crooked arm. Dave Kelso was on his stomach, his broad torso partially covering hers.
Fans in the stands were applauding. Teammates from both sides were whistling and cheering. Kay and Dave lay on the soft, well-tended carpet of grass, laughing uproariously, struggling to untangle arms and legs. When a shadow fell between the giggling pair and the bright sun, Kay looked up to see a livid Sullivan Ward above them.
Mouth thinned into a tight line, black eyes snapping, Sullivan jerked her to her feet with such force and speed her head rocked on her shoulders. Strong fingers possessively gripping her arm, he was speaking to the blond Dave Kelso. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kelso?”
Still smiling, Dave Kelso rose, brushing grass and leaves from his shorts. “Why so edgy, Ward? I didn’t hurt her, did I, sweetheart?” He looked down at Kay.
“He didn’t, Sullivan, really. It was my fault, I should have…I was…”
Sullivan ignored her. “Kelso, this girl weighs a hundred pounds, you weigh two hundred. Fall on her again and you’ll answer to me, you got that?”
“Meaning?”
“Read my lips, Kelso. Touch her again and I’ll come after you. I weigh two hundred pounds, too.”
The big blond man’s smile stayed in place. “What if I took her out to dinner, Ward?” His eyes went to Kay. “I was just going to invite her when you interrupted.”
Sullivan released Kay’s arm. “You do that, Kelso.” He turned to walk away. “On this playing field, stay off her!”
Kay, pulling her torn T-shirt together, apologized to the blond, good-natured man for the overreactive behavior of her morning-show partner. “Mr. Kelso, I’m sorry, Sullivan doesn’t usually act so rudely.”
“Kay.” The smiling man took her arm and shook his blond head. “I’ve known Sullivan for over three years now and although he’s not exactly a teddy bear, I’ve never seen him so mad. It can only mean one thing.”
“I don’t understand.” Kay looked up at him.
“Don’t you, Kay?” He chuckled easily. “And here I thought you were as intelligent as you are pretty.”
Kay, riding back to the station after the game, a game in which Q102 had proved victorious, pondered the events of the morning. Sullivan was not in the limo she rode in. She had
The game continued and Sullivan’s performance rapidly deteriorated from brilliant to just plain lousy. His passes missed the mark by a mile. He fumbled the snap more than once. He was tagged far behind the line of scrimmage numerous times. Before the first quarter had ended, channel ten was leading Q102 by a score of seventeen to nothing.
Only Sullivan, and perhaps Kay, knew where the problem lay. When Sullivan unceremoniously informed Kay he was changing her playing position, that she would switch with Rita from accounting, Kay merely nodded, though Rita, disappointed, protested. Unmoved, Sullivan told Rita it was for the good of the team. The trade took place.
Sullivan relaxed and became the formidable competitor he’d been in past years. Kay was delighted with her new position and when, later in the game, Sullivan threw a perfectly aimed pass into her upraised waiting hands, Kay squealed with delight and took off running for the goal line. She’d gone only a few yards before a muscular blond salesman on the channel ten team caught up with her.
He grabbed for her T-shirt, pulling it hard, and Kay, excitement and momentum carrying her, forgot it was only touch football. She tried to wrench away from the grinning, good-looking Dave Kelso. She heard the tear of her shirt just as she hit the grassy ground. The big blond man came crashing down on top of her. Kay, unhurt, a good sport, laughed and the man on the ground with her laughed, too. Kay was on her back, the football still clutched tightly in her crooked arm. Dave Kelso was on his stomach, his broad torso partially covering hers.
Fans in the stands were applauding. Teammates from both sides were whistling and cheering. Kay and Dave lay on the soft, well-tended carpet of grass, laughing uproariously, struggling to untangle arms and legs. When a shadow fell between the giggling pair and the bright sun, Kay looked up to see a livid Sullivan Ward above them.
Mouth thinned into a tight line, black eyes snapping, Sullivan jerked her to her feet with such force and speed her head rocked on her shoulders. Strong fingers possessively gripping her arm, he was speaking to the blond Dave Kelso. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kelso?”
Still smiling, Dave Kelso rose, brushing grass and leaves from his shorts. “Why so edgy, Ward? I didn’t hurt her, did I, sweetheart?” He looked down at Kay.
“He didn’t, Sullivan, really. It was my fault, I should have…I was…”
Sullivan ignored her. “Kelso, this girl weighs a hundred pounds, you weigh two hundred. Fall on her again and you’ll answer to me, you got that?”
“Meaning?”
“Read my lips, Kelso. Touch her again and I’ll come after you. I weigh two hundred pounds, too.”
The big blond man’s smile stayed in place. “What if I took her out to dinner, Ward?” His eyes went to Kay. “I was just going to invite her when you interrupted.”
Sullivan released Kay’s arm. “You do that, Kelso.” He turned to walk away. “On this playing field, stay off her!”
Kay, pulling her torn T-shirt together, apologized to the blond, good-natured man for the overreactive behavior of her morning-show partner. “Mr. Kelso, I’m sorry, Sullivan doesn’t usually act so rudely.”
“Kay.” The smiling man took her arm and shook his blond head. “I’ve known Sullivan for over three years now and although he’s not exactly a teddy bear, I’ve never seen him so mad. It can only mean one thing.”
“I don’t understand.” Kay looked up at him.
“Don’t you, Kay?” He chuckled easily. “And here I thought you were as intelligent as you are pretty.”
Kay, riding back to the station after the game, a game in which Q102 had proved victorious, pondered the events of the morning. Sullivan was not in the limo she rode in. She had
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