Chapter 3
At home, Meghan spent three hours doing Dean Ulrich research.
She read his bio, the back issues of the Ebert school newspaper, and finally watched YouTube clips of him being interviewed.
He looked great on camera, and he was a very good speaker.
Organized, concise, and commanding. Her favorite clips were the ones where his defensive coach, Lamar Berry, was taking questions with him.
Lamar was a gorgeous and hilarious African American man who’d played on the same college team with Ulrich.
Coach Ulrich was very serious when on camera himself, but when he and Berry were there together, Ulrich’s sense of humor emerged.
It was clear that the reporters loved them, especially because they were a “Cinderella” story with their historic first season at Ebert where they’d had a nine-game winning streak that led to a bowl game.
Even Meghan had to admit that sounded impressive.
The next day, Meghan had to ask around to figure out where the football coaches had their offices. The athletic training facility was a glass and steel marvel. She rode the elevator to the top floor, her feet already complaining about the heels she’d elected to wear for hiking across the campus.
She entered the outer office where a young woman sat at the desk with a headset on. She was a very pretty girl, likely a student.
“Hello,” she said with smile. “How can I help?”
“I’m Dr. Marshall. I’d like to see Mr. Ulrich.”
“What kind of physician? Orthopedic surgeon?”
“Um, no, not that kind of a doctor. I’m a physicist.”
“Oh, you’re here to analyze the footage? That’s one floor down. Do you have a list of the practice dates you’re supposed to review? I can queue them up for you.”
“Oh, um, no. Does he have scientists looking at his football footage?”
“Yes, sometimes. It’s been awhile.”
“Interesting. That’s very progressive, I think. But I’m not here to talk about football.”
The girl looked at her like she was speaking Korean.
“I’ve come to speak to him about something else,” Meghan said, pressing on. “Can you please let him know I’m here? When we last met, he did say I’d always have access to him.” That was a little over the top, but Meghan wasn’t sure that the young woman would let him know otherwise.
“All access? Are you interviewing him?”
“Can you just please inform him I’m here? I’m happy to wait. I brought my laptop to work if he’ll be busy for awhile.”
The girl looked at her like she was crazy.
“He’s down in the weight room. Let me check with him,” she said hesitantly. The young woman apparently sent a message to his phone. A moment later, the office phone rang.
She picked up. “Hi, Coach. There’s a physicist here.” She paused. “Yes, actually. Dr. Marshall.” She listened. “She said you gave her an all-access pass, but then she said she’d wait here if you want her to.” She paused. “All right. Sure.”
The girl pressed some buttons and then led Meghan out of the office, locking the door behind them.
“What if someone comes?”
“I’ll be right back. The office phone is forwarded to my cell,” she said, holding it up.
Of course. Meghan could barely figure out half the functions of her various devices, but students were always savvy when it came to the latest telecommunications technology.
They rode down to the training facility’s gym. The girl swiped a badge and led Meghan into an area that was literally full of football players and trainers. Music blared overhead.
Heads turned, and Meghan felt immediately self conscious. Her black skirt was nothing special, but the heels she wore were very high and sexy and the fitted blue scoop-neck sweater was not normal work attire.
Dean Ulrich emerged from around a corner, wearing track pants and a Wolves T shirt. He looked every bit as fit as his buff players. He strode over to her and the receptionist, thanking the young woman for bringing her down.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout,” Meghan said after the girl had gone.
“My workout was at five thirty this morning. The players are working out, not me.”
“Oh. Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your work…supervising their workout?”
“What can I do for you, Dr. Marshall?”
“Meghan.”
“What can I do for you, Meghan?”
She licked her lips, which felt inordinately dry. “You’re quite good in interviews. You pointed out that my presentation skills need work. Would you be willing to help me with that?”
He raised his brows.
“You did say someone like me has access to someone like you,” she whispered, feeling uncomfortable and ridiculous for having marched into his athletic sanctum to ask for a favor she had no right to ask for.
Especially after she’d been rude to him.
Twice. Her voice was barely audible, but she dug herself into a deeper hole by murmuring, “I didn’t have a red sweater, but I thought this one fit like the top of the red dress. ” Was she flirting? Disaster!
He smirked. “What exactly are you offering in exchange for help with your presenting style?”
“Oh, um, not anything that would be—would that be prostitution? But no, that’s not what I was planning to offer.
How about dinner and drinks? Did I mention that I make my own pasta by hand?
That I grill swordfish and serve it with a basil-caper butter sauce that will make you want to weep it’s so delicious?
And that I have access to beef tenderloin that’s been aged thirty days and that you can cut with a fork the way I prepare it?
Do you like food? Or are you only allowed to drink protein shakes? ”
He laughed. “Dinner at your place sounds great.”
“How about Saturday?”
He arched his brow skeptically. “I’m busy Saturday. We play Ohio State that day.”
“Oh my God, of course. I’m actually planning to be there. With binoculars. Last minute tickets are quite high up in the stands it turns out. I can’t believe I suggested Saturday.”
“Would you like a better seat for the game?” he asked.
“Can you do that? Move me at the last minute?”
“Well hello, beautiful angel from the alumni party,” Lamar Berry said, striding over. “How did you get here? Fell off a cloud?”
She smiled. “Hi, Mr. Berry. I’m a really big fan of yours.”
“And I’m a really big fan of yours. What’s your name, beautiful?”
“This is Dr. Marshall,” Coach Ulrich said.
“A doctor? Are you kidding? It’s like fate. I’ve got this back spasm. Why don’t I take you to the locker room and—would you mind taking a look?”
A hand on her upper arm kept her from being be guided away. She glanced down to find that Dean Ulrich had a hold of her. His firm grasp sent a thrill down her body. What’s that about, she wondered.
“She’s a physicist, not an medical doctor.”
“A physicist? Damn! That’s impressive as hell. Are you faculty here?” Mr. Berry asked.
“Yes,” she said, only half paying attention. She was distracted by the coach’s warm hand.
“So you’re coming to the game?”
“Yes.”
“You should come out with us after.”
“That’s a really kind offer, but I’m not sure.”
“Yeah, be sure. Coach Ulrich’s probably still gonna be holding onto your arm, so how you gonna avoid it?”
The corners of her mouth quirked up. She glanced at the head coach’s face. “You are holding my arm. Why is that?” she asked.
“To let Lamar know he’s not taking you anywhere.”
“Oh.” Wow, she had never in her life been the object of a tug of war between two men, especially not two men like these. She should not have been enjoying it, but she certainly was.
She glanced over at Lamar Berry who was grinning.
“See that? He doesn’t even let go when we call him out on it. That’s how he rolls. Nobody takes the big dog’s bone,” Berry said with a wink at Ulrich. “I’m gonna get back to work.”
She watched him walk off. “Did he call me a bone?”
“So about your seat for the game. My assistant will get the ticket to you.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you, Coach Ulrich.”
“Dean.”
“Dean,” she said with a smile.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said, guiding her to the glass doors and out of the training center.
When they were on the steps, she looked up at him.
“You’re still holding my arm,” she pointed out, using her other hand to shade her eyes from the sun so she could look at his face.
“Ready for me to let go?” he asked with an enigmatic expression.
Not particularly, she thought. “I suppose so. I have to go back to my lab, and you have to go back to your players.”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Dinner at your house.”
“Um, sure. You know tomorrow’s Thursday? Two days before your big game. You’ll have time?”
“I’ll make time.”
“All right,” she said, smiling again. “Do you know what you’d like for dinner?”
“Surprise me.”
“Do you have your phone? So I can give you my cell number for the address and such?”
“I have your number.”
That stopped her. “You do? How?”
He smiled, but didn’t answer. He’d obviously gotten it from someone who’d asked him not to say.
“Right,” she said, shaking her head. “Men like you always have access to everyone it seems.”
He said nothing.
“Were you planning to use that number if I hadn’t come to find you first?”
“Yes.”
She took a breath. He was certainly sure of himself and of everything he did. How did one become that confident? Be a football player and then a coach, maybe? “All righty then. I guess you should let go now.”
“You guess?”
“You should let go now.”
He squeezed her flesh firmly, then released her with the sensation lingering. “Goodbye, Meghan.”
She waved and then walked back to her building, regretting her shoes for the walk, but not that she’d worn them to see him. She didn’t regret a thing about that.