Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
As soon as he started his car, the radio blared with the sportscaster’s overly excited voice.
“It’s only three days from the Minutemen’s Monday Night Football game, the big game that would clinch the playoffs for them with a win.”
He switched the station to listen to his pump-it-up play list. Not that he needed pumping up. His nerves were on edge. But he promised himself that no matter what his blood pressure reading was this morning, he wouldn’t let Charlie talk him out of practicing with pads.
Charline could hardly watch the full-contact practice with pads and hitting. How was she going to stand watching Trent play in a game with real opponents who didn’t give a crap about his injury? One last snap, one last wince, one last turn of her head, and it would all be over.
“Come on now. It’s not that bad,” Ralph said, coming to stand with her in the shadow of the tunnel.
She supposed she’d stayed there so she could be on standby if anything happened.
She’d told Violet it was because she was too cold to sit in the stadium.
Charline couldn’t believe the woman had come and sat through the practice in the sixteen-degree windy weather.
There’d been hardly a peek of sun all morning to warm them.
“You of all people know how bad it is—how bad it could get,” she said, realizing how much she’d needed to share that dark thought with someone who would know—the only other person who would know besides Trent.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Trent’s a big boy even if he acts like a big idiot sometimes. He’s driven. It’s what makes him great. Had made him great his whole career. Hard to argue with success.”
“It’s football, Nunley.” She didn’t get it. She turned to Ralph. “I don’t care if he’s MVP, Mr. Super Bowl or the Golden Man or whatever else they call him. It’s a damn game. He could be headed for a stroke.”
“Spoken like a true fiancée,” Ralph said.
She scoffed and ducked her head back around to hide the instant blush that heated her face. She didn’t want to be accused of that by Ralph. It was bad enough that she saw her real emotions every time she looked in the mirror.
“Don’t you want to talk about it?” Ralph spoke quietly. There was no sign he was dropping it.
She shook her head. It was her chickenshit default. She straightened her spine and took a deep breath of the bracing cold air.
“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re not a real couple.”
“No matter how much chemistry you have?”
She turned to look at him while the team filed from the field. The action seemed to be over. Trent would be headed their way in a few seconds.
“Who says we have chemistry?” Trent better not have told Ralph they had slept together.
“No one.” Ralph put up his hands in surrender. “No one had to tell me. It’s as plain as a shotgun formation.”
She scoffed. Ralph smiled at her with a knowing look. But there was no way she would elaborate, no way she’d admit to anything. Bad enough she was forced to admit to herself she had feelings for the over-muscled player.
“I care about Trent. Same as I’d care about any subject who decided to put themselves at risk.”
It was Ralph’s turn to scoff, which quickly degenerated into a full-out laugh. Trent was headed their way now, within a few yards and grinning. Ralph gave him a salute and headed to the training room.
Trent reached her, his ebullient energy coming off him in tangible waves, his big boyish grin making her heart speed up with excitement and the new tenderness she felt.
“I made it through. Flying colors, Doc.” In spite of his filthy, sweaty state, he took her in a hug and kissed her in an unguarded manner, all his emotions on his sleeve, as if he were a high school kid who just won his championship and she was his girl, the head cheerleader. The giddiness was contagious.
Jamie came by and slapped him on the back, jarring her from the warm bubble of kidlike joy. Trent let her go, his grin still wide. He whispered to her before he left.
“I’m better than ever, Charlie. And it’s all because of you.” He kissed the tender spot just behind her ear, making her shudder and feel warm inside. “See you in the training room in about fifteen. I need a shower bad.”
She smiled and scrunched her nose in agreement, but in truth, the scent of him was heady and enticing, drawing her in with mystical animal magnetism. She watched him go.
Then she immediately began the lectures to herself to double up on her caution, put some distance, get a professional grip. Too much was at stake and she was his doctor first, before all else. His well-being as a patient came before the desire she had as his lover.
It was all well and good for her to tell herself this, but who the hell was going to clue Trent in?
When she let herself in the back door to Nunley’s office fifteen minutes later, she found him with Trent, a fully clothed Trent, looking and smelling like the proverbial million bucks.
“Let’s do the testing and measurements back at my place.” He picked up her black bag and held it out to her. “We can celebrate.”
She gave him a long look, not that it took more than a millisecond to read the intentions on his passion-filled face. She knew what kind of celebration he had in mind. Sliding her eyes to Ralph’s, she saw his suppressed I-told-you-so grin, but she didn’t care. She was past feeling foolish about it.
“What happened to the focused, self-disciplined football machine?” she said. Weak, but all she could muster with her heart hammering and her desire pooling, tugging her to him and screaming yes, please at her.
“I talked to the coach about attending both Christmas parties tomorrow night.” His grin refused to give up as he ignored her question.
“He agrees it’s a good idea. A few of the other guys are coming along with me and Jamie.
We’re going to rock those kids’ worlds. I can’t wait to see the look on Dylan’s face.
He’s going to smile bigger than he has in a long, long time when he sees the gifts we’re bringing. ”
“Sounds great. But I should go back to the hospital and check on my mother again—”
“She’s sleeping and you know it. They would call you if anything was going on.”
He was too damn smart. She didn’t back up as he stepped toward her, closing the small distance between them.
Nunley said, “I’m out of here. See you tomorrow night—I’ll be at the Shriners party holding down the fort until you get there with a few of the guys.”
“Thanks, Nun. Later.” Trent tossed the words over his shoulder without looking at the man, keeping his eyes on her. He dropped her bag then and snaked both arms around her.
“You are the sexiest, smartest doctor alive, you know that?” Without bothering to wait for an answer, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her mouth quivered and opened under his hot devouring passion.
She felt overwhelmed by his energy, his joy, his raw emotions, and felt an answering tug starting to take over.
When she thought they might not leave, might make love right there, he lightened the kiss, nibbled and then lifted his head, taking a deep ragged breath.
“Let’s get out of here while I can still walk.” The words were a low rumble, a promise of dangerous need barely harnessed below the surface.
Without giving her a chance to get it herself, he picked up her bag and held an arm around her, towering protectively as he escorted her out.
It was a mercifully short trip back to his place, but before Trent could drag her to his bedroom where he needed her badly, Charlie had her phone out.
Apparently the ride had been long enough for Charlie to cool off.
He watched her tap on Suzette’s icon. Withholding a sigh, he realized she needed to check on her mother.
“Suzette, how is Mother? Is everything all right?” Charlie turned toward him and he kept her in the circle of his arms.
Apology shaded her eyes, but he refused to let her go, couldn’t make himself back off. Maybe he was a self-centered, shallow bastard after all. He listened to Suzette on the other end of the line.
“Everything’s fine. Mother was sleeping when I left the hospital. I’m at home entertaining Buck.”
“Oh . . . I see . . . I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.” Charlie didn’t look sorry to Trent. She looked dismayed, but it didn’t take more than a couple of blinks of her deep, mesmerizing eyes for her to come around to resigned, and then amused.
“You’re not. I mean, we’re watching television. Will you be home tonight?”
Trent paid attention to Charlie’s face as he locked eyes with her, forcing himself to breathe, promising himself he wouldn’t allow himself to be disappointed.
“I’m not sure . . .”
There it was. The cold part of their hot-and-cold relationship. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been just as guilty, trying to walk the fence between his unruly desire for her and his certainty that, at the least, she was a distraction he couldn’t afford and, at the worst, a dangerous poison.
When she ended the call and slipped the phone back into her bag, he discarded her overcoat on a chair and he drew her into his living area.
“Your Christmas tree is beautiful. Unexpected.” She kept her eyes on the tree instead of him. He played her game, pretending away the sexual tension between them.
He said, “I hauled out my decorations last night when my tree was delivered.” He watched Charlie stare at the tree.
It was a giant pine that scented the entire living and kitchen area.
“My mother made the ceramic decorations for me for my first Christmas in Boston. They’re heavy as hell, weighing the branches down.
” He pointed at a dipping branch with a sparkly red-and-white ceramic Santa hanging from it.
He couldn’t help grinning at the memory of his first Christmas here.
“You must have missed your family,” she said.