Page 2 of Virgin Pass

Chapter One

Lori

Austin Striker isby far the most heart-poundingly gorgeous, powerful, amazing man I’ve ever seen in my life…

But if he doesn’t stop targeting Xavier Green I may have to scream.

“No,”I groan as I squint through my binoculars, sitting in the special entourage section that Coach Connor—my dad—has allowed for the agents and assistants who’ve turned up on this swelteringly hot day to watch practice. Pre-season starts in just a few weeks. If Austin wants to impress Dad that he’s got everything it takes to win for this team, he needs to step up his game and stop targeting such a weak receiver.

And I know he’s got what it takes. As the coach’s daughter and a junior agent for Austin’s sports agency, I’ve gotten to watch him working out every day since he’s come back. It’s by far the best part of my job. I graduated a few months ago with a bright shiny degree in PR and talent management mainly to irritate dear old Dad, who’s still convinced I should be babysitting. Or baking. Or something equally safe. But though I’ll never ever let my father know this—I hate being an agent. All I want to do is stand on the sidelines and stare at Austin. He’s been in the pros for ten years, bounced around to a few different teams, a journeyman backup who never found a home as a franchise quarterback. Now, with a rookie quarterback newly drafted to the team, Austin’s hopes of seeing actual play this year are dwindling. But he can still electrify a crowd with his incredible arm, his amazing strength, his grit and his fire.

He definitely electrifies me. Standing this close to him after all this time makes everything go tight inside me, no matter how many times I watch him play. He’s all I’ve ever dreamed of in a man, and in Austin’s case I literally have dreamed about him, passionate, feverish fantasies of him grabbing me and stripping me bare and touching me everywhere with his big, rough hands. Kissing me senseless and then making love to me over and over again. In my mind, Austin Striker’s made love to me a million times.

In reality? Not once. No one has. It’s been driving me crazy—everyone in the world my age seems to have lost their virginity but me.

Worse, every time I’ve been around Austin this week, I feel small and tongue-tied and shy, and he’s not said one word to me since the awkward meeting in the locker room his first day with the Warriors. Probably because I’m daddy’s little girl to him, off limits and way too young. I’m not too young, though. I know his game, and I know football. But though I’m bursting with stats and ideas and suggestions for how he can turn the field on fire, I mostly just want to…stare at him. He doesn’t so much have to do more than walk for me to completely swoon.

Another groan goes up on the field as the wideout misses his third pass from Austin, and I wince. He’s doing this all wrong! Even if he won’t believe me, I have to reach him, tell him what I know.

I leave the PR box, forcing myself to act far more confident than I feel. I’m not just the coach’s daughter, darn it, I work for Elite Sports…an agency that’s this close to dropping Austin if my dad doesn’t give him more playing time. I have every right to be here to protect our client, never mind that I’m mainly here to ogle at his mouth-watering body. He doesn’t need to know that. And I can help him. I know I can.

The coach pulls Austin out. He jogs to the side of the field, looking resigned as he watches the rookie take his place.

I stroll casually along the line of gargantuan men in full pads. I’m dressed similarly to dad’s other coaches, medical staff and assistants—light colored polo, khakis, tennis shoes, ball cap. Now that I’m down and mingling on the fringes of the team, no one notices me. I could be there to refill the Gatorade coolers. In fact, I grab a couple of bottles as I move into position, only a few feet separating me, Austin, and the corridor that leads toward the locker rooms.

“Gatorade?” I offer, and Austin turns to me, ready to growl until he catches sight of my face. Even when he’s in a foul mood, Austin can recognize an adoring fan, and I give him my best doe-eyed stare. It’s pretty easy to do, since I always look at him this way.

“Hey, angel.” When he winks, my knees wobble.

Please call me that again. “You’re playing really well,” I gush, and he gives me a half smile that almost makes my heart explode. “I’ve never seen you throw the ball longer than you have today.”

He smiles at me ruefully. “Well, you’d know. I’ve got some ground to make up, but I will.”

“I know you will,” I say breathlessly. When I make a subtle move back into the shadows, Austin’s smile turns into a grin and here come the dimples. He glances around, but no one’s paying attention to him right now, their eyes on the field.

“You always did know a lot about football,” he muses. I giggle nervously, even though I try not to. But I haven’t been this close to Austin since I was a kid, and it’s all I can do to keep thinking straight. Focus!

“I know a lot about you,” I say, and lead him a little more deeply into the corridor. It’s far enough, I decide. I don’t want any of the coaches to turn around and not be able to find Austin quickly, but I do need to keep his attention.

I just never realized how much having Austin Striker’s undivided focus would affect me.

“You don’t say.” He leans his long, rangy body against the wall of the corridor, his grin delighted. Up close and personal like this, I’m already half lost in Austin’s whiskey-colored eyes, framed by long, lush lashes. His mouth is beautiful, full lips stretched into an appreciative smile, model-perfect jaw and cheekbones begging for me to reach out and touch them. His dark, unruly hair is tousled from being trapped beneath a football helmet, so he looks like he’s just rolled over in bed, and he’s staring at me like I’m his morning coffee.

He rumbles in appreciation of my frank assessment. “Okay, beautiful, tell me something about me that no one else has told me before.”

I freeze, my eyes flaring wide. “You think I’m beautiful?” It’s a stupid question, and I regret it as soon as it’s out of my mouth, but Austin doesn’t say anything, he merely waits. Staring at me with his challenging gaze, daring me to speak.

I can do this.

Taking a deep breath, I ease closer to him, and he even smells delicious, all heat and strength and sunshine. Then I hit him with the information I’ve carefully compiled. “I know it matters who you throw to, and that you’ve got great instincts.”

Something dims a little in his whiskey gaze—everyone’s told him this—so I quickly push forward. “I also know that when you were in college, you met a walk-on named Zeke Forrester, and you guys became a mini sensation your freshman year, only the following year he didn’t show up, nor the year after that, and you never saw him again. You mentioned once in a news article that Zeke was the best natural wide receiver you’d ever known in your life.”

Austin blinks, legitimately surprised. “All right, you’ve impressed me. I haven’t thought about Zeke in about a million years.”

“Well, you should start thinking about him again. Because Zeke taught everything he knew to his little brother, who luckily was sent off to live with his daddy in another town. That little boy idolized two people in his life. His big brother who ended up with the wrong crowd and dropped out of college before he could get his life started…and the quarterback superstar who made his brother laugh and smile the only time in his life. That kid grew up to be Bro Silverton.”

Now Austin’s staring at me. “Bro? The undrafted guy we just picked up for the practice squad?”

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