Page 19 of Quarterback Sneak

After all, how bad could it really be?

Chapter Eight

Sam bounced from foot to foot and resisted the urge to glance at his watch. He’d tried to time the jog right, hoping he’d catch Ivy before she left for her morning run. Yes, he could have called but he wanted to surprise her. The city was slowly waking with pedestrians mingling with joggers who, like himself, were enjoying the mist provided by the hovering cloud cover.

His feet stilled as the familiar figure in a pink Mariner’s cap exited the building. Her legs shown to perfection in tight navy jogging shorts and a razorback white jogging top that accentuated her flat stomach. Damn, he loved that color on her. She glanced up and halted in mid-step at the sight of him.

“Hi.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. She smelled of soap and tangy undertones of woman. He wanted to bury his fingers into her hair and nuzzle the sensitive spot beneath her ear, taste her, memorize her with every sense.

“What are you doing here? You said you were flying in tomorrow,” she said, pleasure lacing her words.

“I finished my business early and caught the red-eye home.” Her text had haunted him for days and he’d left as soon as he could. “Howler’s still in San Diego. He claims he’s going to take a vacation. I give him about another six hours.”

Ivy laughed and stretched her calf, leg extended behind her. “Did you drive all the way from West Seattle to jog with me? What if I opted to stay in bed and not run?”

“I’m ok with that. Staying in bed that is. With you.” What he wouldn’t do to slip between the sheets with her and see how things played out.

Amusement curled her lips and she shook her head. Her hair was in a high ponytail and brushed her smooth shoulders, ones he longed to cup in his hand while he sank into her body.

“I’m staying on the boat. My house is bombarded with media right now.” After driving home at midnight, he’d found several news crews camped outside the gate to his house. A quick U-turn had found him driving back to Seattle. “Luckily, I have the boat until the end of the month.”

“It’s a nice boat and the bench seat proved very comfortable.” By the color that rushed to her cheeks, she remembered lying on those seats with him. “But I’m sure you slept in the cabin.”

“Actually, I slept out on the deck because it reminded me of you. Since I’m here, I figured I’d run with you. If that’s ok? Not that I’m stalking you, which I am, but I don’t want you to think that.”

Ivy stepped the few feet between them, laid her hand on his chest, and placed a fleeting kiss on his lips. She tasted of mint toothpaste. He wanted to prolong the kiss except the grinding of the brakes from a nearby car reminded him they weren’t alone.

“If you are truly stalking me, then you’ll have to run at least fifty feet behind.” She turned and began to jog down the street, her words fading as she set off at a rapid pace. “If you’re set on taking illicit pictures again, get me from my right side. It’s my best angle.”

He allowed himself the luxury of admiring the tight curve of her buttocks and the sway of womanly hips before he ran after her like a dog after a bone. Sam caught up in a few strides and settled his pace with hers. They descended the steep hill and every fiber of his being was aware of her by his side. “As much as I appreciate the view from back there, I’d rather be next to you.”

“That’s what all of my stalkers say.”

“And do they all invite you back to their boat for breakfast? I make a mean French toast.”

He followed Ivy across the railroad tracks to Alaskan Way, the grey clouds reflected in the deep waters of the Sound. The area was deserted with barely anyone about, all the rest of the joggers sticking to the designated paths. He hoped he wasn’t going off the grid with his impromptu visit.

“You’re going to make me breakfast?” Her question was airy from the exercise.

“I’m no Ivy Turin, but I can whip up a decent meal.” And get a chance to be alone with you again.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “As my stalker, I expect you to memorize everything about me, even my recipes.”

“I’d love to explore your recipes and taste every single ingredient you have to offer.” Heat shot through his veins and he found it difficult to concentrate on anything but the tantalizing rise and fall of her chest.

“Some ingredients are meant to remain a secret. With the right incentive, I might let you sample a few.”

Her husky voice burned the flame brighter and the hoodie he wore became hot and cloying. “Promise?” He sprinted ahead and turned around to jog backwards. Sunglasses lowered, he locked his gaze on her glowing face. “I have to warn you, I never back down from a challenge.”

“Spoken like a true stalker,” she said, beaming at him.

Sam spun back around and his own smile faded at the sight of a white van speeding along the street. He recognized the satellite dishes even from a few blocks away. A surge of panic threatened to sideline him until instinct kicked in. Years of leading the team proved beneficial to maintaining a cool head. “Shit, a television van is coming this way.”

Her steps faltered and she glanced over her shoulder, stark alarm paling her complexion. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish that were the case. Come on.” Sam clasped her hand and guided her into the narrow space between two dry docked boats. His stomach clenched. Were a few days of peace too much to ask for? The answer came to him before the question faded from his mind. He’d signed up for this and he had to live with the consequences. Ivy hadn’t. If she had any residual doubts about their relationship moving forward, this morning might cement her reluctance to be with him. The notion hurt worse than a sack by a vicious middle.

Ivy pulled the bill of her cap down and blocked her face from view.

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