Page 31 of Quarterback Sneak

“Since your rookie year. Shit, Knute Rockney,” the man whispered, handing the ring back to Sam. He took off his cap, the light hitting his angular features, giving him a sinister bent despite his obvious enthusiasm. “Hey, do you think I could get your autograph?

“I don’t have a pen.”

Sam spoke reasonably enough but Ivy sensed the tension in his shoulders. If she wasn’t present, she’d bet a million dollars he would have tackled the guy by now. The cave woman in her wanted to see it. You man, me woman, protect me. She stifled a hysterical giggle at the notion. It was apparent she didn’t do well under certain stressful situations and she was pleased he kept a calm head.

The mugger looked at Ivy and her amusement fled in an instant. She started to hand her purse over when he asked, “You got a pen?”

Hands trembling, she scrounged in the bottom of her purse and found one of the ever-present Sharpie’s, a staple tool in any restaurant kitchen. Sam stole it from her cool fingers and signed his name on the bill.

“Thanks, Knute, my boy will love this.” The mugger put the hat back on and offered Sam a wide, toothy grin before running off into the night.

“Are you all right?” Sam whipped around to grab her shoulders.

Staring into his stark features, she pointed frantically from herself to him, to the direction the mugger took. “Oh my God, we were robbed, well almost. He didn’t take anything.”

“I’m sorry.” Putting a large hand on her waist, he drew her into a comforting embrace.

She wrapped her arms around him, her cheek coming to rest on his chest. He stroked her hair, his heart thudding rapidly beneath her ear. “For what? If it hadn’t been for you…” she trailed off, horrified at the thought of what might have happened if Sam hadn’t been who he was. “We should call the police. The guy was carrying a gun. He might hurt someone else.”

Sam grabbed his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, his brows drawn together. Ivy spied a patrol car at the traffic light. Disengaging herself, she rushed to the street corner and started to wave like a maniac. She knew she must look ridiculous. What was a little embarrassment when faced with a potential life and death situation?

Gratefully, the officers responded to her silent request, most likely with the intention of arresting the crazy woman. The second they spied Sam, the older one froze. “It’s Knute.”

“And Gabriella,” the younger officer said with eagerness in this gravelly voice.

The men approached and the younger officer scanned her chest before murmuring in a regretful tone, “No, definitely not her.”

Ivy stared at him, appalled by the mistaken identity and insulted by the man’s obvious disappointment in her bra size.

The older officer nodded vigorously and stepped closer, inching Ivy back from the three of them. Forgotten once more. She sighed and gave a resigned shrug. This was the harsh reality of being Sam’s girlfriend and if she wanted to be with him, she had little choice but to accept it.

“Hey, Knute. I was at the playoff game with the Saints last year when you threw more touchdowns than incompletions. Your arm was on fire.”

Not to be outdone, the younger officer chimed in, hero worship emitting from every inch of his stocky frame. “And how about the Denver game with the sixty yard throw during overtime? It was a thing of beauty.”

Sam reached a hand out to Ivy and drew her close to his side. The other men might have dismissed her but Sam hadn’t. The sturdy pressure of his hand slipping along the small of her back comforted her. “You’re no doubt wondering why we flagged you down. Some guy with a gun tried to rob us.”

The grins drained from their faces and the lead officer unsnapped a notebook from his belt. He began to question Sam about the incident in earnest. As she stood beside him, inserting the occasional comment, she watched him closely. He was well-spoken and conveyed an aura of self-assurance, understated yet ever present. He inspired trust in perfect strangers without even trying and although a part of her wanted to believe it was well deserved, a niggling voice in the back of her mind made her cautious.

In many ways, he was still a mystery to her. Hell, Beth and Ivy’s own family had more knowledge of Sam then she had. She had vacillated about her refusal to look him up on-line, unsure if she was making a big mistake. If she investigated him, he doubted she would she have learned more about him as a person than she had tonight. She was happy to note in a crisis, he kept a cool head and his protection of her added to the warm, fuzzy feeling she experienced whenever she was with him. The whole point of dating was the fun of getting to know someone one layer at a time and tonight she intended to uncover the most tantalizing mystery of all. Would the sex be good? Damned, she hoped so.

Chapter Thirteen

The cab stopped in front of Ivy’s apartment building. Sam opened the door and helped her out, his adrenaline pumping after the events of the night. He’d never been more helpless then when the mugger had his gun pointed at Ivy. “I’m sorry about tonight. We were fortunate the guy was a fan. Will you be all right?”

“I thought you were coming up?” Ivy gave him a small smile and slid her arms around his neck. “Unless you’d rather not.”

“Are you inviting me in?” he asked, embarrassed by the tinge of desperation choking his words.

“And more, unless you’d rather no—”

Liquid fire flowed through his veins at the invitation and he cut her off with a deep, sultry kiss, his tongue stealing into her mouth, mimicking the act to come.

She melted into him, her fingers sliding up the back of his head. Sam resisted the need to sweep her into his arms and carry her upstairs to her bedroom. He raised his head and stared down at her, searching her upturned face. She met his gaze, lips parted, eyes glistening with desire.

“Let’s go.” He gripped her hand in his and made to lead her through the lobby door when she offered a shaky laugh. “Don’t you think you’d better pay the cab first?”

“Shit. Don’t go anywhere.” He rushed outside and paid the cabbie before he reentered the lobby.

---