Page 12 of False Start
I ignore his comment because I honestly don’t know what to say. I don’t want to lead him on, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the way he makes me feel every time I’m around him. “I should go.”
“Come on, Coach,” he says, and the two dimples on either side of his brilliant smile are my undoing. “You don’t date, and there’s no one in dire need of your presence like me.”
“You make it hard to say no.”
His smile fades into something less genial and more smoldering. “Good. Now, hop your pretty ass up here and tell me what’s happening with yourself.”
I wish he weren’t so easy to be with, but he is, so I slide onto the gate as he does the same. His arm touches mine and the masculine-scented soap he smells of wraps around me. Of course, he smells good.So good. Too good, but that’s beside the point. I need more self control around this dude. My nipples are hard enough to spear a fish.
“I’m winding down for Thanksgiving break next week. How about you?”
“I’m practicing until Wednesday. I’m ready to eat and have a day off from football.” After a pregnant pause, he says, “Have you eaten dinner?”
“No, not yet.”
“Eat dinner with me? I don’t want to go home and listen to the sounds your sister and my tight end make, and I sure as hell don’t want to dine alone when I could be dining with you.”
“Gross, I didn’t need to hear that about my sister.”
He laughs. “You should hear Ben.”
“Even grosser.”
His laughter grows louder. “Not a Ben Slate fan?”
“He’s an excellent athlete, but I don’t have the same affinity for players that my sister does.”
“So I’ve heard. It’s a pity, too.”
“How is that?”
He shakes his head and slides off the gate. “Nothing.” And then he turns around to face me, and there’s so much written in his eyes. “That’s not true. There’s something. I can’t stop wondering what it would be like to kiss you. And I know you don’t date football players, but kissing and dating aren’t the same thing.”
I can’t stop the giggle that escapes me. “Is that your argument for kissing me?”
He grins. “Yes. I mean, no. There are many reasons why I want to kiss you, but mainly in the name of curiosity.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“Or at least gets you sacked.”
“Is that what that was?”
“God, you’re beautiful, Zhanna.”
“Are you saying it so I’ll let you kiss me?” I ask.
He takes a few steps with his long legs and covers the ground between us. He wets his lips and looks down at mine. “No, but I hope you’ll let me kiss you anyway.”
“Because you think I’m a football princess?”
“No, woman. I want to kiss you because you’re tough, intelligent, beautiful, and you’re not begging me to marry you. Hell, you won’t even go out on a date with me.”
“You don’t date either,” I remind him.
“I’d give it a real shot with you.”
“Why?”
