Page 11 of Love on the Line

“Huh?”

“Looked like you were limping?”

Her face heated again. “Oh, it’s nothing. At least not compared to your injury.”

“Didn’t look like nothing. Trust me, I know. I’m the king of lame.” He opened his mouth, then shut it. “That didn’t come out right.”

“Believe me. I understand.” He had nothing on her ‘I like people who like sports’ gibberish. She glanced at him.

He squared his shoulders, like he was bracing himself for something. “Hey, I’ve been kicking myself for weeks. At the bar I wanted—”

“If everyone could please listen up, it’s time for us to break into groups,” the moderator announced over the microphone.

Anne’s stomach dropped to the floor. He was going to ask her out. A part, a really big part, of her wanted him to. And that was the problem. He seemed like a decent guy, but he was a former football player with a bunch of groupies. Not what she was looking for at this stage of her life. He had women drooling over him left and right, and she had no desire to compete. Never mind that he smelled like heaven and made her insides quiver. Attractive, popular guys were not on her wish list anymore. She needed to find a man of substance.

“We’re running a bit behind, so elementary teachers please head to the back doors and high school teachers to the side,” the moderator said.

Wyatt frowned. “I wanted—”

“I’ll see you later. They seem to be in a rush.” Anne picked up her purse and hurried away before he could say anything else, her heart beating double time.

* * *

Wyatt tapped his thigh, his gaze on the instructor, but his mind elsewhere. The conference was a waste on him. Good thing he already knew the material. He couldn’t focus on anything all afternoon. Well, that wasn’t true. More like he’d focused on only one thing. He’d failed again to get Anne’s number.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t get tongue tied or nervous about asking a woman out. If someone turned him down, which didn’t happen much, he moved on. For some reason, he couldn’t shake off Anne. He’d nearly split a rib laughing at her attempt to explain her lack of interest in sports. She’d stepped right in it, and the more she said, the worse it got. Didn’t help when her cheeks turned pink, sending a wake-up call to his parts down south.

Yeah, she lit up his scoreboard, which left him scratching his head. What was it about her? Her pants suit covered most of her body, but not enough to hide the sweet shape of her ass when she’d walked to the banquet table. She kept her nails short and neat, wore minimal makeup, and didn’t even like football. Not his usual type. But those big blue eyes of hers got to him. So many emotions flickered in them.

Maybe that’s what drew him to her. She talked to him like a regular person, not a star-struck sports groupie. Hell, she’d even made fun of him about the crutches and the coffee. The woman had spirit and intelligence. Beautiful, but seemed unaware of it. And like an idiot, he’d managed to let her slip away before even getting her number. Although, she hadn’t slipped away as much as run away.

The back of his throat tightened. She had issues. But that made her all the more human. No pretense, no flirting, no trying to win him over. Just…honest and real.

His ears perked up as the instructor turned off the smart-board and thanked them for coming. Shit. They weren’t going back to the big conference room. That meant he wouldn’t see Anne again. Oh hell no. He’d find her. Maybe her session hadn’t ended, wherever that might be. He grabbed his crutches and stood.

“Do you need any help?” asked the woman with the “nephew” named Christy.

“Uh, no thanks.” He wedged the crutches under his arms, but couldn’t move forward because she stood in the way.

“I wanted to ask because, you know, you were so nice to sign that autograph for me.” Her mouth curved, and her face flushed. “I was wondering if…”

Ugh. He didn’t have time for this, but he hated to hurt anyone’s feelings. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m late meeting someone.”

“N-no problem,” she stuttered and backed away, once again, her face beet red.

Well, hell. He crutched a step and leaned in toward her. “Hey, tell Christy I really appreciate my fans and thanks.”

A huge grin split her face. “I will. I will.”

Phew. Nothing worse than making someone feel bad. He hurried to the door, his mind racing. Everyone had to leave through the lobby. His best bet would be to look for Anne there, unless she’d already left.

Loser mentality. No room for that. He jammed the down button on the elevator and adjusted his crutches. The muscles in his leg contracted. He could have run down the stairs in half the time if not for his stupid knee injury.

At last he reached the lobby. He exited the elevator and scanned the people milling around. No sign of Anne. A weight dropped in his stomach.

Refusing to give up, he crutched over to a spot where he could survey the entire lobby and leaned against the wall. He wiped sweat off his brow and stared down at his damp hand. What the hell had come over him? Running around a hotel like a maniac in search of a woman who clearly didn’t want anything to do with him? He’d lost it. Disgusted with himself, he pushed off the wall, and his gaze locked on Anne, coming out of the restroom.

His heart smashed against his ribs.

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