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  She was glad Al was too busy to notice. Gigi decided to ignore Fred’s leering and return to her work. She had more important tasks to attend to than make small talk with idiots. Learning all the workings of the athletic office had made for an incredibly busy day. Lunch had been a working one—a couple sandwiches and sodas Al had snagged from the cafeteria. There hadn’t even been time to call Heidi about returning her car.

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Al.” Fred patted him on the back as the director double-checked a spreadsheet.

  In her peripheral vision she could see that Fred was still gawking. As long as he kept his hands to himself, she could deal with it.

  “I’ll be glad to help Gigi if she needs anything.” Fred was practically drooling.

  Al’s brow furrowed over his papers. “I’m counting on everyone pitching in if Miss Thompson has any questions.”

  A bell sounded in the hallway, and Fred redirected his gaze—finally—to the wall clock. “Darn, I’ve gotta go. I have detention duty, but I’ll be back.”

  Suddenly Gigi’s sandwich felt like a lead weight in her stomach. I can’t wait.

  Sean saw Al’s back as the athletic director headed out the door. Thinking it best not to delay his departure, Sean let him go. No one knew what had caused Annie to resign without giving notice, but the man had been temperamental, at best.

  Concentrating on Al’s problems, Sean turned into the athletic office then froze in his tracks. Was this the same room he’d been in yesterday? His gaze skimmed over the top of the director’s desk. The thing had been mounded with piles of papers and file folders, but now the scarred leather blotter was free of debris.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Until she’d spoken, Sean hadn’t noticed Patty Miller, the field hockey coach, standing in the corner stuffing her mail into a canvas bag. “Cuz it’s the same thing I thought when I walked in.” Patty cracked her bubble gum like a pro and hitched her bag onto her shoulder. “There really was a desk under that mountain of crap. Al’s new assistant is a bona fide miracle worker.”

  Sean’s gaze moved from Patty to Gigi’s unoccupied desk. It held numerous stacks, but at least they appeared neat and orderly. A work in progress, but a vast improvement over the past couple weeks.

  Patty stepped closer and lowered her voice. “And you should’ve seen her handle Gloria earlier.”

  Sean winced inwardly at the mention of the school principal’s assistant. The woman couldn’t be more than five foot tall, but she ran the front office like General Patton.

  Patty paused in the doorway as a stream of rowdy teenagers headed past toward the exit. “I was coming out of a meeting in the conference room and saw the whole thing. Gloria was actually smiling as she spoke to her.”

  Sean felt his eyes widen. “No, way. I’ve used good manners I never knew I had with Gloria, and she still acts like I’m disturbing the order when I walk into the front office.”

  Patty laughed, showing off the pink piece of gum cupped in her tongue. “I know. It isn’t fair.” She cracked her gum again and lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “Maybe we can ask Gigi to put in a good word with Gloria for us.”

  As Patty left, Sean crossed to his mailbox but made no move to retrieve what was inside, still amazed by the miracles Gigi had performed. So, not only was she beautiful, but she was hard-working, efficient and personable.

  Great. More reasons to like her. Why couldn’t she be a prima donna, or brainless? Anything that would make it easier to turn her down. Sean rubbed a hand down his face, not confident he’d be able to say no.

  The sound of rapidly clicking heels brought his attention to the doorway. Gigi rushed into the room and to her desk, her arms loaded with files. She bent to set the stack down and spotted him as she straightened. Her one-hundred-watt smile dimmed to fifteen. Damn. He’d known this was going to be awkward. Was she angry he hadn’t called?

  Tongue-tied and suddenly remembering his erotic dream, all he could think of to say was hi.

  “Hello, Sean.” She picked up the top file from her stack and paused as if waiting for his response.

  I wonder what color her bra is? No, don’t think about that. He swallowed. Sean grabbed the junk mail out of his box, hoping that breaking eye contact with Gigi would bolster his resolve. But the image of her naked—with those delectable curves, big green eyes and luscious lips—was burned into his brain.

  “Busy day?”

  Her voice drew him from his fantasy and he glanced back. “Yeah. How about you?”

  “Very. I met some of the other coaches and staff, and have started some of the ground work for keeping the department running smoothly.”

  Sean pretended to flip through his mail, not really seeing one piece. As Gigi turned to a file cabinet, the profile of her body made his mouth go dry. Why did she have to be so damned sexy? Turning her down was like refusing Novocain before a dentist started drilling.

  Get it over with, you masochistic sonofabitch.

  “Gigi, I—ah, I got the note that you left on my car yesterday.”

  She looked up from the files with rounded eyes.

  Sean hated embarrassing her. “I wanted to tell you how flattered I am that you want to go out with me.”

  Her brows furrowed. This must be a first for her, having a guy tell her he’s not interested.

  “But—”

  “I mean, it’s not every day that a beautiful woman is so up-front about her interest in me.”

  Gigi’s cheeks, neck and—God help him—cleavage were turning red. He was embarrassing her even more. Double damn.

  “I see.” Her lush lips tightened to a thin line. Was she angry? Well, she was probably used to being the one doing the rejecting. He’d handled this all wrong.

  “It’s just that this is a really busy time of year for me. Maybe after football season is over we could have coffee.” No, no. No coffee, no nothing. Al would hang Sean’s balls from his rearview mirror.

  Without answering, Gigi quietly closed the file cabinet and bent to open one of her desk drawers. Sean looked down her top, and his throat constricted. What was he supposed to do, gaze at the ceiling and whistle “The Star-Spangled Banner?” Hell, he was a guy and her breasts were right there. She pulled out her purse, straightened and rounded the desk. He studied her movements closely, hoping her sizable brown bag wasn’t about to be swung upside his head.

  As she passed and reached the doorway, Gigi turned to face him. Yep. She was pissed.

  “I understand. Flip off the lights on your way out, will you?”

  And then she was gone, leaving an icy chill in her wake and Sean feeling lower than the score of Butch Turnell’s last math quiz.

  “I understand. I understand you’re egotistical jerk.” Gigi roared down Lincoln Avenue in Heidi’s car with no particular destination in mind.

  “I can’t believe he thought I was so desperate for a date that I’d leave my phone number on his windshield.” She turned on Park Street. Since there were no pedestrians in sight, only the fear of getting a speeding ticket in someone else’s car kept her from gunning it past Merriman’s window factory.

  “The man is a moron, a complete and total idiot.” She continued to fume until she realized she’d unconsciously driven to her favorite happy hour destination.

  “Small chocolate shake,” she said into the Dairy Queen call-box. Ah, the healing power of chocolate and ice cream. By the time she pulled into a parking spot and took the first sip, her temper had cooled somewhat. But there was no way she was going to bring up the real subject of the note with Sean now. Eventually, he’d get a brain and figure out why she’d left it. Why do people normally leave their names and phone numbers under windshield wipers? Duh. And the longer it took him to figure out, the more he’d feel like a big, dumb jock later. That thought brought a smile, and the straw, to her lips.

  Chapter Five

  “I beg your pardon?” Gigi hit the save button on her keyboard and gave the caller on the phone her full attention.


  “I have thirteen marching bands from the southern half of the state coming for a competition on the sixth,” the high school band director repeated. “The middle school Web site says there’s an eighth grade home football game the same day. I scheduled the field over a year ago. There’s got to be a mistake.”

  Gigi could hear the frustration in the man’s voice. “Let me check that for you. Can you hold on a moment?” She tucked the receiver between her chin and shoulder, then pulled the district facilities schedule up on her screen. “I see the marching band competition on the sixth for the middle school field.”

  “That’s not what I’m seeing. It says eighth grade home football game.” His tone sounded more strained than it had five seconds earlier.

  “I’m sorry. I was checking a different field schedule. You’re on one of the middle school Web pages.” Gigi tried to brainstorm the problem and possible solutions. Was the high school field available? She pulled up that schedule to check. No luck—girl’s soccer game.

  “Let me speak with Al,” the band director said.

  “I’m sorry. Mr. Matthews is out for the remainder of the afternoon.” She’d love to hand this one off. It had been a productive Monday, with no major problems. She’d successfully handled each small issue that had come along. Plus a big one. Fred, to be specific, who had planted himself in the office during his entire planning period.

  “This competition is a major fundraiser for the music program. I need this cleared up. Yesterday.”

  Gigi reminded herself not to take his anger personally. “I understand.” She wouldn’t stoop to telling the man it was only her second day on the job. This was her first real test, and she wasn’t going to let Al Matthews down.

  “I’d like to delve a little deeper into this.” She wondered if the visiting football team’s school could host. “I can get back to you first thing in the morning.” Gigi crossed her fingers. “Great...Yes, I’ll do that. First thing. Thank you.”

  She hung up the phone and frowned at the wall clock. The school day was already over, but she couldn’t let that stop her. She could ask Al in the morning, but she really wanted to handle the problem herself. But where should she start? She doubted she had the authority to call other school and change venues. Asking Sean was one possibility, but she was still angry with him. Fred? As much as she didn’t want to encourage the man, this was all so new. Maybe she needed a little help. Picking up her pad, she headed toward the coaching office.

  Sean heard the clicking of high heels just moments before Gigi appeared in the doorway. One more minute and he would have been on his way to the stadium. Part of him wished he’d made it out before seeing her, but another part of him, the lower part, was damned glad he’d needed to straighten a few things on his desktop.

  Her gaze passed over him and around to the right side of the office. He took the opportunity to scan her from head to toe. Form-fitting purple sweater, black leather skirt, and black leather high heeled boots. Didn’t the woman own any muumuus? When Gigi took a step into the room to look toward the desks to the left, Sean noticed the off-center slit up the front of her skirt. Yowzah. That sucker ran almost all the way up to the top of her right thigh.

  His arousal was swift and uncomfortable. Being a hands-on kind of coach meant he often wore a jock strap to practice so he could show the players various moves. Hard-ons and jocks did not mix well. He shifted in his chair and again wished he’d left the mess on his desk until morning.

  “Is Fred gone for the day?” Her tone held a definite chill.

  Damn. Sean knew he was about to ask her if she needed help, even though he should keep his distance. But she hadn’t looked up from her work to speak to him when he’d checked his mailbox earlier. Probably still embarrassed about me turning her down. He’d hate it if she never again directed her dazzling smile his way.

  “Yeah, he already left. Can I help you with something?” He watched her consider his offer, but then she shook off whatever caused her hesitation.

  “I just spoke with Randy Schwartz, the marching band director. Somehow the middle school football field got double-booked for the sixth.” She took two steps into the room and Sean had to force his gaze away from her silky thigh when it flashed through a wave of black leather.

  She held out a piece of paper in his direction. “The field schedule confirms the band competition, but Randy said the middle school’s Web page shows a home game scheduled for the same day.”

  Sean stood, leaned across the desk and took the paper from her. “Is the high school field available?”

  She shook her head. “Girls soccer game.”

  Sean sat back down and looked up the band schedule on the high school’s Web site. “This is really strange. Those schedules were set months ago, and from what I’ve heard, Annie Marcum was super efficient.” But it appeared both events were to be held on the sixth at the middle school field. “Did you ask Al?”

  “He’s at an off-site meeting, but I thought with a little advice, I might be able to straighten it out.”

  She was brand new to the job and Sean admired her determination to find a solution without complaining about inheriting the problem. “Well, let me think.” He remembered the monster three-ring binder he’d seen Al refer to on a few occasions. “Did you check this against Al’s master schedule?”

  “No, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I can’t imagine a scheduling error like this happening. I’m due out on the practice field, but I’ll follow you back to your office. I think we should take a look at that binder first.”

  He grabbed his things and followed her out the door. Sean was grateful he couldn’t see the slit up her skirt as he walked down the hallway. That would be too much. Then again, no angle was safe when it came to Gigi’s body. He was already half-hypnotized by the gentle sway of her hips. And his hands itched to palm her butt cheeks and squeeze. Not good.

  As they entered her office, he glanced up at the clock. Damn. Time for practice. Not that the team captains didn’t know to start warm-up drills without him. But his expectation of arriving on time applied to the coaching staff as well as the players.

  “Here’s Al’s master calendar.” Gigi grabbed the huge binder off the top of a file cabinet and flipped through the organized pages.

  When he leaned in to look over her shoulder, Sean realized his mistake. Her scent captivated him. It was difficult to identify, like the woman herself. Not flowery or sickly sweet. Not boldly exotic and spicy but subtle and intoxicating. A scent he would crave from now on. Out of self-preservation, he leaned away and forced his focus to the printed page.

  “Ah, here we go,” he said, pointing to the page. “The football game is away. Whoever posted the information on the school’s Web page entered it incorrectly.” He knew he should back away to put more distance between their bodies, but Christ, she smelled good. “You might call Ridgeland’s athletic office to confirm, but I’d say this was just an error by some student volunteer who got stuck doing the Web page updates.”

  Gigi turned. Her expression of relief spread into the first real smile he’d received since early yesterday. When their gazes met, he felt his control slip. Her smile faltered, and his focus shifted to her glossy lips. Kissable lips. Lips he’d give almost anything to feel against his. Or meandering over any and every part of his body.

  He struggled against the urge to pull her into his arms and devour her. And he interpreted the look in her mossy green eyes to mean she might very well enjoy every bite he took. But the last thing he wanted to do was give her mixed signals. He’d already told her he wasn’t interested, which, as far as lies went, was the Big Kahuna. But he was swamped. Plus Al would have his ass in a sling if he found out. He forced himself to back away.

  “I’m late for practice. I’ll see you later.” And before Gigi could respond, he took off down the hall at a jog. He just hoped it looked like he was running toward something, not away from it.

  Gigi let out the breath
she’d been holding, blinked and tried to regain her senses. Wow. Being late for football practice must be a major offense around here. Maybe he’d make himself run laps.

  But it was a darned good thing Sean had taken off when he did. Being in such close proximity to those sky-blue eyes and defined muscles had her shaking. In another minute, she might have grabbed his shirtfront and plastered to her lips to his. Her heart was doing a rapid Macarena inside her chest, and she cooled herself with her fingers like a southern belle would with a lacey fan. Had the air-conditioning suddenly gone on the blink?

  Why does this always happen? Maybe there’s something wrong with me. She circled the desk and plunked into her chair.

  Why would her subconscious purposely set the same wheels in motion? Every time she got involved with a guy from work, that first step signaled the beginning of the end. She’d go out on a couple of dates, nothing serious, and then have the guy following her around like a puppy because he couldn’t keep things casual.

  She liked this job, damn it. And she wasn’t going to allow her attraction to another coworker screw it up. She had to break this cycle. I do not want him. She closed her eyes and repeated the words over and over in her mind. When her body temperature and heart rate finally returned to normal, she shook off the residual arousal.

  She looked down at the open binder on the desk. Thank God he’d suggested checking the master schedule. Information on the school’s Web sites was only as reliable as the person entering it. She would get the posting corrected. And just to be safe, she’d double-check all the athletic listings on the individual facility sites.

  That was what she needed to do. Focusing on work would keep her mind off Sean Fitzgerald’s muscular body and killer smile. And the irrefutable fact that he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Gigi carried a white bakery box into the coaching office. Fred, Sean and Lawrence Hopperman, the varsity soccer coach, stood in a cluster facing away from the door, commiserating.