Redhead Blitz Page 9

  “He’s up at the front office. Can I give him a message?” she offered. Anything to get Fred on his way. She had a million things to do.

  Fred lowered his voice. “L.R.’s office?”

  “I’m not sure,” she lied. It was none of his business who Al was meeting with.

  “I bet L.R.’s breaking the news.”

  News?

  “It’ll be all over the building within the hour.” He checked behind him and then leaned toward Gigi, conspiratorially.

  Jeesh, he needed a breath mint.

  “Tiffany had her baby yesterday.”

  Who? “I don’t know who that is, but how wonderful for her.” Why would L.R. have to break the news about someone having a baby?

  “Tiffany, as in our ex-cheerleading advisor.” Fred nodded when Gigi felt her eyes round in recognition. Her stomach seized. Talk about lousy timing. Would she ever be able to rest easy about what happened with Sean? Not if the past wasn’t allowed to die.

  “I can’t believe she stayed in Newtown after her divorce. Hank left town when his wife threw him out, but Tiffany’s stuck it out all these months.”

  Gigi didn’t want to encourage Fred, but he took her silence as a cue to continue gossiping.

  “The same parents who gave the administration a hard time when the affair became public will probably freak out all over again.”

  Chills suddenly rippled throughout Gigi’s body. “I’m certain it will blow over quickly.” She hoped that proved to be true. Surely people had more important things to do with their time. Yeah, right. She’d grown up surrounded by the same small town mentality. Your business was everyone’s business. Nausea struck, thinking about Al’s no-dating-coworkers-policy. So far he hadn’t found out Sean.

  Lord, please let it stay that way.

  Fred stood and tugged at his waistband, the corners of his mouth downturned. Probably because I’m not encouraging his hearsay. Good. Leave.

  “Don’t be surprised if you have to start fielding phone calls for Al. If you think he’s been touchy before now, just wait.”

  Two more hours, max. Then you can crash. Although classes had gone well and going over the game films with the team had been productive, Sean checked his watch, praying to make it to the end of this day. Three near sleepless nights had him physically wiped. The first two nights his mind had played and replayed Gigi’s rejection until he’d felt as if he’d been run over and ground into the turf by his entire team. With cleats. And then last night’s dream had been so unlike anything he’d ever given conscious thought to, he’d prowled the house until dawn. If he had any hope of her having a change of heart, he might have considered it some kind of premonition. Unfortunately, those hours of restless contemplation brought no bursts of confidence or miraculous solutions along with the sunrise.

  The long day drained him of what little mental energy he’d possessed. Determined not to be forced from his normal routine, he’d managed to walk into the athletic office to pick up his mail, but Gigi had focused her gaze on her computer monitor the entire time. He tried to muster up some righteous anger, but his supply of that emotion had long since petered out. When he’d heard her sniffling, he’d had a moment of hope she was suffering as much as he was, but she’d mumbled something about a virus going around and kept on working.

  Sean rubbed at his chest, wondering how long it would take for his aching heart to heal. He plodded back through the empty gym and entered the locker room.

  “Butch.”

  The young man was headed out the other door with his friends. Obviously the kid assumed one week’s eligibility voided all his earlier academic problems.

  The whole pack of boys halted to wait for Butch. “Yeah, Coach?”

  Sean didn’t want to embarrass the kid, but they had work to do. Butch had made grades by the narrowest margin and that wasn’t good enough. “You guys go ahead,” Sean told the others. “I need to talk to Butch. Oh, and load up on the vitamin C. I heard there’s a bug going around the school.”

  The teen’s shoulders slumped as he watched his friends leave, then he turned to Sean. “Don’t tell me that I’ve got to hang around and study. I pulled my grades up.”

  Sean could relate to the frustration in his tone, but letting him off the hook could put them right back in the position they were in before. “Your grades did improve, and I’m proud of you. But it’s going to take more hard work to get you to the point that we don’t have to worry about eligibility every week.”

  Butch’s eyes narrowed, his expression bordering on belligerent. Sean had a zero tolerance level for that from both his students and his players, so even though his exhaustion tempted him to let the kid leave and learn his lesson the hard way, he plowed ahead.

  “You barely squeaked by in Spanish, and I know you have a test in there on Wednesday.” Although some students considered them a pain in the ass, teacher Web pages had proven to be a Godsend for keeping track of Butch’s tests and assignments.

  Butch averted his gaze, backing down from the visual game of chicken he’d initiated.

  Sean closed the distance between them in order to lower his voice. “Can you honestly tell me that you’re prepared for that test? I mean, I’d love to head home, believe me. But I also don’t want you to have to tell your dad this Friday that you can’t play.”

  Butch let the strap of his backpack fall off his shoulder, catching it in his hand. His averted eyes reflected acquiescence and, unlike the bravura he displayed on the football field, perhaps a bit of defeat. “Yeah, I know. He gave me endless amounts of grief last time. Okay, I guess maybe I’m not as ready as I could be.”

  With mixed feelings about extending his work day, Sean patted Butch’s back. “I tell you what, go grab a bite and meet me at the door outside the gym hallway in, say, forty-five minutes.”

  An hour and a half later, they were wrapping up their study session. Sean had made a decent dent in his stack of to-be-graded papers, while Butch ate and then came back to memorize Spanish terms. He’d quizzed Butch and was pleased with the results.

  “You know, Butch, I think you’re capable of much more than you think you are.”

  Butch shoved his Spanish notebook into his overloaded backpack. “It’s just because you’re helping me. I could never do it on my own.”

  Sean didn’t believe that. But Butch was like most of his other students. Their idea of hitting the books was finishing homework.

  “Of course you can.” Sean started putting his own papers away. “I didn’t teach you a thing tonight. I just made you do it.” He paused and met the young man’s gaze. “You could totally do this on your own. You just need to formulate a game plan and dedicate yourself to it.” The sports reference had Butch’s eyes widening. Gotcha. “Do you think I go into a game without a game plan?”

  “No?”

  “Dude, why do you think we study game tapes? Ours and the opponent’s.”

  Butch nodded, his brow creasing.

  “We work as a team every day after school. If we have a great practice one day we should take the rest of the week off?”

  Butch scoffed. “No way.”

  “Right, that’d be suicide. Same thing with your school work. You’ve got to stick with the program. Practice, drill, study...” He watched Butch’s eyes cloud over with boredom and he stood, smacking his hand on the table. “Dedicate yourself to the plan, keep the long-term goal in mind.” As the Butch straightened to attention, Sean sensed the proverbial light bulb flicker within himself. Was he listening to his own advice?

  “You’re right, Coach. But, it’s going to wipe out my free time to do all that with my school stuff.”

  “Maybe it will, but what’s your goal? To spend a couple hours every night goofing around with your buddies or to play college football and have every recruiter after you?”

  Butch cracked his knuckles as he stared off somewhere over

  Sean’s shoulder.

  “Man, when you put it that way, it really is a no-br
ainer.”

  Energy gave Sean a buzz. Maybe they were both starting to understand. “And it’s not like you have to give up every bit of fun. It’s your senior year and you deserve to have a good time. But if you dedicate as much time to your class work as you do to video games and cruising around with the guys, your weekly eligibility will become a non-issue.”

  “That would be cool not to have to worry about it every frickin’ week.”

  You can say that again. “Tell you what. That’s your homework for me.”

  “Huh?”

  “You write down a game plan, what it’ll take to achieve your goal. If it makes sense, we’ll skip these little sessions and you give it a try on your own.”

  “You’d trust me to work by myself?”

  “Sure. If it’s a good plan and you stick with it, you won’t need me.”

  But as Butch left the office and silence settled around Sean, he wanted to kick himself. Here he was telling the kid that a man could attain his goals by forming a plan and sticking to it, but when it had come to winning Gigi, he’d immediately accepted defeat. Screw that.

  Leaving his stuff right where it was, he jogged out to his car. His lesson plans were done, and those few ungraded papers would still be there in the morning. Tonight, Sean had his own game plan to compose. And it needed to be one helluva blitz.

  Tuesday morning, Gigi dragged herself down the hallway to her office, already wishing for the weekend. Yesterday had been a strenuous day, with the struggle of trying to keep her mind off Sean piled on top of everything else. And then when he’d come in to retrieve his mail, she’d had to turn away for fear of meeting his gaze. He must absolutely hate her. Why was it that she’d never had any problem breaking up with other guys, but just telling Sean she couldn’t continue a romantic relationship with him made her feel as if she’d played punching bag for Jackie Chan?

  She unlocked the office, flipped on the lights and propped the door open with the metal wastebasket. Relieved not to have to make small talk, she stowed her purse in her desk drawer, picked up a stack of forms that needed to be reproduced and headed to the photocopy room. Maybe the mindless task would allow her to mentally prepare for the day.

  Ten minutes later with that job completed, she retuned to the office. A Starbucks cup and familiar cardboard container greeted her from the middle of her desk blotter. The rich scent of Cinnabon confirmed her suspicions as she set her stack of papers on her desk. Who had left them? The office was empty. And where had someone gotten them? Even though there was a Starbucks on every other corner, the mall wasn’t open yet, and they had the only Cinnabon store she knew of.

  Gigi picked up the box, her mouth watering. Who’d done this? Al? He didn’t seem like the type. L.R.? Nah. Lord, she hoped it wasn’t from a student.

  If Sean didn’t totally hate her, she would’ve suspected him. But, no way. And the idea of Fred delivering a warm cinnamon roll without devouring it first was ludicrous. Gigi wouldn’t consume either item until she knew who’d left them, but as if the roll’s scent alone could appease her craving, she flipped the tab on the box. Eyes closed, she lifted the lid and inhaled, filling her nostrils with the heavenly aroma. Ahhh. When her eyes drifted open, she spotted writing on the inside of the lid.

  We belong together. Just like Cinnabon and Starbucks. Sean.

  Gigi blinked, hard, and refocused on the lettering. There must be some mistake. He’d been furious when she’d seen the back of his head on Friday night. And yesterday, before she’d looked away, his gaze had flicked over her without interest. For him to do something this thoughtful was a total one-eighty from what she’d expected and suspicion threatened to take hold.

  “It’s not poisoned. Really.” Sean’s amused tone matched his expression as she looked up and met his gaze. “You looked a bit uncertain, so I thought I’d set your mind at ease.”

  Perplexed at the kindness of this unexpected gesture, Gigi didn’t know what to do besides play along. “That’s a relief. I was wondering if I should find Fred and ask him to taste test for me.”

  “Like he’d leave a crumb for you? Where food’s involved, I wouldn’t count on it.” Sean leaned on the door frame and crossed his arms. He looked more delectable than the Cinnabon with his navy polo shirt stretched tight across his muscled chest and arms. She tried to summon a laugh but only managed a confused smile.

  “Well, thank you. For the breakfast, that is. I must admit, you’ve caught me off guard.” Dare she say more? Yes. No one else was around, and for sanity’s sake she needed to clear the air. “You were pretty angry with me the other night.”

  “True.”

  His succinct assent had her thoughts scrambling for some other clue as to his current mindset. The words he’d written inside the box were far from bitter, but she had to be careful. She didn’t want him to think she’d reconsidered a relationship.

  “Sean, about what you wrote...” She didn’t know how to continue.

  He straightened but made no move to close the distance between them. “What I wrote is the truth. I guess it’s just going to take you a little longer to see it than it took me.” He held his palm up to put off any rejoinder. “I’m not going to put you in any awkward positions here, but I’m also not giving up. On us.”

  He gave her a confident wink and left, leaving her a jumble of confusion, frustration, fear and delight. He wasn’t giving up on her. On them. God, he was so sweet. She suppressed a sigh and sat, wondering if perhaps he was right about them being good together.

  Wait. No! Jeesh, all the man had to do was ply her with a warm pastry to make her resolve waver? She snapped the lid closed on the roll and thought about tossing it into the trash. Then, reconsidering, she opened it back up and ripped off a section of the outer ring, covered with gooey, melted frosting. Popping it into her mouth, she savored the rich sweetness. And chewing vigorously, she strengthened her determination with each tightening of her jaw.

  There was no them, and wouldn’t be, as long as they both worked at the school. But the stubborn man had just up and decided not to believe her. Did he think she was too weak-willed to stick to her guns? Well, he had another think coming. Gigi Thompson could not be bought with food, drinks or sexy winks, no matter how excellent. All she had to do was stay firm. Eventually he’d give up.

  But later, upon her arrival home, she found a stunning flower arrangement on the landing outside her door. She hesitated to read the card, but curiosity won out and she tore the small envelope open. Thinking of you, day and night. Sean.

  The horrible man. He had to stop this. She was thinking about him every second as it was, and he was making her crazy. Gigi carried the vase to the kitchen counter, determined to grind every gorgeous stem in the garbage disposal. But the despicable man had chosen all her favorite flowers. Pink roses, purple iris, white tulips. Even that lacy white flower she could never remember the name of.

  In a huff, she carried them into the living room and set them on the coffee table. Using a critical eye, she had to admit the arrangement was lovely. Besides, she didn’t want to burn up the motor on her garbage disposal. It wasn’t like he’d know she hadn’t gotten rid of them anyway. Heading to the kitchen to microwave her dinner, she congratulated herself on outwitting him. Why shouldn’t she enjoy them? As long as he didn’t know.

  By Friday evening, Gigi was grateful she hadn’t pulled every hair out of her head in frustration. Sean had surreptitiously left almost a dozen little notes and gifts on her desk without her ever once catching him. If she had, she would have certainly put an end to the practice. He’d successfully avoided her every time she’d sought him out, while at the same time making himself a damned nuisance. Why, she could barely get a thing done for worrying about his next clandestine visit. The incorrigible man must have had elves on his payroll.

  Thank God the football team had an away game tonight. Maybe she could have one evening of peace. But when a prepaid pizza was delivered—her favorite thin crust from Romano’s—along wit
h a DVD copy of her favorite romantic comedy, she gave up. Gigi read the card taped to the outside of the DVD box. Wish I could be there watching this with you. She growled to herself and ripped up the card, tossing the pieces into the garbage.

  She leaned against the kitchen counter and tried her best to ignore the spicy aroma of the pizza. How could he know so much about her particular preferences? Yes, they’d learned some history about each other from early casual conversations, but it was almost as if he had insider information. As if...Heidi. She was the only one of Gigi’s close friends who Sean knew.

  Two minutes later, when her friend failed to pick up both her cell and home phone, Gigi was sure. Traitor. If she didn’t think she’d be interrupting the newlyweds going at it like bunnies, she would drive over there right now to blast her. She was miffed, but not enough for that. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She had to hit the laundromat in the morning, but on her way home she’d swing by Heidi and Rafe’s to make certain the operation of their little conspiracy was shut down.

  The tempting scent of pizza brought Gigi’s thoughts back to the present. She was starving and had time to go grocery shopping. But Romano’s was her favorite...

  No! The other morning she’d caved and eaten the Cinnabon. She’d rationalized keeping the flowers and the bottle of wine that had appeared the next night. The man had plotted carefully and found every weak spot in her armor. She saw now that ignoring his incessant notes and gifts had been ineffective. It was time to strike back.

  She grabbed her purse, the pizza and the movie and headed to her car. She was already familiar with his address from the staff information list. Just out of curiosity. Now she could return tonight’s offering and any others that might follow. Perhaps finding a few rats outside his front door nibbling on pizza crust might make him consider a retreat.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The monotonous hum of churning washing machines and clothes dryers, combined with her sleepless night, had Gigi sliding down the slippery plastic chair, half asleep. Her fellow laundromat customers were either reading, talking on cell phones or outside smoking cigarettes, so nothing prevented her from resting her eyes. But when they closed, the image that had kept her from sleep the night before and awakened a yearning inside her came back in vivid clarity.