Free The Game of Love by Jeanette Murray Page A

didn’t want to take it home, where he made phone calls. But his main job was on the field. Outside, rain or shine, freezing cold or hotter than hell. Taking the beating Mother Nature bestowed on them that day and smiling about it. Because no matter what the weather was like, it was a beautiful day on the gridiron.
    Jared printed out a new contract showing the split in the funds and had Chris sign them. When she passed the paper off to him for his signature, she gave Jared a brilliant smile. Sure it would have been nice to have all the funds, to not have to worry about fitting another fundraiser into an already-packed season schedule. But when he saw Chris smile at Jared like a couple dozen tennis skirts were the lost treasure of Atlantis, he knew he’d give up all the cash to see her smile at him like that. Completely, one hundred percent happy.
    All the cash? Jesus, this is what comes from letting your dick do the thinking. Did you learn nothing at all from Lilith?
    He needed to get away. It was like she had some Stupefy Brett force field surrounding her. When he got within a ten-foot radius, his brain melted and the blood rushed to the wrong head, causing him to think irrational thoughts or say things that he would rather slice his throat than say on a normal day.
    He scratched off his signature and passed the papers back for Jared’s approval.
    “Looks like everything’s in order here.” Jared eyed the papers. Looking back up, he grinned at each of them in turn. “Nice teamwork, guys.”
    “Can we talk about uniform approval, Jared?”
    “Sure, not a problem.”
    Brett saw his chance to escape and took it. “Well, since the football team would look pretty silly in skirts and tank tops, I probably have nothing to contribute here. So I’ll head out.”
    “Mmm-hmm. See ya, Coach,” Chris murmured, her attention already sucked into a uniform catalogue.
    He gave Jared a two-finger salute and slipped out.
     
     
    When she left Jared’s office, she looked around for Brett, but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t have time to check his office—which Jared told her was down the hall, past the gymnasium. She held her messenger bag so it wouldn’t thump against her leg as she hustled to the band room, which was the opposite direction.
    Pausing outside the door, she heard feminine voices. The giggles, the squeals, the gossip.
    She’d like to say it brought back memories, but it didn’t. The day her parents learned she had above-average talent in tennis was the day any hope of having a normal childhood flew out the window. Thanks to her parents’ constant micromanagement of her life and tennis career, she’d barely had time to breathe since the day she picked up a racket. No birthday parties, no sleepovers, no dates on Friday night. There were practices, conditioning sessions, out-of-state tournaments to attend.
    Her social life had died a slow and painful death. And for what? Two lousy years in the pros where she never broke into the top twenty-five. Whoopie.
    Shutting the door on her own pity party, Chris opened the door to the future, her team.
    They sat sprawled around the tiered, carpeted steps of the band room. There were blondes, redheads and brunettes, and one girl who clearly dyed her hair pitch-black to match her clothes, nail polish and lipstick.
    But the one thing they all had in common was the chatter. They talked over each other, around each other, their conversations weaving and molding into speech patterns only teenage girls understand.
    She let the door shut behind her. The bang carried over the noise.
    Hair flew, bags were dropped and tossed, chairs pushed away as the girls scrambled to form some semblance of an orderly group awaiting instruction. They all faced forward, though she was to their right, as if they were new boot camp recruits late for morning formation.
    She bit back a laugh. General Patton, she was not. That was her father, the “his way or the highway” man. She’d resolved