Free Line of Scrimmage by Desiree Holt Page A

including the warning ones, was a recipe for disaster.
    Okay, there’s the money. Don’t forget the money.
    Oh, yeah, the money. How could she overlook that? She was nearly down to the last of her severance pay, and her savings weren’t even worth mentioning. She had her check from the last two weeks but not even the barest prospect of a job.
    So what were her choices? Working for Jake and getting a fat salary or being unemployed. She was still mulling that when she heard another crash from the master suite. She raced down the short hallway to the open door, stopping short at the sight. Jake had apparently tried to get out of bed again using his walker. Whether he was just off balance or woozy from the meds, he’d fallen sideways against the nightstand and knocked over the lamp. Now he was leaning one hand on the nightstand and trying to fish the walker around with the other.
    Great. Just great.
    “What the hell did you think you were doing?” She managed to leverage him into a semi upright position, then onto the bed, no easy task when his body was both large and unwieldy.
    He flopped back onto the pile of pillows behind his head, the leg in the cast straight out on the mattress, the other one hanging over the edge, his foot on the floor. In that position it was impossible not to notice the fact his cock was swollen and thick and pressing hard against the soft material of his shorts. Her eyes were drawn to it automatically, despite her best intentions.
    “Excuse me.” The words were polite, his tone not so much. “Do you think you could give me a hand again here?”
    His raspy voice startled her and heat crawled up her face. Well, crap.
    “What exactly were you trying to do?” she asked as she hefted the other leg onto the mattress and pulled the sheet up to his waist.
    “I wanted something, and I figured I’d used up all my favors with you today.”
    Crap. “It’s obvious you can’t manage anything by yourself.”
    “Thanks so much for telling me.” Bitterness edged his words. “I guess you’ll just have to hang around to make sure I don’t get myself into trouble again.” The deep grooves in his face and the faint sheen of perspiration on his face were obvious indications of the pain he was in. And yet there was no denying the sarcastically teasing tone to his voice. And damn! Was that a tiny sexual overtone she heard?
    Stop that, Erin.
    She righted the lamp, thanking fortune that it wasn’t broken, and straightened the two books that had also been knocked off. “Tell me what you needed so badly. I’m afraid if you try to do this again you’ll kill yourself, and how will I explain away your dead body?”
    “You’re all heart, right?” His sarcasm was somewhat dimmed by the fact that he was breathing harder than normal and his face sported a sheen of perspiration.
    “Maybe I just don’t have one. So. What can I get for you, now that I’m here?”
    “I wanted another cup of coffee.” He shot her a look of irritation and held out the mug that, miraculously, had not been brushed to the floor. “I was afraid you’d be pissed off at me if I asked for room service.”
    She had to resist the urge to smack him. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a jackass, Russell?”
    He managed a grin. “Some of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet. But then they got to see my winning personality.”
    Erin blew out a breath of exasperation. She took a minute to remind herself that this was not fun for him. His season was over, although hopefully not his career. He was out of action and out of the loop, in pain and filled with frustration. Okay, she’d spare him one minute of sympathy, but that was all. Surely she could be a big enough person to do that.
    “I’m curious,” he said. “How is it you were even available for this charade? I thought you were running the spa at that fancy resort outside of Austin.”
    Erin looked away from him. “It’s been sold and the new owners closed it while