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Well, he liked the muscles in her back. They had beautiful definition. And he really, really wanted to touch them. No. More than that. He wanted to kiss his way down her spine.
‘Would that be proper rowing on a river, or machine?’ she asked.
‘Machine,’ he admitted.
‘And I assume you’re careful with your knee.’
‘I’m wearing a knee support under my tracksuit pants,’ he said. ‘I’m hardly going to nag my players about looking after themselves properly and then not take my own advice.’
‘I guess.’ She held out her hand to shake his, and his palm tingled where their skin touched. How long had it been since he’d been so aware of someone? ‘That was a good session. I enjoyed working with you, Jared.’
‘I enjoyed working with you,’ he said, meaning it; he was surprised to realise just how much he’d enjoyed it.
‘Let’s hit the shower and have breakfast.’
He went hot all over again at the thought of sharing a shower with her. He knew perfectly well that wasn’t what she’d meant, but now the idea was stuck in his head. And he was glad they had temperature settings on the showers in the male changing rooms, because he needed a blast of cold water to get his common sense back and the fantasies out of his mind.
When he met Bailey outside the changing rooms, he noticed that she was wearing a black tailored suit for work. This was yet another side of her; he’d seen the slightly scruffy scientist on the football pitch and the sculpted goddess in the gym, and now she was the calm, confident medical professional.
He wished that he was wearing something a bit more tailored, too—but then again he was off to work himself after this and that meant dressing appropriately. A sharp suit wasn’t what you needed when you were working on a football pitch.
Clearly the staff knew Bailey well here, because the waitress didn’t bat an eyelid when Bailey ordered Eggs Florentine without the hollandaise sauce. ‘And a rich roast latte?’ the waitress asked.
It was obviously Bailey’s usual, because she smiled. ‘That’d be lovely, thanks.’
He ordered porridge with blueberries and cinnamon, paired with a protein shake.
‘Not a coffee fiend?’ she asked.
‘I had mine before my workout. It gets the best use out of the caffeine,’ he said. ‘I’m balancing my protein and my carbs now, post-workout.’
She nodded. ‘Good point.’
‘So, are you going to take me through this system of yours while we wait for breakfast to arrive?’
‘Sure. The idea behind it is that you’re more likely to end up with a soft-tissue injury if you play while you’re under par. You’ll be slower and your reactions won’t be as fast. So if you look at your performance during training or a game and your VO2 is down, you’re doing fewer steps, your resting heart rate is up and your average speed is down, either you’ve had a slow game—and that’s where Archie comes in, to tell me if playing conditions on the field have been different and affected anyone’s performance—or you’re under par and you’re more likely to be injured in your next game.’
He asked her various questions about the measurements she used, and he was impressed that she didn’t have to look up a single answer. Bailey Randall wasn’t the glib salesman type, able to put a spin on her answers; she really knew her stuff. And she clearly believed in her research project. He liked her enthusiasm; it was one of the reasons why he’d chosen to look after the youth team, because he loved the enthusiasm that young players brought to the job, unjaded by internal politics.
And he also liked the way Bailey talked with her hands, completely animated when she was caught up in the subject. Now he knew she was half-Italian, he could really see it. Everything from her classic bone structure, to the slightly olive colour of her skin, to the rich depths of her eyes. Naturally stylish, she was like an Italian Audrey Hepburn, with that gamine haircut and those huge eyes.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I still think those wristband things are ploys to extort money out of the gullible with too much disposable income and too little common sense, but the stuff you’re doing has a point.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘So do you take it back about my system being a glorified pedometer?’
‘I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve seen a month of results,’ he said, ‘but I will agree that it’s better than the wristband things. Especially because you do at least use a proper heart-rate monitor strap with your system.’
‘And the yoga?’
He shook his head. ‘Even though the plank was hard, I’m not convinced that yoga’s going to do what you think it will. Not for a bunch of seventeen-year-old boys.’
‘It’s still worth a try.’
‘Do you make them do the plank?’
She laughed. ‘No. That was just to prove a point to you.’
He liked the fact that she’d admitted it.
And it worried him that he liked it. Now that he was getting to know her, he quite liked Bailey Randall. Which was a very dangerous position. He couldn’t afford to think of her in terms of anything other than a colleague, but she seriously tempted him. To the point where he could actually imagine asking her out on a date.
Bad, bad move.
He had a feeling that he was going to have to resort to a lot of cold showers to keep his common sense in place. Dating Bailey Ran dall was absolutely not on the cards. He’d only just finished gluing the pieces of his heart back together, and he had no intention of putting himself back in a position where it could shatter again.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ua494eb00-dfea-56d1-8a9f-d4f6192707bc)
OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, working at the football club was easier, Bailey thought. Jared was at least showing some interest in her research project rather than being an insurmountable bulwark, and he’d even come up with a couple of suggestions that she was trying to incorporate into her data.
Then she noticed that he was favouring his right knee when he went onto the pitch to treat one of the players. She waited until he’d come back to sit next to her on the bench, and then asked, ‘What did you do?’
‘For Mitch?’ He shrugged. ‘It was just a flesh wound—some studs scraped against his shin, so I cleaned it and dressed it. He shouldn’t have too much trouble with it.’
‘No, I meant what did you do to your knee?’
He looked away. ‘Nothing.’
‘Jared, I’m a doctor, so don’t try to flannel me. I could see you were favouring your right knee,’ she said.
He sighed. ‘It’s an old injury. I guess I might have overdone the running a tad at the weekend.’
‘Tsk. And you’re a sports medicine doctor,’ she said.
He gave her a crooked grin that made her libido sit up and beg. ‘It’ll be fine. It’s strapped up.’
‘So you didn’t actually see anyone about it?’
‘I didn’t need to.’
She tutted. ‘What a fine example to set the team—not. Let me have a look when they’ve gone, so they don’t know what an idiot you are.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to do that.’
‘You’re my colleague. You’d do the same for me.’
Jared thought about it. Would he? Yes, probably. And he’d nag her if she was being stubborn about it, just as he’d nag Archie. Just as she was nagging him. ‘I guess,’ he admitted.
‘Are you icing it? Because obviously you’re not resting it or elevating it.’
‘No. I’m taking painkillers,’ he said. ‘And not strong ones, either. Just normal ibuprofen to deal with the inflammation.’
‘Hmm,’ she said.
After the training session, Jared said to Archie, ‘I’ll lock up if you need to go. I want to discuss a couple of things with Dr Randall.’
‘Cheers,’ Archie said. ‘It’ll give me a few extra minutes to make myself beautiful for my date.’
‘What, another one?’ Bailey teased. ‘I’m sure she’ll think you look beautiful.’ She blew him a kiss.
Archie grinned and sketched a bow.
‘Why didn’t you just tell him that your knee hurts?’ Bailey asked quietly when Archie and the players had gone, and she and Jared were alone in the dressing room.
‘Because it isn’t relevant.’
‘Of course it’s relevant. If you have to kneel on the pitch to treat one of the players, it’s going to hurt you.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Men.’
‘Women,’ he sniped back.
‘Just shut up and lose the tracksuit bottoms.’
Oh, help. The pictures that put into his head. To clear them, he drawled, ‘Fabulous bedside manner, Dr Randall.’
Except that made it worse. Bed. Bailey. Two words he really shouldn’t have put together inside his head, because now he could imagine her lying against his pillows and giving him a come-hither smile …
She just gave him a dry look. He shut up and removed his tracksuit bottoms. He knew she wasn’t thinking of him in terms of a man right now, but in terms of a patient. What she saw wasn’t six foot two of man; she saw a sore knee. An old injury playing up that needed to be looked at and soothed.
Gently she examined his knee. ‘Tell me where it hurts, and don’t be stubborn about it—because I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.’
‘Do you talk to all your patients like this?’ he asked.
‘Just the awkward ones.’
He guessed he deserved that. ‘OK. It hurts there. And there.’ He gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘And there.’
‘All righty.’ She grabbed a towel and spread it across her lap. ‘Leg. Here. Now.’
His bare leg astride her body.
Uh-oh. How on earth was he meant to stop his thoughts doing a happy dance?
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he drawled, hoping she didn’t have a clue what was going through his head right now.
Her hands had been gentle when she’d examined his knee. Now they were firm. There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about the way she touched him, and he had to grit his teeth on more than one occasion.
But when she’d finished the deep-tissue massage, he could move an awful lot more easily.
‘You’re very good at that,’ he said when she’d finished and he’d put his tracksuit bottoms back on. ‘Thank you.’
‘Better?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Sorry for being snippy with you.’
She shrugged. ‘You were in pain. Of course you were going to be snippy. It’s forgotten.’
‘Thanks. I owe you one,’ he said lightly, expecting her to brush it aside.
To his surprise, she looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder.’
‘Wonder what?’
‘I do need a favour, actually, and you’d be perfect.’
He still wasn’t following this. ‘For what?’
She took a deep breath. ‘My best friend’s getting married in three weeks’ time. And I’m under a bit of pressure to take someone to the wedding with me. My family’s convinced that I need someone in my life, and I can’t get them to see that I’m perfectly happy just concentrating on my career.’
‘You want me to go to a wedding with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘As your partner?’
She grimaced. ‘I’m not asking you on a date, Jared. I’m asking you to do me a favour.’
‘To be your pretend boyfriend.’
‘For one day. And an evening,’ she added.
Go with her to a wedding.
She’d just made his knee feel a lot better. And this would be payback.
But … a wedding.
Where people promised to love, honour and cherish, until death did them part.
Vows he’d taken himself, and had meant every single word—although it turned out that Sasha hadn’t. For all he knew, Tom hadn’t even been her first affair. He’d been so clueless, thinking that his wife was happy, when all the time she’d been looking for something else.
Sasha had broken every single one of her vows.
She’d lied, she’d cheated—and then she’d made a crucial decision without talking it over with him. A decision that had cut Jared to the quick because he really couldn’t understand her reasoning and it was totally the opposite of what he’d wanted. Even if the baby hadn’t been his, it would still have been hers. They could’ve worked something out.
Except she hadn’t wanted to. The only person she’d thought about had been herself. Not him, not the baby, not the other man who also might’ve been the baby’s father—as she’d been sleeping with them both, she’d had no idea who the father of her baby was.
To go and celebrate someone else making those same vows when he’d lost his faith in marriage … that would be hard.
‘If it’s a problem …’ her voice was very cool ‘… then forget I asked.’
