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God. What now? The back of my throat fills with the flavor of impending doom. Dr. Richards adjusts his glasses and peers at the note.
    “The coach says he was counting on us to find somebody who could keep Sherwood under control. I think you’re that person.”
    My teeth clench. I’m a physical therapist, not a damn babysitter. “Why do you think that?” My first thought, of course, is that it’s because I’m a woman.
    “He likes you,” Dr. Richards says simply. “According to the coach, he hasn’t really clicked with any of the other PTs. They need to be sure he’s ready to go for the playoffs and, hopefully, the championship game.” He pauses. “This is a big deal for our practice, Chloe. I hope you’ll stick with it. Help us out.” His tone makes it clear he’s not just hoping and asking. This is basically an order.
    I give a curt nod. “Fine.” There’s a knot of anger forming under my ribcage. If I say no to him, my job is sunk. All of this feels far too familiar, and I’m once again reminded of exactly why I swore, once upon a time, never to work with a football player again.
    So much for resolutions.

4
    Austin
    I ’ve played football damn near as long as I can remember. It’s been my life. From Pop Warner to high school to youth football with the local pro team to college and then to the pros. I never dreamed I’d get this far, except that I did. Dreamed it constantly until I got here.
    Can’t say it’s a bad gig. I get a shit ton of money and tail. But just those few words from Chloe were like a kick in the gut.
    Stupid football players.
    It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, of course. It’s not even the first time I’ve heard it from a drop-dead gorgeous woman. But something about this particular girl has got me seriously fucked up.
    I don’t want her to think I’m stupid. Granted, pulling shit on her like I have, fucking with her head, might not be the best way to achieve that, but it doesn’t change the truth. Something about her has got my head spinning, and I can’t figure out what the fuck that’s about. It scares me that I want to tell her everything there is to know about me. I want her to know I’m not just a dumb jock.
    I finish my round of sprints and stop to catch my breath, walking to keep my muscles warm before I start the next sequence. Glancing toward the sidelines, I’m surprised to see Chloe among the PTs watching the practice. She’s talking to the team doctor, nodding thoughtfully while he goes over something on his ever-present iPad.
    I look straight at her. If I focus hard enough, she’ll look up. No scientific basis to that, but it tends to work. I’m sure it’s some sort of ESP that makes women sense when you’re looking at them.
    Sure enough, she glances up, and her mouth presses into a thin line when she sees me. I blow her a kiss, grinning, and she takes a step back then turns pointedly toward the doctor, who says something to her and walks away.
    Now’s my chance.
    I jog across the field toward her, watching her scowl become more pronounced as I approach. Chloe is dressed in a fitted, bright-blue workout shirt and a pair of black cotton pants that cling to her shapely legs and ass, where I can see the faint outline of her panties. She wears her dark hair in a ponytail, her pale cheeks stung pink with cold. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to see her naked. She’s obviously got a fit body and a nice pair of tits—I held them in my hands—but it’s nothing compared to a naked girl sitting in your lap.
    “What’s up, Doc?”
    She crosses her thin arms over her chest, sighing in exasperation. “What do you want?”
    To fuck you, mostly.
    “I couldn’t help but notice how you were staring at my ass while I was running in the field.”
    “I was watching your gait.”
    “That sounds like an excuse you tell all the guys to get your fill of eye candy for the day.”
    Her cheeks blaze with red and her eyes smolder at me. “I’ll stop staring at