He was in at second and goal, the ball on the nine-yard line. He pushed off on his route, wide open in the end zone. JW looked left at the wide receiver, then dropped it into Trevor’s hands.

Touchdown, baby. They all did a quick celebration in the end zone, but it was back to work.

New Orleans managed a field goal late in the first quarter, but Tampa’s running backs tore up the clock and JW sneaked one in just as the half ended, putting them up by eleven points.

Good, so far, and defense was working New Orleans.

Second half they broke it open, scoring three touchdowns. Their defense shut down New Orleans’s passing game. Even the rookies got in a little work, but Trevor could tell that rookie receiver Warrell Timmons wasn’t happy Trevor had scored two touchdowns, while he had only gotten into the game late.

The only thing that mattered was the team had won.

Still, he’d promised the coach he’d work on the kid’s attitude, so after they did interviews, Trevor went up to him.

“You got some play time in today.”

“A little.”

“You looked good out there. And you’ll get more.”

Warrell shrugged. Tension rolled off the kid in waves. Trevor could tell he was pissed.

“Hey, I’m going to have some of the team over for a barbecue at my place this week since it’s a bye week. You interested?”

Warrell looked at him as if he didn’t quite believe he’d been included. “I . . . dunno. Maybe. Where?”

“I have a house on the water. Give me your number and I’ll text you directions.”

“I’m after your job, you know.”

“So you keep telling me. But you still gotta eat, right?”

For the first time, Warrell offered up a hint of a smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then.”

They traded numbers, and Trevor told him he’d text him with the information. He hadn’t planned on a barbecue, but it was a good idea, and it would give Haven access to some of the players, which would be good for her job.

Now he just had to round up some of the guys, who he knew would show up on short notice. Coach would take care of inviting the rookies.

This should be fun.

TWENTY-EIGHT

“DO YOU ALWAYS THROW IMPROMPTU PARTIES LIKE this?” Haven asked as she sat at Trevor’s dining room table making notes.

They’d been busy since his game Sunday. She’d done interviews and they’d done camera shots before, during, and after the game. God, he’d looked delicious in that uniform. And he’d played amazingly. He was lightning fast and so accurate. She’d been an absolute squealing fan girl during the game, unable to peel her attention away from Trevor.

So much for being an objective reporter.

“Sometimes. I hadn’t planned on it for this week. It just kind of . . . came up, and with this being a bye week, it seemed convenient.”

“I see.” Just kind of came up? As if this kind of thing happened all the time.

Maybe in his world they did.

“Okay, so what are you going to do? Do we need to go to the store and get food?”

“Nah. I’ll have it catered. I already made a call.”

“You did.” Of course he did. Because people like Trevor could make that happen on short notice.

“And what brought this on?” she asked.

“Warrell Timmons.” He was scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to her.

“The rookie tight end?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re having a barbecue because of Warrell Timmons? Why?”

He looked up at her. “What?”

“What does Warrell Timmons have to do with you hosting a barbecue?”

“Oh. He has some chip-on-his-shoulder issues and they need to get knocked off.”

“By inviting him to a barbecue.”

“Well . . . yeah.”

She blinked, not able to make the connection. It must be a guy thing. “Okay. So we don’t need to go buy food.”

“No. But I need to figure out a way to make sure he and I spend some time together. I know how these events go. All the rookies will band together in a herd.”

Haven leaned back in her chair, pondering how to make that not happen. “What about games?”

He looked up from his phone. “Huh?”

“You know. Games. Organize people into groups and play games. Forced proximity and bonding and all that.” Then it hit her. “Oh, like a scavenger hunt.”

His lips curved. “That might be fun.”

“It would be. You have the land here. And you can extend it beyond just indoors and on your property. There’s the nearby marina within walking distance. It would give you some bonding time with Timmons, too. Put people into groups of two or three.”

“Yeah, me and Timmons, plus the wideouts. Groups of four.”

“I can assign the groups and manage the hunt.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. It’ll be fun.”

Now it was Trevor who wore the thoughtful look for a few minutes. “Okay, that’s doable. We’ll need prizes. I’ll offer up a fishing expedition for the winners.”

“I’m sure they’d love that.”

“I’ll make a call and get the prize arranged.”

“And I’ll put together the teams. Do you know who’s coming?”

“Not yet, but I’ll get it figured out. You might have to do the judging.”

“That’s not a problem.”

Now she was excited. She’d organized events like this for her sorority in college, but she hadn’t done so in a long time. She had no idea how receptive a bunch of football players would be, but she thought it was a great idea. And if team building was the objective, she couldn’t think of a better way to get it done than this.

She was glad Trevor was on board with the idea.

She spent the remainder of the day making up her list of items for the hunt, trying to keep everything football related, since that would be more fun for the team. She had to leave Trevor out of the setup since he’d be participating, so she went shopping, then put the list together, and the clues, and ran into town to make copies.

“I brought burgers and fries.”

She looked up, realizing it must have been hours later. Trevor was in the kitchen and she inhaled the smell of the food.

“Oh, that smells really good.” She stuffed the sheets in the folder and came into the kitchen. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty. You were at that for a long time.”

“It’s all organized now, though.”

“Thanks for doing it. I hadn’t realized it was going to take so long. Sorry to put all that on you.”

“Are you kidding? I’m having a blast. This is going to be fun.” She took the plate he offered. “At least it’s going to be fun for me. I hope it is for your teammates.”

“Trust me. We’re all a bunch of kids. And we’re competitive. Everyone’s going to love this.”

“Did you get the prize organized?”

“I got several, actually. I did the deep-sea fishing expedition for the first-place winners, and gift cards for dinner out at some of the nice restaurants for second and third place.”

“Awesome.”

He handed her the gift certificate for the fishing expedition as well as the gift cards. “I’ll let you handle those.”

“Okay.”

They ate dinner. Haven didn’t realize how hungry she was until she’d devoured her dinner. She’d lost all track of time buying the items to hide as well as putting the clues and the lists together.

“You got everything you need?” Trevor asked. “And you had enough money for the stuff?”

“Plenty. You gave me several hundred dollars. Which reminds me, I put your change on the counter.”

“That’s fine. I don’t suppose you want to show me the list in advance.”

“No, I don’t. Surely you don’t want an early advantage in the game.”

He grabbed her plate and got up from the table, a subtle smile on his face. “Would I do that?”

“To gain an edge over your competitors? I’m sure you would. In fact, I think I’ll take all of my notes upstairs and hide them in my room.”

She slid out of her chair and took her folder, dashed up to her room, and hid the folder in the closet, along with the bag of scavenger hunt items for tomorrow.

When she came downstairs, Trevor was leaning against the counter. “So, I should sneak into your room tonight and rifle through your things?”

She crossed her arms. “Do I really need to lock my door?”

He laughed. “No. You’re safe, and so is the sanctity of your scavenger hunt.”

“Good to know. You ready to get back to work?”

“Come on. Let’s go out on the deck. We’ll have a beer and relax. You’ve done enough work today.”

“I’ve still got some energy left.”

“And it’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Turn it off for tonight.”

“All right.”

He grabbed a couple of beers from the refrigerator and they walked outside. The night was warm, but there was a breeze coming in off the water. The moon was nearly full, casting a bright light on the deck. They pulled up chairs and Haven took a seat, then a long draw of the beer Trevor handed her.

It felt good to relax and enjoy the view of the water. Trevor seemed at ease. Then again, when didn’t he? With as much as he had going on, he never seemed nervous or anxious.

“I like your life,” she said.

He turned his head to look at her. “Yeah? What about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so . . . relaxing. You always seem so calm.”

He laughed. “Not always. Tonight it is. I guess I just don’t let things get to me.”

She leaned back and took another swallow of her beer, studying him. “But how do you manage that? I don’t know that I could juggle two different careers like you do and not be stressed about it.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’ve been doing it for years. It gets a little hectic at times, like now, when I’m making the transition, and sometimes I feel like I need to pull out of baseball early and start the football season at the beginning. It’s always a juggling act. I feel that pull, you know?”

She filed that comment away to jot down. “Then why do both, Trevor? You’ve been at this for seven years now. Isn’t it time to give one up?”

“Why would I do that, when I still enjoy playing both sports? And how could I choose which one to play?”

“You do realize at some point you’re going to have to make a choice.”

“Why?”

She could tell by the look on his face and the sincerity in his voice that he really believed he could continue to play both sports. “I don’t know. Because playing sports is tough on a body. And you’re getting up there in age.”

He laughed. “Now you sound like my competition.”

“You’re going to be . . . what? Thirty this year?” She took a swallow of beer and set the bottle down on the table.

“I am. Do I look like I’m slowing down?”

“Not really.”

“I could bench press you, Miss Briscoe.” He squinted, as if guessing her weight.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He stood and came over, scooping her out of the chair before she could even object.

“God, you’re light.”

“Trevor, seriously. Put me down.”

“What do you weigh? Like a hundred pounds?”

“Uh, more than that.”

“I could probably press you over my head.” He started to lift her higher.

“Let’s not.” She laid her palm on his chest. “Please put me down. I get your point. You’re strong. It’s obvious from looking at your muscles that you take good care of your body.”

He set her feet on the ground, but didn’t let go of her. “So, you’ve been looking at my body, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed at him. “You know I do. But purely from a . . . research perspective.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve been looking at your body, too. And not at all from a research perspective.”

“And here we are working together. You’re being very unprofessional.”

“This shouldn’t surprise you.”

He carried her through the doors and up the stairs.

“You could put me down,” she said.

He looked down at her. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m heavy?”

He laughed and continued up, bypassing her room. “Now you’re insulting me.” He pushed open the door to his room, then set her on the bed, climbing on top of her. “You think you’re too heavy for me to carry up the stairs?”

“I didn’t exactly say that.”

“You implied. Should we get into that bench-pressing discussion and my age again?”

“Fine. Though I think you do that to change the topic.”

He pulled off her capris, then her underwear, nuzzling her inner thigh with his lips. “Speaking of changing the subject . . .”

He was very distracting, and when he put his mouth on her sex, whatever they’d been discussing dissolved in a puddle of desire. She lifted, reaching for his head, tangling her fingers in his hair while he plied her senseless with his amazing tongue and mouth. She was on the very brink of orgasm when he suddenly stopped.