Page 43 of Summer Affair
“I’d never hurt Sammy,” he said with so much conviction her heart melted all over again.
“Thank you,” she whispered back. “Because he’s already so enamored with you, I don’t want to confuse him.”
“Which is why it’s up to you if I coach his team. If you’re not comfortable, just say the word.”
She pressed a hand to his cheek. “You’re a good man, Clay, and he’d be lucky to have you as his coach. Thank you for asking and including me in your decision. I’m grateful for everything and yes, I’d love for you to be his coach. As long as you’re doing this because you want to.”
“I want to,” he said, and she believed him. “Which brings me to the next thing. Donovan mentioned each team needs two adults during game days for insurance reasons, so I need an assistant coach.”
“Oh no,” she said when he smiled.
He tugged her closer. “You’d look great in a jersey.”
“I can’t carve out an entire afternoon every day.”
“Which is why I can get a parent to cover the first half.” She opened her mouth to tell him she couldn’t possibly commit, when he put a finger to her lips, much like she had earlier. “Before you say no, you’d only have to come to game days, which are once a week.And,all coach’s kids get half off camp tuition.”
Jillian’s eyes widened with understanding. “Which means that Sammy would still be able to go to camp, but you wouldn’t have to front all his tuition.”
“That’s not the reason I’m bringing it up,” he said, but that was the reason her heart took flight. He’d listened, honest-to-god listened, and she couldn’t remember the last time a man had done that. It was a gesture so sweet that a little bead of something warm flickered low in her stomach.
“I liked that I’d get to help Sammy go to camp, but I know the situation made you uncomfortable. This way everyone wins. What do you say, Cupcake?”
Jillian had a million reasons to say no, like bills and her work schedule. But then she did some quick math. If Sammy’s tuition was partially covered, and Clay would let her reimburse him for his contribution, then she wouldn’t have to take on so many clients this summer. But there was one major problem. Okay, two. Being around Clay and not touching or kissing him would be impossible, but when it to came to her son’s happiness she’d crush impossible. As for problem two: “All I know about football is that the butts look good in the uniforms.” And his grin made her mouth go dry.
“How about my butt?” he teased.
“Yours isn’t bad.”
He smiled. “Liar. I saw you checking out my ass.”
“I saw you checking out mine.” A fact that brought on the tingles. Out of all the female butts in the bar, he’d only looked at hers. She’d caught him when she got up to use the restroom. And when she’d called him on it, he wasn’t apologetic in the least.
“I was mapping it out in my mind. It’ll be the star in tonight’s Jillian Dream.” And before she could comment on that fascinating tidbit, he said, “You’ve watched me play?”
She shrugged casually. “A couple times at the bar when the game was on.”
He ran his hand through her hair, his thumb tracing her jawline to her lower lip. “What’s wrong with admitting you like me, even just a little.”
“Liking you isn’t the problem,” she whispered. She slid her arms around his neck, as much as she could since he was so much taller, then rolled up on her toes and kissed him.
“Ditto,” he said against her lips.
And Clay of the beautiful blue eyes and tender heart tightened around her and kissed her right back. As they stood there like that, kissing under the porch light, Jillian admitted to herself that she was in deep, deep trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
Resolutions from Jillian’s Journal
Have an orgasm.
Jillian hadn’t meant to spy.
In fact, she’d lectured herself the entire fifteen minutes she’d watched Clay swim his laps back and forth, those powerful shoulders propelling him through the water like a testosterone-fueled missile. It was a very stern lecture that had absolutely zero effect on her ability to look away.
Even Mother Teresa wouldn’t have been able to keep her gaze from wandering. Clay was that potent.
The longer she watched, the stronger the urge to sneak out of the house and join him for a midnight swim—bathing suit optional. It was a lovely image that she’d carry with her to bed and share with her trusty old BOB—Battery Operated Boyfriend—who, after a night of flirting with Clay earlier, was about to get some serious action.
