Impulsive Read Online Free PDF Page B

"Lady, you just watch and wait. They don't call me T.D.
for nothing."
     
    Jess had the horrible feeling she was heading for deep trouble
with this pretext of being Ty James's girlfriend. The primary problem, other
than trying to fool everyone else, was that she found the smart-ass quarterback
altogether too attractive for her own good. Moreover, he was a
"toucher." As he led her around, introducing her to his fellow team
members, his arm was either slung across her shoulders or around her waist,
holding her close to his side in a none-too-subtle signal to the guys that she
was his exclusive property.
    Jess's skin positively tingled in every place he'd touched; and foolish
as it was, each time he tossed a false endearment her direction, accompanied by
a smile that could have charmed a cobra out of its hide, her heartbeat jolted
into double time. Worse, she had the awful suspicion that he knew exactly what
his actions were doing to her, and was enjoying it immensely. The best clue, no
doubt, was the big goofy grin she couldn't seem to wipe off her face the whole
while.
    Then, just as she thought this first ordeal was over, one of the
guys suggested they all go out for pizza. Naturally, the invitation was
extended to Jess, since several of the others intended to call and have their
wives and "significant others" come, too. Before she could politely
decline the offer, Ty accepted for both of them.
    In an evasive move, Jess told Ty she would meet him there, since
they both had their own cars, and she didn't want to leave hers in the stadium
lot. Besides, she had a couple of errands to run first.
    Ty responded by giving her a look that said, without words, that
he knew she was trying to give him the slip and wouldn't show up at the
restaurant if she drove away by herself. "That's okay, honey," he
said, loud enough for the others to hear. "We'll take your car, and leave
mine here for now. But hand over your keys, because I'm driving. Not that I
have anything against women drivers, you understand," he added with an
ingratiating smile. "I just trust my own driving skills over anyone
else's."
    Drat! She'd been outflanked before she'd gotten off the line of
scrimmage! Jess fished her keys out of her purse and slapped them into Ty's
outstretched palm, aware that without them she couldn't leave while he was
showering and changing into his street clothes, which she most certainly would
have done otherwise.
    To further push her
off-stride, Ty leaned over and planted a swift kiss full on her lips.
"Miss me while I'm gone," he told her with a devilish grin. He
sauntered off to the locker room, whistling a merry tune—and leaving Jess
breathless and fuming at his sneaky tactics.
     
    Half an hour later, in the close confines of her little Honda
Civic, Jess marveled at how much smaller the interior felt with Ty crammed into
it. His shoulders took up two-thirds of the front seat space, for crying out
loud! If that wasn't enough, he had the nerve to criticize her choice of
transportation!
    "How can you stand driving this sardine can?" he complained.
"Where's your sense of national pride, woman? Couldn't you buy
American-made, at least?"
    "For your information, smartzenheimer, this car rolled off an
assembly line here in Ohio. Therefore, I do not consider it a foreign
model," she informed him stiffly. "Moreover, I'm thoroughly satisfied
with it. It gets super gas mileage, and has a terrific warranty."
    "I'll take my Trans Am over this, any old day."
    Jess gave a haughty sniff. "Figures, the pro player has to
have his sporty hot wheels. Well, I've got news for you. Your big old
gas-guzzler cost you twice the money on the lot and the road."
    "At least when I hit the gas pedal, I've got some horsepower
under me," he pointed out in a superior tone. "It's a wonder you
haven't gotten yourself killed just trying to pedal this Tinker Toy across the
street before the signal light changes four times."
    "Ha-ha. I did my research, buddy, and let me tell