around a finger.
“You look great, Sherry,” Kay assured her, smiling and let her eyes slide casually around the room, looking for Sullivan. She saw him and her breath caught in her throat. He was at the far side of the room speaking to Jeff and a couple of the jocks. He was dressed like her, except the colors were reversed. His T-shirt was snowy white, his shorts fire-engine red, his cap white.
If ever a man looked disturbingly sexy, Sullivan Ward did this morning. Halfheartedly listening to Sherry, Kay guiltily stole glances at the tall, ruggedly handsome man while he remained unaware of her perusal. Something Jeff said made Sullivan break into a dazzling laugh, his black eyes flashing with amusement.
A hand went up to shove the white baseball cap back on his head, releasing curly raven locks that fell casually over his high forehead. The movement of his arm sent muscles rippling beneath the tightly stretched white T-shirt and no sooner had his hand dropped from the bill of his cap than it went unselfconsciously underneath his shirt to scratch idly at a hard, flat abdomen.
Kay had given up pretending to listen to Sherry. While the young woman’s cheerful voice went on and on, Kay, her breathing at a premium, was drawn by Sullivan’s unintentionally sensual performance. Her eyes were glued to the bare stomach he was thoughtlessly exposing. She was caught.
As though he could feel her gaze, his eyes went over Jeff’s head and came to rest on her. The laughter left his full lips; the light died in his black eyes. The long, lean fingers stilled on his stomach and fell away. A muscle tightened in his jaw as he quietly regarded her. Trapped, Kay smiled weakly at him. He returned the gesture, but it was restrained, indifferent.
“Okay, people.” Sam Shults came out of his office and everyone broke into laughter and applause. Sam was in uniform, too, although not the kind worn by the rest of the team. Instead, the rotund little man wore a chauffeur’s uniform. He stood, face beet-red, being a good sport, while his staff jeered, whistled and clapped. Sam, his double-breasted black suit, tall shiny boots and billed cap making him appear more foolish than if he’d been wearing shorts and a T-shirt, was nodding his head, laughingly acknowledging the absurdity of his appearance.
“I don’t understand,” Kay whispered in Sherry’s ear.
“Isn’t it great?” Sherry leaned close. “Mr. Shults is going to drive the limousine we’re riding in to the stadium.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No, really. It’s all part of the promotion. The team is to ride over in a couple of limos. Channel ten’s team is doing the same thing. Mr. Shults and Sullivan thought it would be a great idea if the general manager played the part of chauffeur.”
Kay smiled and her blue eyes went to Sam Shults. That was Sammy. Anything for Q102 radio.
Sam raised his arms in the air for quiet. “Okay, okay.” He bobbed his head. “You’ve had your laugh. Now it’s time to go. The limos are waiting downstairs.” His eyes swept the sea of smiling faces. “I don’t care who rides where, but I will tell you this, it’ll make me mad as hell if no one climbs into the car I’ll be driving. Let’s go.”
Two long black stretch Mercedes limousines were waiting at the curb outside the Petroleum Club building. Amidst laughter and shouts, the team was piling into the plush seats. Kay was never quite certain how it happened, but she found herself in the very back seat next to a withdrawn Sullivan Ward.
He was beside the door, a long arm draped along the back of the seat. More people climbed into the car and Kay was pushed closer to Sullivan. She could feel his muscles tighten tensely when she stole a glance up at his face from beneath silky lowered lashes. He was staring out the window, a distant look on his face.
“Hey.” It was Jeff’s voice. “Come on in here, Dallas. Sherry can sit closer to me.” He turned and looked at Kay.
“You look great, Sherry,” Kay assured her, smiling and let her eyes slide casually around the room, looking for Sullivan. She saw him and her breath caught in her throat. He was at the far side of the room speaking to Jeff and a couple of the jocks. He was dressed like her, except the colors were reversed. His T-shirt was snowy white, his shorts fire-engine red, his cap white.
If ever a man looked disturbingly sexy, Sullivan Ward did this morning. Halfheartedly listening to Sherry, Kay guiltily stole glances at the tall, ruggedly handsome man while he remained unaware of her perusal. Something Jeff said made Sullivan break into a dazzling laugh, his black eyes flashing with amusement.
A hand went up to shove the white baseball cap back on his head, releasing curly raven locks that fell casually over his high forehead. The movement of his arm sent muscles rippling beneath the tightly stretched white T-shirt and no sooner had his hand dropped from the bill of his cap than it went unselfconsciously underneath his shirt to scratch idly at a hard, flat abdomen.
Kay had given up pretending to listen to Sherry. While the young woman’s cheerful voice went on and on, Kay, her breathing at a premium, was drawn by Sullivan’s unintentionally sensual performance. Her eyes were glued to the bare stomach he was thoughtlessly exposing. She was caught.
As though he could feel her gaze, his eyes went over Jeff’s head and came to rest on her. The laughter left his full lips; the light died in his black eyes. The long, lean fingers stilled on his stomach and fell away. A muscle tightened in his jaw as he quietly regarded her. Trapped, Kay smiled weakly at him. He returned the gesture, but it was restrained, indifferent.
“Okay, people.” Sam Shults came out of his office and everyone broke into laughter and applause. Sam was in uniform, too, although not the kind worn by the rest of the team. Instead, the rotund little man wore a chauffeur’s uniform. He stood, face beet-red, being a good sport, while his staff jeered, whistled and clapped. Sam, his double-breasted black suit, tall shiny boots and billed cap making him appear more foolish than if he’d been wearing shorts and a T-shirt, was nodding his head, laughingly acknowledging the absurdity of his appearance.
“I don’t understand,” Kay whispered in Sherry’s ear.
“Isn’t it great?” Sherry leaned close. “Mr. Shults is going to drive the limousine we’re riding in to the stadium.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No, really. It’s all part of the promotion. The team is to ride over in a couple of limos. Channel ten’s team is doing the same thing. Mr. Shults and Sullivan thought it would be a great idea if the general manager played the part of chauffeur.”
Kay smiled and her blue eyes went to Sam Shults. That was Sammy. Anything for Q102 radio.
Sam raised his arms in the air for quiet. “Okay, okay.” He bobbed his head. “You’ve had your laugh. Now it’s time to go. The limos are waiting downstairs.” His eyes swept the sea of smiling faces. “I don’t care who rides where, but I will tell you this, it’ll make me mad as hell if no one climbs into the car I’ll be driving. Let’s go.”
Two long black stretch Mercedes limousines were waiting at the curb outside the Petroleum Club building. Amidst laughter and shouts, the team was piling into the plush seats. Kay was never quite certain how it happened, but she found herself in the very back seat next to a withdrawn Sullivan Ward.
He was beside the door, a long arm draped along the back of the seat. More people climbed into the car and Kay was pushed closer to Sullivan. She could feel his muscles tighten tensely when she stole a glance up at his face from beneath silky lowered lashes. He was staring out the window, a distant look on his face.
“Hey.” It was Jeff’s voice. “Come on in here, Dallas. Sherry can sit closer to me.” He turned and looked at Kay.
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