I crouched down on the sideline, peering through my largest zoom lens.

Toby Jenkins came into focus as he ran down the field. I was hoping like hell he wouldn’t recognize me, but his attention seemed to be locked on the field.

This is it.

The crowd roared as he rushed closer.

Will the quarterback throw it to him? I wondered.

If I had a shot of a game-winning catch, Scott Jones might go a little easier on me. God knows I could use a little relief from my jerk of a boss. He’d been on my ass for weeks, and while sports photography wasn’t my specialty I needed to step outside my box if I ever wanted to move up at the newspaper. If that meant risking a chance meeting with Toby, it was a risk I was willing to take.

I have to get this shot.

As he ran forward, glancing over his shoulder, I realized he might not see me.

Come on. Just another second.

I snapped a half-dozen photographs. With any luck, one of them would be good enough to publish.

I knew damn well what the alternative might be.

Staff layoffs at the Cleveland Press were happening every single month, and anyone who didn’t pull their weight was on the bubble. The last thing I needed was to be fired. I was barely making it and losing my job would be utterly devastating.

Here comes the pass.

I watched through the lens as the football spiraled through the air. I snapped a few more shots in quick succession as Toby flung himself into the air and plucked the ball effortlessly from the sky. I kept taking picture after picture as he came down hard, his legs churning against the grass as he tried to catch his balance.

He was growing rapidly in my lens, each step taking him closer to the sideline.

Oh shit… He’s going to hit me!

I dropped the camera as his large, muscular body loomed above me. My body braced for an impact that never arrived. At the last moment, Toby pivoted hard, twisting his body as he tumbled past me.

Ouch. That had to hurt.

The boos from the stands buzzed in the background.

“What the hell?” he yelled, sitting up and taking off his helmet. “You’re supposed to get out of the way!”

“It’s not my fault,” I shot back.

His teammates swarmed around us as he froze, staring at me in disbelief. His eyes went wide with recognition.

“Haley!” he cried.

So much for being incognito…

“You okay, man?” Larry Johnson, number thirty-eight, asked in a high-pitched voice that didn’t suit his muscular body.

I stepped backward, slipping between two linebackers and hiding from Toby’s gaze. The coach shoved me aside as I grabbed my camera off the ground and planned my escape. A locker room exit was fifty feet away, and if I ran like hell maybe I could get out of here before Toby got back on his feet and started asking questions…

I risked one last look, catching a glimpse of him still laying on the ground. That’s when I realized he was clutching at his leg. An injury this late in the season could be catastrophic!

The photojournalist in me took over. I raised my camera and shot photo after photo. My real work would begin when I edited things back in the newsroom, but in that moment I wanted to capture as much as possible. More photos meant more chances of one being front-page worthy.

As I shot the scene, the ring of men around the team’s star running back parted. I saw Toby supporting his weight on his left leg. Coach Harris looked in my direction as he pointed.

Oh crap…

I stepped back, my body desperately telling me to run toward the nearest exit.

“Hold on!” Coach Harris yelled.

I took a deep breath as they walked toward me. The other players returned to the field as the coach used their last timeout of the game.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking explaining to do,” Coach Harris shouted above the jeers from the crowd.

“I’m just doing my job,” I said.

“Yeah? Well, you doing your job means one of my best players can’t do his job. You’re supposed to get out of the fucking way, not sit there snapping pictures. I want to talk to your boss.”

“I’m fine, Coach,” Toby said. “Let me walk it off.”

“I’m not going to risk it on a game we’re already winning. You go back to the locker room and get ice on that ankle.”

“I’m telling you, Coach, I’ll be…”

“Go!”

Toby flashed me a stern look and I looked away quickly, shaken to my core. Those were the eyes I’d fallen so madly in love with so many years ago. I’d yearned to see them again. Now that they were turned on me in anger, it was too much to handle.

He shook his head, turning away and walking down the field toward the home team locker rooms. I turned to follow him almost instinctively.

“Hold on! Who are you shooting for tonight? Where’s your press pass?” the coach shouted, snapping me out of my trip down memory lane.

“I forgot it in my car.”

“Sure you did,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re one of those damn bloggers, aren’t you? Don’t even have press credentials, I bet.”

“You can come out to my car and see my ID.”

“I don’t have time for that. Just tell me who you’re with.”

We stared at each other as the noise from the crowd raised to a fever pitch.

“The Cleveland Press.”

An assistant coach walked over to us.

“What do you want us to do?” he shouted over the crowd.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Coach Harris said then turned to the other man. “Let’s win this fucking game.”

As he stormed off I got out my phone with my hands still shaking. My boss was the last person I wanted to talk to, but I needed to call him. As the phone rang I quickly glanced through the photos on my camera, hoping I had a decent shot. It helps to have a little good news to offer up before shit starts hitting the fan.

The first few photos were all shit. The others were even worse.

Crap, crap, crap.

Scott picked up the phone as the game continued behind me.

“Newsroom. This is Scott.”

“Hey, boss, it’s me.”

“Yeah, Haley. What is it? I’m busy.”

I took a deep breath and pushed my irritation away.

“I think I missed the shot,” I said, hoping like hell Scott would just let me leave now.

“That’s not what I just say,” he said. “Charlie has the game on and he says Toby Jenkins just about took your damn head off. Is that true?”

“Not technically.”

“That’s not what I want to hear. Technically you’d better have a damn good picture of Mr. Jenkins flat on his ass!”

“Unless you’re looking for a blurry picture of Toby’s leg, I’ve got nothing.”

“Look, Haley. You’re a great woman, but I need team-players who will get the photos needed to make this newspaper money. Do you understand that? You’re not in college anymore, sweetheart. This is the real world and the whole damn paper is going to find itself up shit creek if my photo journalists can’t get the fucking shots we need.”

I cringed at his use of the word sweetheart, but I didn’t dare say anything to him.

“Are you still here?”

“I’m here,” I said. “I’ll get you something fit to print. The game’s not over yet…”

“Toby’s out of the game and he’s the one I want on the cover. Go to the locker room and get an exclusive with a bandage on his damn ankle.”

“Okay.”

“And Haley?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bother coming back unless you have a photo that will knock my socks off.”

“Ok boss. I’ll be back after the game.”

He ended the call without saying goodbye.

I continued down the sideline toward the locker rooms as drums beat and the pert and perfect cheerleaders worked to get the crowd excited for the next play.

With or without Toby Jenkins, the show must go on.

At the entrance to the home team locker rooms, a security guard looked at me lazily as I held my expensive camera and lens in the air and flashed a drivers license, hoping he’d mistake it for a press credential. He didn’t bat an eye as I walked confidently past him. The sounds of the crowd faded as I made my way down the concrete hallway. There was only one question in my mind as I approached the pair of double doors at the far end of the tunnel.

What the hell am I going to say to Toby?

With my job on the line, I opened the door and went inside the Browns’ locker room. Two long, wooden benches ran the length of the room in front of steel lockers with the team’s logo on each one.

There was no one in sight.

I took a few hesitant steps, my heart beating faster. This was the part I hated about being a journalist. Being good at my job means seeking trouble and pushing the limits. It means getting yourself into situations you really don’t want to be in.

And seeing Toby again was definitely one of those situations.

I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this…

As I crept forward, my Nikon hanging from a strap around my neck, I heard the sound of water running… and there was something else.

Singing.

I couldn’t help but smile as I heard his familiar voice ringing out.

With a few more steps, I reached the end of the locker room. Steam and song billowed out of a concrete doorway. I smiled as I listened to an off-key rendition of Blaze of Glory by Bon Jovi.

This is so wrong. I need to go. Scott’s not going to fire me and Toby is the last person I want to see again. Nobody had ever broken my heart like that and I don’t want to open up any old wounds.

My smile faded as I frowned and turned to creep toward the exit. The singing and sounds of water stopped, causing me to move a little faster.

“Haley?” a male voice barked.

I stopped in my tracks, wondering if I should run or spin around and face him.

“What are you doing in here?”

“It’s fine,” I said, turning. “I’m a reporter.”

When I saw him – wet and naked with his hands on his hips – I almost fainted. He’d grown since the last time I’d seen him, but the huge shaft swinging between his thighs was just as impressive as I remembered it.

Don’t look. Turn away. Look him in the eyes!

My eyes shot up to his face, crashing into his familiar crystal blue eyes as my cheeks went flush with embarrassment.

“A reporter?” he asked softly.

Images of the past rushed over me, I could remember how his fingertips made my flesh come alive with every tiny little touch. I swallowed hard as he closed the distance between us.

“I… uh… take photos, for the paper. I’m a reporter…”

Why am I not making sense?!

“Uh huh,” he said, nodding his head. “You said that already. But Haley, why are you here?”

“Look, Toby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come, but my boss made me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here at all, and I certainly shouldn’t have followed you…in here,” I said, gesturing to the empty locker room.

“Your boss sent you in here to take naked photographs of me? What the hell kind of newspaper do you work for?”

Our eyes locked. My heart pounded. I felt faint.

“Not that kind. I’m with The Cleveland Press,” I replied.

“Did you at least get any good shots?” he asked.

My frown deepened.

“Not yet,” I mumbled.

He nodded, staring me up and down. I would have probably done the same if he wasn’t so fucking naked, but I didn’t dare let my gaze fall again. I knew what was there. I’d seen him naked a thousand times. I was almost afraid of what would happen if I looked.

Just being in his presence was bad enough. Here I was, reunited with Toby in a way I never in a million years would have imagined it would play out.

“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, my eyes flashing, my head lost in the past. He was the one who broke my heart. I was the one who should be angry. For a moment, I stood there completely vulnerable under his accusing gaze.

“The pictures,” he replied.

“Oh, right,” I said, shaking my head, trying to bring myself back into reality. This wasn’t high school and my heart had plenty of time to heal. I was a grown woman and this big naked man held no pull over me anymore.

“I’m not happy. My boss is a dick. I need to come back with a photo or he’s swinging the axe. I came back here to get a shot of you hobbling around on crutches or something. Trust me, you’re the last person I want to see.”

“So you did come back here to get a shot of me like this? You’re admitting it?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come out waving that thing around.”

I accidentally glanced down again. I could swear it was even bigger than I remembered…

He cleared his throat.

Oh shit! Look up!

As I lifted my head, my gaze trailed over his body and I marveled at his perfect physique. Everything about him was bigger, more muscular, more masculine. My breath caught in my throat as I met his gaze again. He stared down at me with a daring, mischievous grin.

“Did you miss me?” he asked with a grin.

“No,” I snapped.

“Well, stop staring then. Or take a photo. It will last longer.”

Defiantly, I lifted my camera.

“Hey! I was just kidding,” he said, arching an eyebrow. I turned away, hating the effect he had on me. I’d gotten over him a long time ago, and I wasn’t about to swoon like a little school girl. I was sure I could handle this assignment with complete professionalism, but I wasn’t counting on catching Toby Jenkins with his pants down.

He took a step to the side and grabbed a white towel. I stared into his eyes again as he wrapped it around his waist, holding it closed with his right hand.

“It was nice to see you, Haley. But you really should go now,” he said, pointing to the door.

“I need a photo first. Tape up your ankle for me. It’ll look good on the sports section and you’ll be a hero when you come strutting out onto the field next week. ‘Toby Jenkins takes the field despite his injury’. The crowd will eat it up. I think you owe me that much, and besides, if I don’t come back with a good picture I might lose my job” I protested.

“No photo for you,” he said. “If you take one back here, you won’t have a job to lose in the first place.”

My heart sank. I lowered the camera, feeling the heavy weight of it through the strap around my neck. Without another word, I turned and walked toward the door. Maybe there was still time to get a decent shot or two back on the field. To hell with Toby Jenkins.

As soon as I got through the door, I slammed it and ran back toward the field. My footsteps echoed off the walls as I ran, holding the camera so it wouldn’t swing back and forth. I emerged from the dark corridor to the sound of thunderous cheers.

Fuck!

A quick glance at the scoreboard told me everything I needed to know. With Toby out of the game the entire momentum on the field shifted. I’d just missed my chance to shoot the comeback of the year. A receiver danced at the far end of the field as my eyes washed over the row of photographers capturing the moment.

I turned away from the roaring crowd. To hell with this game and to hell with the front page. My only thought was to get away as fast as I could. I’d spent years trying to get Toby Jenkins out of my head. Why did I ever think I could come here?

I’d just have to face the music at work and deal with Scott’s anger. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Images of Toby ran through my head as I drove back to the office. Part of me wished we’d met again under better circumstances, maybe we’d have had a chance to talk things out. For now, all of my questions remained unanswered.

Ten years ago he’d broken up with me so abruptly that I’d have given anything to get an explanation from him. Nothing made sense back then, and he’d refused to talk me about it. I’d slowly come to accept it and moved on.

Seeing him again brought all of those feelings rushing back full force. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest and I could barely breathe.

I sat in my car for a full half-hour before driving back toward the office, but not before making myself a hard promise: I’d never go anywhere near Toby Jenkins again, even if it cost me a job.