Carrie popped her head into my office. “Word on the street is Williams won’t be on the field this week.”

Williams was the quarterback for Jacksonville and a formidable opponent. He’d joined the team after I’d left, but I’d watched him play. He was talented, and his absence would create a shock wave that would ripple through the league.

“What happened?” I asked, surprised she had the scoop. Usually, my scouts informed me of any injuries.

“Suspended,” she said. “Two games.”

My eyes went wide. “On what grounds?”

“The official reason? Violation of the league’s personal conduct policy.”

“And the real reason?” I asked, knowing the policy covered a litany of sins from insider trading to performance-enhancing drugs.

“He started a fight at some pop star’s birthday party. There was a gun involved, as well as drugs.”

I shook my head, disappointed. I’d been looking forward to playing against Jacksonville, and now they were down a man. This type of behavior wasn’t unheard of in the league, but I never understood it.

“Wow. I hope it was worth it,” I said, glancing at my computer when it chimed with an incoming e-mail.

“It never is. But, hey, I’m just glad it wasn’t one of our guys.” She grinned, and I nodded my agreement. “Anyway,” she said, pushing off from the doorframe, “just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks.” I waved.

I wondered how Williams’s absence would impact not only Jacksonville’s upcoming game, but also the rest of the season. A team won and lost together, and losing a member—even temporarily—was a blow. Although it was only October, something like this could be a real game changer.

Realizing how late it had gotten, I sent a quick e-mail to Steven about Williams. He was currently between treatments, and he seemed to be faring well. With him taking a more active role as QC coach again, it freed up a bit of my time. Instead of working sixteen- to eighteen-hour days, I was averaging about ten.

I shut down my computer and headed out for the day, trying not to think about how I might be out of a job soon. How this crazy ride with the Rebels could end at any moment. But for now, I’d enjoy it as long as I could.

My 4Runner usually stood out amid a sea of the newest luxury vehicles, but there were only a few cars left in the lot. I spotted Xavier standing by his SUV, cell phone to his ear. Steam poured out of the hood, and it was evident he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. I bypassed my car and headed over to him. He’d ended the call by the time I arrived, tapping on his phone with intense focus.

“Need a ride?” I asked, hooking my thumb in the direction of my car.

His SUV was nice, a newer model, but not super flashy. I knew he supported his family, but I was still surprised and impressed by his restraint. He wasn’t one to waste or flaunt his money, and I respected that.

“Hey,” he said, glancing up at me. His scowl turned into a grin, and he flashed me that brilliant white smile of his, lighting me up. I told myself he was just being polite and that he smiled like that at everyone, but I knew it wasn’t true. “Thanks, but I don’t mind waiting for a courtesy car to arrive.”

“Is that who you were on the phone with?” I asked, not wishing to create more work for him.

He shook his head, his dreads rustling against his shoulders from the movement. “Tow company. The driver needed me to tell security to let him in. Dealership is next.” I was surprised he didn’t have someone to take care of that for him, like a personal assistant.

“I’ll take you home or wherever you want. You can have the dealership drop a loaner to your place so you don’t have to wait here.”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I’m sure you’re ready to go home,” he said.

“Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor.” I grimaced. “Bastian won’t stop bitching about his fantasy team. How was I supposed to know Kendrick would get injured and be out the rest of the season?” I shrugged.

Xavier chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against his car. “That was some bad luck, but I hope he’ll come back next season.”

“Yeah?” I was surprised to hear him wish so openly for an opponent’s comeback, especially one of his biggest competitors on the field.

“Yeah. He’s a good guy and a good player. It won’t be the same without him.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “There’s no fun in winning when it’s easy.”

He pointed at me, a broad grin stretching across his face. “That’s what I’m talking about. That’s exactly what I was trying to explain to Quentin earlier.”

I frowned at his mention of Quentin and the reminder of his questionable ethics. He’d backed off some since the night before the first game. That said, I still didn’t trust him. I wasn’t his QC coach, yet he persisted in seeking me out for advice.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tow truck pass through the gate. The driver pulled up next to us, clearly awed at being in the players’ lot. Xavier pushed off his car and walked over to greet him.

“I’m such a big fan, man,” the guy said as he pumped Xavier’s arm. Well, more like dangled from it. Xavier was huge, and though the driver wasn’t small, he was when he stood next to the 220-pound football god.

The man was starstruck, and it was amusing to see Xavier interacting with one of his fans. Compared to Tristan and Colt—who seemed to handle the fame with ease—I got the impression Xavier was uncomfortable with the attention. And I could empathize. Having a stranger approach and act like you were familiar was an unnerving experience. Especially when they thought they knew everything about you, and you knew nothing about them.

Once his SUV had been loaded onto the flatbed, I butted his shoulder with mine. “You’re too cute,” I said. “It was nice of you to offer to take a picture with him. He’ll be talking about that for weeks.”

Xavier shrugged, but I could sense his discomfort like a blanket draped over me. “All in a day’s work, I guess.”

“Does it bother you—the fame?” I asked.

He followed me to my car, folding himself into the passenger seat. I knew Xavier was a big guy, but geez. His head grazed the ceiling, and his knees scraped the dash. I glanced down at his feet, which were crunched into the small space. Enormous! And, naturally, thoughts of the size of his feet led to speculation about the size of his dick… It had to be monstrous. I gulped just imagining it.

“It’s probably my least favorite part of the job,” he said. I glanced out the front windshield, my cheeks burning from my inappropriate train of thought. “It brings all the crazies out of the woodwork. All the long-lost relatives looking to cash in. All the chicks looking for their fifteen minutes of fame or their fifteen months of marriage.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and I wondered how many people had tried to take advantage of Xavier. The thought made me sad.

“Sorry, I get kind of blunt when I’m hungry,” he said as I pulled out of the parking lot.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” I glanced over at him, the light from the dashboard illuminating his profile. Even when he wasn’t smiling, there was joy in his features.

“Not since dinner.” If it had been anyone else, I would’ve laughed, but the caloric needs of pro athletes were no joke. I remembered what it was like from my days training for the Olympics. It didn’t matter how much I ate, I was almost always hungry. “Have you?”

“Not unless a power bar from my desk counts,” I said. “And in my book, it most certainly does not.”

“My kind of woman,” he said, appreciation infusing his tone. “Let me take you to dinner.”

I glanced over at him, trying to read his expression. Was he asking me out as a friend or…surely, this wasn’t a date? Right? Still, I wondered if he would have invited me out if I were one of the male coaches. Ugh, why did I always have to question everything?

“I, um…” I gripped the wheel, struggling to answer. My dad’s words from the other night haunted me, reminding me to be cautious. Reminding me to consider my actions carefully. If I said yes to Xavier, what kind of message would it send?

“Come on, Blake. Let me at least thank you for giving me a ride.”

Did I want to spend more time with Xavier? Absolutely. Should I? Probably not.

But instead of saying no, I found myself asking, “What kind of coach would I be if I let one of my star players starve?”

“Star player,” he scoffed. “Far from it. Turn here,” he said, and I wondered where he was taking me.

“Oh, come on,” I said in disbelief. “You saw the way that tow-truck driver looked at you—with pure adoration.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Xavier dip his head, his dreads covering his face like a curtain. His bashfulness was adorable, a refreshing change from the arrogance I associated with many players.

“When he got the call, he must have hightailed it over to the stadium,” I said.

“Please.” He lifted his head. “Those tow companies circle the stadium just waiting for an opportunity to strike.”

I laughed. “You’ve got me there. I’ve seen many people fall victim to parking scams on game day, only to end up towed.”

“Man.” He shook his head. “That’s so wrong. Do you know how expensive it is for the average family of four to attend a Rebels game?”

“Do you?” I asked, surprised that someone who was raking in millions of dollars a year cared about the cost for the average fan. Then I remembered his previous comment about the cheerleaders’ compensation.

“Depending on seats, parking, and snacks…” He paused to make a few mental calculations. “Around six hundred bucks.”

“And that bothers you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Take a left here. Go to the end of the block, then pull into the parking garage on the right.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, completely mystified as to our destination.

“One of my friends is a chef,” he said with a grin. “I’m taking you to his restaurant.”

I shook my head with a laugh. Of course he was friends with a chef. He was probably also friends with supermodels and famous musicians. But for someone who ran in an elite circle, he was incredibly down-to-earth.

“Am I going to be dressed appropriately?” I asked as he guided me through the hotel lobby.

He shook his head with a little smile, placing his hand on the small of my back. “Just trust me,” he said, and surprisingly, I did.

My trust wasn’t easily won, but when it came to Xavier, it was freely given. Since I’d joined the team, he’d been inclusive and respectful, friendly and polite. And he’d been so caring following the crash. Apart from Colt and Tristan, he was one of my favorite guys on the team.

We reemerged at the front entrance to the hotel, and my eyes widened as I realized exactly where we were headed. Less than a block later, he opened the door to one of the hottest restaurants in town. One with a waiting list a month long. I knew—Bastian had been dying to try this place. And even his work connections couldn’t get him to the top of the list.

Xavier waited for me to pass, heads turning to look at this god among mortals. Everything about him, from his size to his hairstyle, drew attention. I wondered how many people recognized the Rebels’ running back, but were too polite to request an autograph.

I didn’t miss the curious glances thrown my way. Looks that wondered who I was to him. Eyes that asked what a man was doing with a woman like me.

Maybe I was being paranoid, but I began to question the wisdom of my decision. I’d so easily accepted his invitation without considering the consequences. What if someone photographed us together? What if it raised questions about our relationship?

I shook my head and straightened. I was overreacting, blowing the situation way out of proportion. We were colleagues sharing dinner. End of story. There was absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. Then why did I feel like I was doing something wrong?

The hostess smiled when she spotted Xavier, rushing out to greet him. She reached up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. She was young and beautiful and full of light. In short, she was perfect for Xavier.

Jealousy flared in my chest before shame took its place. I had no right to feel jealous, not where Xavier was concerned.

“Sorry I didn’t call first.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around at everyone waiting for a table. The restaurant was beautiful, dark colors and wood floors. It was chic without being trendy.

She shook her head. “Please, X. You know you’re always welcome here. Table for two?”

He nodded, and she led us to a table tucked away in a back corner of the restaurant. I quickly closed my mouth at the fact that we’d been seated immediately without a reservation. I knew preferential treatment was par for the course with celebrities. But it wasn’t something I’d experienced firsthand. Playing for Team USA hadn’t afforded such perks, at least, not for members of the women’s football team. Maybe it would have been different if I were a gold-medal diver or gymnast. I almost snorted at the thought of me doing gymnastics. Glitter and leotards were so not my thing; give me a helmet and pads any day.

Xavier, or X, waited for me to be seated before pulling out his chair and joining me.

“I’ll tell Jared you’re here. Good to see you.” The hostess smiled at Xavier before disappearing.

I glanced at the menu, excited by all the possibilities. If the dishes at the tables we passed were any indication, I was in for a treat. “Everything looks delicious.”

“It is. Though it’s a tad more indulgent than my usual midweek meal.”

“Definitely more indulgent than most of mine,” I said, scanning the offerings.

“Do you cook?” he asked.

I laughed so hard I nearly snorted. “Um, no. In fact, Bastian banned me from the kitchen after I broke his fancy coffee machine.”

He shrugged. “I stay far away from Tristan’s. That thing is intimidating.”

“I don’t blame you. I think Tristan’s is worth more than my car,” I joked.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said. “I can’t believe he banned you from the kitchen, though. You should get a discount on rent or something.”

“Ha,” I barked a laugh. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t my first or only sin in the kitchen.”

He placed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Oh, really?” he asked, his gaze intent on my lips. “What other sins have you committed in the kitchen?”

Oh, the sins I wanted to commit in the kitchen. And I wasn’t talking about burning nachos or breaking blenders. I had a sudden vivid image of Xavier and me getting dirty on the counter, and my cheeks flushed with heat.

“Hey, man,” someone said, interrupting my very inappropriate thoughts. Bad Blake. Bad. I gave myself a mental slap across the face.

Xavier turned and smiled at the other man, reaching out for a handshake and a slap on the back. “Jared, meet Blake.”

“A pleasure,” he said, eyeing me up and down. I’d worn a sheath dress and heels to work, but I’d taken off the suit jacket once we were seated. I’d considered it rather conservative, but with my long legs, any dress was naturally a little on the short side.

“When Shay told me you were here with a woman, I had to see it for myself.” Jared flashed me a smile.

Xavier chuckled, the warm sound sending vibrations through my entire body. “Blake is my coach.”

“Right. Coach.” Jared gave an exaggerated wink. “I bet she can teach you all the best positions.”

Xavier’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head. “No, really,” Xavier hurried to answer. “She’s an assistant QC coach for the Rebels.”

Jared glanced between us, taking in our serious expressions. “Oh shit, my bad.” He looked at me again, tilting his head back as recognition lit his eyes. “I should’ve recognized you from that article in the Herald.” I gave him a tight smile.

Someone called his name, and he held up a hand to signal he was coming. “Good to see you,” he said to Xavier before turning to me. “Enjoy your meal.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Xavier said once Jared was out of earshot. “He’s always been a bit…”

“Brazen?” I offered, leaning back so the waiter could place my food before me.

“I was going to say shameless,” he said with a chuckle. I watched as he took a bite of his food, completely enthralled. I’d never been jealous of a fork before, but the way he wrapped his lips around it made me clench my thighs.

“A bit like Colt.” I grinned.

Xavier chuckled at the comparison. “Yeah, but Colt has more finesse.”

I leaned on my elbow, pointing my fork at him. “Don’t be so sure about that.” I immediately realized my mistake and focused my attention on the food instead of Xavier’s questioning gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally said, and my stomach churned in anticipation.

“Sure. Remember, judgment-free zone.”

“Is that what women really want—” he lifted his chin, and I followed his gaze to where Jared was leaning against a booth, flirting with a pair of women “—a guy who’s…brazen?”

I shrugged. “Some women, perhaps.”

“But not you?” His expression was so earnest, it sucked the air right from my lungs.

I wanted someone who was fun yet caring like Colt. I wanted someone who was disciplined and goal-oriented like Tristan. And I wanted someone who was genuine and kind like Xavier. In short, I wanted the perfect man. A man who didn’t exist.

I blew out a breath, choosing my words carefully. “What I want is…impossible.”