Ninety minutes later Tyler reached the end of his patience.

After sulking back to the hotel last night, furious with Devon and feeling sorry for himself, he’d fallen into bed with only his foul mood for company and dreamed of Gabriella. Of all the nasty little things he wanted to do with her. The memory of her lush curves taunted him well after the sun came up when he finally succumbed to the need for release and hit the shower.

Of course, he’d thought of her again as he soaped up. The dreamy look in her eyes after he kissed her. The way her hands trembled and fisted his shirt.

He imagined her on her knees. Slowly wrapping her lips around his cock. Easing him in. Taking every inch of him.

He’d come so hard he saw stars.

Stop. Stop stop stop. Focus. Fooocus.

Tyler fidgeted, fighting like hell not to get hard.

They’d barely rounded first base last night and he couldn’t get her out of his head. If he ever got her naked, writhing under him—

Christ.

Tyler chewed the inside of his lip. Curled his toes. Systematically tightened and released the muscles in his lower legs. Silently recited the opening lines of the National Anthem. Counted backward from twenty-five. All the anti-hard-on tricks he could think of.

For the love of god, couldn’t she play something more motivating? The airy, instrumental crap coming from somewhere in the room wasn’t helping him concentrate. Toss on some rock, some blood-pumping music, to keep his head in the game.

Although her hands were doing a fine job getting his blood pumping all on their own.

Not helpful, man.

Biting off a curse, he tried to stretch his arm back along his body. A gentle hand against his elbow stopped the movement.

“It’s okay where it is.”

Whatever. He let his arm drop back to the table, elbow bent, hand dangling toward the floor.

Discovering Gabriella was Mac had thrown him off his game. He’d been happy to see her again. Then reality settled in and he’d tossed an accusation her way. Old habits died hard, but they also protected him from unwanted trouble. The kind of trouble that followed him around. Snapped pictures. Spread lies. Shoved ridiculous notes of love and devotion under the door of his private residence.

So sue him for jumping to conclusions when he’d seen Gabriella. No need to strike a match under his ass twice. Once burned, lesson learned.

Besides, recovery was his top priority. Getting back to New York, to his team, was his number one goal.

If only his body would get with the program.

Lying prone, his cheeks mashed against the foam face-cradle, Tyler tried and failed to take a breath. The angle and pressure caused his sinuses to fill. Any second his head would explode.

Both of them.

Having Gabriella’s hands all over his upper body caused a certain part of his lower anatomy to ache. An ache he ignored as she caressed, poked, and prodded. She moved his arm from one position to another and then another. Occasionally, she asked him to participate. Resist her push. Straighten his elbow. Point the toes on his right foot. His foot, for fuck’s sake. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with his feet.

The whole thing was ridiculous. He hadn’t even worked up a sweat. She hadn’t pushed him. The minor movements she’d done were a joke compared to the hardcore PT Matt put him through. And this was supposed to help get him back on the field?

Her velvety hands rolled over his back, following his spine to the waistband of his gym shorts. A fluttery movement teased the base of his spine and she headed north again. One hand pressed down, traveling over his left shoulder while another hand applied pressure at the base of his skull, stretching the muscles in his neck and shoulder.

He groaned. Okay, that felt good. Damn good. She had earned her money for getting him to relax, so at least it hadn’t been a complete waste of time.

“I think that’s enough for today.”

Finally.

Tyler rose on his elbows, instinctively leaning on the right. He dreaded what came next. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he had a strict agenda. While he didn’t plan to retain her future professional services, he hadn’t given up hope of seeing her again.

He rolled to his feet, grabbing his shirt from the chair.

The way Gabriella’s eyes traveled over his bare chest made him hesitate. A good sign, right? She liked what she saw—that much was clear. Was she considering the benefits of revisiting what they’d started last night?

He arched a brow in her direction, silently testing her.

“Take your time,” she flustered. “I mean, you’re my only client today. There’s no one waiting or anything.”

Definitely a good sign. Tyler returned the favor, taking in every delicious inch of her. She looked sporty in her shiny, pink shirt, and the same kind of black pants the women wore in a yoga class his buddy Garrett made him attend once.

The outfit was built for comfort, but it had the opposite effect on him. His cock was twitchy and alert. His palms itched to touch her.

She blew out a sharp breath. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“You started it.”

An adorable flush blossomed across her cheeks. “I’ve got a few notes to make while you get ready to go. There’s water in the mini-fridge. Help yourself.”

He did.

Gabriella went to her desk and scribbled furiously on the paper in front of her.

What a firecracker she was. And piss poor at hiding her emotions. Even now, a potent mixture of annoyance and arousal swirled through the room. God, he’d kill to know how she fucked when she was this torn between want and indignation. He bet she’d be fierce. Added to his own frustrations, sex with Gabriella would be explosive. The kind of sex that left them both breathless, marked, and hungry for more.

Tyler tugged on his sleeveless tee and sat down to put on his shoes.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Good.” She deserved more than good for her efforts. He thought about it some more. “Very relaxed, actually, which is not something I get to experience very often. It was a great massage.”

“A great massage,” she repeated slowly. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”

Tyler glanced up from tying his shoe. “Of course it is.” The diplomat in him added, “It all helps.”

“But?”

He huffed a breath. Fine. Truth time. “I don’t have time to waste.” He cursed at the way that sounded. “I’ve got to get back to work, ASAP. I need to stay focused on what will get me there.” And that didn’t sound much better.

“I see. You think you know best, regardless of what Matt or I say.”

Frustration coursed through him, cooling any remnants of arousal. “Of course I know what’s best. It’s my arm. I’ve lived with it for twenty-six years. I know what I can do, what I need to do. And I don’t need to relax.” He raised his palm to stop her from interrupting. “I didn’t say it wasn’t nice.” Jesus, he wasn’t going to get this right no matter how hard he tried. “Bottom line, I need my arm to be well. I need to get back to my team.” He softened the growing irritation from his voice. “I appreciate your time, Gabriella. I do.”

“You appreciate my time, but you don’t feel it was time well spent?” Fire burned behind the stare she nailed his direction. Her lips thinned. She gave a sharp nod. “I’ll let Matt know so he can find you another sports therapist.”

“I don’t need another therapist. This isn’t personal, Gabriella. I don’t feel this type of therapy is in my best interest right now.”

Gabriella stood. She picked up a tennis ball. “I understand.”

Without warning, she hurled the ball at him.

Instinct kicked in. He shifted out of the line of fire. His arm shot out. The ball stung his palm on impact as his fingers closed around it.

“Jesus! What’re you trying to do, kill me?” She had an arm on her, he’d give her that.

She snorted as though the idea had appeal. “Any pain?” she asked.

He zeroed in on the ball in his hand. Other than the zing in his palm, no. He rolled his shoulder. A little stiff. Still restricted … but he could do a considerable amount of movement without pain. Adrenaline burst in his chest.

“Holy shit.”

It was the first spark of excitement he’d felt about his recovery. Good god, he could kiss her. Suddenly wanted nothing more. Before he could make good on the idea, Gabriella went to the keypad on the wall. She entered a code and the door clicked open.

“It’s a good thing you know best, isn’t it?”

“Gabriella, wait. Where’re you going? I haven’t paid yet.”

“Keep it. I’m not interested in taking your money.”

Her words slashed old wounds wide open. “You’d be the first,” he snapped. His ex-girlfriend had blown through his credit card limits like a tornado tears through Oklahoma. Hell, even his own father reaped the benefits of Tyler’s salary.

Disappointment crinkled her brows. “Good luck, Tyler. I’ll let Matt know you won’t need my services any longer. You know the way out.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving him alone to marvel at his own stupidity.

This is what you get for not thinking before shooting off your damn mouth.

Tyler grabbed his wallet and keys, feeling like a Grade-A jerk. His ability to fuck things up never ceased to amaze.

He didn’t bother trying to follow her. He’d learned from living with his mom and sister that there was no talking to a woman when she was mad. And Gabriella had been furious. Rightfully so, since he’d basically insulted her ability to do her job.

Oh yeah, it was gonna take one hell of an apology to make this right.

---

Gabriella leaned back against the door, heart hammering behind her ribcage. She took a deep breath. Held. Counted to five and exhaled slowly. Then repeated the process three more times, waiting to see if Tyler would pound on the door. When he didn’t, the tension in her shoulders eased as she released the last inhale in a slow huff.

As dramatic exits go, she should earn an award for that one. She could’ve made a more subtle point, but damn it, she was good at her job. Sought after, even. He didn’t want to waste his time? What about hers? She had plenty of clients who appreciated her skill. Tyler should’ve given her more credit. It hurt when he hadn’t trusted her to do her job—irrational as the pain might be, since there was no reason he should. He didn’t know her. Kissing and petting in the bar aside.

Sweet mother of god, how she enjoyed having her hands on him. Working his tight muscles into submission. Absorbing the warmth of his skin through her palms. Listening to his muted groans of pleasure as the knots in his back and shoulders released.

She imagined those were the same sounds he’d make when sinking into the heat of a woman’s body. More specifically, her body.

Gabriella groaned and kicked her heel against the door. Thoughts like those weren’t helping. She had many attractive clients, yet none of them had tested her focus as completely as having Tyler Brady on her table. Of course, she never had a man on her table who’d had his hands up her shirt before, either.

It changed things.

As much as she hated the idea of Tyler going to someone less skilled, maybe it was for the best. She’d worked hard to build her business. Had trudged through the muck of stereotyping and dumb asses who thought propositioning her for a happy ending was appropriate behavior. She had a solid clientele; she’d earned the respect of area orthopedic surgeons and physical therapists, who referred work to her on a regular basis. She didn’t need some entitled, too-handsome-for-his-own-good baseball player upsetting her apple cart.

Granted, Tyler hadn’t acted unprofessionally while she worked, but he certainly hadn’t taken her seriously. Wasting his time, indeed. Leaving him to stew in his own stupidity was nothing more than he deserved.

Gabriella bit the inside of her lip. She doubted Matt would see it that way.

Pushing away from the door, she shoved back thoughts of Tyler’s delicious body and made her way to the kitchen. The mess from scone-fest was a distant memory, but there were six-dozen treats stacked on the kitchen table and she needed a distraction.

After washing her hands, Gabriella pulled every plastic container she could find from the pantry. It looked as though everyone she knew would be getting a care package of freshly made scones. Lillian’s had been delivered, Matt’s were next. Baked goods would help to soften the blow after she told him to find Tyler someone else to work with.

Speaking of which, she grabbed the phone and dialed Matt’s home number. As it started to ring, she initiated the speaker and turned up the volume. She set the phone on the table and started packing up the scones.

“Hey, Mac. What’s up?” Matt’s relaxed tone filled her kitchen.

Gabriella ground her teeth. His little nickname had added to this mess. “Remind me to kick your ass next time I see you.”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart.”

The humor in his voice didn’t dissuade her. She glared at the phone as though he could see her. “How many times have I told you? When you refer a client, please, for crying out loud, give them my real name. Stop saying you’re sending them to see ‘your friend, Mac.’”

Matt sighed, humor gone. She’d bet all the scones on the table he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’d Tyler do?”

Felt her up. Used his wicked tongue to play connoisseur with her mouth. Made her want him to the point she was considering letting another therapist take over his rehab. Oh, where to begin?

She wasn’t ready to tell Matt about last night, so she jumped to the point. “He thought seeing me was a waste of his precious time.” Gee. That didn’t sound resentful. Not at all.

“Oookay. And he wouldn’t be the first athlete you’ve seen who felt that way at first. I assume you set him straight?”

“I did, but I think it would be better for everyone if you found another therapist to work with him. If you can get him to agree, that is.”

“Better, how? Come on, Mac. You’re the best. Why the hell would I send him to someone else?”

Because she’d been tempted to throw ethics out the window and crawl on top of him while he sprawled over her table like an endless pleasure buffet.

“Because I asked you to? Call it a professional courtesy.” It was worth a shot. She continued to package scones as she waited for his response. Gabriella couldn’t imagine what Matt must be thinking. She rarely turned a client away, and never one he’d referred. “I made scones,” she sang. “I’ll box up a dozen just for you.”

“Scones, huh? Nice, but try again. What’s going on, Gabriella?” Oh lord. Matt only used her real name when he went all big brother on her. A self-appointed position Matt deemed necessary since Gabriella didn’t have a brother of her own. “What exactly did Tyler do?”

Knowing Matt wouldn’t let up until he was satisfied with her answer, she blurted, “He kissed me.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, spreading until her ears burned.

“He did what?” Matt’s voice exploded through the line. “You’re telling me he came into your office and … I’ll kill that motherfu—”

“Last night!” She rushed to explain. “He kissed me last night.” Gabriella pulled out a chair. She collapsed onto the seat and dropped her head into her hands with a defeated groan. Matt was her surrogate big brother, yes. They had shared a constant supply of support and friendship from the day they’d met, but Matt was still a guy. Something told her he wouldn’t offer up a high five for making out with a guy she’d only known for a couple of hours. And Gabriella was in no mood for a lecture.

“I met him at Tank’s. He introduced himself as Ty. Of course, I reciprocated with Gabriella. A name he might’ve questioned if you hadn’t told him he was meeting ‘Mac’ today, I might add.” Not that she or Tyler had been interested in life stories last night. Or, you know, last names.

“You wanna tell me what else happened?”

Unable to sit still, Gabriella resumed packing up scones. “Nothing else happened. I didn’t sleep with him or anything.” She would have though. If Freddie and Devon hadn’t interrupted them, Gabriella was afraid she would’ve let him fuck her right there in that hallway.

“I wouldn’t judge you if you had, so there’s no need to be defensive. Are you planning to see him again?” he asked, voice laced with concern.

“I honestly don’t know. He was adamant he didn’t need the kind of help I provide. Of course, I showed him the error of his ways.” The look on Tyler’s face when she threw the ball at him was priceless.

“So, what’s the problem? You’re both consenting adults. Help Tyler with his rehabilitation. Keep your eyes open and the hanky-panky out of the office. Everyone goes home happy.”

One of the things she loved about Matt was his ability to boil things down. “That’s assuming Tyler has a change of heart about working with me.” She suspected he would. And then they’d come to an understanding. She just wasn’t sure what that was yet. “You’ve known Tyler a long time, haven’t you?”

“Most of my life. Why?”

Gabriella snapped shut the lid on the last container. “Why do I need to keep my eyes open? I thought you said he was a good friend.”

“One of the best.” His tone deepened. “Listen, Mac. I gotta be honest with you. Tyler’s not a bad guy, but he enjoys women. A lot. I wouldn’t read too much into whatever happened last night.”

It wasn’t as if she were looking for a relationship with the guy, but the idea of becoming just another notch in Tyler’s bedpost settled heavy in her gut. A worry courtesy of Roger’s grand exit from her life. But Tyler hadn’t made her feel cheap or used last night. If anything, the intensity of his touch had made her feel powerful. Desired. Her body had come alive under Tyler’s skillful mouth and hands. And they hadn’t even been naked.

“You don’t think I should see him again? Outside of work, I mean.”

“I think you’re a grown woman. You’re single. It’s about time you get back out there. So long as you don’t fall in love with the guy, I don’t see the harm in spending time with him. He’s a good man. Just keep your wits about you where he’s concerned. He’ll be gone in a few weeks. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken again.”

Matt had been there through the tears and pain from her breakup with Roger. Gabriella wasn’t in a rush to relive the experience, either.

“I don’t think I’m ready for long term, anyway.”

“I can find someone else to work with him if it’s what you really want.”

She didn’t. Not really. Not when she had the ability to help him get back to the game. “If Tyler wants to continue working with me, and if he gets his head out of his ass, I’ll agree to keep him on as a client. That’s the best I can do.” Then she’d figure out what to do about the rest.

“Done. I’ll talk to him.”

Funny how that didn’t reassure her. “Stick to topics that don’t include kissing me, if you don’t mind.”

Matt laughed. “Fine by me. Do I still get those scones?”

“The scones are yours. Give me an hour and I’ll drop them by.”

“You gonna have time for a beer while you’re here?”

“As long as you don’t grill me about last night, sure.”

“I’ll do my best to refrain.”

“Promise?”

“Sweetheart, for scones, I’ll even pinkie swear.”

Ah, the power of baked goods.