Ivy's League by Heather Macallister

Author:Heather Macallister
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks
Published: 2014-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

BUT THERE WAS no further kissing that night, or any other day or night that week.

Ivy was confused, then disappointed, then told herself she should be relieved that Rick seemed to have forgotten all about his impulsive kiss. He treated her in the same casual, friendly way he treated everyone else.

Today was Saturday. Ivy’s soccer team had just played and won their first game. Still wearing her coach’s shirt, she had raced over to the Globe, ready to lay her victory at Rick’s feet.

She found them, encased in state-of-the-art running shoes, resting atop his desk as he talked on the phone. Ivy slid into her seat and turned on her computer. Time to write this week’s installment of “Ivy’s League.” How nice to write about a win after two issues detailing her practices.

She typed the title.

Rick was still on the phone. He acknowledged her presence with the briefest of nods. He hadn’t changed out of his red “Rick’s Rockers” shirt, and a grass-stained soccer ball sat on top of a stack of papers in his file basket. He’d come directly from his game, as well.

She typed her lead. Dull, flat writing.

She deleted the sentence and typed another.

Too cutesy.

She deleted that one, too, and glanced at Rick to see if he’d noticed.

He’d propped the telephone against his ear with his shoulder and was scribbling notes, obviously not giving her a thought.

Ivy let her gaze linger. Specifically, she let it linger on his legs. The scars on his knees were the only blemishes on his perfect athlete’s legs. A golden honey color, they stretched out from one of the apparently infinite number of running shorts he possessed and wore during the hot weather. Black shorts, white shorts, and all colors in between. Cotton, fleece, and a shiny satiny material that highlighted the perfectly toned muscles underneath.

Fortunately, the weather in Texas remained warm for months.

Unfortunately, this did nothing for Ivy’s peace of mind.

At last Rick got off the phone. “How did it go this morning?”

“We won!” She beamed, waiting for his words of approval.

“Great.” He dropped his feet to the floor and adjusted the angle of his monitor.

Ivy waited. “Did your team win?”

“Hmm?” Rick had already begun typing. He stopped, let his head drop back, and thought. “I think the other team scored more goals. But the girls had a blast.” He continued typing.

Ivy started to offer sympathy, but Rick didn’t appear to be in the mood for conversation. His team had lost. Of course he felt down.

Now she felt down, too. She typed another so-so lead to her story, then stopped. This was ridiculous. Absurd.

Thinking about Rick, obsessing about Rick, was affecting her work and her life. Her sleep.

Other than the fact that they both worked for the same employer, there was no reason they couldn’t have a relationship. Rick was unattached. As was she. Office romances were merely unwise, not impossible. So what was her problem?

The problem was that she was waiting for him to make the first move. And why? To avoid the possible embarrassment of not having her feelings returned.

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