Текст книги "Game for Anything "

Автор книги: Bella Andre

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Game For Anything

Bella Andre

The Bad Boys of Football, Book 1

CHAPTER ONE

Julie Spencer could think of a dozen things she would rather be doing than watching the Super Bowl. Even scrubbing the kitchen floor on her hands and knees was starting to sound pretty good. But since her work as an image consultant rarely ended at 5 p.m. even on the weekend, she was sitting next to an important new client at a Super Bowl party, holding a drink she didn't want, feigning interest in a game she didn't like.

If only she didn't have to watch him play.

Ty Calhoun was one of the world's greatest quarterbacks. He was also one of the world's biggest jerks.

Even on TV, Ty was too beautiful, too sexy. His chocolate brown eyes smoldered. His biceps beckoned. The slight wave at the end of his midnight black hair enticed a woman to reach out and run her fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Thank God the game was almost over. Only eight more seconds, and then she could say her goodbyes.

Her client, who had been narrating the game, jabbed her ribs with his elbow to get her attention.

"An entire season is hanging on this play. The quarterback has to throw if he wants to win." Julie nodded politely and focused on the huge plasma TV. All at once the field was a blur of movement. She could barely make out one player from the next.

"The defense is all over his receivers!" Her client was up off the couch, unable to contain his excitement. "If one of those linebackers gets through, it's all over for the Outlaws!" After what Ty had done to her, he didn't deserve her concern. Still, a foolish part of her wanted him to do the impossible, to make the touchdown and be the hero.

"Oh man, a seam must have opened up! Ty's making a break for the goal line!" This guy should just relax. Though Ty sucked at relationships, he was brilliant on the football field. He'd pull this play off.

Then an enormous player from the other team hit Ty hard on his right side. His knees buckled, but still, he moved forward. A hundred thousand fans in the stadium were losing their minds, and everyone at her client's party was jumping out of their seats, screaming and cursing at the TV. Julie fought the urge to cover her eyes as Ty started to fall to the ground. Part of her—a highly irrational piece of her heart—couldn't stand to watch him fail just short of victory.

"He couldn't possibly . . . " whispered her client. "Oh Lord—he is!" Still holding the ball, Ty thrust it forward with every muscle in his body—and the tip of the ball broke the goal line just as he hit the ground.

Ty Calhoun, the man she'd been stupid enough to give her virginity and her heart to ten years ago, had just won the Super Bowl.

Ty's teammates crushed him between them in a wild group hug, then lifted him onto their shoulders in celebration.

Moments like this were what he lived for. The screaming fans, hot babes whipping off their bras and throwing them onto the field. All his life, Ty had wanted to be a star, a hero. Now, with his first Super Bowl win, he was. And no one could ever take it away from him. Someone sprayed champagne at him, and as he wiped it out of his eyes with the back of his hand, a flash of blond hair and lush curves in the stands seized his attention. His heart pounded hard, nearly as fast as it had when he was reaching for the goal line. Was he seeing things? After all these years, had she decided to forgive him?

The woman pushed her hair back from her face and his heart sank. It wasn't Julie. Of course it wasn't. Ty silently cursed himself for being a pathetic idiot.

After all this time, he shouldn't still be thinking about her. About the one incredible night they'd spent together in high school.

Those twelve hours were the only time they'd ever spoken, ever kissed, ever touched. Yet she was still inside his head, and it drove him crazy. All of the supermodels and Playboy Bunnies that had slid in and out of his sheets should have replaced her. And some nights, if their moves were impressive enough, he convinced himself that they had.

But today was different.

Someone poured a fresh bottle of bubbly over his head and he played his part, laughing and highfiving his coach. He winked at the cameraman, knowing that his face was filling every big screen in the stadium, driving women wild. Was Julie at a Super Bowl party somewhere, celebrating the Outlaws' win? Had she seen his game-winning touchdown? Had she been impressed?

Enough! This was the best day of his life, and he was going to forget about Julie, soak it up, and let the world worship him.

A reporter shoved a microphone into his face just as security held back a disheveled man who was trying to run onto the field. The man was weeping and looked like he hadn't bathed in a week or changed his clothes in far longer.

The months of rehab Ty had forced his father into over the years hadn't amounted to shit. Ty knew what was coming. What always came in moments like these.

"I'm his father!" the man wailed at the guards. "I taught him everything he knows." No, Ty thought, I figured out how to be a goddamned football hero in spite of you . Fuck the past. He had his friends, endless gorgeous women, and more money than he could spend. He had just won the Super Bowl, and he was going to celebrate. Whether he felt like it or not.

Five months later, Ty's cell phone woke him up far too early. He ignored it, but whoever was on the other end was relentless, calling back every thirty seconds. He reached out, opened one eye, and looked at the caller ID screen.

Outlaw management. What the hell?

During the off-season, no one interrupted an Outlaw before noon. Certainly not before 8 a.m. These guys paid his bills, but he was the one filling the seats, not some guys in suits. Great players meant great TV, which meant everything to the ad men. The Outlaws' general manager, Sean, should be kissing Ty's ass right now, not pissing him off.

Ty flicked open his phone with one finger. "Ever tried waking a bear during hibernation?"

"We need you to come into the office, Ty."

Ty considered hanging up, but there was no need to be rude. "I'll look forward to seeing you in two weeks, Sean. At training camp. Good-bye."

A thick southern accent came on the line. "You'd better get your ass in here, boy, and quick." Who the hell was that? No onehad ever talked to him like that. No one dared.

"And you are?" he asked coldly.

"Bobby Wilson, your new owner. You want to keep your job, you'll be in my office in fifty-six minutes." Ty hung up and immediately dialed his agent, Jay. He'd made the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl, for fuck's sake! No team owner on earth would talk to his star that way. Not if he knew what was good for him.

Jay told him, "Let's humor the guy. Find out what he's up to." Fortunately Ty was still feeling good from a big money weekend in Las Vegas, and by the time he'd showered and headed into his living room, he was almost glad he'd gotten up so early. His Seacliff estate had a birds-eye view of blue sky over the Pacific Ocean, the normal Bay Area fog nowhere to be seen. He looked out the floor to ceiling windows to the Farallon Islands and watched surfers ride the waves while kids played on the beach below.

A couple of guys were sitting in his family room banging away on the Xbox, while another was out cold across one of the suede couches.

Ty grabbed a bottle of OJ from the built in Sub-Zero fridge. "Who's winning?" AJ mumbled something unintelligible, then jammed his thumb into a red button several times in rapid succession.

Ty liked to see his friends having a good time at his house. As a kid he couldn't bring his friends back to the trailer due to his drunk-ass dad, so he'd spent most evenings and weekends at their houses. Their mothers hadn't minded having one more mouth to feed, but he'd often felt like a leech, like he was trying to insinuate himself into everyone else's perfect family. Now his front door was always open. The party was always on. Even at 8:30 on a fine June morning, three hotties were lying out by his pool, soaking up the rays. Too bad he had a new boss to meet, or he would have joined them.

The grandfather clock in Bobby Wilson's office chimed nine o'clock at the precise moment that Ty lowered himself into an oversize leather chair, his agent doing the same. The new head of the Outlaws was on the phone, sitting with his back to the room.

A power play, plain and simple, and not even an original one. It could have gotten Ty's back up if he'd let it, but he'd learned early on that showing emotion put you in the weakest man's shoes.

He'd never seen Sean look nervous before. James, the head offensive coach, looked squeamish too. Neither one would meet his gaze.

Ty already had a list in his head of teams who'd piss themselves at the chance to hire him. Whatever goods the new owner had on Sean and James to make them quiver in their shoes like little girls, the ball was in Ty's corner.

Bobby finally hung up the phone and slowly spun his chair away from the plate glass windows that overlooked the San Francisco Bay. "Here he is, live and in the flesh. The infamous Ty Calhoun." Ty raised an eyebrow. "Nice to finally meet you."

Bobby Wilson was a textbook bully. Full of bluster, probably because he lacked the goods where it counted.

"You're even prettier in person." Bobby stood up and his thick belly gave way to gravity, falling over his large, shiny belt buckle.

"I had a pretty mother," Ty said, though he wouldn't have recognized her on the street if he saw her. The one picture his father had kept of her was too faded and streaked. Bobby smiled, revealing teeth that were far too perfect. " 1 do like to hear a boy speak nice about his mama."

Bile churned in Ty's stomach. Anyone who paid attention to football—or celebrity magazines—knew Ty didn't have a mother. Or a sober father, for that matter.

"I saw you make that winning touchdown," Bobby continued, "and I said to my wife, 'Honey, that boy sure can play football. He knows how to throw that ball and run real fast and get people to buy Tshirts and hot dogs.' The wife likes her diamonds, you know, and she agreed that I should buy the team right then and there. And I was mighty pleased with my new purchase—until I saw your picture in the Las-Vegas Review-Journal yesterday."

"She was one hot stripper, wasn't she?" Ty said blandly.

Bobby Wilson's face turned almost purple.

"I know you think you can mock me, son, and I know my traditional family values don't mean squat to you, but I will not condone such behavior on any team of mine." Ty knew the big, rich team owner expected an instant "Yes, sir." All those years of effortless bullying must have made Bobby forget how to work for it.

"You should have seen the ass on her friend," Ty said. "Foxy and Roxy come as a pair, and they're quite a handful—but well worth it."

Bobby didn't need to know that his buddies had wanted to chat up the strippers, not him, and that he couldn't control who took a picture of him with a nearly naked woman on his lap, any more than he could control newspapers printing the shots. It was the price of being a star. Bobby's eyelids drooped and a sneer slid onto his lips. "I'm afraid I'm speaking a little too quickly for you, pretty boy."

Ty smiled, baring his teeth at the asshole. "The slower the better," he said, mentally ranking the list of teams for Jay to call.

"We're hiring you an image consultant. You have two weeks to clean your act up, or you can get your ass off my team."

Ty laughed. "You actually think I'm going to let some PR person tail me for the next two weeks?" Bobby looked excessively pleased. "Actually, I like to think of it as more of a prisoner-warden type relationship."

"If you'll excuse us for a moment, my client and I would like to confer outside," Jay said, intervening before Ty could reply.

Bobby's beady eyes gleamed with malice. "Take all the time you need." Ty had spent a lifetime facing down opponents who wanted his blood, and was all easy grace and confidence as he left the office. He kept walking out the main doors, down the block to the nearest Starbucks.

"I can't believe I missed my morning coffee for that ass-wipe." Ty didn't like the thought of leaving the Outlaws and San Francisco, but it was the obvious solution to a bad owner who was going to make his life hell.

Jay nodded. "I agree with you, that guy is a major dickhead. He made some money in oil and now he thinks he can take over the hottest team in the league. But just because he's taking a conservative line with his players doesn't mean we should do something rash." Ty raised an eyebrow. "Rash would be pulling his heart out through his throat." Jay held up his hand. "Under other circumstances, I'd be first in line to beat the crap out of this guy-"

"But?"

"The Outlaws have the best chance I've seen in decades to win back-to-back Super Bowls." Jay was talking sense. Another Super Bowl would make him a lock for the Hall of Fame. As if he could sense Ty softening, Jay added, "Plus your friends are all here. I know how you love this city."

Unbidden, the thought She's still herepopped into Ty's head. He couldn't believe that a woman he hadn't seen in more than a decade actually figured into his plans to leave.

"Besides," Jay continued, "I hear Julie Spencer is the best in the business. I'm thinking it wouldn't be too bad to have her hanging around for a few weeks."

Ty blinked hard. Julie Spencer? He knew she was an image consultant, but it had never crossed his mind that they might work together one day.

Jay drooled. "And I hear she's sizzling hot too."

They should be playing hardball with Bobby Wilson right now, but a sudden image of Julie's long, silky legs wrapped around him and her perfect breasts in his hands pushed aside all rational thought.

"Fine. I'll do it," he said, tossing his empty cup into the trash. "But she's the only image consultant I'll work with. If she won't do the job, I'm heading out of town—permanently. Let the Outlaws know for me, will you?"

CHAPTER TWO

Julie stood on the front steps of her newly purchased office building, feeling proud yet nervous. As she blew on the steam rising from her nonfat latte, she gazed at the Bay Bridge, the fishing boats motoring into their docks, the new mothers pushing strollers along the Embarcadero, and smiled. She was going to have to work like hell to make the astronomical monthly mortgage, but buying the narrow, stone-faced building along the water had been the right decision. She felt it down deep in her gut.

She'd just have to be a little less picky about which clients she took on for a little while, and take on as much work as she could handle. No big deal. She'd done it before and she'd do it again. Julie knew how lucky she was, loving her job so much. She thrived on the challenges of being an image consultant; got a huge rush from growing her company. She'd just hired two more part-time assistants and she planned on being a fixture in the big leagues inside of ten years. Amy, her soft-spoken best friend from Stanford– and first hire five years ago—poked her head out of the bright red double doors. A feng shui consultant– a gift from her mother—had recommended the color to bring extra business energy to Julie's door. Julie was a sucker for letting her mother feel included in her life, and fortunately she liked red.

"Sorry to bother you before you're even in the door," Amy said, "but I think you should take this call."

"One of our clients?" Julie asked. "No," Amy said, clearly excited. "Not yet, anyway." Big clients meant big money! Maybe her financial worries were going to be put to rest.

"The general manager from the Outlaws is holding for you on line one," Amy finished. Unease shivered through Julie. Even though her office was just blocks from the new stadium beside the Bay, she'd never gone to an Outlaws game. She couldn't—not when her biggest mistake was the team's star quarterback.

The latte curdled in her stomach with a sick premonition. She'd have had to be blind to miss Ty's failures with the media.

Julie stood beneath the safety of her door frame as if taking cover from an earthquake, unable to think, to move.

She could only remember the most important– and disastrous—night of her life. It was high school graduation night, and Julie's teachers had all congratulated her on beinghonored as valedictorian. She would be attending Stanford University in the fall; and even thoughshe'd be less than two hours from home, she was excited about the chance to get away, to becomesomeone new.

Somehow she'd made it all the way to eighteen without ever being really kissed. Sure, a drunkguy at a party had once slobbered all over her before she shoved him away, but that didn't count.No one would believe her if she confessed the truth. Not that she'd do that, of course. What wasthe point of carefully constructing her image over the past four years if she was going to blow it byannouncing to the world that she couldn't attract a guy if her life depended on it?

Especially not a super-hot guy like Ty Calhoun, she thought as she stood on the fringes of theout-of control graduation party and sipped the slightly sour punch. For four years they'd passed eachother in the halls, but she'd never spoken to him. She was in honors classes, while he barely scrapedby with tutors. The best high school football player in the county, Ty was constantly surrounded by histeammates and cheerleading groupies. His entourage. And she'd bet her trust fund that he'd done itwith every one of those girls.

She could hear him laughing as he danced in a circle of fellow students. There was an edge tohis laughter that went down her spine and then sat in the pit of her belly. Julie wasn't a social outcast,but she'd never been comfortable at wild parties, never had a taste for alcohol, never been temptedby pot or cigarettes.

She didn't intend to lose hold of the control that she'd built her life around. If her tongue grewloose from booze or drugs, who knew what she'd say? What she'd admit to? Too quickly, the house ofcards that was her life could come crumbling down, and everything would be ruined.Still, she was impossibly, horribly tempted by Ty, a bad boy with a capital B.Fortunately, the sinful temptation that Ty embodied was way out of her league. If there was sucha thing as a babe magnet, Ty fit the bill. No high school boy should be that tall, have shoulders thatbroad, or dark eyes so wicked.

But she wasn't going to spend her last night in high school drooling at some guy from thesidelines, watching with senseless longing as Ty did the bump and grind with some slutty classmates.It was too pathetic. She found the nearest exit and pushed through it.Mere seconds after the door shut behind her, she heard it open again. A chill ran up her spinethat had nothing to do with the breeze ripping across the Bay. She whirled away from the view of theGolden Gate Bridge. Backing into the deck's metal rail, the bar cold against her overheated skin, shewatched the boy she longed for stalk her, slowly, steadily.

She'd fantasized about this moment so many times. The one where Ty finally noticed her, wherehe asked her to be his girlfriend, where he said he couldn't live without her anymore. She couldpractically choreograph it.

But now that he was standing in front of her, now that she was looking into his incredible browneyes, close enough to touch his arm if she wanted to, she didn't know up from down, black from white,could hardly even remember her own name.

"I'm Ty," he said, and she nodded stupidly.

"I know."

His gorgeous lips turned up in a perfect curve. He was even more beautiful up close, like someGreek god come to life.

"You're Julie," he said and she said, " I know," again, sounding like a complete moron.

"Do you know what I want to do, Julie?" he asked, and she could only stare at him. Her lipsparted slightly as she held her breath, waiting to hear what he was going to say. His eyes held hercaptive and her longing was just short of desperation.

"I want to kiss you." His voice fell to a whisper. "Actually, I want you to kiss me."She blinked at him, suddenly afraid. She didn't know how to kiss. What if he laughed at her?

She'd die if he laughed at her.

"Don't you want to kiss me, Julie?"

His voice was silky and hot and she forgot everything except how badly she wanted him.

"Yes," she said. "I do."

"Good."

That one short word rocked through her with its intensity. He said it again, "Good," and somethinghot settled in between her thighs. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything her entirelife.

She moved closer to the boy she had a crush on and went up onto her tippy toes to get closer tohis sinfully perfect mouth. He tilted his face down and she reached one hand up to caress hisbeautiful, angular jaw, running her thumb over his cheek, touching the light shadow of hair dusting hischin.

She was so overwhelmed by just the merest touch of skin on skin that she forgot she wassupposed to press her lips to his.

It was a good thing that Ty was no stranger to lust, because he didn't wait for her to come out ofher trance. Instead, he went about taking what he wanted—and she loved that she was what hewanted.

He turned his face into her hand, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, and she shivered atthe delicious sensations running through her. She wanted to touch his full, perfect mouth with hers,and her need was raw and desperate as she found him with her lips. With her tongue.He tasted like wild summer nights, a hint of some unidentifiable alcohol, and passion.Intense pleasure roared through her as they kissed, his tongue finding a sensitive spot in thecorner oj her lips. Pushing closer, she instinctively rocked her hips into him, his erection cradledagainst her belly.

"Enough messing around," he growled, taking her mouth rough and hard. The more he gave her,the more she wanted. She laid her tongue and teeth and hands into him with a fury that matched his.He lifted her up in his arms, wrapping her legs around him, and even though anyone could walkoutside and see them, Julie gave herself up to heaven.

Ty's tongue danced with hers, finding more sensitive spots that Julie hadn't known existed. Shecupped his jaw again to give herself better access to his delicious mouth. And then her hands wereripping at his shirt and it was falling open.

"I'vegot the keys to a boat."

"Let's go."

Slowly, he released her from his arms, her soft contours pressing against his hard muscles. Hereached for her hand and she could have sworn they were flying down the dock to the marina.Everything felt so surreal, so perfect and magical.

They boarded a huge yacht and his large hands circled her waist in her pink strapless partydress.

"God, you look good," he said as he picked her up and carried her down the short hallway to thestateroom. He kicked open the door and a huge king-size bed dared her to look away. But she wasn'tgoing to back down from what she wanted. Not tonight. She kicked off her heels and let him lay herback on the bed, let him look at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.Sweet Lord, his chest was a masterpiece. Her fingers ran across his bronzed skin, and when hermouth grew jealous she ran her tongue along his pecs, over his nipples, which hardened beneath herlips. He groaned and threaded his hands through her hair just as she brought her teeth down on him.She slid her hands down the back of his shirt, pushing it off his broad shoulders, and then he waskissing her eyelids and her chin and biting her earlobe.

In seconds his shirt and pants were on the floor, even though he never once stopped kissing her.Wearing only his boxers, his bare leg hot against hers, he hooked his thumbs under the bodice of herstrapless dress.

And then—could this really be happening to her?– his mouth was on her nipple, hot and wet.Sweet Lord, how could she have lived for so long without feeling this?

She pressed her hips into his thighs, and wetness seeped through her panties, through her thindress.

Somehow she wasn't embarrassed; being with Ty was the most natural thing in the world.He slid her dress off, past her hips, and his hand moved to the concave lines of her stomach. Hetoyed with the elastic edge of her panties and her thighs spread in a clear invitation for him to takeany—and every—thing he wanted.

His warm hand moved down, past her pubic bone. Slowly he ran one finger, then two, over hermost private, secret spot. She'd touched herself before, but it had never felt like this. Never felt likeher entire world was turning inside out, like blue was green, and yellow was red. He sucked her moanof ecstasy into his throat, sliding his fingers down farther, farther still, finally slipping one inside her.His touch was a sensual invasion of every wall that Julie had ever built around herself, her body,her heart. She wanted him inside of her then, no more foreplay.

More than anything, she wanted him to love her as much as she had always loved him from afar.

"Please," she begged.

But instead of taking her right then and there, he moved his mouth along the same path as hishand, kissing her on her belly and the lacy edge of her panties.

"Please," she whispered again, wanting him to know that she couldn't stand it anymore. She bither lip hard enough to draw blood and still she could barely keep a scream of erotic frustration frompouring up from her throat. At the final moment, when she'd given patience all that she had, he slidthe lace away from her mound and covered her with his mouth.

She cried out then, a long, low sound. Julie had no defenses anymore. Not from the way histongue circled her clitoris. Not from the way his finger moved in and out of her. She could go insanefrom the rush of pleasure taking her over, body and soul. She would have promised him anything justthen; all he had to do was ask. But thankfully he wasn't talking, he was sucking and licking and kissingbetween her legs.

Her hips bucked up off the bed, and as she exploded against his teeth and tongue, she moaned,

"Ty!" And just as she found herself wishing that his mouth was on hers, that she could taste himagain, he was taking her lips in a kiss that said she was his. Forever.He slipped a condom on and then the thick head of his penis pushed at her wetness, where hisfinger and tongue had been.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to feel if his shaft was as hard—as hot—as she thought it wouldbe. Everything about Ty was made to drive her crazy.

"Please," she said again, "I want to touch you. I want to taste you like you tasted me."He groaned and took her lips again, pushing his thighs between her legs.

"I need to be inside you. Now."

And she was ready for him, desperate to take him inside. With a groan that was half pain, halfpleasure, Ty pressed the head of his penis against her.

"Are you sure you're going to fit?" she asked.

He just said, "Perfectly," as he pushed fully into her in the next breath. He stretched her wide andit hurt so much, but then, it didn't anymore.

Sex was wonderful.

Their hips moved together and even as he grew impossibly huger inside of her, the ecstasy thatshe'd felt only minutes before welled up again at the base of her belly. He plunged in then out, fastthen slow, and with every stroke, with every kiss, she met him with a passion that was as big, aspowerful.

He stilled above her, his muscles tight beneath her fingertips. He was going to explode inside ofher, just as she had when his mouth was on her. It was all she needed to send her back up to thepeak of ecstasy again.

Nothing in her life had ever been this good.

God, she'd been such an idiot. All she wanted was to forget the day she'd met Ty Calhoun. She wasn't a green girl anymore, not the kind of woman who could be sucked in by a hot jock's charisma and perfect physique ever again.

Julie never worked with sports organizations. She didn't trust professional athletes, so how could she get other people to trust them?

She'd simply refer the Outlaws to one of her competitors, who would be more than happy for the ongoing business. After all, athletes were always getting in trouble and their teams were always paying someone to "reform" them in front of the public.

And Julie would try not to mourn the money she was flushing down the drain. Her stomach churned as she slid on her headset and said hello.

"Sean McGuire here, with the Outlaws. Our team needs to hire a great image consultant for Ty Calhoun, and we think you're it."

She swallowed her gasp and told him she didn't have the resources to take them on as a client, then referred him to another company.

"We'll double your fee. Triple it."

Triple? Sweet Lord! If she took this gig with the Outlaws her financial fears would be a distant memory.

As if he could sense her wavering, Sean said, "All I'm asking is that you come in for a meeting before you say no. We need you."

Had a Crazy switch been turned on in her head? Was she really going to turn down this huge fee, especially since this job could springboard into other big clients?

Yet even if she didn't have a personal history with Ty, how could anyone expect her to change him from a playboy into a solid, reliable man? It was too big a job for one person. And how embarrassing and unprofessional would it be if they found out she'd been one of his early groupies?

Especially one who only lasted one night?

"Look," Sean said into the weighted silence, "Ty Calhoun needs you. Desperately. I'm begging you, here."

All the air went out of her lungs. Ty needed her? Well, he'd acted like he needed her once before, and she'd been so blind with lust and what she'd thought was love that she'd needed him too. What a huge, enormous mistake that had been.

Nothing was ever going to make Ty change his ways. From everything she'd heard, he was just as selfish, just as screwed up, and just as much of a womanizing bastard as he'd been in high school. Oh, she understood that women wanted to save Ty, and his bad boy antics made him more attractive, more dangerous, more in need of saving than ever.