Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks) by Jami Davenport Read Free Book Online Page B

course, there was that professional athlete’s body, too. His broad shoulders filled out his flannel shirt quite nicely. His rolled up sleeves revealed muscular forearms sprinkled with dark hair. His big hands were made to grip a football. She wondered what else those hands were made to do.
    He was gorgeous . While Lavender wasn’t adverse to a little recreational sex, she’d made a promise to herself to maintain a jock-free diet. Besides, the cowboy was probably a selfish lover. Unfortunately, the sight of his naked, ripped body might be worth the price of an admission ticket to the rodeo.
    Why couldn’t she lust after nice guys? Hell, no, she craved bad boys with over-inflated egos and even bigger cocks—Tyler Harris epitomized the bad-boy jock from his strip-her-naked blue eyes to the delectable bulge in his blue jeans. She knew all about his type. As much as she hated professional sports, a girl would have to be a hermit not to know about Tyler Harris. He was a local legend, a Northwest hero, a self-proclaimed asshole and proud of it. Lately, the press had added drunk driver and quitter to his list of attributes. Worst of all, he was her neighbor, the heir to Twin Cedars, the destroyer of dreams and island history, and the current object of her most decadent fantasies.
    Unfortunately.
    She’d be lucky to make it through the spring with her virtue intact, what was left of it. The bad girl in her desperately lusted after the bad boy in him. They’d be hot in bed, sheet-scorching, bone-melting hot. She’d been celibate since last summer following her aborted relationship with the spoiled son of a wealthy California attorney. Summer ended and so did his interest in her. Another one of her meaningless flings with the wrong type of man. Not that it hurt much because her heart never participated in her sexual relationships. Not anymore. She liked sex, actually she loved sex. Her self-righteous grandmother would drop to her knees and pray for her grand daughter’s soul for hours if she knew about the men who’d entertained her grand daughter over the years. Heck, she probably thought Lavender was still a virgin.
    The advantage to having a purely sexual tryst with Mr. Touchdown was that she didn’t like him, didn’t find his particular brand of charm charming, and his residency status on the island was temporary. They’d both be able to get physically involved without any emotional bullshit.
    Lavender twisted the bar rag in her hands. No, no, no . None of that mattered. She’d promised herself. No jocks, no matter how well she justified it.
    Tyler Harris was a football player. A guy didn’t get much worse than that. By reputation, he represented the worst football had to offer and that said a lot. Football had wrecked her mother’s life for years, and it didn’t make hers any easier. Fate played a sick joke on her when the Seattle Lumberjacks bad-boy quarterback inherited the run-down mansion next door.
    She wouldn’t cut the man any slack, even though he had two redeeming qualities: his body and so far he took good care of the cat.
    Despite Tyler’s obnoxious personality, conceit, and mastery of the “F” word, her body didn’t seem to care. Every time he came near her, said body hummed with pleasure and begged to be set free. Her panties got wet. Her nipples hardened. Her heart sped up. The chemistry between them snapped and popped like a broken power line on a wet pavement.
    Heaven help her.

Chapter 7
    Autograph Party
    Tyler didn’t get it.
    He drove around the block several times and resigned himself to parking three blocks from the VC. Every closer parking spot was taken.
    He walked down the street and rounded the corner. The sight ahead stopped him in his tracks. People crowded in front of the VC’s door and formed a jagged line around the block and out of sight. As he got closer, a group of teenagers noticed him and started cheering.
    Tyler frowned and slowed down. He glanced over his shoulder but