Pass Interference. Desiree Holt
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Cover Copy
No Rules. No Limits.
Party girl Tyler Gillette has just one rule: no football players. As the daughter of the owner of the San Antonio Hawks, she grew up in the shadow of the sport and her father’s enormous wealth. She was even named Tyler because he wanted a boy. Life couldn’t have drawn up a better play for turning her into a wild child—until that same life is threatened by someone from the past . . .
Former Hawks running back Rafe Ortiz has a few rules of his own. First, no weaknesses. Second, no babysitting spoiled football princesses. But his new career as a bodyguard means he’s responsible for protecting the beautiful Tyler Gillette from her mysterious stalker. But keeping his hands off her might be harder than keeping her safe . . .
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Books by Desiree Holt
Finding Julia
Game On Series
Forward Pass
Line of Scrimmage
Pass Interference
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Pass Interference
A Game On Romance
Desiree Holt
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2015 by Desiree Holt
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First Electronic Edition: April 2016
eISBN-13: 978-1-61650-733-6
eISBN-10: 1-61650-733-0
First Print Edition: June 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-734-3
ISBN-10: 1-61650-734-9
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
First, as always, to the man of my heart
* * *
But for this book there is a second dedication. In 2013, my daughters took me to the Gristmill in Gruen, Texas, to celebrate my birthday. We were waited on by the most gorgeous man, who went out of his way to make my celebration lunch a special one. I told him one day I would model a hero after him, and I took pictures. He was very gracious, even though I’m sure he thought I was crazy. Well, Joshua Ramos, here it is. Rafe Ortiz is you come to life. Thank you so much for being such a good sport.
Acknowledgements
First a thank you to my sister, Sonya Langden, who first introduced me to the excitement of football. To my late husband David, who shared my love of the sport. Loved those weekend bets we had! And of course my son, Steven, who is the most knowledgeable person about this sport that I know and answers my endless questions. Huge thanks to my fabulous beta reader, Margie Mendel Hager. Where would I be without you? Also my incredible daughter Suzanne, and my granddaughter, Kayla, my assistants extraordinaire. To my daughter Amy, who will tell people about Desiree Holt at the drop of a hat. Thanks to my bestie, award-winning, multi-published author Cerise Deland, who is so great at brainstorming. To Paige Christian, editor extraordinaire. I will always listen to you. To Renee Rocco, without whom I would not be here writing this. I love you, sweetie. To the people at Kensington Publishing who take such good care of me. And last but far from least, to all my wonderful readers out there. Thank you so much for buying my books, for reviewing them, for telling me how much you like them and for passing the word. They are really all for you.
Author’s Foreword
Football has been not just my pleasure but my passion ever since I read a book on how to watch the game. And watching it has been my salvation through every crisis in my life. When I see the first kickoff of the season—be it college or pro—my brain stirs to life. Some of my best books were written during football season. I also have to mention the dean of sportswriters, Grantland Rice, whose book The Tumult and the Shouting gave me the quintessential look into the history and the psychology of the game. And to all the players who put their bodies out there week after week for six months of the year, thank you for bringing me a sport that I truly love.
Chapter 1
Tyler Gillette swirled the amber liquid in her cocktail glass and stared into it for a long moment before taking a slow sip. Savoring the bite of the alcohol, she looked around the bar. About her usual speed these days. Slightly seedy, but in the dark it carried an artificial veneer of polish. Small (but not exactly what she’d call cozy), with a long bar on one wall and the rest of the room filled with tables and chairs. A jukebox in one corner banged out tunes, but, thank the Lord, the volume on it was turned down. She’d had enough jukebox headaches in her life, and she wasn’t in the mood for one tonight.
Of course she wasn’t in the mood for much of anything tonight.
She caught the sudden cloying whiff of heavy aftershave seconds before someone slid onto the bar stool next to her.
“Is this seat taken?” His voice was raspy, like a smoker’s.
Tyler turned her head and looked at the man who had moved next to her. Dark hair, curling at the ends, hung to the collar of his black polo shirt, framing a face dominated by a crooked nose and thin lips. Why did men always think it was sexy to wear black? Didn’t they want a little color in their lives? She let her eyes skim over him and took in the muscular body just beginning to soften, maybe developing a little flab. Okay, so men did the black-makes-me-thinner thing, too.
“Well, is it?” he persisted, in what she was sure he thought was a sexy voice.
Tyler was tempted to just turn her back on him, toss down her drink, and get the hell out of there. But her persistent self-destructive streak made her look him up and down, curve her lips in a smile, and answer him in what she hoped was a seductive voice.
“It is now.”
The answering smile