A sudden thought struck her. God, had he actually listened to her when she’d told him she wanted to keep things professional? Was that why he was so…distant?
Perhaps he had listened. And perhaps she was wrong about him. Perhaps, underneath that Abs of Steele persona, the guy she’d once loved was still there.
It suddenly became imperative to know.
Pushing open the car door, Judith got out again. Then, totally ignoring the rain still bucketing down, and the fact that she’d left her umbrella in the car, she stalked back through the parking lot and out onto the field.
Only to find that it was empty, players and fans both gone.
Cursing under her breath, Judith headed toward the stadium and eventually found her way inside. Some of the players, showered and dressed, were obviously heading home. They stared at her as she approached them. “Where are the locker rooms?” she demanded.
“That way,” one of them said, gesturing. “But you can’t—”
“Thank you,” she interrupted and, ignoring the calls after her, headed down the corridor the man had indicated.
She was going to find Caleb Steele. Get some answers once and for all.
…
Caleb sat on the bench and tugged off his soaking wet shirt. The rest of the guys had gone, leaving him alone. Which was just as well because he really needed the space to work out just what the hell was going on with Judith.
He’d got the distinct impression she’d been unhappy about that lot of girly fans, which alternately pleased him and annoyed him. Pleased him because the thought that she may be jealous was very satisfying. Annoyed him because she could not seriously believe he would ever be interested in girls like that.
He bent over, squeezing the excess water out of his shirt. Okay, so he could kind of see why. He had a reputation after all. And he had, at one time, thrown himself totally into life as a premier sportsperson, indulging in all the perks that came along with it. Wanting to be Caleb Steele, the world’s number one rugby player. Not plain old Caleb, the idiot who thought he could cure his mother’s cancer. The fool who thought that cleaning up after his father and putting AA pamphlets under his pillow would fix his father’s alcoholism.
Caleb gave the shirt another vicious squeeze then put it on the bench beside him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he let out a breath, staring at the concrete floor.
Still, fans were fans. Regardless of who they were, he enjoyed interacting with them. Liked to sign autographs for them. He’d never lost sight of what a privilege it was to be in the position he was in and fans were part of the deal. Especially the kids. The ones who looked at him as if he was some god, who got so excited and into the game. He never wanted to treat their excitement and enthusiasm with disrespect. Because he knew what it was to be treated like that. To be told you were no good. That you’d never amount to anything. It wasn’t something he’d ever do to anyone else, let alone a kid.
As for Judith…
Her opinion shouldn’t matter so much after all these years but it did. It always had. And it was just bloody typical that she should still find something to be offended about when he’d been trying to keep a respectful distance. He hadn’t even responded to her “studmuffin” text the night before. He’d tried to keep everything professional. No endearments. Not even a babycakes. Even when her gaze had run all over him and he’d found himself wanting to pull her toward him so she could have a closer look, he’d resisted. Had told his body to shut the hell up. Had kept his desire locked up tight inside him.
Somehow it still wasn’t good enough. Man, he just couldn’t win with her.
Letting out a breath, he got to his feet. Time to shower, then afterward he’d track her down. Get an explanation about why she was still so prickly with him and then set some boundaries. Maybe. If he felt like it.
Picking up his towel, he slung it around his neck and turned toward the showers. At the same time the locker-room door suddenly burst open and a very wet-looking Judith stormed into the room.
Her hair was plastered to her head, the black shirt she wore plastered to her skin. The wet leggings he hadn’t been able to stop himself from noticing earlier now looked even wetter, the rain soaking through the material, outlining her perfect legs.
He couldn’t stop staring as she strode across the room and planted herself in front of him.
“Please don’t tell me you actually listened,” she burst out.
Caleb stared at her in astonishment. “What? What the hell are you doing in here?”
“I want to know.” Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. She raised a hand, poked him in the chest. “You didn’t reply to my text and you didn’t call me babycakes. Was that because you were being professional?”