In the End Zone: A Sports Romance Read Online Free Page B

on
hers and pleasuring every bit of his body. She wanted nothing else in the
world, and she wanted to terribly bad.
    Oh god, she thought wildly to herself, how am I supposed to do this interview ?

 
 
    Chapter Five

 
 
 
    Morgan chewed on her pencil
nervously as she waited for the parade of football players to come by her desk
on the seventh floor. She had managed to get all of the big ones agree to
10-minute interviews throughout the course of the day, with video interviews
the next week. She had her list laid out in front of her, and every time her
eyes swooped over the names, the last one of the day made her stomach flip:
Brent Larson.
    She had already done the first
two for the day. Two defensive linemen came up to her office first and were
giddy at the idea of being interviewed. The first was soft spoken and Morgan
got the sense that he was a true "gentle giant." The second kept
talking of his mother, and he ended the interview with the words "my mama
is going to be so proud of this!"
    Next up was Sam Smythe, the
quarterback. She had met him once before in the locker room on the day that she
interviewed Coach Boss for the first time. And she recognized him immediately
when he stepped off the elevator. Sam was tall and lean, with cocoa-brown skin
and small dreadlocks smoothed back over his head. The one thing that stuck out
to Morgan was how kind and understanding he always seemed to be. Sam gave off
the aura of the perfect person to be best friends with, or to share a coffee
with. When Morgan waved him over, his face broke into a wide grin, showcasing
his perfect teeth that made all of the girls swoon.
    Morgan watched Sam as he walked
over and she could see why all of the women went gaga for Sam. He really was a
handsome man. His dark brown eyes glittered kindly at her as he approached, and
when they shook hands, Morgan could almost hear the jealous cries of a million
women behind her . Why is he not having
that effect on me? she wondered.
    "Thanks for meeting with
me, Mr. Smythe," Morgan said as the pair sank into chairs across her desk
from each other.
    "Anytime," Sam said,
"But call me Sam."
    Morgan smiled. "Okay, Sam.
Call me Morgan."
    The interview went great. Morgan
found Sam to be easy going and a breeze to talk to. With every question, the
star quarterback remained humble and his answered showcased his generosity and
sweetness. But Morgan was not swooning in her seat. She was not falling under
his spell like every lady before her. When Morgan would glance around the room,
she saw more than a dozen of her female coworkers leaned over their desks,
watching Sam Smythe and practically drooling over the man. So, what was wrong
with Morgan?
    After the 10 minutes were up,
Morgan set down her pad and pencil and she said, "Well, that's all the
questions that I have for you, Sam."
    That thousand-watt smile beamed
again. "Great! That was not too bad."
    "Nah, I like to keep it
simple."
    Sam leaned forward in his chair
and his hushed voice commented, "Can I tell you a secret? It was so nice
to talk to a woman who wasn't gaping at me or fawning all over me. Very
refreshing."
    Morgan looked at him curiously.
"You aren't disappointed, are you?"
    "Oh lord, no!" Sam
chuckled quietly. "It was just nice to have a real conversation with a
female." He looked at her slyly, knowing, and he said, "Plus, I think
that I have some competition when it comes to you."
    Morgan cocked her head and
raised her eyebrow. "Huh?" she asked stupidly.
    All it took was for Sam to mouth
the word, "Larson" for Morgan's body to react. Her heart fluttered
deep within her chest and a hot magenta blush rose up on her cheeks. She looked
away from Sam, then without realizing it, she began fidgeting with the things
on her desk.
    Sam smiled knowingly, but when
Morgan saw the smile, she hissed, "I don't know what you are talking
about."
    "Oh, okay," Sam said,
but he did not look convinced. In fact, he looked as though he thought Morgan a
liar, and a poor