What the hell? "Umm, I don't even know how to answer that. Do you have more than one brother?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that." Van's tightly controlled anger spilled over with every word.

This was ridiculous. "If you're speaking about Joel, he hasn't done anything but give me dirty looks and I have no idea why. Hopefully that answers your question. While I'm at it, I'll answer another one you haven't asked- me and you are not getting involved sexually. I'm here representing the Cleveland News and Journal. Somehow I've given you the wrong impression and for that I'm sorry."

Van huffed out a breath, but didn't speak for a moment. When he turned my way, he had control of himself and his bad-boy smile was back. "Does this mean you're not going home with me tonight?"

I groaned loudly. "Please watch the road so you don't crash this incredible car." I waited until he looked straight ahead. "No, Van, I'm not going home with you tonight."

"May I kiss you goodnight at your hotel?" He was absolutely hopeless. Sexy, adorable, and hopeless.

"Does anyone ever turn you down?"

"No."

That one word said it all. "No kissing."

He remained silent after that. He walked me to my room even though I told him not to. "I'm seeing you to your room," he said with a hard edge to his voice. At my door, he leaned in and I leaned back. "Challenge accepted, Cami. I'll eventually get a yes out of you." Van turned and walked away.

I leaned back against the door once I was inside my room. My pounding heart and trembling legs were almost too shaky to walk. Why was he getting to me so much? And why was I acting like a sixteen year old with the star quarterback asking me on a date? Shit, desire was eating me up and it didn't help that Van desired me too. What woman wouldn't be flattered? Now I just had to figure out a way to ignore him and do my job. Me and a jock hadn't worked before and would not work now. If I let my sexual urges lead me, Van would have me out of his system in one night and leave me without a backward glance. I was stronger than that.

What was the whole thing with Joel about anyway? Why would Van think his brother and I could possibly have something going? I didn't know Joel and from his steely glances it didn't leave me with a good feeling.

When I finally settled down for the night, Van's eyes haunted my dreams again.

I woke up with a slight headache. It was Friday and I needed to interview Joel, though a trip to the dentist was preferable. I decided to look over my outline and begin putting the first installment of my series into sentences. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the lobby and pulled out my slice of apple pie from the fridge. The coffee cured my headache and the apple pie improved my mood. It was actually too good.

An hour later, I had a rough draft. I showered and left the hotel. I noticed Joel's gray truck as soon as I pulled in. Van's was the only contact number I had for the team, so I sent him a quick text while sitting outside the stadium.

Me: I need to interview Joel. I'm at the stadium. What's my best course of action?

Thirty seconds later my phone pinged.

Van: Don't

What the heck? Ping. I looked at my phone again.

Van: Teasing. He's working out with some of the players. Go fifty feet past the locker room hallway and you'll find the gym. Talk to him, but think of me.

Me: You're impossible!

Van: Impossible to resist

I grumbled under my breath as I walked through the same door I'd used the morning before. I found the gym with no problem. Six guys were working out. A shirtless Joel was on a bench pushing up a bar with heavy weights at each end. Another player I recognized from the day before stood behind him.

"You've got company, Joel."

Joel ignored him and continued lifting and lowering the weights. His muscles strained and my pulse accelerated. He wore similar shorts to what his brother had on the day before. From his position, the shorts bagged slightly at his thighs. No! I would not look. I reminded myself I was only attracted to nice, smart men who knew dividends from mutual funds. Not that I doubted Joel and Van didn't know something about money, but come on- they were born rich and played a hobby instead of making an honest living. Their bodies were not the settle-down-and-be-good-boyfriend-material type. Oh, and they were jocks. Three strikes and you're not for me. So why was I staring?

Joel's partner finally helped him guide the weights onto whatever it was that held the bar. He sat up, grabbed a towel, and wiped the sweat from his face. Turning, he stared at me for a moment without standing. He was so frustrating.

I smothered my nerves and walked closer. "I was hoping you could give me a few minutes of your time this morning for an interview."

He looked me up and down. Not like Van. This look was more assessing than sexual. I was glad I wore beige linen pants with a loose, peach, untucked button-up blouse. It was one of my more feminine outfits, but the way I wore it gave no outward sign of excessive curvage. I must have passed inspection because he stood.

"Follow me," he said after walking around me, heading toward the door.

"I don't mind waiting for you to finish your workout," I called, but he didn't turn around.

I followed about five feet behind him and couldn't help but admire the strong muscles in his back and legs. His ass wasn't so bad either.

Damn, what was wrong with me? Wild Cami go away.

Maybe I needed to call Tyson when I returned to Cleveland to see if he was currently in a relationship. We swore we'd never go back to the sexual side of our friendship, but I'm sure I could persuade him to break the self-imposed rules at least once. He would actually laugh when I told him I needed to get laid.

Joel went into the same office I'd interviewed Van in. He plopped down behind the desk toward the back of the room and used the towel on his face again before running it over his chest.

"Grab me a bottled water out of the fridge if you don't mind." He nodded to a small refrigerator that sat in the corner. He was treating me like a servant, probably trying to piss me off, but it was the least of my concerns.

I grabbed a bottle for him and one for me. I sat them on the desk before dragging over the chair Van used the day before and placing it in front of Joel's desk. This actually received a small grin from him. The scar pulled the left side of his face up further than the unscarred side. I hid my empathy. I couldn't even imagine what could cause such a horrific injury.

I sat down, pushed his water closer, and dug out my recorder. "Thank you for your time."

All semblance of a smile was gone. "Did I have a choice?" His voice was rumblier than Van's, if that was possible.

Here went nothing. "Of course. I need experience in running down a story, so I would have stalked you until you finally gave in, so that's your choice."

He didn't laugh or smile at my joke. "You have experience in stalking?"

I matched him, serious look for serious look. "No. That's why I need to practice that particular skill. Shall we get started?"

"By all means."

I clicked the button on the recorder. "I'd like to ask you about the stadium." I wanted to get behind his stoic expression and figured I could impress him with my knowledge. "You have the second-largest rugby stadium in the U.S. Would you mind telling me how it came about?"

His grunt wasn't what I expected. "We have the largest league stadium in the country. You have your facts wrong." Irritation was apparent in the clipped sentences.

I bit back an expletive. "Well then please explain because there's a stadium in Vegas that holds ten thousand more people than yours." This man frustrated me to no end, and I had trouble staying calm.

Another grunt. "That's sevens."

Sevens. I'd read something about sevens. "Okay, you've stumped me and I have no idea what sevens are."

"What sports did you play in high school and college, Ms. Avesque?"

"And what does that have to do with rugby, Mr. Stelson?" I kept my gaze locked on his. It amazed me how anger took my usually shy demeanor and threw it out the window.

"Absolutely nothing, but I'm curious about your background and why you're working a story on rugby when you clearly have no previous knowledge." I could hear his mental pain of having to deal with an uneducated rugby idiot in each clipped word.