“Coach Mac?” Assistant Coach Shawn brought Jake back to the present and the first game of the Middleton Hurricanes’ football season.

Jake forced his eyes away from the woman who was as pretty in purple as she was in copper and back to the matter at hand. And what is that? Oh, yeah, right, coaching, football, and how to win this game. “As I was saying,” he continued, pointing to the clipboard he clutched in his hand. “Ends, tackles, we’ve got to close up those holes, stop giving their halfback that two-foot-wide lane to run through.” Jake deliberately turned his back to the stands and focused on the circle of eager faces looking up at him, depending on him to help them win their first game of the season.

At first, Dominique could have sworn she was seeing things. When she’d finally settled herself on the plastic bench and looked out onto the field in search of her son, she hadn’t been prepared for what caught her eye at once—broad shoulders, big chest, and a butt that looked hard and firm even crouched down as it now was surrounded by eager players in helmets, shoulder pads, and cleats. A fluttering began, eerily similar to what had occurred when she’d gone to the benefit and about the same time she made this observation a thought dawned that Dominique was hard-pressed to ignore. No... it couldn’t be. But it was.

This is the man Justin has been talking about? That hard piece of chocolate candy is my son’s coach? Before Dominique could wrap her head around that possibility her cell phone rang. Unable to hear the call amid the yelling fans, she hurried off the bench and away from the noise. It was Reggie, telling her that the finicky actress who was to be their next cover story had suddenly pulled out. This news led to several more calls and about a dozen texts. By the time Dominique returned to her bleacher seat, it was the fourth quarter and the score was 21–7. She hoped she hadn’t missed Justin doing something spectacular and was happy to see that her son’s team was in the lead. She wasn’t too sure how happy she was that her eyes kept being drawn to the big handsome man prowling the sidelines—his arms crossed, eyes focused on the field, barking orders to men and boys who seemed more than happy to obey them. His was a formidable presence, she admitted, and she almost convinced herself that the only reason she kept staring at him was because he was too big and tall to miss. If it weren’t for the flutters in her stomach and the squiggles several inches further south, she would have almost been able to believe that lie.