Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Jayme. The rest are the respective properties of the WWE and themselves.
There she sat. Lord, she made him breathless.
Long, dark, curly auburn hair fell over her face as she pored over the book in front of her. Her long legs were stretched out in front of her, her posture relaxed, and he had never seen a more beautiful sight.
Vaguely, he noted someone calling her name. Jayme.
Her head snapped up and she quickly closed her book, stuffing it into her bag and standing.
He was taken aback. She was tall, the tallest female he'd ever seen, taller than Shaniqua's six-foot frame. Her body was slightly built, he could tell, and he'd almost bet money that, with training, she could take the tall black diva.
Suddenly her head turned in his direction and she offered up a shy smile, before heading toward the back of the empty arena.
He stood near the ring watching her go, unable to remove his eyes from the gentle sway of her backside. He sighed.
"You okay man?"
Matt spun, coming face to face with Sean O'Haire. He shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. "Uhh, yeah, I'm fine."
He grinned. "Well, if your done… perusing, we're all going out. You comin'?"
He nodded.
"We'll be in the lobby of the hotel in an hour."
Matt nodded again. "Yeah, I'll see you then." He headed to the locker room, grabbing his bag, then left the arena, speeding off in his rental.
He couldn't get her out of his head. That was day three he'd found her sitting in the just emptied arena, reading. She was completely oblivious to him, and that chafed a little. He'd never had a problem getting girls to notice him before.
He let out a heavy breath. Maybe he was losing his touch.
Once at the hotel, he went up and changed, meeting the guys in the lobby. Half an hour later, he found himself at a club, sipping a beer with Sean, Brock Lesnar, whom he found to be a little too cocky for his own good, and the Bashams. The conversation was buzzing around him, but he didn't hear it as a pair of long, long legs and a mop of silky auburn curls found their way into his line of sight.
"…do you say, Matt?"
He snapped himself out of his musings, blinking. "Sorry, man. What was the question?"
Doug Basham leaned in closer. "You've been spaced out all night, man."
Refusing to take the bait, Matt just sipped his beer letting his gaze linger across the crowded room.
Sean's eyes followed his. "Ah, I see."
The other three at the table looked.
Lesnar was the first to respond. "Fine piece of ass."
Matt let out a silent snarl that the rest of the group didn't see. She was beautiful, refined, not 'a piece of ass.'
Sean hissed through his teeth. "That one is outta your league, rookie."
That comment piqued at his competitive side. "Really?" he replied with a slight smirk.
Danny Basham nodded in agreement. "She runs with Taker."
Matt's eyebrows shot up. "His daughter?"
The group shook their heads collectively.
"Sister?"
Sean glanced over at the table where she was sitting. "All I know is she calls him Uncle Mark, and he won't let anyone near her."
Taking another sip, Matt muttered, "His niece."
"That's the thing," Doug said. "Her last name is Jacobs."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jayme was stuck drinking soda, while the rest of the table sipped their liquor. It sucked being twenty.
At least she'd gotten away from her brother. Glenn was sweet but he was like a lioness protecting its cubs, and there was no way to convince him that she wasn't a kitten.
Someone nudged her. "Earth to Jay."
She looked over at Mark. "Sorry, I was just thinking."
"About what?"
She sighed. And then there was her surrogate brother whom she'd dubbed, Uncle Mark. In some ways, he was worse than Glenn.
She'd been stuck with the RAW crew until Mark went back on the road to train for his match against Glenn at Wrestlemania XX. She'd hoped it would lessen the eyes on her, but she soon realized her error. Everywhere she went, she was watched over by the Big Show-Paul Wight, Mark, or the overly serious John Bradshaw.
Her first day with the SmackDown crew, she'd tried to strike up a conversation with Edge, and Mark had nearly threatened his life for daring to speak to her.
She stood.
As expected, Mark grabbed her wrist. "Where are you going?"
She tried to choke down her irritation. "To the ladies room," she replied testily, in a tone that dared someone to argue.
He released her and she went to the restroom, fixing her hair and lightly dabbing some cool water on her face. Before returning to the table she made a detour to the bar, getting another soda.
She glanced over in the opposite direction of the table she'd left and saw him. He was watching her again. She smiled to herself, but the grin disappeared from her lips when she remembered why she was being watched.
Her height. She was bigger than half of the men in the WWE. She got stares everywhere she went, but not the kind she wanted.
She dared a glance over her shoulder at the gorgeous man watching her.
Yeah, she told herself, guys like that want someone small and dainty. She took a sip of her soda and leaned against the bar. Why couldn't she be blonde, about five-foot-six, and have a double-d chest?
She was about to sulk back to her table when a large hand touched her shoulder.
She looked up and found herself staring into the most amazing pair of eyes.