Disclaimer: I don't own anyone except Jayme, and if I did, I wouldn't share. They are the respective properties of the WWE and themselves.
Matt was seated by himself, sipping a drink when Jayme approached him. She smiled down at his upturned face. "Ten o'clock, right?"
He nodded, motioning over the waiter.
They placed their orders and sat for a moment in an awkward silence.
She heard him take a deep breath before he asked, "So, what brings you to SmackDown?"
She laid her hands primly in her lap. "I was with my brother and the rest of the RAW crew, but Glenn can be kinda… smothering." She glanced up to find him watching her with apparent interest shining in his chocolate eyes. "Mark let me stay with him while he's on the road, so here I am."
His eyes were sparkling. "So do you feel less smothered?"
She laughed. "Uh, no." She was beginning to relax and it felt good to just talk to the opposite sex and not worry about whether one of Glenn's pit-bulls was going to come running. "Mark is worse than Glenn."
His lips curled up in a little smile. "What do you do while we're all at the arena? You must get bored."
Their food arrived before she could answer and she dug into her steak and eggs. "Whenever Mark is at the arena, so am I, and if he can't be there, then John Bradshaw or Paul Wight are no more than two steps behind me," she said after swallowing a bite of food. It wasn't that she didn't love Mark to pieces, but at least Glenn let her go shopping by herself.
"Jayme!" someone bellowed from across the room.
She hung her head, muttering, "Here we go again." She set her fork down. "I've gotta go."
She stood and he grabbed her wrist before she could get away. "Can I see you again?"
She looked into his eyes, not reading any hidden agendas or animosity there. Quickly she scratched her cell number on piece of paper and handed it to him. "Bye," she said quickly and dashed across the room and into the hotel lobby.
She met up with Mark.
He was standing with his massive arms crossed and his lips pursed, looking stern. "Who was that?"
She rolled her eyes. "You know who it was, Mark. You work with him all the time." She crossed her arms, unconsciously imitating his stance.
He frowned. "Go get your stuff. I'm headed to the gym."
She didn't want to make Mark mad at her, so she just did as she was told, anger burning in her belly the whole way to her room. She grabbed her bag, hoping a run on the treadmill would cool her down.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Matt grabbed a barbell, laden with seventy-five pounds, hoping to clear his thoughts of a certain tall, auburn haired beauty. After about thirty reps, he realized it wasn't working, and decided that maybe the treadmill would be better.
The hotel's gym was nearly empty, so he had no trouble finding an empty machine. He was about to start the thing up, when something caught his eye
She was doing stretches, dressed in a black tank top and cotton short-shorts.
He just stood on the belt of the treadmill, letting his eyes roam over her physique.
Her nearly waist-length hair was pulled high atop her head and folded under in a ponytail, with a few wayward curls hanging down around her face. Her long graceful neck led down to high, firm breasts, that were not small, but definitely not silicon. Her flat belly was bared beneath the hem of her top and he could see the muscles flexing under her skin as she moved.
She was stretching her hamstrings, her legs laid out before her. And, Lord, what long legs they were, at least four foot long, smooth and just slightly muscular.
She had no idea the effect she had on people.
He pulled his brain back to reality, muttering, "Eat your heart out, Stacy Kiebler," with a small grin.
"You plan on using that machine, Morgan?"
He snapped his head around, finding Mark Callaway standing there with his arms crossed and a brow lifted.
Matt actually blushed, something he hadn't done since junior high. "Uh, yeah," he replied quietly. He was quick on the road to getting himself killed.
He rubbed a hand over his face and started the machine.
A hot shower was a welcome distraction after his grueling workout. He spent a while there, letting the steam and hot water ease the tension in his body.
That evening, he found himself staring absently out the window of his hotel room, holding the number she'd given him tightly in his fingers.
With a sigh, he let his head fall against the back of the chair. Should he call her?
The door burst open before he could make up his mind. "Hey, roomy!" Sean said with a cheerfulness that Matt envied.
Matt frowned. "You swallow a happy bug, O'Haire?"
Sean did a little jig. "It's good to be alive." He waved a keycard under Matt's nose. "I have a date with the sexiest woman on the roster."
"How nice," Matt replied sarcastically. He glanced down at the number in his hand.
Sean's eyes followed. "What's this?" He snatched the paper from Matt. He grinned. "I see. I've got some information for you, buddy."
Matt took the number from him. "Now what?"
"I just came from a club on the other side of town and Callaway was there."
Matt rolled his eyes. "So?"
"Without Jayme."
Matt sat forward in the chair, his attention focused on this new piece of information. "Are you sure?"
"Yep. I just saw her in the hall on my way here."
That did it. "Thanks, man." Matt grabbed the phone, dialing her number.