Fourth and Goal by Jami Davenport

which spoke volumes about the state of the Seattle Lumberjacks, the league's perennial doormats. He and his teammates weren't exactly household names. In the year he'd played ball in Seattle, not one person on the street had recognized him. He liked the anonymity, yet he knew it wasn't a good sign for the team.
    His gaze settled on Rachel. Earlier she'd looked like she was dressed for a horse show. Now she looked like she was going to work on Wall Street. He didn't like this new look. It disconcerted him, and the feeling wasn't welcome. He liked his world warm and familiar, not cold and icy.
    "You did something different to your hair."
    "Cass trimmed it. That's all."
    He shifted his weight in his chair. That wasn't all, but talking about hair made him as uncomfortable as her new look. For a moment, he stared at a stranger, searching for a glimpse of sweet, clumsy, insecure Rachel. At least the clumsy part of her still existed. He took a little comfort in the fact.
    "So how can I help you?” Her professional voice held no emotion, like she was talking to a client or business partner. Aw hell, maybe that was how she saw him. If she wanted a business proposition, he'd happily comply. A business relationship was safer and smarter for both of them and kept distractions to a minimum.
    "This is my turnaround year, my defining moment. You know me as a football player like no one else does—what I'm capable of, my strengths, weaknesses. You have a great eye."
    "Tell that to all the men who laughed at me when I interviewed for a scouting position."
    "You'll get there. I have no doubt. Someday they won't be the ones laughing. We could make a deal mutually beneficial to both of us."
    "I'm listening.” Her cool demeanor thawed a little. She leaned forward, her hands clasped on the table.
    "I'm prepared to offer you a small salary in exchange for your assistance."
    "You're going to pay me to coach you? If the guys get wind of this, you'll never live it down."
    "I can take care of them. I have the utmost respect for your football knowledge, your dedication to the sport, and your organizational abilities. Once the season's over, I'll do everything I can to get you a job in the front office of a pro team. It most likely won't be a scouting job, but you can work your way into it."
    "I just need my foot in the door."
    "I know.” He smiled. He'd never doubted her determination or her passion for the game. “So it's a deal."
    She lifted her emerald green gaze to his and smiled like the old Rachel. “It's a deal. Now let's talk money and performance bonuses."
    So much for the old Rachel.
    After hitting the Submit button, the last of Rachel's meager savings disappeared into cyberspace. The ten-week online pro-football scouting and management course drained her financially. The class came highly recommended and was taught by the best in the business. She'd work her ass off to earn the coveted completion certificate. Once finished, the school offered job placement. She didn't care what team, as long as she stuck her big toe in the proverbial men's room door.
    She'd take advantage of Derek's large collection of game DVDs. Picking a few players from each team, she'd study them on the screen and on paper, writing down her observations and honing her scouting skills. On Friday nights, she'd watch Mitch's high school team, clipboard in hand, and evaluate the kids.
    The more she thought about it, the better Rachel liked their deal . She'd never bust into the coaching ranks. Working in the Seattle Lumberjacks’ front office or any other front office could morph into her dream job.
    Her ears picked up a ruckus on the front porch. A small war raged outside the walls of the cottage. Rachel ran to the door and yanked it open. Pinned against the porch railing, Mitch roared expletives that would've shocked Tyler. Undeterred, Simon hung on to his leg and vigorously humped away.
    Hustling out the door, she grabbed Simon's collar. “Stop it! Simon, behave.”