by Claire Angel
Playing It Dirty
A Bad Boy Sports Romance
BY
CLAIRE ANGEL
Copyright © 2019 by Claire Angel
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
PLAYING IT DIRTY: A BAD BOY SPORTS ROMANCE
Table of Contents
PLAYING IT DIRTY: A BAD BOY SPORTS ROMANCE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Sample: My Agent’s Son: A Bad Boy Christmas Romance
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PLAYING IT DIRTY: A BAD BOY SPORTS ROMANCE
BLURB:
My job is my life and I take my responsibility very seriously.
It’s a calling and not just something I do to make ends meet.
I want to help people.
I thought I could be professional.
How is that possible when his body is begging for the touch of a woman?
He wasn’t married and didn’t have a steady girlfriend.
He was built like a wet dream come true.
I found myself staring at his likeness on my computer with a finger playing over the edge of my bottom lip.
Those eyes can convey a certain need that has been unsatisfied.
I’m trying to resist, but the temptation is too much.
I have to remain detached.
He has a problem and I can fix it.
Sports medicine is a new chapter in my life.
There’s a reason why I have this desperate need to see my clients fighting their emotional issues.
He is a beautiful specimen.
It’s not possible to look at him without thinking naughty thoughts…
***
Chapter 1
Deborah
I sat at my desk forcing myself to listen to this man telling me about his cheating ways. I looked at this man and the only thing I could think about was that he was getting exactly what he deserved. There was no sympathy and he wasn’t going to find a shoulder to lean on.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I try to be good, but being on the road makes it difficult to resist those girls throwing themselves at me. I don’t feel good about myself, but I fall off the wagon too often.” Gary Steiner was a football player trying to find his Mojo after being thrown out of his house.
He was definitely not somebody that I would throw out of bed for eating cookies. I didn’t have a love life and I had dedicated my time to those struggling.
I became a doctor with the accreditation and praise from my peers to make the world a better place. I was naïve when I put my shingle up still young and impressionable thinking, I had all the answers.
I was certainly not immune to how attractive this man was. He really wasn’t my type, but I had been without companionship for the past two years. I found one night stands pleasurable at the time, but left me empty after the deed was done.
I caught my reflection in the glass of my huge window overlooking a nature reserve. I looked tired and in desperate need of a vacation someplace tropical. No headaches and entirely unplugged was my heaven.
Small towns had a tendency to be a little judgmental. I couldn’t afford to have the tongues wagging behind my back. I kept to myself for the past year living by modest means.
It was comforting to sit there for hours contemplating life with only the sounds of nature. The house was perfect for my needs and I easily renovated the garage into an office making it unnecessary to commute.
I was on the outskirts of Chicago away from the hustle and bustle of city life. I enjoyed my solitude and my patients had no problem coming to me. I had several high-profile patients with the microscope of the press watching their every move. It was actually preferable for them to come to me under the guise of a vacation.
“Why do you think that you do this?” They were really only buzzwords and questions to lead them to the answers they were looking for.
It could get boring listening to my clients drone on, but this was my career.
“My father told me growing up that I would never amount to anything. He was always putting me down and making me believe my future was destined to be in a fast food restaurant asking the customers if they want fries with that,” He uttered underneath his breath barely above a whisper, but I was well aware most often than not it was always going to come down to father issues.
“I believe you mentioned that your father was running around behind your mother’s back. It sometimes comes down to a vicious cycle that you need to break and it should start with a bout of abstinence,” I suggested and saw him shift noticeably on the couch not exactly pleased.
It didn’t happen often, but the itch sometimes became a little bit too much for me to scratch alone. I could always take matters into my own hands, but it was far more pleasurable to be taken with all conscious thought leaving my body.
“I’m not sure that I can do that. My wife doesn’t know and she might find it a little suspicious that I go cold Turkey. I’m inclined to follow your suggestions, but this is extremely unorthodox. I don’t talk about my sessions with anybody for obvious reasons,” Gary said, scratching his beard and trying to stay still.
“Everything you have told me stems from a lack of a good father figure. You don’t want to be like him, but you fall into his bad habits without even thinking about it,” I replied with a neutral tone and he had already proven to be a flight risk on the very first session.
He actually cancelled several times before making his mandatory appearance. The owner of the team wasn’t taking no for an answer. I admired the sports genre for taking mental issued serious. Times were changing and they needed their players to be physically and mentally fit. Any block could be detrimental to their career.
He had his back toward me and I told him it is ok to sit like that. I was a big believer in my clients feeling comfortable. I wanted them to share their deepest and darkest fears. The only way to do that was to give them an open forum to speak with no fear of ridicule.
“Can you tell me the reason why y
ou have your back to me?” I asked with my hand ruffling the papers in his file. It was discreet and for my eyes only.
“I can’t be trusted,” he said, shifting on the couch with the creaking of the material under him.
He made it sound like I would have no choice but to jump his bones if he were to turn on the charm. It didn’t matter how much I tried to convince him otherwise. It was in his head and I didn’t have time to delve into his god’s gift to woman complex. It probably derived from his broken home.
I didn’t have any long-term commitments and my longest relationship was five months. I could find simple little faults to pick at until they were screaming in my face. It was unhealthy to go after the vulnerable areas of their lives. I hated to admit it, but I enjoyed getting them to look at themselves in the mirror in a different way.
Gary was no different, but at least I was getting compensated to tear him down. It usually took years, but I had developed a technique that took three days to find the root cause. I didn’t sugar coat it and I could read between the lines. Gary needed that wakeup call to get back in the game.
“I’ve done what you said and I took a look at my life. It was painful, but I finally understand that I have let my father get into my head. I’ve been doing those breathing techniques and they seem to be working.” He stuttered and was grabbing his crotch.
“I’m glad to hear that. Do you think that you can take it from here?” I asked and waited with that silence making it hard for him to keep quiet.
“I know this is our last session, but I want to thank you for all of your efforts. I don’t know if what you have taught me is going to stick, but I plan to give it my best.” He got up and I followed him to the door at the back of the garage where his car was parked away from the street and the prying eyes of the neighbors.
“I’ve given you the tools and it’s up to you to use them. You have my number and you can reach me at any time of the day or night. I become a sponsor when my patients leave me. I will be able to talk you down from the ledge if you get too close to the edge.” I was well aware that his libido could be his downfall, but I made him see that he was in control and not the other way around.
He was a big man, but his physique was overshadowed by his huge biceps bulging against his pristine white shirt. I did enjoy the view and what red blooded woman wouldn’t.
I followed him to the door and watched him cross the driveway to the car.
Gary got into his rented black Cherokee and drove away with a meek little smile on his face.
I made it quite clear from the very beginning there was never going to be anything between us. His sexual addiction was a problem and nothing would be solved by jumping into bed with him.
I brewed some coffee and listened to some soft jazz to decompress after a long day with the melody playing through the wireless Bluetooth headset.
Working from home did have its advantages.
I made some food but I couldn’t entirely leave my work in the office. The client was always in my head and I questioned whether I had done enough. I had turned my profession into the equivalent of a fast food franchise. It was a band-aid and I never really got to know them.
I did solve their main issue but there were always others lying on the surface waiting to come out. I wasn’t paid to make it a long-term commitment.
I checked my schedule while holding the plate of pasta with a cream sauce in my left hand. It was all about multi-tasking to get the most out of the day as possible. 24 hours didn’t seem long enough in the day to juggle everything.
There was a circled date in the monthly calendar reminding that I was going to have to leave my refuge.
I had a standing appointment with the Chicago Bears. Their star quarterback Cadence was a rising phenomenon and he was having some problems. I had been watching him out of curiosity on the field during his games on television.
The exhilaration of the game caught me by surprise.
I wasn’t much for sports, but those tight little outfits didn’t leave much to the imagination. He was quite something when he was first recruited.
Cadence Short was playing in the big leagues right out of college. He was making waves and taking risks, but something happened to affect his performance. He lost that certain something and it wasn’t lost on the press.
He wasn’t married and didn’t have a steady girlfriend. My preliminary research had confirmed that he didn’t go out of his way to attract the opposite sex. He was built like a wet dream come true. I found myself staring at his likeness on my computer with a finger playing over the edge of my bottom lip.
He was an exceptional young man in the prime of his life looking for acceptance. It wasn’t anything to do with abuse of some illegal substance and he was tested daily with negative results.
The problem wasn’t physical. The doctors on the staff and discreetly in hospitals had done several tests. He wasn’t suffering from a concussion from getting hit too many times. It wasn’t gradual and his decline practically happened overnight.
It was only getting worse and he was in desperate need of somebody’s intervention. They suggested therapy and he dismissed it out of hand.
I was going to ambush him by getting into his head using my god given talents. He was another patient and I would show him the same courtesy as I did with anyone.
I made a suggestion that I approach him under the guise of a reporter.
My practice was predicated on word of mouth and one particular agent had retained my services. There were many underneath his umbrella given preferential treatment because of their fame and notoriety.
I walked into the house and found my luggage waiting for me at the door.
It wasn’t long before I heard the horn of the taxi arriving to take me to the Airport. I locked up making sure the alarm system was activated before leaving for what could turn out to be an indeterminate amount of time.
My high heels made me feel powerful like a woman on the prowl. They gave me the confidence to approach life head on without any hesitation.
I waved to my neighbour washing his car and he stared at me with these vacant eyes. He was dead inside; going through the motions with what I could only assume was a love life that was on life support.
I was always making snap judgments, but it kept my mind sharp to put everybody in my headlights. Nobody was safe from my psychological torture.
I came from a broken home, but I thrived when others would have become a shell of what they were. I took that anger toward my parents and made the conscious choice to rise above it.
I could be opinionated, but I was always willing to see the other side of the story. It was time to peel back the pages of Cadence’s story starting at the very beginning and exposing all of his dirty little secrets.
The taxi drove away from the curb with my luggage firmly secured in the back. I didn’t carry much and only what I needed. I could breeze in and out of airports without worrying about trying to find my luggage on the carousel. Whatever I didn’t have, I could always buy with the money that I could never spend in a lifetime.
There was freedom knowing that I was never going to have to worry about money again. I certainly wasn’t getting paid the salary the sports stars were getting, but I was frugal living a minimalist lifestyle. I could splurge on something special from time to time, but mostly it was about needs and not what I wanted.
A new patient was waiting for my bedside manner.
Chapter 2
Cadence
I could see the spiral motion and hear the whistle in the air, but the magic was gone. It was a practice session and I couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything. The throw was text book and I could make the catch in my sleep, but this time I fumbled and the ball slipped from my hands.
The navy-blue uniform felt constricting. I could barely breathe and everything was spinning. I had to kneel on the ground on my one knee with my head bowed to catch my breath. I had some mild transgres
sions, but the last couple of days had only gotten worse.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I’m tired of holding your hand. A fifth grader could’ve made that catch with their eyes closed and one hand tied behind their back. Go to the showers and take the rest of the day off to get your head straight. You have a big game coming up. I can only do so much with what I have to work with.” Jason Charity was my personal trainer paid exclusively by my agent to work with me.
My team already knew something was going on, but they thought it was nerves. I had been told by some of the best experts there was nothing physically wrong with me. I didn’t want to believe it was psychological and my family had a history of emotional problems.
“I appreciate all the hard work and I have seen some improvement. It might not seem like it, but I am taking this seriously. Don’t give up on me,” I pleaded with my eyes suddenly able to focus without everything becoming a mirror image like I was seeing two of everything.
“I’ve come to admire you and your work ethic is beyond reproach. I will continue to work with you as long as the checks keep clearing. It might be time to look for the underlying cause of this problem. I’m not any judge of character. Just know that you have my full support,” Jason touched my shoulder and our heads touched with our eyes closed with respect for one another.
I stood there looking at the freshly manicured field. I glanced up at the stands. The roar of their applause was deafening and fuelled me with the necessary incentive to run down the field at a speed that seemed impossible. I couldn’t pinpoint what had happened, but I knew deep down it wasn’t getting any better.
I was pretty small but tall for my age at almost 6 feet when I was barely in my teens. I was constantly picked on for being different than my predominately black community. I was the only kid that stood out from the rest of them. I considered it a challenge, but it became an ordeal just to get home without getting the holy hell beat out of me.
