“And before you get all giddy,” Darcy warned. “You can’t stay.”
“I don’t get giddy,” Mac said. “Giddy is not in my repertoire.
“You’re sweet.” Darcy patted him on the cheek—a little harder than necessary in his opinion. “You still can’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t sleep with someone else in my bed.”
“Let me get this straight. You need to be in your bed and you only sleep alone?”
Darcy nodded.
“You’re an interesting woman,” Mac said. “Fine. No problem.”
Assuming Darcy’s cottage had a similar layout to his, he took her hand and headed for the bedroom. She tugged and pulled, but to no avail. When he shut the door behind them, she glared. Mac had to admit, she had the laser beam look down pat, but he been on the receiving end too many times. These days, he barely flinched.
“What are you doing, Mr. McClain?”
“Call me Joshua,” Mac said, taking her in his arms.
“Why?”
The breathless quality of Darcy’s one-word response sent his already racing pulse into overdrive.
“The reason is simple, Ms. Stratham. We are about to get naked.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
“THE GENERAL MANAGER is on her way to see you, Mr. McClain.”
Mac glanced up from the mock draft report on his computer screen. His assistant, the ever-efficient Mrs. Klein, stood exactly three feet from his desk, waiting for his response.
To be honest, Mrs. Klein intimidated the hell out of Mac. No one should be so even-keeled, so capable of anticipating his every move. He thought she might be a witch until one day when he casually mentioned the fact to Darcy, she set him straight.
Mrs. Klein was not a witch. She was simply a woman who knew how to get her job done. According to Darcy, Mac should fall to the ground and thank whatever deity was responsible for sending her his way.
Mac supposed Darcy was right—she usually was. However, he wasn’t much for thanking unknown gods. Instead, he sent Mrs. Klein a bouquet of yellow and white lilies and a thank you note. From the smile she wore on her face the rest of the day, he decided flowers turned out to be a good compromise.
“The general manager is coming here?” Mac frowned. “Did we have a meeting scheduled?”
“No.” Mrs. Klein shook her head. “She called to see if you were busy. I told her you’d be out of the office this afternoon but if she were free now, you could see her.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Klein. Send her in as soon as she arrives.”
“I’ll prepare some refreshments,” his assistant said before leaving.
Thoughtfully, Mac rubbed the back of his neck and wondered why Darcy would drop by out of the blue. They always conducted their meetings in her office, never his.
Darcy wasn’t the impromptu type. Mac smiled. At least not where business was concerned. When she showed up at his place late at night two weeks ago and invited herself to stay, she surprised the hell out of him.
Not that Mac had any complaints. After circumstances worked against him in Indianapolis, when he was so close to quenching his desire, he thought his chance had passed him by. The last thing he expected was for Darcy to make such a bold move.
Bold was a good word to describe Darcy Stratham. And fearless. Intelligent. Hell, the woman’s brain was whip-smart lethal. From the beginning, Mac’s mistake was to assume that under her cool, professional exterior was nothing but ice, ice, and more ice. He was wrong.
Darcy was the most passionate woman he’d ever known. Not just in the bedroom, though Mac could attest to the fact that she was a sensual and enthusiastic lover.
However, Darcy’s passion ran to all aspects of her life. He once believed she didn’t belong in football because though she respected the game, she could never love it, body, and soul. Again, Mac was wrong. Dead wrong.
All you had to do was watch Darcy’s face when she talked about football to understand that the game was in her blood.
Watch her eyes, Mac thought. The blue of her irises glowed like bright sapphires when they discussed which was more effective, an offense built around the run or one that predicated a pass-first philosophy. And when she started to debate the pros and cons of a zone defense versus man to man coverage, she could argue either side for hours.
One thing Darcy didn’t lack was passion.
Not that she was without her flaws. She was pig-headed, arrogant, and believed without wavering that she was always the smartest person in the room. The most annoying thing was that she was right.
However, Darcy had put her pride aside the night she came to him. She took a chance. Though they lived a short distance from each other, Mac understood how long the walk must have been for her. And yet, she dared to make the first move.
If Mac hadn’t wanted her before, when Darcy showed up on his doorstep, so adorably shy yet sure of what she wanted, she would have won him over in a heartbeat.
A knock on the door interrupted Mac’s musings. Mrs. Klein, carrying a tray loaded with a teapot, cups, and assorted cookies, led Darcy into the room.
“I hope my request for a meeting didn’t mess up your schedule,” Darcy said as she sat in the chair opposite Mac.
“Shouldn’t the head coach always have time for his GM?” Mac asked without blinking.
“Theoretically, you’re right.” Darcy smiled as Mrs. Klein handed her a cup. “Realistically, you aren’t the typical head coach.”
“Right back at you, Ms. General Manager.”
Mrs. Klein glanced between Mac and Darcy, shook her head, and sighed. His assistant placed a cup in front of him, sat the plate of cookies on the desk, shooting him a warning look. Otherwise, she kept her opinion to herself as she left the office.
“Mrs. Klein is a master of the silent scold,” Darcy said with a laugh. She took a sip from her cup, her eyes widening with surprise. “Dandelion tea?”
“I’m a convert.” Mac bit into a chocolate wafer. “Remember when I confessed?”
“The first day you crashed my morning run.” Darcy nodded. “I wasn’t certain you were serious.”
“Now you know.”
Mac took in the sight of her. The blue skirt wasn’t tight, or short—falling just above her knees. But aided by a pair of black stiletto heels, her legs looked impossibly long—a fact he could confirm since he knew the length of them easily wrapped around his waist.
“You look pretty today.”
“Just today?” Darcy asked with a cheeky smile as she took the seat opposite him. “Don’t I always look pretty?”
“The woman’s ego is boundless,” Mac said with a sigh. “No one’s perfect, you know.”
“Perfection is overrated. A few flaws are what make us interesting.” Darcy crossed her legs as she leveled her gaze with his. “And you, Mr. McClain, are a very interesting man.”
“Why does that feel like a backhanded compliment?”
With a definite twinkle in her eyes, Darcy merely shrugged. Mac laughed.
“To what do I owe the honor of your unprecedented visit, Ms. Stratham?”
“Public relations.”
“Spare me.” Mac groaned. “Please.”
“You’re the bright new face of the Knights’ organization,” Darcy pointed out.
“People don’t come to a game to see the head coach,” Mac countered. “I don’t sell tickets, and nobody wants a t-shirt with my face on it.”
“You’re wrong.” Darcy nodded toward his computer. “I sent you an email with the numbers. Statistics don’t lie, my friend. Women want to date you; men want to be you.”
Mac’s head slumped forward as he marveled at how times had changed. As a player, he reveled in any kind of attention. He embraced his bad boy reputation, enjoying the perks—both financial and personal—his notoriety provided.
Now, all Mac wanted to do was keep
his head down and be the best coach possible. After game interviews and his weekly radio spot were one thing—they were part of the job. However, the idea of smiling for the camera and waving at a crowd of fans at team-sanctioned publicity events no longer held any appeal.
“What happens if I say no?”
“A bunch of grade-schoolers will be very disappointed,” Darcy said.
“Grade school?” Mac perked up. “When? Where?”
“I’d heard you had a soft spot for children.” Darcy smiled. “Doesn’t the charity you founded several years ago benefit underprivileged youths?”
“The Felicity Project,” Mac said with a nod.
“Named after your sister.”
Mac met Darcy’s placid gaze and wondered how much she knew about his younger sister and only living relative. Felicity’s problems with alcohol and drug abuse weren’t highly publicized. However, because her brother once played professional football, she couldn’t avoid the glare of the limelight completely.
Plus, Felicity’s one-time fiancé, Royce Patterson, was a self-made billionaire. When they first became a couple, the press ate the relationship up with a spoon.
Royce used his money and influence to keep the reason for their breakup private, but anyone with an inkling of curiosity didn’t have far to dig for some dirt. Felicity’s multiply stints in rehab were public record.
“Felicity runs the charity,” Mac said.
For all her problems, and they were numerous, his sister never let her personal demons get in the way of turning The Felicity Project into a successful enterprise.
“I donate something every year.”
“Do you?” Mac asked. He was pleased with the news.
“Children are precious.” Darcy sighed. “Yet too often, they’re the first ones who suffer.”
Did Darcy speak from experience? Mac wondered how much they had in common beyond the game of football.
“I was lucky,” she said. “At times, my mother struggled to make ends meet, but she filled our home with love. She made choices I’ll never understand, and I certainly didn’t get my love for football from her. Beyond the basics, the game is still a mystery to her. But she’s always been my biggest cheerleader.”
Mac knew what his next move should be. Darcy shared a bit of her past then left him an opening to do the same. Talking to her was so easy. So natural. Trouble was, he didn’t know where to start.
“My parents—” Mac shrugged. “Some people should never reproduce. The government systems that are set up to help often fail. Miserably. The point of The Felicity Project tries to help fill in the cracks so fewer children fall through.”
“Small steps can lead to giant leaps,” Darcy said with an understanding smile.
“I remember thinking that social workers should just give up. Sometimes it seemed they just made my life worse.” Mac clenched his hands into fists, then willed himself to relax. “Took me a while but I finally realized the worst thing you can do is nothing at all.”
When Darcy didn’t answer, Mac wondered what was going through her head. When she smiled—beamed—at him, he felt a bit of the residual weight from his past evaporate.
“So, I count on you to visit some local grade schools?” she asked. “Next week, one a day.”
“Forward me the schedule,” Mac said. “And anything else you need. Until after the draft. Then, my turn as head coach will take off.”
“I hear the excitement in your voice.” Darcy laughed. “You’ve been in a bit of a holding pattern for the last few months.”
“Organized team activities don’t begin until the first of June,” Mac said with a frustrated huff. “Until then, per league rules, I can speak to my players, but everything else is on paper. Admittedly, I’m chomping at the bit to see some on-field action.”
“I understand.” Darcy nodded. “The day I look out my office window and see players suited up and running drills, I will be a happy camper.”
Understanding completely, Mac walked around his desk. Sitting on the edge, his jean-clad leg inches from Darcy’s bare knee, he raised a questioning eyebrow.
“No,” she said. She rose to her feet, putting her abandoned chair between them as a buffer. “Absolutely not.”
“What?” Mac asked with a look as innocent as a man with his past could muster. “I didn’t say a word.”
“But your devil green eyes speak volumes.”
“You have a dirty mind, Ms. Stratham,” Mac chided. “I wanted to know if you were free for lunch. Takeout. Your choice, my treat. We can eat here or in your office if you prefer.”
“My mind is pristine. Clean as a whistle.” Darcy set aside her cup. “But I know you.”
“We agreed. No hanky or panky at work.” Mac crossed his heart. “I always keep my word.”
“I’ve noticed.” Darcy’s smile warmed. “You’re sense of fair play makes my job easier.”
“Of course, once we leave the office, all bets are off,” Mac warned. “I’m honest, but I’m not a saint.”
“And on that promising note, I should go.” Darcy nodded to Mac. “As for lunch. I’ll call you when I’m free. I want a burger. And onion rings, extra crispy. Oh, a milkshake.”
“Chocolate?” Mac asked.
“Is there any other kind?”
Laughing, Mac opened the door and walked Darcy out. His smile faded when he noticed the woman waiting in the reception area.
“Felicity?”
“Hey, big brother.” His sister bounced to her feet. “You look surprised. No, stunned would be a better word.”
The last time he saw her, Felicity was at her apartment, recovering from her latest slip off the wagon and contemplating the merits of another rehabilitation facility. To find her at his office, looking a little thin but otherwise hale and hearty, pushed him off balance. He recovered quickly.
Mac hugged his sister close. She hesitated, as always, before her arms gave him a quick squeeze, then moved away. Felicity had a problem with spontaneous shows of affection—another scar left by her sorry excuse of a childhood.
“I am surprised,” Mac said. “But in a good way.”
Felicity’s smile didn’t quite reach her dark eyes.
“I choose to believe you.” She turned to Darcy and held out her hand. “Felicity McClain. Sister and all-around pain in my brother’s backside.”
“Darcy Stratham,” Darcy said, then added. “Also, a pain in your brother’s backside.”
Felicity’s laugh, bright and genuine, made Mac’s breath catch in his throat. For a second, he saw a flash of the girl she once was before life, and addiction wore her down.
“Wait for me in my office,” Mac told his sister. “I’ll just be a second.”
Felicity nodded and did as he asked—something she rarely did. With a sigh, he turned to Darcy.
“About lunch—”
“Are you about to blow me off in favor of your sister?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Would you mind?”
“I’d mind if you didn’t.” Darcy patted his hand. “Family first, Mr. McClain.” Darcy patted his hand. “Besides, it’s not like we had a date. Just a meal with a colleague. We’ll talk later.”
Frowning, Mac watched Darcy disappear down the hall. Colleagues? Nothing more? She certainly knew how to take the wind out of a man’s sails.
“Before you ask, I’m not in any trouble,” Felicity said as Mac closed his office door behind him. “Honestly, all is good. Happy and on the way to healthy.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Felicity.” Mac sat beside her on the sofa. “You looked like hell the last time I saw you. What’s changed?”
“The doctor at the hospital overreacted when he called Royce,” Felicity insisted. “And he shouldn’t have dragged you in. I didn’t overdose or go on a bender. I had a slight case of food poisoning. Nothing more.”
“Your blood work showed alcohol in your system,” Mac said, not willing t
o let her off the hook as he had so many times before. “And yes, a glass of wine with dinner counts. You can’t drink, Felicity. Nothing. Not even a sip.”
A defiant glint entered Felicity’s eyes. Okay, Mac thought, that was different. For too long all he saw when he looked into his sister’s gaze was sadness and defeat.
“Fine. Do you want a confession? I’m not perfect. Sue me.”
“Damn it—”
“I didn’t come here to fight, Mac.” Felicity took a piece of paper from her purse. “Here.”
“What’s this?” Mac asked.
“My resignation. As of today, I am no longer the managing director of The Felicity Project. A name which I’ve always hated, by the way,” she said. “Calling your foundation after your sister showed little imagination.”
Felicity was the inspiration for Mac’s charity. The girl who fell through the cracks. Fifteen years later, try as he might, he still hadn’t learned how to pick her up.
“You can’t walk away without any notice,” Mac insisted. “What about the people who work under you? Everyone who depends on your leadership?”
“My assistant will take over immediately,” Felicity said. “Maura’s been with the foundation almost as long as I have. She won’t let you down, Mac. Unlike me.”
“Stop.” Mac grabbed her arms. “You never let me down. Never.”
The only person Felicity let down was herself.
Unshed tears swimming in her eyes, Felicity gently touched his face. She gave him a trembling smile.
“You’re always in my corner, aren’t you? My biggest supporter.” She sighed. “Don’t you think its time I found a way to take care of myself?”
“Up to a point,” Mac agreed. “What are your plans?”
“Get out of Seattle. Out of Washington. Out of my own head.” She let out a brief chuckle. “The first two are easy. Wherever I land, I promise to work hard on the third.”
“Wherever you land?” Mac felt a fresh surge of panic. “Felicity, you can’t take off without knowing your destination or what you’ll do once you get there.”
The Devil Wears Blue Jeans (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 1) Page 15
