Bigger Than Beckham

by V. K. Sykes

  “I’m just heading out, Martha,” Rex said as he headed for the door. “Lovely to see you again. Hopefully, we’ll catch up later.”

  “Heck, you don’t have to rush away on my account, hon,” Martha said with a mischievous glance in Tony’s direction.

  “Give me strength,” Tony muttered under his breath.

  Rex was barely out the door before Tony slammed it shut behind him. Two quick strides took him to Martha, who waited for him with a teasing smile on her lush lips.

  “Glad to see me?” she murmured, running the tip of her index finger in a lazy arc down his stubbled cheek until it brushed his mouth.

  “You have no idea.” Tony swept her up in a hot embrace. He felt like a bloody caveman as he devoured her soft mouth in the kiss he’d been dreaming about since she left him in London. Oddly, Martha seemed stiff in his arms at first, but then her body melted in response to the demands of his lips and tongue. He took a step forward, pinning her against the wall, one hand cradling her neck and the other cupping her sweet ass. Lifting her into his body, he rubbed his already rock-hard cock into her soft mound. Subtle it wasn’t, but he didn’t give a damn about subtle right now. His hunger for Martha felt raw, primal and utterly unstoppable.

  Martha slid her mouth from his lips and leaned her head against his shoulder, her breathing ragged from the long, intense kiss. “Tony, you’d better hold those charging horses,” she gasped.

  He groaned, propping his hands on the wall on either side of her head. “Christ, really?”

  She slid under his arm and took a step away, adjusting her silky jacket. “There’ll be time enough for those shenanigans later, pal. Let’s get our business out of the way first.” She gave him a little poke on the bicep. “Otherwise, my nerves are going to be as tight as a camel’s butt in a sandstorm, and that’s not going to work out too well for either of us.”

  Shaking his head at the startling imagery, he kissed her lightly on the lips and took her by the hand into the living room. Martha apparently intended to keep her hormones in full check until they’d reached some kind of deal, so he wasn’t about to let himself be any less disciplined—no matter how badly he wanted to strip her naked and completely lose himself in her glorious body.

  “Bourbon?” he said, relieved as she sat down on the sofa. For a second, he’d worried she might sit down at the table, ready to negotiate as if they were a couple of haggling lawyers.

  “Later, I think.” She crossed her legs demurely after tugging her skirt down. “My stomach’s a little bit off from drinking that ghastly hotel coffee with Ginny.”

  “I hear you. I think I’ll have one, though.” He poured himself two fingers of Knob Creek.

  “Another one would be more accurate, I suspect, from the looks of that bottle,” Martha said wryly. “But the more the better, I suppose. Sobriety is probably over-rated when it comes to conducting negotiations.”

  He heard anxiety in her voice despite the apparent jest.

  “How did it go with Ginny?” he asked casually, sitting down in one of the arm chairs. “She was a bundle of nerves during the flight.”

  “She was tense but composed when we talked. My gut says she’s dying to spill everything out, though she’s still all jammed up inside. My goal was just to be open and reassuring, applying no pressure at all. I told her whatever decision she makes will be completely fine with me.”

  Knowing how much Martha wanted this story, Tony couldn’t help being a bit skeptical. “Is that true?”

  “Hell, I’d hate it if she said no. Of course I would. But I meant it when I told her that she needs to follow her heart, and not over-think it. I suspect she might want to go back and talk it over with her shrink before saying yes or no.” Martha gave him a tentative smile. “Hopefully, it’ll be yes.”

  Some of Tony’s lingering worry over Ginny eased. “Whatever happens, I have no doubt you impressed the hell out of her,” he said, letting his gratitude for her gentle handling warm his voice. “I expect she’ll have told me everything by the time we get back to London. I hope you realize that.”

  “Oh, my God, I’m so shocked.” Martha rounded her eyes at him, feigning surprise. “Of course she’ll tell you everything. After the way she rhapsodized about you in there, she’ll be volunteering to lead the campaign to make you a saint.”

  Tony laughed out loud. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but saint isn’t one of them.”

  “Seriously, though,” she said, “it sounds like you thoroughly earned her trust and devotion, Tony. So, all credit to you, I say.” She shot him a wry smile he couldn’t quite read.

  “I just hope she says yes,” he said brusquely, feeling awkward. The last thing he wanted to do was take credit for Ginny getting her act together.

  “From your mouth to God’s ears.” She brushed some non-existent wrinkles out of her skirt before looking at him. “Now, my friend, we must get on with the hard part. I have to assume you’re ready to put a concrete offer on the table since I’m sure you didn’t bring Rex across five time zones just to make your dinner reservations.”

  With the abrupt shift in the conversation, Martha was obviously trying to put up a cool, business-like front. But the wariness in her eyes and her rigid posture screamed discomfort, even dread. Conflicting emotions battled inside Tony, too. While he was excited about wrapping up a deal for the Thunder as soon as he could, at the same time he feared a disaster could be waiting just outside his view and beyond his control. What if Steam Train put up a huge bid and she accepted? How would that affect him and her? As much as he wanted her to favor his offer, could he really expect her to put their relationship, for whatever it was worth, ahead of an obvious business decision? Would he do the same for her?

  He was about to get some answers to those questions, and he’d never felt less confident going into the home stretch of a business deal. He sure as hell didn’t like the feeling.

  “Okay, then, let’s get down to it,” he said, putting down his bourbon. He looked at her hard for a good ten seconds. “Let me start with an assumption. Am I right that you’d rather sell the Thunder to me than to a brewery, Martha? Especially a brewery that yanked its sponsorship deal out from under you?”

  Martha wagged a finger at him. “Hey, hey, pal. That’s not exactly a fair question, is it? Try again.”

  Tony almost rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to assume it, anyway.”

  She tried for a casual shrug, but Tony had never seen her look quite as jittery. The index finger of her right hand beat an unconscious tattoo against the sofa cushion.

  “I figure Steam Train is out to screw you over,” he continued, “because they think they’ve got you on the ropes. So, I’d be surprised if they’re looking even as high as ten million for the Thunder, assuming Rex’s estimate of the accumulated debt of about three and a half is correct.” He paused. “How am I doing so far?”

  Martha screwed up her mouth, as if contemplating a thorny problem. “Up until a few hours ago, I’d have said reasonably well. You and Rex are real smart guys, and you certainly do your homework, though we’d best not get into that thorny subject again. And, yes, Rex is pretty much right on about the debt.” She paused, averting her gaze. “But things changed late this morning, Tony. Rance Malone called, and this time he was a whole lot more serious in terms of numbers.”

  Bollocks. Tony’s gut clenched at her words. “He tabled a new offer?”

  He knew from the way Martha had phrased her response that the initial Steam Train offer that Geoffrey had leaked to the media had just been upped by a lot more than chump change.

  Martha met his gaze and pressed her lips together hard. Then she blew out a loud, exasperated breath and leaned forward, hands clasped in her lap. “Oh, this is nuts, Tony. Screw the damn negotiations. Why don’t I just tell you straight out what Malone put on the table? I’m sure he’d go postal on me if he found out, but that’s just too damn bad.” She grimaced. “After all, I do owe you a lot for Ginny.”
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  Tony was shocked that she would bring Ginny into it. “You don’t owe me a bloody thing,” he said instantly. “Ginny has nothing to do with this.”

  She looked taken aback by his sharp tone. After eying him for several seconds, she gave a slow nod. “I hear you, and I’m sorry if what I said offended you. I think I’ll take a little of that bourbon now, if you don’t mind.”

  Tony got up and poured her a generous measure. “How much was the offer, then?” he said gently as he handed her the glass. “How high did Steam Train go?”

  Martha took a drink before answering. “Thirteen and a half million dollars high. Hell, Malone wants it, Tony. He wants it really bad.”

  Tony thumped back down into his chair, amazed. Deflated. Pissed off.

  “I told him it wasn’t enough,” Martha said calmly.

  “Not enough!” he snapped, wondering if she’d lost her mind. “Martha, that’s a hell of a lot more than the team’s worth these days, and you know it.”

  “I don’t agree, Tony. Unless we’re talking metaphysically, a thing is worth whatever somebody is willing to pay for it,” Martha said, meeting his outburst with a measured response.

  What the fuck did that mean? “Yeah, that’s one way of looking at it. The wrong way,” he growled.

  When her delicate blond brows pulled together in a disapproving frown, he took a deep, calming breath. This was not the way he’d wanted things to go. “Did you give him a counter?”

  “No.” Her eyes went to half-mast as she shook her head. “It’s really not about money, you know. It never has been. Ten million or thirteen or whatever—the difference won’t have any effect on how I intend to live my life. What I care most about, and I told you this before but I’m not sure you believed me, is taking care of the people who trust me. The good people who stuck with the team and supported me after my father died.”

  “I believed you,” he said in all sincerity. He had, too. It was one the things he loved about her—that she was so fiercely loyal to the people who depended on her.

  She gave him a wistful half-smile. “I told Malone that if he wanted my signature on a deal, he had to guarantee job security for everyone. Well, that sent the man for a loop, let me tell you. I’m waiting to hear back from him, but I can’t say I’m brimming with confidence.” She tilted her head, studying him. “And unless I’m reading you wrong, your reaction tells me that you’re not about to match Steam Train. Plus, you’ve already told me I was crazy to think any buyer would keep my people on. You and Malone seem to be in perfect agreement on that point at least.”

  The trace of bitterness in her voice clearly signaled her unhappiness, and Tony had to squash the sudden impulse to back down on the issue of the team’s staff. That would be a stupid business decision, one based only on emotion.

  But in the end, no matter what happened regarding job security, there was no way he could afford to match Steam Train’s staggering 13.5 million dollar offer. He still had every confidence he could turn the Thunder around, but his capacity to borrow was far from infinite. Even the 11.5 million he and Rex had finally agreed they could safely offer would have stretched him, putting a bit too much debt on his books for comfort. In fact, Rex had wanted to draw a hard and fast line at eleven million.

  “Matching Steam Train’s bid would kill me, Martha,” he finally said. “I’m being completely honest with you.”

  Martha flinched hard enough to make her long hair ripple, before pulling herself together. “I understand. I thought that would be the case.” She managed a woeful half-smile. “I guess that’s it, then, isn’t it? I’m stuck with Steam Train. But, damn, I can’t stand the thought of those bastards taking over, especially after all their bullshit tactics.”

  The despair in her tone cut through him like a blade. No, he definitely wasn’t ready to throw the towel in just yet.

  Moving slowly, he rose from his chair and eased down close to her on the sofa. Though Martha flinched again, startled, she didn’t move away, nor resist when he took her hand in his. Her fingers were cold and she clutched at him, as if grateful for the warmth.

  “Look, love,” he said. “I don’t see anybody holding a gun to your head to force you take what Steam Train’s put on the table. You said it wasn’t about money, and I believe you.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Martha, if I were able to come decently close to their offer, what’s to stop you from taking my bid over theirs?”

  She stared straight ahead with eyes narrowed, but didn’t pull her hand away. “Just out of curiosity, exactly what do you mean by ‘decently close’?”

  “Twelve million,” Tony said.

  Rex would want to kill him for the wildly impulsive move, but in the end he was the one who called the shots, and he was the one who would bear the brunt of any setback. Rex would sulk, but the man was a total pro and he’d get over.

  Martha jerked away and pushed herself up off the sofa. “Tony, how can I? If I were to accept a million and a half less than what Steam Train’s already offered, exactly how would I explain that to enquiring minds?” She waved her arms in a dramatic arc. “For starters, Geoffrey would have my bloody guts for garters, to use his pithy expression. Plus, you can bet your ass that both he and Steam Train would go nuts in the media. Within hours I’d be a laughing-stock everywhere, not just here at home, and wouldn’t that just do wonders for my career?” She gave her head a shake. “I’ll be completely honest with you, Tony. I actually thought about that possibility myself a little while ago. The possibility of letting you have the team for less than what Steam Train would offer. But I couldn’t see how that could possibly work then, and I still don’t.”

  When he didn’t answer, she swallowed hard and looked away. “You can understand that, can’t you?” she asked, in a quiet, almost plaintive voice.

  Of course I can, love.

  Tony’s mind worked furiously to buy more time. There was only one conceivable way out of the box now, and that was to offer Martha something that Steam Train wouldn’t. Something that she cared about above all else—keeping her people in place. As much as the thought of having to concede that demand repelled him, Tony saw it as his last remaining lifeboat, and one that was already being lowered down the side of the badly listing ship.

  The idea of being saddled with her incompetent staff made him crazy. With rare exceptions, any new owner simply had to clean house at the top. To bring in his own people, the people he trusted and who thought like him. In this case, the consequences of retaining Kieran McLeod and Sam Brockton were staggering. He could put up with McLeod for a bit longer, if necessary, but keeping Brockton as the team’s field manager was a nightmare. Not only had Tony already offered Owen Clark the post, he’d also promised Kavanagh—and through him the rest of the squad—that both Brockton and McLeod would be gone once he took control of the team.

  Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it fast because Martha looked fidgety and ready to bolt. If that happened, within hours Steam Train would have clinched the deal.

  “I do understand,” he said, coming to his feet. “Absolutely I do. But I have one request of you, Martha. Just one, and I hope you’ll see fit to grant it.” He paused for a couple of beats. “After…London.” He didn’t think he needed to say more.

  Her eyes widened, but she quickly nodded. “Of course. If I can, Tony, I will.”

  He moved to her, placing his hands lightly on her slim shoulders. She held still, her arms by her sides. His fingertips picked up a little shudder.

  “What I’m asking is that you give me a little more time,” he said. “At least a few hours. I need to talk to Rex, and I need some time to think.” He pressed a soft, quick kiss to her forehead. “Without the distraction of the sweetest, most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known.”

  Martha barely reacted to the compliment, ever though he’d made it with total sincerity. Her smile was tentative, even fragile.

  “I don’t know how long I can keep Malone on a string, Tony,” she said, leaning into h
im. He relished the feel of her lithe body against him. “It feels like it’s all spiraling out of my control. More so every minute.”

  “But you’re waiting to hear again from Malone. When he gets back to you, tell him you need a bit more time to work through the details.”

  When Martha simply gave a tiny shrug, Tony’s alarm system triggered. Had she already agreed to accept Steam Train’s offer if they came back with job security?

  “And if you don’t want to do that, then maybe you could turn off your phone for a few hours,” he said, trying not to sound too grim or too desperate. “Discover it has a temporary malfunction. Anything that’ll give me a few hours. That’s all I ask, Martha.”

  When her lips curved into the mischievous little grin he’d grown to love, he almost staggered with relief.

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time this darn phone has given me trouble,” she said, giving him a mock pout.

  He brushed his lips against her cheek. “Thanks. That means a hell of a lot, babe.”

  She pulled away—reluctantly, he thought.

  “Okay, Tony, I’d best leave you to your thinking. By the way, Nate Carter is in town overnight. He told me you two are sort of buds. He said he’d like to see you if you can swing a beer, or maybe even dinner. Here’s his cell number.” She opened her bag and pulled out a little slip of yellow paper.

  Tony raised his eyebrows as she slipped the note into his hand. “You know Nate? And you saw him today?” Martha hadn’t mentioned before that she and Carter knew each other. What was that all about?

  “Right on both counts,” she tossed over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

  Tony bit back all the questions on his tongue as he followed her. “I’ll call you tonight, one way or the other,” he said.

  She gazed up at him, her expression as serious as he’d ever seen it. “Please make it fast, Tony. For both our sakes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Over pre-dinner drinks at a downtown Italian bistro restaurant, Martha filled Nate in on her conversations with both Ginny and Tony. She counted herself blessed to have her dearest friend to rely on as a sounding board. Talking to Nate was helping to take the edge off her ragged nerves, the product of an emotional, roller coaster day not yet close to its end.