by V. K. Sykes
“I think I’ve noticed that about you,” she said in a wry voice.
He flashed a charming grin, one that made her heart do flips in her chest. Then he turned serious again.
“When I decided to go after the Thunder, how could I think any other way? Like I said when we had that…talk at Fenton, Martha, I’ve never been an investor. Never wanted to be. Never thought I ever would be.”
She gave him an exaggerated eye roll, unable to resist yanking his chain. “Oh, I remember that day perfectly.” She’d wanted to beat him senseless with soggy noodles, but instead had fled to a hotel before she could do or say anything completely rash and self-destructive. “You and I had a slightly different definition of the word ‘partnership’, as I recall.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I thought I was making a big concession by offering to take only a bare majority of the shares.” He gave a self-deprecating snort. “That was stupid and arrogant, but it was the only way I knew how to operate. At the time I thought I was doing some pretty great things—rescuing you from your financial mess and letting you retain a large chunk of the team. Not to mention giving us the opportunity to work closely together.”
“While I saw it as a fiendishly clever scheme to gain effective control of the team while putting up only half the money,” Martha said.
Tony shrugged. “Like I said, stupid and arrogant, and you saw through it right away. Back then I was still stuck in that bloody mental box. I didn’t know how to adapt to such a…foreign situation.” He paused to rub his heavy stubble. “Especially not one where…uh, personal feelings were seriously complicating things.”
She managed a small smile. “I have to admit I wasn’t thinking entirely with my brain, either.”
“Martha, love, please listen carefully now because I mean this and I want you to believe me. If there’s one thing I’ve realized since the first time I walked into your office, it’s that no matter what happens I don’t want what we have between us to end up incinerated in the same fire as my offer for your team. I’ve been killing myself to find a way to square the circle and buy the Thunder. But, if I have to, I’ll walk away and be at peace with it.”
Tony’s fiercely sincere gaze held her transfixed. Her heart raced as her body hummed with an instinctive recognition of the importance of the moment.
“From the team, Martha,” he finally said. “I’ll walk away from the team. But not from you, love. That’s never going to happen.”
Martha’s heart swelled so much it seemed to push every ounce of air from her lungs. A wild, ecstatic heat flared through her as she realized how much those few simple words were going to change her life. Change it more than anything to do with her team.
More than anything else ever could.
“Oh, my God, Tony,” she gasped.
With a scrambling leap she was off the sofa and into his lap, her arms around his neck, hugging him as if her very life depended on not letting go. In a heartbeat, all the crushing angst of this pivotal day and all her repressed fears that she would lose him too morphed into something light and unsubstantial, flicked away with the touch of a finger. Tony wrapped his arms tightly around her, stroking her hair, murmuring comfort as she snuggled into him.
“Thank you, Lord,” she finally said in a choked-up voice. “I never really understood how very much I wanted you to say those words. Not until you just did.”
Tony lifted her just enough to find her lips, and kissed her with sweet tenderness before pulling back. “Hold on, you haven’t even heard my offer yet.” He gave a rumbly little laugh that vibrated Martha’s chest as she pressed her body hard against his.
“I know,” she murmured. “But whatever it is, whatever happens with the team, we’re good—you and me—right?”
“Oh, I think we’re very good,” Tony said. “Can’t you tell by the party going on in my lap?”
Martha laughed and wriggled her bottom against the thick erection nudging into her. But she refused to lift her head from the warmth of his shoulder, or loosen her grip around his neck. “You’d better lay it on me fast so we can get down to the real business at hand.”
She wriggled again just to make sure he fully understood exactly what business she was talking about. Right now, the forced sale of the Thunder to Steam Train seemed far less of an earth-shaking moment than it had a couple of minutes ago.
“I’ll be quick,” he said, his voice dropping to an even deeper note. “Let’s just say this. If your definition of partnership is still sharing everything equally—exactly fifty-fifty—then I think we’re in perfect agreement, love. Because that’s what I want now, too.”
Those words finally made her head jerk up from his chest. She stared into his dark eyes, almost afraid to believe what she’d heard. “My God, are you serious? You’d equally share control of the team? With me, the dilettante that’s driven the operation into the ground?”
Tony gave her a gentle shake. “Don’t say that. We both know what a rotten hand you were dealt. I’ll never say a word against your father because I know how hard he tried to build a winning team. But some of the decisions he and his staff made turned out to be, well, pretty bad.”
She snorted. “Monumentally bad, I’d say.”
He nuzzled her cheek. “And you got off to a bad start with some of the players, which didn’t help things.”
Martha immediately pictured the arrogant mugs of Derek Kavanagh and Diego Flores. “Damn babies,” she muttered. “But I was bound to make mistakes, Tony. I didn’t really know what I was doing, and maybe I still don’t. They don’t teach you how to run a soccer team in journalism school, you know.”
Tony laughed and the warmth of it, the sheer joy of the sound, washed over her like an unexpected and powerful gift, healing parts of her that had been wounded for a very long time.
“Experience and adversity are the only real teachers,” he said. “Trust me, I know. You’ll be great in time. If we do this together.”
If?
To hell with if. Martha wished she had the legal documents in front of her that very second so she could scrawl her name and drag Tony straight upstairs to the bedroom. “So, Mr. Branch, are you by any chance saying that you want me to actually continue in an active role with the team, and not simply be a silent partner?”
His hands slipped down to her hips. “Silent partner?” he said in a gently mocking tone.
Martha lightly dug her elbow into his ribs. “Just answer the damn question, Branch.”
“Hell, yes,” he said, nudging one hand under her butt. “The only way a fifty-fifty partnership has a hope of working out for us if we keep in constant touch. If we work as close together as we possibly can.”
“Oh, I do like the sound of that,” she purred. “But leaving the sexual innuendo aside for just a moment, what about Kieran and Sam?” A little flash of anxiety stabbed her, threatening to diminish her amazing buzz. “And Jane, and everybody else? I still want them all to be safe, and I need to hear you say the words.”
He brought one hand up to cup her cheek, gently moving her face to meet his solemn gaze. “Every single contract will be honored, love. Count on it.”
Desperate to forestall her silly, happy tears, Martha gave him a lingering kiss. Tony’s big hand gripped her bottom, his fingers moving in a light, sensual massage. But after a few moments he broke free with a sigh.
“But we have to talk money, too, I’m afraid,” he said, his voice a husky, sex-filled rasp.
Martha blinked. She’d forgotten that minor detail, no doubt because money didn’t matter to her. “You know I don’t care about that, Tony.”
Tony looked startled, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around somebody not caring about money. “I know, but your uncle surely does.”
Oh, right. Martha had somehow momentarily forgotten Geoffrey and his twenty percent. “Ah, good point.”
“Here’s what I’ll do, then,” Tony said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and ru
nning his finger down a column of handwritten numbers. “I’m prepared to buy Geoffrey’s shares at the exact price Steam Train’s offered, which will net him about two million dollars. Hopefully, that will shut him up and we can keep the whole transaction on the down low, as you Yanks say.”
Martha pressed a palm to her chest, weak with relief. With just a few words, Tony had solved their biggest problem. “He’ll be ecstatic, I guarantee it. He told me just a few minutes ago that he’d rather you got the team than Steam Train.”
“Excellent. Now, as for your shares, I’d like to buy the necessary thirty per cent I need to get to fifty on the basis of the twelve million dollar offer I gave you this afternoon. That would mean you would cash out close to a million net after your share of the debt is paid, and you’d of course retain a full fifty per cent of the team. The fact that we could restart the Thunder on a completely debt-free basis after the sale would be just huge.” He pushed the paper into her hands. “How does that sound?”
She gaped at him. “Wow,” was all she could say, barely able to take in the fact that everything she could have dreamed of seemed to be coming true.
Tony dark brows marked his handsome features with a frown. “I realize it’s a far cry from the kind of money you’d get if you took Steam Train’s offer. You could walk away with eight million if you went with them. And that’s obviously a hell of a big difference.” His wary expression told her that he was still worried about how she might react to his numbers.
But Martha had meant it when she said she didn’t care about the money for herself. Besides, the truly important part was that she would still own half the team—her father’s team. And now Tony would be part of it, too. As an equal partner with her.
She pressed a soft line of kisses along his strong jaw. “Maybe I should hold out for more,” she murmured. “After all, I think I’ve got you in a rather compromised position.” She shifted, letting her body stroke the length of his rock-hard cock.
Tony let out a low moan and pressed his forehead against hers. “Hell, if you keep doing that I might sign over everything I own before we’re done tonight.”
She kissed him once more before sliding off his lap. “Well, then, what the heck are we waiting for?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When Rick Grange stuck up his hand again, Martha glanced down the length of the Hyatt meeting room to see if any other reporters had more questions. Seeing no hands in the air, she shifted her eyes back to the front row where Grange slouched in a chair on the aisle.
“Go ahead, Rick,” she said, giving him a gracious smile.
“Martha and Tony, I have a question I’d like you both to answer,” Grange said. “How do you see this partnership working on a practical, day-to-day basis? Some people might just leave that stuff in the hands of the GM and the rest of the staff, but that certainly hasn’t been Tony’s style, has it?”
Martha glanced at Tony on her right on the dais, sitting relaxed but with an incredulous look on his handsome face. He gave her a nod to tell her to take first crack at answering.
“All I can say on that matter is that we both plan to be hands-on owners,” she said. “I’m positive we’ll work very well together,” she said. Grange looked disgruntled, but she had no intention of elaborating.
Tony smoothly took over. “Martha and I don’t plan to be fighting over office supplies, that’s for sure. Basically, how it’s going to work is that when it comes to field operations, I’ll take the lead role. Martha’s main focus will be on marketing, promotion and development of business relationships. And that sounds like a perfect division of labor to me.”
Martha had to work hard not to laugh since she and Tony had concocted that practical division during lulls in their marathon love-making session—one that had extended well into the wee hours of that morning. Around nine, physically tired but mentally energized, she’d put on coffee and called Jane to have her set up a press conference for mid-afternoon. Then she’d called Rance Malone to give him the courtesy of hearing the bad news directly from her lips. Malone had stayed silent for what seemed like a full minute before sputtering a few mostly incoherent slurs on Martha’s business acumen. His petulant wrath had left her preening with satisfaction as she gave him a cheery goodbye, cutting off his tirade. Petty, yes, but the bastard did have it coming to him. The fact that Tony had been lounging on one of her kitchen stools, a hand on her ass and a grin on his face the entire time, had made her triumph that much sweeter.
It had of course fallen to Tony to break the news to Rex, who had been surprisingly less chagrined by the prospect of spending time in Jacksonville than Martha had feared. Tony insisted that Rex relished a challenge, and getting the Thunder up to speed would certainly give him that.
She nodded toward Rex, who was seated on the other side of Tony looking deceptively complacent. “Rex Daltry will be in charge of financial operations, at least during a transition period. Of course, Tony and I will also rely heavily on the wisdom and experience of our general manager, Kieran McLeod.”
She thought she saw a slight wince from Tony. Though he’d agreed to keep both Kieran McLeod and Sam Brockton in place, he wasn’t happy about it. Martha was certain both Kieran and Sam would willingly leave in a year when their contracts expired, and Tony had said he could live with that frame. She had no doubt her stubborn, handsome Englishman would be calling most of the shots, but it made Martha proud that she’d been able to take care of the men who’d been so resolute and loyal in the horrible, trying times after her father’s death.
“Any other questions?” she asked brightly, scanning the room for hands. “No? Then I’ll just thank y’all again for coming. Stay tuned for more exciting Thunder news soon.”
She, Tony, and Rex hustled out the room’s back exit, catching a service elevator to the seventeenth floor. “I’ll catch up with you later, mate,” Tony told Rex as he unlocked the door to his suite. Rex took the hint and headed down the hall to his own suite.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Martha slipped inside. They’d done it, and now they could both relax.
Throwing Tony a mischievous glance, she ran a hand across his chest, relishing the feel of his brawny muscles under the smooth, expensive fabric of his dress shirt. “By getting rid of Rex, were you by any chance thinking of some afternoon delight?”
“You’ve got a wonderfully dirty mind, Martha Winston,” he said. Then he took her hand and turned it over, bringing her palm up to his mouth for a gentle kiss. “But first I have to tell you something. Something I thought could spoil the party if I told you last night. So, you should have a seat.”
The pleasing zing of sensation in her hand was offset by her alarm bells clanging into action. “Jesus, should I pour a stiff drink?”
“Well, if you’re pouring, make one for me, too,” Tony said, drawing her into the living room. He pulled off his navy sports jacket and yanked his tie loose.
Martha headed for the bourbon on the well-stocked drinks cart by the wet bar. “You’re scaring me a little, hon.”
He sat down on the sofa and stretched one long arm along the back, a faint smile curling up the corners of his oh-so-sexy mouth. “Don’t fret. If anybody should be trembling, it’s me.”
“What in the name of all that’s holy are you talking about, Tony Branch?” She splashed generous measures of bourbon into a pair of glasses, then handed one to him.
As Tony patted the sofa cushion beside him, Martha accepted his invitation and sat. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, gripping her in a protective embrace. “Martha, you need to know about a couple of meetings I’ve had with Derek Kavanagh.”
“You met with Kavanagh?” Instinctively, Martha pulled away and swung around so she could face him directly. “Why would you do that? And why didn’t you tell me before this?”
Anger and a stinging sense of betrayal flared hot inside her. How dare Tony meet secretly with one of her players? Especially a thoroughly rotten one like Derek Frigging Kavanagh.
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“I didn’t tell you before because I figured you’d react exactly like you are,” he said in a calm voice. “I know I was wrong not to, and I apologize for it.”
Martha was raring to go at him tooth and claw, but he held up his hand. His firm gaze demanded she keep her assault on hold.
“Hold on a minute, will you?” he said. “Look, Martha, I did it because I had to know why Kavanagh was playing like a man who wanted to be anywhere else but on the football pitch. On your football pitch, anyway. If I was going to buy the team, I had to know because I’d be stuck with his contract, just like you were.”
She glared at him but the professional in her—the one who knew how the sports world worked—had to admit he was right. “So, what did the son of a bitch have to say for himself?” Kavanagh must have opened up to Tony; otherwise he likely wouldn’t be telling her any of this. “Wait, I’m not even sure I want to know,” she grumbled, crossing her arms across her chest.
Tony hadn’t touched his drink since setting it down. In fact, he’d barely moved a muscle other than when he put his arm around her shoulders. His body practically vibrated with tension and she sensed how concerned he was about her reaction.
“He’s an idiot and a spoiled one to boot,” he said, “so let’s start with something we can agree on. In fact, I’d be happy to see him pack up his locker for the last time and hustle his ass right out the door. But we both know that’s not going to happen, at least not for a while. Not until we can swing a trade. Right now, we wouldn’t get a sausage and bun for him even if we picked up a big portion of his salary.”
Martha scowled at him, but Tony was right, of course. They were stuck with the slacker, like it or not. That hadn’t changed.
“And I’m sure it’s no secret to you that Kavanagh can’t stand Brockton, or McLeod, either,” he continued. “Kavanagh plays a different kind of game—more aggressive and creative than what Brockton believes in—so there’s a fundamental philosophical difference that’s not easy to bridge. Especially not when you’re dealing with hard-headed characters.”
