“Wow! Did anybody else know this?”
“No idea. I certainly didn’t.”
“What about Carmen and Tony?”
“Haven’t asked. You know how those two are. They may have battled with Walker but they’ll take his secrets to the grave, and besides, none of the Witch Bitches have any claims on the estate, so it’s probably best to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Amen.”
Carmen came out with a mug of coffee, and while Monty sipped from it, Tasha told him about her surprising inheritance of the Freighters. “I just don’t get why he’d lie to Davis that way.”
“Because that’s the way he was. I know you loved him, but he was a shark, Tash.” Then Monty smiled. “Wish I’d been here to see your face when you learned about the marriage bonus. Davis going to take you up on it?”
She shot him a look.
“I remember the crush you had on him.”
“I was eighteen.”
“And you probably still have the hots for him. No one ever gets over their first love. Take me, for example. I still think you should’ve married me a long time ago.”
“And I’d have killed you so long ago, I would have done my time and been out of jail by now.”
He laughed.
“You can’t even spell the word monogamous, let alone be it,” Tasha said.
He shrugged. “With you I might’ve been.”
“Operative word: might. Besides, you’re like my brother and incest is against the law.”
“Okay, okay.”
They shared the smile that reflected thirty years of mutual affection.
“So, you finally got yourself a football team.”
“Yep. The players hate me, but I’m going to change that.” She talked about her meeting with Drew Davis at his club and the chilly reception she’d received from the team members.
“Can’t really blame them,” Monty said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t, but I’m going to add you to their Do Not Like List, too.”
He paused. “How?”
“My first act as the new owner is to make you the CFO.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. Not me. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Why not? We both wanted to own a team growing up.”
“True, but one, I have better things to do with my life than trying to win the hearts and minds of a bunch of slow-witted Neanderthals. Two, I’m not going to sit around watching you drool over Davis every time he walks by.”
“I am going to punch you.”
He snickered. “I’m just lying. I’m in. If only to keep blood off my twelve-hundred-dollar suit. I’d kick myself if the Freighters actually became a good investment and won a few games.”
“Going to be more than a few. We’re winning the championship.”
He laughed. “Now you really are dreaming, but nothing wrong with that.”
“I suppose I should’ve asked if you had time in your schedule for something like this.”
“It’s not like the Freighters are the World Bank. I’ll make the time just because it might be fun. Not much call for that in my line of work.”
They were interrupted by Carmen. “Mr. Davis is here. Should I bring him out, or do you want to see him in the study?”
Tasha’d been having so much fun with Monty, she’d all but forgotten about their noon appointment. “No, out here’s fine, Carmen. Thanks.”
When she departed, Monty said, “So I get to meet him in person. Here’s hoping he’s overweight and out of shape.”
“Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Yeah, right.”
A few moments later, Carmen returned with Davis. He was dressed in a green polo and pressed khakis and his good looks knocked Tasha right between the eyes again. “Hi, Mr. Davis. Thanks for coming. This is my old friend Monty Taxton. Monty, Drew Davis.”
They exchanged a shake and Tasha gestured for Davis to join her and Monty at the table.
“Mr. Davis, would you like something to drink before lunch?” Carmen asked. “I’ve some iced tea in the kitchen.”
“Iced tea sounds great.”
“Tasha?”
“I’ll have a refill on mine. Monty, you want another coffee?”
“No, I’m heading upstairs to bed.” He turned to Davis. “Great meeting you, but you’ll have to excuse me. Long night.” He stood and placed a quick kiss on Tasha’s cheek. “See you later, dollface. If I’m not up by seven wake me, please, so I can take you to dinner.”
“Will do. Get some rest.”
He gave Davis a brief nod and departed.
Davis’s eyes followed Monty for a brief second then returned to her. His face told her nothing, so it was impossible to tell what he might be thinking.
She asked, “So, everything go okay at the club after I left last night?”
“Yes, it did.”
“Good. I had a nice time.”
“I’m glad.”
Silence crept between them. Carmen appeared with his glass of tea and a pitcher of the beverage, which she set on the table. Tasha thanked her. “We’ll have lunch in a minute.”
“Okay.”
He sipped his tea and viewed her silently for a long moment before he turned his attention to the lake. “Nice view. First time I’ve been in this part of the house. The few times your grandfather and I met here, we used his study.”
“Would you like to walk out for a closer look?”
“Sure.”
They left their tea and stepped out into the sunshine.
Drew checked her out. She was in white shorts and a sleeveless gold top. On her feet, her black flip-flops showed off her painted red toes and a sexy little gold toe ring. Great legs. Nicely toned arms. She was petite. Both his ex-wives were tall, and being a big man himself, he’d always preferred a woman who could look him in the eye. Short-statured women always made him worry about stepping on them, but in spite of that, this shorty intrigued him, even though he knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere. He wondered what role Taxton played in her life, and whether he was the reason she’d passed on another drink and dessert last night. Had she been in a hurry to get back and hook up with him? Did the long night Taxton referenced have to do with them being together? And what the hell was he doing sleeping in her house? Drew mentally chastised himself for wondering and told himself the answers didn’t matter—but for some reason, they did.
They reached the stacked gray boulders that lined the shoreline, and he scanned the panoramic surroundings. The peace and serenity of the sun-kissed water and the gulls circling lazily overhead were a marked contrast to the concrete grittiness of the inner city only a few short miles away. He’d grown up on the city’s west side, the only son of a single mom. How might life have been different had they been wealthy enough to live here like this? His mom, a registered nurse, wouldn’t have had to work so hard all day every day, for sure. He’d made good money during his playing days, enough to convince her to finally retire, but prior to that, they’d struggled economically. He wondered if Tasha Bloom’s parents ever struggled. “How long has your grandfather owned this place?”
“Longer than I’ve been alive. Even when black folks weren’t allowed to live out here, he did. Did a lot of things he wasn’t supposed to do. For a sharecropper’s son who taught himself to read, he did okay.”
“Sharecropper’s son? He acted like he was born with money.”
“Yeah, he did, but he grew up in little bitty Arkansas at a time when men who looked like him did what they were told when they were told from the day they were born until the day they died.”
Drew never knew that about Bloom; not that they’d been friends or anything, but he never got the sense that Bloom was anything but rich. “And w
here were you born?”
“Zurich.”
“Switzerland?”
Her lips curved into a smile. “My father was there for a marksmanship competition and my mom tagged along because I wasn’t supposed to be born for another month. Nobody told me, however.”
The wind coming off the water ruffled her hair and she put up a manicured hand to keep it out of her eyes. Her makeup was minimal, but with her beauty, she didn’t need much. He tore his eyes away and focused his attention on the water.
“So where were you born?” she asked quietly as if not wanting to disturb the silence.
“Here in Detroit. West side.”
“Parents still alive?”
He shook his head. “Mother died six years ago. Never knew my father.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Thanks, but it’s okay. She saw me reach the top. I’m glad about that at least. I read that you lost your parents.”
“Yes. Plane crash while I was in college. Came to live here full-time after that.”
“No brothers or sisters?”
“No. Just me. How about you?”
“Just me.”
In response to hearing someone calling her name, they both turned to see the housekeeper beckoning them back to the house.
“Lunch must be getting cold. You ready?” she asked.
“Never been one to turn down a free meal.” But he didn’t start toward the house. Instead, Drew studied her intently while time seemed to momentarily suspend itself. He heard the waves lapping gently against the shoreline and the faint call of gulls, but the beautiful, ballsy Natasha Bloom was all he could see. Only his inner strength kept him from reaching out and slowly tracing a finger down her cheek to see if the skin was as soft as it appeared. Keeping his hands off her was going to take work. “Lead the way.”
They walked back to the house. Drew was attracted to her—he got that part. But the number-one question still remained—could she run the team?
* * *
Tasha did her best not to show how affected she’d been by whatever had just passed between them. The probing touch of his dark eyes coupled with his tall, commanding presence played havoc with her breathing and her heartbeat. Even though the silent encounter lasted only a few seconds, she was rattled. Gathering herself, she took her seat at the table and tried not to think about what kissing him might be like.
Over a lunch of grilled wings, red-skinned potato salad and spicy baked beans they talked shop, beginning with his contract.
“I took into consideration what you said last night in structuring things,” Tasha explained, “so take a look and let me know what you think.” She passed him the pages and waited while he wiped his hands on his napkin and read through the document.
He glanced up.
“Problem?”
“This is very generous.”
“I’m paying you what I believe you’re worth. I checked out the salaries of some of the other GMs. The only team paying more is the Grand Rapids—” she checked her notes “—the Lumberjacks.”
“Best-run team in the league.”
“Which is what I want us to be. Paying you a real salary will let the other five teams know we’re serious.”
“This figure includes the bonus your grandfather promised?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, he was silent. She met his dark eyes without wavering.
“Thanks,” he offered up quietly.
“You’re welcome.”
He sat back and folded his arms. She read the question in his gaze. “Yes?”
“Nothing. Just trying to figure out who you really are beneath all that glam and fierceness.”
Her shoulders lifted with a shrug. “That’s the million-dollar question.”
“Anybody ever answered it?”
“No, but they seem to like the challenge. Do you like challenges?”
“I do.”
“So do I, but I can’t seem to find any worthy opponents. Nobody wants to pick up the gauntlet just for the pleasure of it. They all want control and commitment.”
“And that isn’t what you’re about.”
“No, I run my own world. I don’t need help.”
“What do you need?”
Tasha paused to assess him and wondered if he was asking because he truly wanted to know, or if he was simply making polite conversation. She responded with her trademark honesty. “Just someone to kick it with, have fun with, travel with. Someone not intimidated by the Bloom name, strength or money.”
“Scares folks, huh?”
“Seems to. Most have no idea what to do with me, especially when they say ‘jump’ and I don’t ask how high.”
“What about Taxton?”
“Monty? Please. I’ve known Monty since I was ten. He’s my brother from another mother.”
“So, how long have you and Taxton been friends?”
“Since elementary school. Our parents were friends. After his got divorced he spent a lot of summers with me and my grandfather.” Even though she knew he hadn’t intended for it to be, his question was revealing. “You thought he and I were more than that?”
“The man’s sleeping in your house, so yeah, I did.”
“We’re not. Even though he claims I’m his first love.”
“I take it you disagree.”
“I do. I love him but not in a male-female kind of way. Who was your first love?”
He seemed to think a minute. “Andrea Wilson. I was in the third grade. When she moved away I was heartbroken for months. Who was yours?”
“You.”
He grinned and shook his head as if outdone.
“You asked.”
“I did, didn’t I? You’re something, girl.”
“I know.”
For a moment their eyes met and held, and that same erratic fluttering spread through Tasha’s blood.
“I like you,” he confessed.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Then how about calling me Drew, instead of Mr. Davis?”
“Only if you call me Tasha or Tash.”
“I’ll take Tash.”
This was going in directions Tasha certainly hadn’t anticipated, but she was enjoying it.
“And, Tash, just to be clear. Your grandfather wanting me to marry you for the money is wack. I wouldn’t disrespect a lady that way.”
Embarrassment heated her face. “I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome. Now how about we get back to business?”
“Sounds good.” But he gave her another one of those heart-fluttering glances and she had to force herself to focus. “So tell me about the league. I did some searching on the Net last night for information, but I’d like to hear your take.”
He gave her a quick rundown on the players and philosophies of the Toledo Vipers, the South Bend Stars, the Fort Wayne Rockets and the team in Ann Arbor, Michigan—the Blues. He also added his thoughts on League Commissioner Wade Blount, Sr. “The man’s a joke and a jerk.”
“From what I read Blount owned the two Indiana squads until Colonel Powell and the Blues’ owners took him to court, right?” She knew that the Grand Rapids Lumberjacks were owned by retired army colonel Virginia Powell and that the Blues were owned by a three-man investment team.
“You have done your homework, haven’t you?”
“Always.”
“They might’ve let him keep the teams and stay on as commissioner, too, if he’d had some ethics, but he didn’t.”
“Example?”
“Championship game between the Stars and the Lumberjacks a few years back had so many blatantly bad calls it wasn’t funny. Stars won, and the colonel was so mad afte
rward, she hired some private investigators to check out the refs.”
“They find anything?”
“Yeah. All the refs for the game were on Blount’s payroll.”
“What?”
“Yeah. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the colonel, so he turned the Indiana teams over to his sons, Wade Jr. and Kevin, call me Kev. All three of them are pieces of work. They come off as stereotypical used-car salesmen.”
“But why is he still commissioner?”
“One, the league doesn’t have enough money to pay a real commissioner and two, nobody else wants the job.”
“Wow,” she said softly.
“But because of the court order, now all refs are picked from a pool of certified high-school and college refs.”
That made her feel somewhat better. “How’d my grandfather get along with Blount?”
“He didn’t. Basically ignored him. Didn’t go to any of the owner meetings as far as I know. He paid the annual league fees and that was it.”
“I suppose I’ll have to meet him at some point.”
“Yeah, and he doesn’t like females. Did his best to intimidate Virginia when her team joined the league five years ago, but she always ends up kicking his ass, so he leaves her alone. Her team’s won the championship for the past two years and that only makes him hate on her more.”
“And now he’ll have two female owners.”
“And he’s not going to be happy.”
“He’ll just have to get over himself.”
“You sound like Virginia.”
“What’s she like?”
“Tough. Loves the game. Players love her, too.”
Tasha thought about her own quest to win the hearts and minds of her players. “Do you think she’ll mind if I send her an email introducing myself?”
“I don’t see why she would. She’s tough but reasonable. We’ve always gotten along, and anybody who hates the Blounts as much as she does is okay in my book.”
Tasha took in all that he’d said and stored it away to mull over later. “The team files say we play our games on an abandoned high-school field.”
“We used to. Last year Blount decided it was too dangerous to use, so all our games are on the road.”
“And you were okay with that?”
This Christmas Rivalry Page 4
