Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance

by Jami Davenport

  She wondered if he had any idea how much Veronica wanted him gone. Kelsie had no doubt if Zach’s manners didn’t improve, the owner’s daughter would try to get him off the team. She could help him stay on the team and ease her guilt at the same time.

  The best thing for both of them is to let him believe she was still the same selfish bitch she’d always been. Of course, that would negate one of the reasons she came to Seattle in the first place—to apologize for her cruelty of years ago. Then again, a lady could apologize and still maintain a smart distance from a rough-around-more-than-the-edges sexy guy.

  Yes, she could do this, be coldly businesslike and lead him to believe she didn’t care a bit about anything but her bottom line. Yet, as far she’d come so far from her mean-girl past, she still owed him an apology. A big one, straight from the heart.

  Kelsie looked down at her dog-eared, autographed copy of Mabel Fay Buchanan’s Book of Southern Charm and Etiquette and smiled to herself. She’d start with Chapter 1, “Must-Have Social Graces.”

  Call her weird, but she loved this book. Mabel Fay was like an old friend, a purveyor of common courtesy but also practical advice. Kelsie met the woman once at a dinner in Atlanta and thoroughly enjoyed the grand old dame’s spunky charm and grace.

  She thumbed through the first chapter and wrote down notes, brimming with her old confidence. The book outlined courtesies so basic she found it hard to believe people didn’t already understand them, but not everyone had the formal upbringing she’d had, groomed from birth to be a doctor, lawyer, or politician’s charming wife. Zach hadn’t had that indoctrination into social graces. Once in high school in a rare moment of letting his guard down, he’d confided in her about his alcoholic mother and abusive father. Later she’d used that information to betray and belittle him.

  Kelsie sighed, riddled with regrets and determined to help the man. It couldn’t be that hard to tutor a football player and transform him from a sow’s ear to a Gucci wallet. Not hard at all. Even if he was Zach Murphy. Even if they did have a history.

  She patted herself on the back for leveraging one of the few talents she had besides shopping, cheerleading, and competing in beauty pageants. All those manners her mama drilled into her would finally amount to something. Currently, they amounted to a full belly and a warm—though small and shabby—place to sleep.

  Just this morning Kelsie cashed her check and rented a small room from an ancient widow who lived in a decrepit mansion not far from Lumberjacks headquarters. She’d left Scranton curled up on the futon that doubled as a bed. The next thing she’d done was eat an early dinner at a trendy restaurant. Maybe she’d spent a little too much, but she’d earn more. Soon. She’d use the Lumberjacks job to get her foot in the door with other sports teams and businesses in the area. But first things first, to get through this initial meeting with Zach.

  Kelsie smoothed the wrinkles out of the skirt of her tailored designer suit, the only one she’d brought with her from Texas. She rubbed her palms together and cleared her throat. She could do this. She’d stand on her own two feet, control her own life, and be successful.

  Sure, Mark had emotionally beaten her down and destroyed her self-confidence, but she was slowly gaining it back. She’d be successful, and she’d be nice doing it. Never again would she be labeled a mean girl, or a selfish bitch, or even a diva. Nope, from now on, people wouldn’t get so much as a glimpse of the old Kelsie. They’d see her as gracious and kind.

  Except Zach. Definitely not Zach.

  Then the door opened, and her good intentions flew over the goalposts.

  * * * * *

  Zach stopped in the doorway. His mouth went dry and his body tensed. He clenched his jaw, as conflicting thoughts warred inside his skull. His worst nightmare had come to pass. This could not be happening.

  “What the fuck?” He took another step into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.

  Kelsie Carrington sat at the conference table, all prim, proper, and fucking-kill-a-man-with-one-pouty-look beautiful. Her sexy red lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Her beautiful face with those high cheekbones and striking features sent his heart to his groin alerting the boys down south to prepare for action. Only there wasn’t going to be any action. Not now. Not ever. That train fell off the trestle miles ago.

  Kelsie sniffed as if she smelled something foul. “Lesson One. Four-letter words are not necessary to get your point across.” She stood and smiled at him with her cool, composed smile and held out her hand.

  Zach stared at her hand. What the hell did she expect him to do with her hand? Kiss it? Shake it? High-five her? Feeling like the beast to her beauty, he did none of the above. Instead, he leaned against the door, crossed one ankle over the other, and studied her.

  She still had it, that composure, that in-born ability to make him feel like a backwards oaf without an ounce of class. She’d broken his heart once and taken away the only thing he had as a poor boy from the wrong side of town, his pride. Well, Zach Murphy didn’t forgive or forget. Besides football, the one thing he excelled at was holding a grudge. Ask Harris.

  His high school dream girl—architect of the most humiliating memories of his life—wore a form-fitting light blue suit, which hugged her slender body. She hadn’t gained a pound in fifteen years. Except her boobs seemed bigger. Maybe she’d gotten a boob job or wore one of those bras that pushed the things upward. Whatever the hell it was, his dick liked what it saw.

  She cleared her throat, and Zach looked down at her angelic face. Only he knew she was no angel. She stared back at him, unblinking, but her eyes narrowed. She’d caught him staring at her boobs, like the moron she assumed he still was. Embarrassed, he focused on her hand still held out to him. A forbidden thought crept into his brain. Her long delicate fingers and manicured fingernails would feel good running through his chest hair. One of her nails was chipped, an imperfect touch on a perfect woman and strangely out of character for her. Yet, he liked that touch of imperfection. A lot. Too much, in fact.

  “You may kiss my hand. Just a brief touch with the lips. Don’t slobber on me like a caveman.”

  “Not a chance in hell.” He’d be damned if he’d kiss her hand or any part of her anatomy, no matter how tempting that anatomy might be and always had been.

  Frowning, she lowered her hand and sighed as if he might just be the worst thing that ever happened to her. Well, the feeling was mutual. With an elegant gesture, she pointed toward the chair across the table. “Be seated please.”

  He lowered his big body onto the small chair and regarded her warily. Harris had set him up. Zach knew he had. The rat bastard would die for this. He’d wring the prick’s neck and throw his remains to the dogfish in Puget Sound. But first he had to get through this etiquette lesson.

  Sprawling in the chair, hands crossed over his chest, he glared at her. She didn’t even blink. Those deep blue eyes of hers drilled into his with a determination he couldn’t help but admire. But then, she’d always been strong-willed.

  “Sit up straight. A gentleman doesn’t slouch.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s bad manners. I realize you wrote the book on reprehensible manners, but let’s see if we can remedy that, tough a job as it might be.”

  “Since when is it bad manners?” He didn’t get it. He hated rules for rules’ sake, especially when they didn’t make a lick of sense.

  “It shows disinterest and a lack of respect for the other person in the room.”

  Zach raised one eyebrow in answer. Her eyes widened and her sigh said it all. Yes, he was an ill-mannered moron. An ill-mannered moron who couldn’t take his eyes off her plump lower lip. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Zach.” Kelsie’s mask of confident superiority vanished, replaced by uncertainty and sadness. Clearing her throat, she met his gaze, and he fought to breathe. “Before we get started, I owe you an apology. One long past due.”

  He didn’t say a wor
d and hardened his expression. He wouldn’t make this easy for her.

  “I was horrible to you in high school. For what it’s worth, I didn’t enjoy being cruel, but I was swept along by peer pressure, but I’m not that person anymore. I am sorry. Really sorry that I hurt you.”

  “What makes you think you hurt me?” He glared at her, refusing to let the surprise show in his eyes.

  She blinked, once, twice. “Didn’t I?”

  Zach looked away. Hurt didn’t begin to describe what she’d done to him, try ripped him to shreds, shattered his ego, and laid waste to his self-worth for starters. “Apologies are just words. If you want my forgiveness, I’ll have to see something concrete.”

  “In other words, I’ll need to prove it to you.”

  “Yeah.”

  She looked down at her book. “Fine.”

  Zach hated it when a woman used the word fine. It meant anything but fine. In fact, it usually meant the targeted male had done an unfathomable thing to piss off the female. “Let’s get back to the reason I’m forced to be here.”

  Blowing out an exasperated breath, she picked up the book and turned all business again. “I’m giving you a homework assignment. You’re to read Chapter 1 in this book. We’ll discuss it when we meet again next Tuesday evening.” She pushed the book across the table to him.

  “Are you kidding?” He didn’t bother to glance at it.

  “I take courtesy seriously, unlike another person I won’t name.” She raised her head and gave him that haughty look he used to hate with a passion.

  “Go ahead and name him, won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “The man in question should be quite aware of his shortcomings in this area.” She pinched the bridge of her nose as if he was giving her a headache. He added one point to his mental scoreboard.

  “The man doesn’t give a shit.”

  Her eyes narrowed. He’d pissed her off. “It’s obvious why they hired me. You have the graciousness of a blind rattler.”

  “Better a blind rattler than a stuffy, spoiled bi—uh, brat.” Zach did have a few rules he lived by. He never called a lady a bitch, even if said lady deserved the title.

  She shot to her feet, her blue eyes blazing like six-guns in the hands of a Wild West outlaw. “Why, you—you—”

  “Now, now, sugar, watch your manners.” He shook a finger in her face, but abruptly pulled it back when Kelsie looked ready to gut him and mount his head over her mantle.

  Taking a visible, deep breath, she sat back down. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “We need to set up an appropriate time for me to peruse your house to see what we’ll need to do in preparation for the gala.”

  He rolled his eyes. “My house looks just fine.”

  Kelsie looked him up and down and raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. The eyebrow said it all. With that one eyebrow she’d reduced him to an awkward high school kid without a penny to his name wearing an outdated suit that didn’t fit.

  “Okay, fine. We can meet on Monday evening at 7:00 p.m.” He scribbled his address on the title page in the book, ripped it out, and gave it to her.

  Her eyes grew big as she took the page from his hand.

  “What’s wrong? It’s just the title page.”

  Kelsie shook her head and sighed. He’d screwed up again, but he didn’t see what the big deal was. “Fine, I’ll get you another book.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? This book is a cherished possession, more than just a book. Regardless of an article’s material value, you need to show respect for other people’s property.”

  Zach stared at a point on the wall over her head. He felt like an idiot, but he’d be damned if he’d tell her that. “This isn’t going to work out.”

  A fleeting moment of panic crossed her face before cool, superior Kelsie took over. “It’ll work out fine. I love challenges.”

  Then it hit him harder than a block by a three-hundred-pound tackle. Waitressing at a banquet. The piece of shit car with all the stuff piled in it. The desperation he’d seen in her eyes at the charity ball. This bullshit career of hers. Kelsie was down on her luck. Maybe even flat broke.

  She needed this job. Because of that, she needed him.

  The thought brought a smile to his face. Payback is a bitch. For the first time, he sensed he had the upper hand with her, and he’d use every bit of power he had to make this mean girl do restitution for all the nasty, bitchy things she’d done to him in high school.

  She’d work for every penny the Jacks paid her. He didn’t want to attend manners class. He didn’t give a flying seagull’s ass about Veronica Simms’s demands. They’d forced him to attend against his will, and he planned on giving Kelsie as much hell as she’d given him as a high school kid with his first crush. Not that he’d be mean about it, not like she had been and most likely still was. Nope, he’d prove he had more class that she ever did, but he wouldn’t cooperate with her stupid demands, starting with homework assignments.

  Their gazes met and held. His breath caught in his throat. His heart flopped over, despite his brave stance. She still had the power to make him grovel for a smidgeon of her affection, but she’d never know it. Never.

  Despite how much she’d done to him, how much she’d hurt him, she still got to him in ways no other woman ever had.

  CHAPTER 5

  Opponents on the Same Team

  The next morning, Coach Jackson summoned Kelsie to the Lumberjacks’ headquarters. She sat in the reception area, hands folded in her lap, knees pressed together, and wearing that one good suit. Eventually, she’d need to get it dry-cleaned, but for now she’d make do. At least, she had a closet to hang it in.

  Kelsie had confined her blond hair to a sleek ponytail and added a small amount of makeup to her face, conserving the expensive cosmetics the best she could. Despite her attempts at frugality—a skill she’d never needed in the past—her money was depleting at an alarming rate.

  Kelsie sat board straight, a habit honed from years of pageant training courtesy of her impossible-to-please mother. Once, as a seven-year-old, she’d been exhausted after hours of being “on” at a child beauty pageant. Her face ached from smiling. Her feet screamed to be released from their too small patent-leather shoes—ladies didn’t have big feet—and her heavy makeup itched. She stood in line while the judges interviewed five finalists. When they finished with her and moved onto her rival Candace Johnson, Kelsie released a breath and every muscle in her body went limp. Her shoulders slumped, and she cocked one hip. Afterward her mother was so furious, she blamed Kelsie’s loss to Candace on Kelsie’s sloppy stance. When they got home, Carmen Carrington had forced her daughter to stand at attention in a corner for an hour without dinner. Kelsie never forgot that lesson.

  Tyler Harris sauntered by and did a double take. Turning back, he dropped into the chair next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. His trademark killer grin softened the hard lines of his handsome face. “How’s it going with our wolf-boy?”

  “Pardon?” Even as she played dumb, the hackles rose on the back of her neck like a lioness defending her cub, not that Zach looked like a cub, more like a lion, all deceptively laid-back until he struck with lightning fast speed and intensity.

  “Murphy. How’s he doing? Are you making any progress with the social moron?”

  “I don’t discuss my clients.” Her cold glare usually set most men back on their heels but not the brash, over-confident quarterback. Nothing seemed to faze him.

  “That bad?” Tyler sat back and propped his feet on the coffee table.

  “No, that good.” She looked straight ahead.

  He chuckled and smiled, a genuine smile, which momentarily allowed the nice guy buried deep under all the egotistical posturing to emerge. “You’re one gutsy lady to take him on.”

  “Who’s gutsy?” Zach stalked over to where they sat, dressed in a ratty pair of workout sweats, a towel draped around his neck. His wrinkled clothes, stubbled face,
and shaggy hair presented a stark contrast to Tyler’s expensive sweats and cleanly shaven face.

  Tyler Harris might be a gorgeous specimen, but Zach was oh-so-hot, so male, so sexy. The testosterone poured off him in waves and alerted every female cell in Kelsie’s body to his presence, as if her eyes alone hadn’t already done the job. She fanned her face. Too young for hot flashes, it didn’t take a Rhodes scholar to figure out what started the wildfire burning across her cheeks.

  “Kelsie’s gutsy for taking on a jerk like you, Murphy.”

  “Better than a prick like you.” Zach dropped into the chair next to Kelsie and ran a hand through his unruly hair, as if a finger combing could tame that rat’s nest. Kelsie made a mental note to find him a decent stylist.

  Tyler stood, typical alpha male using his height to intimidate. Zach didn’t blink. Instead he held a hand up to his mouth and yawned.

  Kelsie leaned close to whisper in Zach’s ear. His clean male scent seduced her with a naked Zach fantasy. For a moment she forgot what she was going to say. The odd look on Tyler’s face snapped her out of it. “Zach, now’s a good time to practice what you’ve learned in class on Mr. Harris.” She stabbed him with her best don’t-screw-this-up glare.

  Zach stared straight ahead, his chin jutting out in stubborn defiance.

  “Zach.” Kelsie threatened a warning in her tone. The two men—and she used the term lightly—squared off like bullies on a playfield.

  Zach glowered at her for a short moment. He stood up to face Harris and visibly composed himself. “Mr. Harris, so nice to see you today. I’m looking forward to our first home game on Sunday. I believe we’ll have a stupendous time kicking some major ass.”

  Tyler threw back his head and laughed so hard the sound rang off the walls and tears filled his eyes.

  Zach shrugged, seemingly unaffected by Tyler’s laughter. He walked across the seating area to one of two championship trophies on display and touched the glass encasing the gleaming silver football like a worshipper touching the face of his idol.