“Please, have a seat.” Violet indicated the chair in front of her desk. “Would you like something? Coffee? Tea? I have water and juice if you would prefer.”
“No. Nothing.” Terrance waited until she sat down before taking his seat. “I know you’re a busy woman.”
“And you’re a busy man.” Violet smiled at his questioning look. “After speaking with you on the phone, I did my research, Mr. Aldridge. Besides heading the Gaige Benson Foundation, you run your own business. Plus, you volunteer your time coaching youth football. You’ve been married to the same woman for almost thirty years. Two children, right?”
“I’m impressed. Did you find all of that online?”
“Google is one of my best friends.”
Terrance laughed, the sound deep and inviting. “We have the same taste in friends. Shall I tell you what I learned about you?”
“God,” Violet cringed. “Do I want to know?”
“I assure you, it’s all good. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.” Terrance didn’t wait for her permission. “You graduated from Johns Hopkins University. You are one of the top eye specialists in the country, donating your time to Doctors Without Borders. You rotate between three hospitals here in New York.”
Violet noticed a major difference between her rendition and his. Terrance had a personal life. A wife. Children. Violet had her job—period. Her personal life consisted of sleeping and a weekly dinner with her father.
When had she given up on an attempt at a love life? The day she caught Gavin cheating on her with his secretary? Or before that? It had never been a passionate marriage. But she had liked him. She thought they were rubbing along nicely. Apparently, Gavin wanted more than half-hearted sex and the occasional hello as she rushed out the door each morning. Imagine that.
Since the divorce, Violet could count the number of her dates on one hand. Twice, those dates had ended with sex. Ended being the operative word. She hadn’t seen either man again—by mutual choice.
She liked sex, damn it. Or she had. Once upon a time when she was younger, it hadn’t seemed to be a waste of time. There was nothing like a toe-curling orgasm. But at some point, she lost patience with fooling around. The fumbling and groping that she had found to be an enjoyable form of foreplay became an annoyance. Her vibrator did the job—quickly and efficiently. Getting rid of the middleman—so to speak—had saved her time and frustration.
So what if her only physical contact was with her patients? Violet loved her job. It was enough. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. The past. The present. The future. Until two months ago, she thought she had them in a neat, orderly perspective. But two things had rocked her world, making her rethink her life.
The death of her mother. And an out of the blue phone call. On the surface, there didn’t seem to be a connection. But lies and secrets tied them irrevocably together. The common link? Gaige Benson. Her past had caught up with her present with lightning speed. Terrance Aldridge was the key to finding out if Gaige might be part of her future.
“Now that we’ve established that we both lead busy lives, why don’t we get down to the reason for your visit.” Violet felt a burst of butterflies take wing in her stomach. “I read the information you sent me—it was thorough and well put together.”
“Thank you. Gaige is a stickler when it comes to getting our printed material as clear and concise as possible.” Terrance laughed. “Gaige is a stickler when it comes to everything. It’s one of the reasons he’s a great QB. When he’s running the show, nothing gets done in a half-assed fashion.”
It was odd hearing Gaige’s name. Terrance spoke about him in such an offhand manner—deep affection in his voice.
“Gaige—Mr. Benson,” Violet quickly corrected herself. “His foundation is impressive.”
“Like the man,” Terrance said. “Do you follow football, Dr. Reed?”
“Please, call me Violet. I was never a fan.” Violet thought about the stacks of books she had piled throughout her apartment. “You could say that it has become somewhat of a passion of mine.”
“Really?” Violet let out a sigh of relief when Terrance didn’t ask her reasons. “As a New Yorker, I imagine you like the Giants or the Jets. I hope you won’t hold Gaige’s decidedly West Coast affiliation against him or the foundation.”
Violet smiled at his joke. Little did Terrance know. She hadn’t chosen her team by location. The Seattle Knights held her loyalty for one reason—their starting quarterback.
“Actually, my father is a Knights fan, though I didn’t know that until recently. He started following them around the time Mr. Benson joined the team.”
Interest lit in Terrance’s eyes. “Is he from Seattle?”
“No.” Violet weighed her words carefully. “I didn’t ask his reasons.” Because she already knew the answer.
Terrance nodded, apparently willing to accept her words at face value. “Let me tell you why I’m here, Violet. Gaige recently read an article about contact lenses treated with stem cells. He is fascinated by the possibilities. We would like to add a doctor, an ophthalmologist, to the foundation’s board of directors.”
Violet blinked, surprised. Terrance noticed her reaction.
“Gaige isn’t your average dumb jock,” he told her pointedly.
“Who is?” Violet said it with a straight face, but her tongue was planted firmly in her cheek.
It was Terrance’s turn to be surprised. He paused, then threw his head back in laughter. “Touché. I deserved to have my assumptions thrown back in my face. And you’re right. Dumb jock is an outdated moniker. Most of the football players I know took advantage of their time in college, graduating with degrees. They spent as much time in the library as the weight room.”
“So did I.” Violet held up her arm, flexing an impressive bicep. Then she shrugged. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist showing off.”
“I don’t blame you. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you. Now, back to the point. I’m flattered that you’re considering me for the position on the board. How many others are you meeting with? And when will you need a decision?”
“You’re it.”
“Excuse me?”
“When we know what we want we don’t mess around, Violet. We knew what we wanted. Our researchers did their usual amazing job and presented us with a short list. You were at the top.”
Violet swallowed nervously. “Mr. Benson approved your choice?”
“He will. Gaige has other commitments at the moment.”
She heard commitment and her brain automatically went to a woman. Her research could only cover so much. She knew Gaige had never married. There were mentions of women he dated, but nothing current. Was he seriously involved with someone? Violet silently groaned. That wouldn’t be irony. It would be a freaking kick in the teeth.
“Commitments?” Hidden by the desk, Violet wrung her hands.
“It’s November.” Violet sent him a blank look. “Football season. From September to the end of the season, Gaige leaves the running of the foundation to board members and me. I only bother him when there’s a major decision to be made.”
“Won’t he have to sign off before you hire me?”
“I hoped I could persuade you to fly to Seattle next week. The Knights have two home games in a row. It’s the perfect time for you to meet.”
Violet hesitated. The thought of seeing Gaige for the first time made her excited and sick all at once. She had so much she wanted—needed—to say. The question was would he want to hear any of it?
“Gaige will be on board. The decision will be up to you. Your choice.”
Your choice. Violet heard the words, only it was Gaige’s voice saying them. Sixteen years ago he told her the same thing. But it hadn’t been her choice. Not then. This time, she would have a say in what happened.
“I’ve never been to Seattle.”
“It’s a beautiful city. Even in November.” Terrence sat forward, his eyes lit with en
thusiasm. “Naturally, it won’t be necessary to move. However, did I mention there’s a brand new research facility about to open? It was funded by the Gaige Benson Foundation.”
“Handy. I would like to see that.”
“Does that mean you’ll come for a visit?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what it means.”
Crossing her fingers, Violet hoped she was making the right move. There was no way to anticipate Gaige’s reaction when they met. He wasn’t the same young man. She wasn’t the same young woman. But she had to know if there were the slightest chance for them to get to know each other as the man and woman they were today.
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN HE ESTABLISHED his foundation, Gaige had a clear, straightforward idea of what he wanted to accomplish. Help those who needed a boost in the right direction. The first few years were about building a firm toehold. Growing, little by little. What was the point of having so much if he couldn’t share it with others?
What had started as a few dedicated people working within their community, had grown into something bigger than he could have imagined. And that was saying something. Gaige didn’t dream often, but when he did, he didn’t hold back. Go big or go home. Gaige was a firm believer in jumping in feet first and pulling everyone in with him.
Thanks to his friends and some dedicated employees, his foundation had helped thousands. Just over the horizon, Gaige hoped to someday add a few zeros to the end of that number.
It was a typical Monday afternoon in late November. The day after a game meant a couple miles of roadwork followed by an easy workout at the team’s facilities. Then a few hours studying film from yesterday’s game and meeting with Coach Coleman and offensive coordinator, Jerry Wills.
“How are you holding up?” Harry asked as the meeting broke up.
“Like a rock.” A rock with a few chips and scratches. But they were twelve games into a sixteen-game season. Throw in training camp and pre-season. There wasn’t a player in the NFL who wasn’t feeling some wear and tear—no matter their age.
“That was a pretty big hit you took yesterday. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Phil Stanhope has it in for you.”
“He’s a linebacker. It’s in their DNA to hate quarterbacks. Stanhope and I don’t have a history.”
“Except you’ve beaten Baltimore seven straight times. That can rub anybody the wrong way.”
“He went for my ribs,” Gaige admitted. He stretched his body to the side, feeling a bit of tenderness. “If he had the chance, he would have covered me with sauce and had a meal. But I can still outmaneuver three hundred pounds of thundering blubber. Don’t worry, Harry. I made it this far. Nine to go.”
Nine referred to the games left in his career—including the Super Bowl. But Gaige didn’t believe in tempting fate. He didn’t mention the big game—neither did anyone else. Not unless they wanted to get on Gaige’s bad side. And no one wanted that. He was as easy going a man as you would ever find—but even he had certain buttons one shouldn’t push.
The Super Bowl was his holy grail. Think about the possibility. Hope for it. Wish all you wanted. But never say it aloud. Not in front of Gaige. Not if you wanted to keep your head on your shoulders.
“It’s early.” Harry looked at the clock. “What’s on your plate for the rest of the day? Hot date?”
“I have an interview with Paul Wellington. He’s cute, but not my type.”
That was two hours ago. Gaige wanted nothing more than a beer, steak on the rare side, and an early night. But Terrance had texted him asking him to drop by the foundation as soon as possible. Not urgent, but important. Terrance knew his schedule as well as anyone. If his old friend said something was important, he wasn’t exaggerating.
Gaige pulled into the parking lot, easing his car to a stop. It still felt odd to see his name on a plaque that read, Reserved for Gaige Benson. It was his name, but sometimes he felt like that kid from Brooklyn who dreamt of playing professional football. He wouldn’t say he had come farther than he imagined. At times like this, he mentally pinched himself. He had always expected to succeed—but he would never take it for granted.
He walked across the lot and into the building. The entire sixth floor belonged to the foundation. Last spring, they had moved from their original offices to a bigger space downtown. The plush digs weren’t just practical. Terrance reminded him that when someone considered giving money, they liked you to look like you didn’t need it. It was a crazy theory, but Gaige couldn’t argue. Donations were up thirty-five percent.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Benson.”
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get their new receptionist to call him by his first name. Maybe it was the age difference. When he was twenty-three years old, thirty-eight seemed ancient. Some days, especially after a rough game, Gaige forgot what it felt like to be that young.
But not today. It was right there in front of his eyes. Bright, energetic, and filled with the knowledge that everything was ahead of her. It was a beautiful thing. And he wouldn’t have traded places with her for anything in the world.
“How are you, Wendy?”
The pretty blonde blushed, batting her big, brown eyes. Okay. It seemed the problem wasn’t that she thought he was too old. He knew what a crush looked like. He’d been on the receiving end of enough of them. She would get over it, they always did. In the meantime, Gaige gave her a smile. Neutral and kind.
“I’m great, thank you, Mr. Benson.” The color on her cheeks grew a deeper shade of pink. “Great game yesterday. The Knights are going to the Super Bowl for sure.”
His smile didn’t slip, but it took some effort. Breathing deeply—in, then out—Gaige waited for a beat before responding. He had a standard phrase for moments like this.
“Fingers crossed.” It was inane, but it served its purpose. Wendy nodded as though his words were the cleverest thing ever spoken. “Is Terrance in his office?”
Wide-eyed, Wendy nodded. “Mr. Aldridge said to send you right in.”
Gaige walked down the hall to the last door on the right. He knocked, entering without waiting for an answer.
The office reflected the man who occupied it. Warm colors and comfortable furniture. Gaige knew that Terrance’s wife was responsible for decorating the area. But Dil Aldridge knew her husband’s tastes. The deep blues and chocolate browns suited him perfectly. It was the kind of space in which a man could do business, then relax and enjoy the view out the large plate-glass window. Downtown stretched out before them. And to the right, Knights Stadium.
Terrance looked up, concern shadowing his eyes.
“How are the ribs?”
Gaige didn’t dodge the question. Terrance wasn’t his head coach or a member of the press. He didn’t bullshit a man who had pulled him up. Taught him. Became his father. His friend. Then stood beside him—through the good and bad—for twenty-five years.
“That fucker Stanhope is gunning for me.” Gaige lifted his shirt. The bruise over his ribs was starting to turn an interesting shade—somewhere between navy blue and ink black.
“Son of a bitch. I winced when I saw him hit you. Did the x-rays come back negative?”
Gaige nodded. “I’m sore, but the ribs are fine.”
“Stanhope hates you.”
“It’s been five years.”
Terrance poured two cups of coffee. It was an expensive machine—top of the line. A gift from Gaige on his last birthday. He drank so much of the stuff his wife swore his blood had to be half caffeine. Terrance was fine with that. According to his last check-up, he had the body of a thirty-year-old. No one would convince him that six cups a day of pure Columbian brew wasn’t a big reason why.
“You stole his woman.”
Gaige accepted the cup of un-doctored coffee. He drank it black—the same as Terrance.
“The hell you say. She hit on me. I was in the mood. End of story. How was I supposed to know she was using me to make him jealous?”
“Or th
at she would make your one-night stand public knowledge.” Terrance shook his head. “You were always a good student. But the one thing I could never teach you was to keep your dick in your pants.”
“My dick has never steered me wrong.” Gaige took a sip of the hot liquid. “Roll your eyes all you want. I’m thirty-eight years old. I’ve never been divorced.”
“Because you’ve never been married.”
“I’ve never been accused of being anybody’s baby daddy.”
“Not for lack of trying.”
“I always suit up.” Gaige was damn proud of that fact.
“Condoms aren’t one hundred percent,” Terrance pointed out. “Considering all the women you’ve been with odds are one of your swimmers made it through. Maybe you’re sterile.”
“The end of the Benson line? Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
“Come over here so I can hit you upside the head.”
“I’d rather not. Been there, done that. Keep your big paws to yourself.”
“I thought we settled this years ago. You are nothing like your father. Is that what has kept you from having kids?”
Gaige didn’t respond. This was an old and well-worn conversation. Nothing changed. Not Terrance’s argument—nor his own. DNA. No matter how hard he tried to be a good man, every now and then he was reminded of what he came from. The bastard wouldn’t go away. Not in his head or his life.
Don Benson lurked in the shadows. Gaige never knew when he would pop out or what form he would take. How could he subject a child to that kind of potential nightmare?
“I like my life.” And he did. “I enjoy being a bachelor. Hell, maybe after I retire, my agent can get me on that TV show. I’ll search for true love in front of millions of viewers. Happily ever after—guaranteed.”
“You’re impossible.” Terrance leaned back in his seat. “I’ll drop it. What are your plans for the evening?”
After The Fire (One Pass Away Book 3) Page 6
