I rolled my eyes. “What the hell is this,” I said, grabbing the glass, and throwing the wine down my throat. What the fuck kind of place charged this much for a bottle of wine and then didn’t give you any? “I’d like a full pour this time,” I said, handing the glass back to the waiter. “If you can manage it, sir.”
Brenna burst out laughing, and the waiter glared. “Anything you like, sir,” he said sarcastically, filling my glass to the brim so that a few errant drips escaped the crystal stemware to float downward. I watched the droplets stain the pristine tablecloth as he stalked away from the table.
“You were supposed to taste it,” Brenna said, covering her luscious mouth with her hands. “It’s important that the head of the table approves the wine pairing. Rhett, don’t you know anything about fine dining?”
“Says the woman with a head injury,” I said, picking up the glass so fast another twenty bucks worth hit the back of my hand. I resisted licking it off in a show of defiance, but the waiter had started ignoring me the moment he showed me his ass walking away. I took another swallow of wine, then poured a full glass for Brenna.
“Sorry,” Brenna said, looking uncomfortable, making me uncomfortable. “Hey, Rhett, this really doesn’t seem like you. If you want to go somewhere else, that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be fancy. I just…” Brenna trailed off, biting her lip in a delectable way. “I just wanted to spend time with you, away from your teammates and Riley.”
I grinned. There it is, I thought, my confidence surging back once more. We’re still on track, folks. There was one swing and a miss, but we got a hold of this last pitch, and it’s fouled off into the stands. Wait until my next at bat, and I’ll smack it out of the park.
Home. Fucking. Run.
An older woman with dark hair sitting at the bar kept throwing glances back at the table. The pleasant conversation with Brenna flowed, and I enjoyed just being with her. The woman glanced back again and speared me with a certain look. I knew that damn look. I fidgeted again; the woman made me anxious as hell. Who is she? I glanced over at her while mid-conversation. Did I sleep with her? She’s a little old for my taste, but still fuckable. Her daughter? Both of her daughters at the same time? Fuck, please don’t let her ruin everything with some kind of David Copperfield rabbit jumping out of the hat moment.
“Rhett? Are you okay?” Brenna looked suspicious, her eyes narrowing as she asked the question. “You keep looking toward the bar. Has someone recognized you?”
I refocused on the beauty before me. “Yeah, sure, I’m fine,” I said, swallowing the rest of my wine.
“You keep looking at that woman,” Brenna said and frowned. “Do you know her?”
I don’t fucking know! I thought angrily. I wanted to snap at her, but she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my jumbled annoyance. Just then, the gears began to spin, and I realized that yes, I did know that woman. Janet McCall. The same woman who had originally broken into the male-dominated field of sports journalism. The woman, the myth, the legend.
She had been Brenna’s main mentor.
As if she’d been suspended in thick air, I watched her get up, turn, and walk straight toward our table.
Fuck me.
Chapter Eleven
Brenna
“Rhett? Why is that woman walking over here?” I asked, frowning. For some strange reason, my heart started galloping inside my chest, and I worried that my date would be over before it really even began. What if an old lover decided she wanted to be rid of me so she could rekindle the flame? My head ached with my confusion, but as a journalist, I knew that the facts never lied. Rhett had been checking her out for the past five minutes, and he’d barely spoken since he realized her presence. The woman oozed sophistication and class. Not his usual type.
How in the world had I known that?
I lifted my fingertips up to my pounding temples, trying to dull the pain. When I realized she was walking over to the table, my stomach cramped with anxiety.
Once she reached the table, the classy woman ignored Rhett and gave me an expectant look.
Oh god. This is someone I know – or someone I used to know. And why is Rhett being so shady? Why couldn’t he have just told me the truth as soon as I saw her?
“Brenna,” she said warmly, standing at the table, and obviously waiting for me to stand. As quickly as I could, I leapt out of my chair. One of my heels caught on the carpet, and I cried out as I tumbled forward, landing on my hands and knees on the red and gold patterned carpet.
“Oh god,” Rhett said. He got out of his chair and grabbed my elbow, helping me up as his eyes swept over me with tender concern. “Are you okay, Brenna?”
The brunette woman eyed me with open curiosity, then turned her glance to Rhett. “Rhett,” she said in a syrupy-sweet voice. “This is a surprise.”
I frowned. “What’s a surprise?”
She laughed. “Brenna, I’m surprised to see you with him.” She smiled, but it wasn’t entirely warm. “Are you working on an interview of some sort? Interesting choice of venue for that.”
“Why is that strange?” I asked, eyeing her pointing fingers as she indicated the finer points of the restaurant.
Before she could answer, Rhett smoothly stepped in and beamed at her, taking one of her elegantly manicured hands in his large one. “Janet, nice to see you. Reporting from a classier location?”
The woman – Janet – smoothed her dark hair and pursed her crimson lips together as if touching Rhett had given her a bad case of indigestion. “Not exactly.” She glanced back over toward the bar, pulling her fingers from his grasp. “I’m just here with a friend, having a drink.”
“But you are still reporting?” Rhett pressed on. “Would hate to see you give up your career when you’re not even close to retirement age.”
She’s a reporter, I thought. And he’s using veiled insults for some reason. Was she an adversary? Closing my eyes, I tried desperately to identify Janet’s name or face and figure out why she might be talking to me. She’s a reporter, she’s a reporter, she’s a–
“Of course,” Janet said, her lips going from pouting to pressed into a tight, white line of annoyance. “I’ve been at it so long, wouldn’t want to give up now. And I hope you haven’t given up, Brenna. Not after all the time we spent together.”
Had she been my mentor or something? Or maybe an old coworker, or a boss. Yeah, she must have been my boss at one time. Unfortunately, the realization that I was supposed to know Janet didn’t help jog my memory. If anything, I felt foggier and more confused than ever. Why was she so surprised to see me with Rhett? I bet it’s because of how badly he played the last game, I decided. She must be shocked that he’s able to get any face time with a top sports writer in the city.
“Of course not,” I said, trying to smile through my confusion and doubt. “I’ve been taking a little time off, but I’ll be back at it soon.”
“Good,” Janet said, her voice dripping with warmth as she looked at me. She winked, and I noticed that she was much friendlier to me than she was to Rhett. She pulled out a slim silver card case. “Listen, Brenna, if you ever want to get together – it’s been a long time since we talked. Why not give me a call sometime? I’d love to do lunch.”
“Sure,” I said quickly, taking the card, and glancing down. Sure enough, it read Janet McCall, SuperStar Public Relations.
“What did you think of the last game between the Jets and the Packers?” Janet asked me, and I didn’t know where the new line of questioning was headed. Riley had told me that I only covered baseball, so they must be in the MLB too. America’s favorite pastime was apparently my sole area of expertise. “And I couldn’t believe that scandal with the Patriots. So disheartening.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. The name Jets sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember the Patriots. “Yeah, it was really crazy.”
“Especially that ending.” Janet clapped a hand to her forehead in mock distress. “I thought I was going t
o have white hair by the time it was over.” She laughed. “You know, owning a PR firm doesn’t seem that much less stressful than journalism, to be honest,” she said, smiling again. “But it keeps me young and on top of things.”
I nodded, feeling dazed. All of this – Rhett, the Patriots, the Jets, public relations – seemed new to me and my headache throbbed its displeasure. The way that Janet spoke to me so warmly led me to believe that we’d truly known each other well, and I felt depressed and alarmed that I couldn’t seem to remember her prior to this interaction.
“It was a crazy game,” Rhett said, stepping in and flashing a bright smile at Janet. “Hey, Janet, you know anyone who would want free box seats for the rest of the season? We haven’t been doing that well, but you know…” He shrugged. “You might enjoy yourself anyway.”
“Why, Rhett,” Janet said, sounding truly impressed for the first time since she’d had Rhett Bradshaw in her line of sight. “That would be so sweet of you. Here’s my card – just call my assistant, and she’ll give you my address. I’m sure my husband would love to come to a game or two with me. Who knows, afterward maybe we can…chat.”
Rhett inclined his head almost regally. “Yeah, that would be great.”
“Well, I have a feeling that I’m intruding,” Janet said, glancing from me to Rhett. She frowned again and speared me with a look of censure as if I were a thirteen-year-old girl smoking her first cigarette. “Just be careful, Brenna,” she added. She leaned down and air-kissed both of my cheeks, leaving me in a cloud of musky orchid perfume. “It was so nice to see you.”
“It was great seeing you too,” I said, smiling. Relief enveloped me, calming down the rapid pace of my pulse. But I couldn’t shake the sense that I’d missed something important. I made a mental note to call Riley and ask her about this Janet woman and her ties to me. I’d do it later once I got home from this date.
Janet gave us one last lingering confused look, then spun on her heel and walked back toward the bar.
“Hey, thanks for that,” I said as Rhett and I sat back down at the table. The waiter still hadn’t come to take our order, and I teetered on my feet from the low blood sugar.
“No problem,” Rhett said, his eyes narrowing in concern at my stumble. “You okay?”
I nodded. “I’m just really, really hungry. You want to go somewhere else?” I asked, sipping the last of my wine.
“Who, me? No!” Rhett argued with a wink, throwing his arms open. “I love this place. My new favorite. I might see if I can get a standing reservation.”
I squinted at him, seeing straight through his good-natured ribbing. “You obviously don’t,” I quipped. “You’ve been on edge ever since we came in here. Look, I know this isn’t your style. Why don’t we go somewhere else?”
Rhett shrugged but looked relieved. “If that’s what the lady wants.”
“Besides,” I added, leaning over the table and whispering. “I’m starving, and I have a feeling we’ll be here for hours before our entrees arrive. Someone has pissed off the waiter.”
Rhett chuckled. “Okay. I’ll leave him a huge tip for his trouble. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Where to?”
Rhett grinned and winked at me, sending my heart fluttering. My stomach flipped over, and I had a feeling it wasn’t just from the hunger pangs.
“Surprise me,” Rhett said, standing, and holding out his hand to me. “Can you remember any place else in the city you like to go?”
I smiled and clasped mine in his warm one. It felt safe. Right. Like home.
A memory flickered. I focused and held onto it, and the memory bloomed a bit more. I grinned. “Okay. I think I might know a place you’ll like.”
Chapter Twelve
Rhett
When Brenna asked if I wanted to leave the Russian Tea Room, pleasure and innate relief coursed through my body. My choice of date night venue had been a disaster from one end to the other. I’d made absolutely no progress with Brenna, and then that bitch Janet had stuck her nose into my business to try to implode everything. She’d never liked me. Hell, her dislike of me probably started Brenna’s dislike of me. She’d been brainwashed by the successful and powerful older woman.
Brenna walked out of the restaurant in front of me, her legs wobbling in those tall heels. I grinned at the sight of her ample ass, swaying from side to side. It was so round, so luscious that I was tempted to reach right out and squeeze it.
“Rhett?” Brenna turned around. “Are you okay? You’re being so quiet.”
“I’m great,” I said, trying to keep my eyes trained on her face instead of the glorious globes of her behind. “So, where are we going?”
Brenna blushed as she placed a finger up to her lush lips. “It’s a secret.”
“Well, you’ll have to tell me a general direction,” I said, raising my eyebrow and grinning at her. “I’m driving, after all.”
Brenna shoulder checked me. “Okay. We’re going to the Strand – the hotel, not the bookstore.”
My face broke out in a wide grin before I could temper it. “Ah, sweetheart, if you wanted to get me alone in a hotel room, all you had to do was ask.”
Brenna’s cheeks flamed so red that it turned her blue dress lavender. “No,” she said, biting her lower lip. “There’s a bar on the rooftop – it’s a cocktail bar, it’s really nice. You know, kind of quiet and trendy but not snooty.”
“It’s so cool that you remember it.”
Her eyes brightened. “Yeah, it is. It’s so strange what I remember and what I don’t.”
I nodded and made a feeble attempt to push my luck. It couldn’t hurt to get her mind acquainted with the idea of me on top of her. “You sure you don’t remember the hotel part?”
Brenna crossed her arms over her chest, an eyebrow lifted to her hairline. I smirked as I helped her inside my Porsche. It was hard not to do a jaunty little dance and click my heels in the air as I walked around to the driver side. She totally wants me. As soon as I get a few drinks in her, she’s gonna beg me for it.
The end loomed before me. As soon as I fucked Brenna Sinclair out of my system, I knew things would go back to normal. My pitching would be incredible once again, and I’d finally be able to return to business as usual without any more time dwelling on thoughts of Brenna. I felt like slamming my head against the leather-wrapped steering wheel. I was a professional athlete – a grown-ass man – and I’d been caught mooning over this sexy journalist like a love-struck teenager.
Deep down, I knew why I’d become obsessed with this particular girl. It was because Brenna had hated me so viciously that having her fawn all over me felt like sweet revenge. It had to be. Any other explanation flew in the face of logic and common sense.
I knew that she’d go back to hating me as soon as she let me in her panties – it wasn’t like I planned on getting involved. Rhett Bradshaw didn’t have time for a relationship. I didn’t date girls. I fucked them, and then I moved on to my next conquest. Besides, I almost never slept with the same girl twice. The few times I’d succumbed, I ended up riddled with regret over their unmet expectations.
“Rhett?” Brenna whispered, bringing my attention back to her in a heartbeat. “Do you think I’ll ever get better?”
“Sure,” I said, crossing my fingers on the wheel. “I mean, you have to. The doctors all say you will, right? They’re the experts.”
“They do,” Brenna agreed. Her face had turned dark and stormy, and I wondered what I could do to make the sun rise again. “I just…” She sighed. “I hate feeling like I’m such a burden to everyone. First, Riley bailed me out of everything, and now you.” She looked at me, her green eyes wide and sincere. “Rhett, I’m sorry about what happened at the restaurant. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize Janet. I feel like such an idiot.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. Brenna’s open, earnest behavior had crawled under my skin, making me feel like an asshat. I almost wished she could go back to laughing at me li
ke she had when I’d fucked up the wine list.
“Well, I do,” Brenna continued. “I get the feeling that Riley is so annoyed with me all the time. She always acts irritated whenever I ask her about something.”
“She’s jealous,” I said, turning down a side street and parking next to the curb.
“Jealous?” Brenna sniffed. “Why would Riley be jealous of me?”
I chuckled. “Well, Brenna, have you seen Riley lately? I mean, she’s an okay girl, don’t get me wrong. But she looks like every other hipster wannabe in New York. She’s not you. You’re something special.”
Brenna frowned. “I don’t think that’s it,” she said, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I don’t think she was like that before.”
“But you don’t know that for sure, do you?” I asked.
Brenna flushed. “No. I don’t.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I punched the button for the elevator and leaning against the wall to wait for the ding. “Your memory will come back, probably the minute you stop stressing about it.”
“It feels so weird,” Brenna said. “I have these dreams with people that I feel like I know, but when I wake up, I don’t remember them. I’m so frustrated – and I’m worried about my job.”
“Hey,” I said, taking her by the shoulders and creating intense eye contact. As if doing so would help her to believe me. Brenna blushed. I leaned down and kissed her, pressing my lips against hers. She tasted like wine and strawberries, and her velvet soft lips against mine felt like heaven. I slipped my tongue into Brenna’s mouth, and she moaned, pressing her body against mine.
When I pulled away, I grinned. “See? All better. This is a night of fun. No more stressing, got that?”
Brenna nodded. I thought she’d start up again with her laments about her memory loss, but thankfully, she kept her luscious lips shut. The elevator doors dinged open, and we stepped inside.
Sinker: Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 9
