Line of Scrimmage

by Desiree Holt

  “Caregivers?” He shook his head. “A stranger living in my house? A drill sergeant in scrubs? No thanks. No agency creeps.” A sudden wave of sadness gripped him. “Besides, it would remind me too much of Mom.”

  He didn’t think he’d ever forget those last couple of years when their mother was dying and the parade of nurses and attendants through the house. He was just glad he’d had the bucks by then to get her the best. But he knew having someone from an agency around would creep him out. Besides, somehow in his mind, hiring a caretaker or caregiver or whatever the fuck Ivy wanted to call that person was an admission of the severity of his situation. He knew it didn’t make sense but he couldn’t help it.

  Ivy sighed. “Jake, get used to the fact that you can’t live alone until you’re back on both feet. Literally. I mean, for sure someone needs to take care of you,” she added. “You certainly can’t cook for yourself, or clean, among other things.”

  “I have a maid who comes in regularly. I can add more days. And I have every takeout place on speed dial.” He was getting more depressed by the minute. He had no idea what kind of person he could tolerate in his home for the indefinite future.

  “Your laundry needs to be done. You—”

  “The maid does my laundry, too,” he pointed out.

  “Jake.” Ivy shook her head. “This is serious. It’s more than that. Why are you being such an ass about this? Face facts. When you get home, you’ll be pretty incapacitated, at least until you get that cast off your wrist. Getting around won’t be as easy as you think.”

  “You’re just a ball of cheer, aren’t you?” he complained. Goddamn that linebacker who fell on him the wrong way. If he had a gun, he might shoot the guy.

  “I’m trying to be practical here.” She lifted up his hand and squeezed it. “I just want to help you get through this, Jakie. You’re my brother and I love you.”

  “Please don’t call me that stupid name.” He frowned. “Someone might hear you.”

  “Okay.” She giggled. “Jakie.” She wiped the smile from her face. “I’m trying to do the best for you, okay?”

  He knew that. He just couldn’t help letting his bitterness come through. He saw his life lying in tatters and shreds around him. And having a stranger living in his house, seeing how incapacitated he was, didn’t sit well with him, even though he knew he couldn’t avoid it. He guessed he thought if he refused, then miraculously the situation would go away.

  “So have you got any other ideas about a babysitter for me?”

  She nodded. “I agree with you an agency worker probably wouldn’t fit the bill, but I promised I’d bring it up. DiMarco was very firm we get someone who can handle more things for you than just personal care. Someone to deal with things like the media when it starts sniffing you out. Groupies who might try to show up at your house. Then there’s your e-mail and snail mail. Stuff like that.”

  “Again I point out that you’d be perfect for this.”

  “Har, har, har. Don’t change the subject. I want to get this fixed so I can feel comfortable going to work knowing you’re in a good situation.”

  He hadn’t really meant to be so flippant with her. Ivy had a plum job with a marketing firm, and he actually knew what a great job she did. In fact, the owner of the Mustangs had spoken to him not too long ago about his opinion of bringing her on to the team staff. He’d wondered if it would be awkward for either of them. But before anything could be worked out the disaster had happened.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” he grumbled. Shit, could things get any worse for him? “I get the message. So let’s hear what else you came up with.”

  “I had some thoughts on this.” Ivy had what he called her inscrutable look on her face. Usually it meant trouble for someone else. He was afraid this time it meant trouble for him. He just hoped to hell he was wrong.

  “What’s going on in your head?” he asked. “Should I be afraid?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You should be impressed. What if I could find someone who just fit the bill? Could handle everything we discussed and do it very efficiently. Cook for you. Shop for you. Haul your ass back and forth to the doctor and physical therapy. Answer your phone. Deal with your mail. Keep the female vultures away from you. Sort of executive assistant with a few extra duties thrown in. Someone who would make herself invisible except when you need her. And was smart and easy on the eyes to boot. What would you say?”

  Jake stared at her. Somehow this sounded too good to be true. “I’d say you’re crazy. No one like that exists. Or if she did, she probably wouldn’t work for me.”

  “But what if she did?” Ivy persisted. “What would you say? And would you pay her commensurately?”

  “Hell, I know these people don’t come cheap. What do you want me to say? Sky’s the limit? You’ve got it.” An unpleasant thought rolled through him and he narrowed his eyes. “She wouldn’t be someone trying to get her mitts on me, would she?”

  “You know I’d never do that to you. Trust me.” Ivy laughed. “If I can even persuade her to take this job, that’s the last thing she’d want. You can take that to the bank.”

  “Yeah? So what’s this paragon’s name?”

  “Her name?” Ivy stared at him blankly.

  “Yeah. Her name. She has one, right? Especially if she’s so fucking perfect.”

  “Oh, um, Anne. Her name is Anne Hardy.”

  Why did she have such a problem remembering the name? What the hell was his sister doing?

  “What’s going on here, Ivy? Are you up to some kind of trick? Because I gotta tell you, I’m not up to dealing with it right now.”

  “No, no, no,” she said, hastily. “No tricks.”

  Still, the feeling of unease wouldn’t go away.

  “Does she have references?” he demanded. He wasn’t going to have some dip shit idiot female in his house. Or worse yet, a candidate for guard at a women’s prison.

  Ivy giggled. “Yes. Me. And that should be good enough for you.”

  “All right.” He sighed. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to go as well as his sister thought, but he’d give it a shot. What other choices did he have that wouldn’t involve a test of his sanity?

  “She’s not helping me shower.” He knew he sounded like a petulant kid, but he didn’t want some damn woman washing his junk, not when it wasn’t foreplay. He punched the covers in exasperation. “I foresee all kinds of problems here, my sweet sister.”

  “Like what?” she asked, and looked at her notes again. “I already took care of that. Home Health Care is sending someone once a day to help you shower—a man—and please don’t bite his head off.”

  “Goddamn it.” None of this sat well with him. Every single thing just underscored the extent of his situation and the possibility of the worst possible outcome.

  “I know you can manage to get to the bathroom,” she went on, “because I’ve seen you do it here since they removed the traction. It may not be beautiful but it works.”

  “Maybe I will fall and break my damn neck.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness and resentment out of his voice. This just wasn’t fair. “At least I’d be out of my misery.”

  “I’m not even going to try and reason with you when you’re like this,” she told him. “No one understands more than I do, but I have to believe things will be okay.”

  “Yeah.” He wanted to scream and throw things. “At least one of us does. How will I get home on Sunday, and when will Miss Perfect show up.”

  Ivy scrolled through her notes on her phone before typing rapidly. “I’ll be here Sunday morning to take you home.” She looked up at him. “We’ll use a wheelchair to get you into the house, and then you’ll have it if you need it.”

  “I’m not riding in a fucking wheelchair.” He could feel the irritation rising in his gorge, choking him.

  “You’ll do what I say if you want them to let you out of this place. And trust me, you’ll be damn grat
eful for it.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’ll spend the night and get you set. I’ll have Anne arrive Monday morning before you get up and before I have to leave.”

  She rose from the chair and stood so close to the bed her face was inches from his. “Listen. I know this has turned your life upside down. We all know it. The team is paying for the best of everything to help you heal. I’m getting someone in the house for you. But no one can fix your head except you.” She grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eye. “Get it?”

  Oh, he got it. He just didn’t like it. “I hear you.”

  “Good. Now.” She reached for the small box she’d brought with her. “How about one of those spiced muffins you like?”

  He hated to tell her but the best muffins in the world weren’t going to fix what was wrong with him. He just had a sick feeling his life was about to fall apart even more than it had.

  * * * *

  Erin stared at her friend as if she hadn’t heard right.

  “You want me to babysit some guy? Is that what you’re asking me? Did I hear right?”

  Ivy shook her head. “No. Not babysit. Use your skills to help someone who is incapacitated and needs assistance for the moment.”

  Erin scrubbed her face, wiping away fatigue as if that had made her hear wrong. After all, she had hardly arrived back in her apartment before Ivy showed up. Her suitcases weren’t even unpacked yet. Two weeks on a luxury yacht playing personal trainer to a dozen rich women was a lot more stressful than it sounded. Her brain was probably asleep.

  “I’m not sure that’s what I’m hearing, so maybe you’d better tell me again.”

  Ivy took a sip of the tea Erin had fixed. “I’m just glad you’re back. I was afraid I’d be out of luck. Honey, this is a win/win situation for everyone.”

  “Yeah?” Erin quirked an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”

  “You need a job and I need someone with your skills in training people’s bodies. See? Win/win.”

  Erin took a swallow of her tea. She could certainly use a job. The two weeks at sea had paid well, but her reserve funds were low and not much stood between her and shit-out-of-luck. Who knew her job situation would be suddenly turned on its ear? Or that no place in the entire Greater Austin area was hiring a trainer either for a spa or a fitness center? Not even a plain old gym. How was that even possible? Her luck just sucked.

  She’d gotten a great severance package, and she’d been able to pick up jobs here and there, filling in for people going on vacation. But that buggy ride was about to come to a halt.

  Her rent was due, she was nearly out of money, and she was facing the task of having to relocate. Everything just sucked. The offer to spend two weeks at sea with a bunch of women who wanted to exercise and tone every day had been a lifeline. It also got her out of Austin where it seemed every living person was talking about the opening of football season, the Mustangs, and the gridiron god, Jake Russell.

  Sometimes, in the deepest dark of night, when she lay in bed, wondering how her life had taken such a sharp turn for the worse, images of that night together floated through her brain, tantalizing and torturing her. She’d been right to stop it before it got started. She just knew it. The pain she carried from the past was a constant reminder of that. But oh, lordy, how her traitorous body yearned for him. If he were here now, she knew she’d be tempted to throw caution to the winds. Then she’d just regret the hell out of it afterward. For a moment, she was tempted to ask about him, but she clamped down on her mouth. That way was trouble.

  “Come on,” Ivy coaxed. “We can help each other. You need a job and I have a situation.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Ivy, your situations mean trouble nine times out of ten.”

  “No, no, no,” her friend said in a hurried tone. “This is really, really legit. Like I said, I have a client who’s in need of your services.”

  “A client? From the marketing firm? Doing what? You don’t have any clients that require your services full time, as far as I know.”

  “This is special. He needs someone who can provide personal services. It would be a live-in job for at least a couple of months.”

  “A couple of months? Live in?” Erin stared at her. “What the hell kind of job is it, anyway? And does whoever this is know that personal services doesn’t extend to the bedroom?”

  Now Ivy laughed. “Don’t worry. That’s not in the job description.”

  “Okay, so give me the details.” She held up a hand. “I haven’t said I’d take it yet. I’m not a nursemaid or babysitter, remember?”

  Ivy nodded, sipped her tea, and leaned back in the couch. Her bland expression and relaxed posture should have been a warning to Erin that she was being softened up. But all she could think of was the bills coming and needing a place to live.

  “The agency has a client who had a surfboarding accident,” she told Erin. “He broke his leg.”

  Erin made a rolling motion with her hand. “And?”

  “And he’s coming home from the hospital Sunday. A friend of his and I are taking care of that, but then he needs help.”

  By the time Ivy had finished describing the injuries, the restrictions, and some of what the job would entail, Erin had to admit she was at least halfway intrigued.

  “I’m not sure I’m fully qualified, though,” she told her friend.

  “Phooey.” Ivy flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. “You have all the skills. You’re a certified trainer so you can deal with his limitations and help him with his therapy when he gets started on it. I know you’ve temped at offices before enough to be able to handle that kind of stuff. And remember, too, I’ve tasted your cooking. He’ll think he’s died and gone to heaven.”

  If she had all these wonderful qualities, how come she was still single and nearly unemployed?

  She studied her friend. “Who is this guy, anyway? What’s he like? Maybe he’s a jackass and I’ll walk out the first day.”

  Ivy waved her hand in the air. “You’ll be fine. He’s understandably a little irritated about his, um, situation, but you can handle that.”

  “Yeah? How little is a little irritated?”

  “You’ll be fine,” Ivy repeated.

  Erin tried not to notice her friend had deftly avoided a direct answer.

  “What’s the pay?” she asked.

  Ivy named a figure that made Erin’s eyes pop wide. “No kidding?”

  “No kidding.” Ivy nodded her head for emphasis.

  Erin let everything roll around in her mind for a minute. “You’re going to an awful damn lot of trouble for someone who’s just a client of the agency,” she pointed out.

  “My boss asked me to do this as a personal favor for him. The guy is a close friend of his, and I’ve worked with him on several projects over the years.”

  “Doesn’t your boss have a wife or a girlfriend or someone he could ask?” Erin wanted to know.

  Ivy shook her head. “No, and I’m probably closer to him than anyone at the agency. Besides, he knows I have a lot of contacts and I said I’d help.” Ivy sat there with a pleading expression on her face. “It would really score me a lot of points at work if I can make this happen. And your particular skills as a trainer would be good to help him with his exercises.” She winked. “My boss got really excited about that.”

  Erin’s eyes widened. “You told him about me?”

  Ivy shrugged. “Just a little, so he’d know I had someone perfect in mind.”

  “But you had no idea if I’d say yes.”

  “Honey, this man needs help and you need a job. Don’t tell me that’s not a good fit.”

  “So tell me a little about him, besides the fact he’s a close friend of your boss.” When she didn’t say anything, Erin lifted an eyebrow. “Should I be settling in for a long story? Does he have dark secrets or something?”

  “No, no, no. It’s really very simple. He’s, uh, thirty-two, an
d—”

  “Ivy, I don’t care how old he is unless he’s over seventy. I’m not looking for a hookup, okay? Just the basics.”

  “That is part of the basics.” Ivy grinned. “He’s good looking, too.”

  “Ivy,” Erin warned.

  Ivy gave her a sly look. “Can’t blame a gal for thinking maybe—” She held up a hand. “I’ll be good. I promise.” She blew out a puff of air. “He’s in a very high profile position. He’s very much in demand in his line of work, so being incapacitated has really put a crimp in his life.”

  “Poor baby.” Erin couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “What’s the name of this Mr. Perfect?”

  “Of course. He’s…Russ Jacobs.” Ivy cleared her throat. “Moving right along. He’s in a cast and on crutches. He can’t drive or otherwise get around very well.”

  “And his requirements are what, again?”

  “Grocery shopping, cooking, answering phone calls and mail, checking his e-mail. He does some philanthropic work, so he’ll get calls about that. He gets visitors so someone will need to manage those. Keep them to a minimum. Also he needs to make sure he uses his undamaged muscles. Just simple exercises. I figured with all your experience as a trainer you’d be perfect for this. And it will keep you in chocolate bars until you land another gig.”

  “And why can’t he answer the phone himself?”

  “Right now he’s not in much of a mood to talk to people, so someone needs to be his buffer.”

  Erin couldn’t help being curious. “Why doesn’t he have someone from his business or corporation help him out? How come he asked your boss to help him?”

  “I told you, they’re very close friends. And he’s a very private person. He doesn’t want people he works with to see him incapacitated.”

  “Jeez, Ivy.” Erin carried her mug into the kitchen and popped another cup of tea in the single serving coffee machine. “People get hurt or have surgery all the time. What’s so friggin’ special about this guy he wants to hide away?”

  “He doesn’t deal well with adversity. Anyway,” she rushed on, “if you just ignore his grumpiness, you’ll be fine. You may have to take him a couple of places—”