by Megan Ryder
“You remember Jason Friar, Father?”
“Of course. From his steroids deposition in front of Congress. We’re still investigating you for perjury, Friar.”
By the gleam of anticipation in his eyes, he was expecting a blowup from Jason. It was that expectation and Stacia’s grip that settled him. He smiled, a long lazy grin. “Investigate all you want, Senator. You won’t find anything. Shouldn’t Congress be doing something more beneficial for the American people than investigating a few ballplayers for possible drug use? Like passing a budget, dealing with our deficit, or, heaven forbid, protecting our country?”
The senator’s eyes blazed with rage. He ignored Jason, turning his attention to what he thought would be a softer target. “I’ve spoken with Glazier. You will resume work on his campaign next week. This dalliance with baseball will end immediately.” His spat out the word baseball like it was a four letter curse and Jason growled low.
Stacia squeezed his hand, warning him to shut up. “I’ll be returning as PR manager?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You screwed that up months ago. No, my campaign manager is advising Glazier and you’ll report to him.”
“I’m quite familiar with Chicklin and his ways. So, I’ll be a glorified coffee maker, is that what you’re saying?” Her tone was flat and dead, cold even.
“You could learn a lot from him.”
“Right, like how women only have two places in this world—raising children or for sex? Is that any different from your thoughts, Father? Who is this with you, Vanessa’s replacement?” Her gaze flickered over the younger woman clutching her father’s arm.
Jason was stunned to see this other side of Stacia, cold and hard, even cruel. He wanted to step in but the father and daughter were duking it out and she needed to stand up to him. He could only be there for her when it ended. She needed to do this. Needed to know she could stand up to him. That she had worth.
“Stacia! That’s enough of your foul tongue. I see you’ve learned all the wrong things being associated with this man. You should be grateful I went out on a limb to find this position for you, saving your career. Now, be a good daughter and do what you’re told!”
She wrapped her arm around Jason. “I do wish you’d spoken to me before you went out on a limb for me. I have a few more weeks on this contract and I don’t break my word. Good luck finding someone else to help out and do all of your work. And good luck to you, dear. I suspect I’ll be calling you Mommy Dearest soon. If I call you at all.” She pulled Jason around and walked away.
Jason stared down at her. “I have been a bad influence on you. Wow.”
She laughed and hugged him tight. “No, you’ve been a very good influence on me.” She sighed and glanced around the crowd, her face reflecting the strain of the weeks of work. “When will this night end?”
“Who are you and what have you done with Miss High Society Stacia Kendall?” He liked this new Stacia, who stood up for what she wanted, fought for it, and protected even him. No one had done that before. He hugged her close and gave her a sound kiss for everyone to see.
Chapter Twenty
They avoided the senator the rest of evening, although Jason’s back prickled with awareness. Everywhere he turned, Kendall’s eyes flung daggers at the two of them, with a special hatred for him. Stacia fooled everyone with her false laugh and gaiety throughout the rest of the night, even dancing with some of the players, though Jason was quick to claim her after the dances ended. Once he had witnessed the hurt and pain in her eyes and the desperation beneath her attempts to hide her pain from everyone, especially the one man who could get under her skin with a glance. Fortunately, the senator left shortly after the confrontation, but that last hour was the longest Jason had ever endured.
Now, with the charity ball declared a success, with thousands of dollars raised for a new ballpark for the inner city kids, they could relax and focus on the last week of the season. He steered his SUV through the late night traffic toward home. When he pulled up to his condo, Stacia jerked out of the trance she’d fallen into once they had left the stage.
“Jason, I thought I was headed home.”
“Not tonight.”
The season was ending and their business relationship was on borrowed time. At any point, her contract could be declared void since his image was clean and the season was almost over. No more need for an image consultant. A driving force inside demanded he have one last night with her, claim her one last time, see if there was more to this relationship than business. He’d vowed to never get close to anyone, especially this woman who knew how to get under his skin, but she was already there and, instead of feeling like a thorn, it felt like she belonged, like he was home when he was with her. While that feeling terrified him, and he was one second away from fleeing in the opposite direction, tonight was magic and he wanted it to last a little longer.
He got out of the car and darted around to open the door for her. Her eyebrows furrowed. He held a hand out to help her out. She slipped her cool hand in his and let him guide her from the car and into the house. She started to speak. He silenced her with a gentle kiss, not designed to ignite but to generate a slow burn. He pulled her wrap off and folded it carefully on the hall table then led her upstairs.
By this point, confusion warred with a wary trust in her gaze. He didn’t turn on the light. The full moon shone white through the bedroom skylight, spotlighting the bed, casting the room in a black and white relief like an old, silent film, with Stacia as the beautiful heroine. He turned her and inch by slow inch lowered the zipper of her dress, placing delicate kisses along the skin slowly exposed to the moonlight and his gaze. She shivered and her head fell forward as she moaned under the tender ministrations. When he reached the small of her back, he spread his fingers through the loosened fabric around to the front of her stomach and his pressed his lips to the soft skin. Her knees began to buckle and he caught her easily, letting her fall forward and the dress to slip off her arms.
She twisted to slip it off, but he stopped her, holding her upright until the dress pooled at her feet. She stood in her bra and panties and four-inch heels, skin gleaming in the moonlight. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He tugged her hair and the curls tumbled down on her shoulders, pins raining down from the loosened do.
He ran his hands up her arms then cupped her upper arms. His heart tugged with a sensation that he could only describe as love. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathed.
He pressed light, butterfly kisses to her forehead and face, avoiding her mouth, until she moaned and moved her lips to meet his in a devastatingly sweet kiss. When she tried to deepen it, he pulled away and led her to the bed, laying her down. He caressed her body, feathery touches on her skin. Goose bumps broke out along the path of his light touch and she writhed beneath him, moaning, but he ignored her pleas, continuing his assault on her senses, the slow build to the inevitable climax. He needed to show her how he felt, the only way he knew how.
After he had brought her to three increasingly strong climaxes and she lay boneless beneath him, he joined her, bringing her to one final slow burn, joining in one final soul-deep kiss as they climaxed together.
*
Stacia panted quietly, her body wrung out and drained. She snuggled up to Jason’s hard body, and her mind overwhelmed by the emotions of the lovemaking session. The feeling had been so much more, so much stronger than she had ever experienced. Was it love, a promise of a deeper commitment, or was it something else, a goodbye of sorts? Ice chilled her heart and she shivered, burrowing closer.
Beyond Jason, she had so many other worries. She had wanted to get back in the game, back into the political arena but now she knew that she could never go back, not to politics. Her father would make sure of that, only letting her back in on his terms and after this evening, it was doubtful he would ever allow her back into anything he was involved in. She knew him well enough to predict his next mo
ve. Now that she had defied him openly twice, even three times if accepting the position with Jason was a strike against her, he would wait for her to come crawling back, begging for forgiveness, before he let her return to politics. Her boss, Michael, knew his livelihood depended on politicians and he would never openly defy her father, so her other avenue was closed too.
Her whole life, spent pleasing her father and doing what she was told, and it was over in an instant. What was her next move? Did she have one?
For the first time in her life, she had the power to decide what she wanted. What did she want? And did she have the courage to make a new life for herself, away from her father?
Jason’s arm tightened around her stomach. “Stop thinking. You’re keeping me up.”
She snuggled closer. “Funny, you don’t seem awake to me.”
He cracked one eye open. “Keep wiggling and you’ll find out.”
She wiggled her butt, wedging it into his crotch. His cock hardened against her skin. He gripped her, holding her firmly against him. “Stop moving. Go to sleep.”
Feeling tired and sore, and not having enough energy for more play, she shifted closer to his body and let his warmth seep into her, lulling her to sleep. He quieted the torment inside her. Made her feel safe. Loved.
*
Stacia’s quiet breathing next to him broke the silence but not enough to lull Jason to sleep. He pulled her close, snuggling her against his body. She burrowed into his warmth and sighed in her sleep. His arm draped across her body, gently caging her and he tried to will himself to sleep but his mind betrayed him.
He should have been exhausted after an afternoon game, a charity event, not to mention the confrontation with Senator Kendall who still had a hard-on for him, then two rounds with Stacia. Only, he was wide awake, his mind whirling with feelings Stacia had raised.
How had she gotten under his skin so deeply, picking at wounds he thought long healed, wounds so deep he had barely remembered he had them. Yet one little dinner and his image consultant dug right to the heart of the matter and exposed him for everyone to see.
Stacia mumbled a little and snuggled closer. Reflexively, he tightened his arm around her and she sighed and relaxed into a deeper sleep.
How would she feel about him when his career was finally over? Was he fooling himself with this relationship? Was it even a relationship or a way to keep his reputation clean? Was she doing little more than prostituting herself for a job? She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t introduced the subject so maybe it was true.
Stacia wouldn’t do that to him. No, she loved him. He knew that now. Just as he knew he loved her. Now, how to tell her?
*
Jason stepped out on the porch of his condo to grab the paper. Stacia might like her tablet and online newspapers, but he liked to see the print, and enjoy it over a cup of coffee without worrying about spilling anything on the screen. He was old-fashioned that way.
It was a beautiful September day. The day seemed brighter after the night. For the first time since returning to baseball, he felt at peace and rested. It was all due to Stacia.
He stepped inside and wandered to the kitchen. Tossing the paper onto the table, he poured a cup of coffee and sat down to read the sports section, but it was the front page that grabbed his attention, stealing his breath and freezing him in his seat.
Representative Glazier and Image Consultant: Love Affair or Convenience?
And right below the large print headline was a picture of Stacia and Representative Glazier at a party. Stacia was clinging to his arm and gazing up at him adoringly. He quickly scanned the article as rage built inside.
Stacia Kendall was hired to be Glazier’s image consultant, to help him create a family image. Was she hired for bedroom duty too? Patsy Hillenbrand, the representative’s former mistress, accuses Ms. Kendall of cutting her off from the representative in an effort to save his campaign, then taking her place in his bed to keep his image clean.
He scanned further and saw his name.
Ms. Kendall is now a consultant with our very own Georgia Knights’ first baseman, Jason Friar. We all know his very public image issues, but it appears she’s up to her old tricks, traveling with the team, spending the nights in Friar’s room, even acting as his date. So the question is – is Stacia Kendall an image consultant or a high-paid escort? Or is that just fringe benefits?
Jason sat back in his chair and stared at the slider to his deck, no longer seeing the sun shining so brilliantly. Sonofabitch. She’d played him. She was no different than any of the other women in his life. Trading sex for his compliance. He should have known it was too good to be true.
He heard a noise in the hallway and Stacia appeared, wearing his bathrobe and yawning. She smiled when she saw him and leaned down to hug him. He jumped up and stepped out of the way. Ignoring the hurt and confusion in her eyes, he tossed the paper onto the table.
“So, which are you? Image consultant or call girl?”
“What?” She glanced at the article and paled. She snatched it up and scanned quickly. “That bitch! The representative was done with her. She was sleeping with his campaign manager, whom he also fired. Yes, I encouraged it, but I never slept with the man.” She stared up at Jason, a pleading look in her eyes. “You have to believe me!”
He stared at her, her words falling off of the rock wall around his heart that he hadn’t realized he had dropped until that moment. He rebuilt it in an instant, shutting her out and sealing himself away. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his forearm.
“Jason. I never slept with him.”
“So, what was this picture? It sure looks like you’re awfully cozy with the man.”
“Please,” she said, dismissing the picture. “That was my job, to keep his image clean. He had a tendency to wander and I was asked to try to keep him on the straight and narrow. I told them to watch out for jilted lovers, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
“Interesting job, sleeping with your clients. Is that part of the package or is it a special service you provide at no extra cost?”
His words bit hard, as intended, and she flinched as if it had been a real dagger to her heart. “I never sleep with clients. I never slept with Glazier.”
He glanced up and down at her as she stood there his bathrobe and nothing else, then at the picture. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am. This had nothing to do with my job and everything about you and me.” She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. He flinched as if burned and she dropped her hand.
He stared down at her, his face chiseled from stone, her tears and pleading falling on deaf ears. “We’re done. My image is probably ruined now thanks to you.”
“I saved your image.” Her voice was small, weak, deflated.
“And you destroyed it in one fell swoop. Even I couldn’t do the job as well. I’m going for a walk. Don’t be here when I get back.”
He steeled his resolve and walked out of the condo as Stacia crumbled into tears.
Chapter Twenty-One
A loud pounding on the condo door roused Stacia from her funk. She glanced out her bedroom window and saw a red mini Cooper in the driveway. Sophie. She should have known. Sophie had been calling and texting for the past several days, getting increasingly demanding and urgent. Then silence. When she heard nothing from Sophie was when she was most dangerous.
Stacia debated about ignoring the door but then she heard the jiggling of the handle and the door opened. She went to the top of the stairs. “No one’s home. Please leave a message after the beep. Beep.”
Sophie brushed her hair out of her face, while balancing a beverage tray and bag in the other hand. She looked up the stairs. “Bullshit. Haul your butt down here or I’ll drag your ass down.” She tossed her purse and keys on the hallway table, the clattering of keys echoing up the stairs, reminding Stacia how empty everything seemed now.
She went back into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her fa
ce. Reflected in the mirror was a pale, drawn face, dark circles under her eyes, and lanky unwashed auburn hair. She ran a hand over her hair, then finger-combed it into a ponytail. She debated putting on lipstick and makeup, and resisted the lifelong urge to always dress and appear perfect. Screw it. Her life wasn’t perfect and neither was she, not anymore. Sophie could take it anyway. Stacia had comforted her friend through many break-ups in her life.
“Are you coming down or am I coming up for you? I have Bavarian cream and a vanilla chai.”
“Beast,” Stacia said, walking down the stairs with as much dignity as she could muster.
Sophie stood at the bottom, her shock reflected in her face. She opened her mouth a couple of times, then muttered, “Shit. I knew I should have brought the Southern Comfort.”
“Southern Comfort got me into this mess. It certainly won’t get me out of it.” Her heart twisted at the memory of that first night, that perfect night before it had all gone to hell.
“But you won’t care so much.”
“Maybe not, at least not until I have the hangover and the heartache.”
Sophie shoved the chai into her hand and led the way into the kitchen. She all but heaved Stacia onto a bar stool and waved a Bavarian cream donut under her nose. “Eat this. Looks like you need it.”
Stacia glanced at her once favorite comfort food, but the thought of eating it only churned her stomach. She pushed it away. “No thanks. I’m not hungry.”
Sophie pushed it back. “Eat it or I’ll shove it down your throat. When was the last time you ate anything?”
She shrugged and glanced at the clock. “I don’t know. What day is it?”
“Unbelievable. You always said no guy is worth this moping. Is Jason Friar really worth it? After believing that news story? Screw him.”
Stacia’s shoulders slumped. “Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it.”
“Okay, so he’s an ass who doesn’t deserve you moping around here for him. You did everything for him, all but turned him into a media darling and the baseball comeback player of the year. This is how he repays you?” Sophie was really getting her mad on, anger raging through every word.
