Blitzed by the Billionaire

by Alice Ward

“I can’t go in there,” I insisted. “There will be strange men showering, and changing, and God knows what.”

  “Oh come on, Emily. Don’t be such a prude. We’re all professionals and the players are expecting us. No one’s going to be naked.” She pulled me into the room before I had a chance to make any more objections.

  To my relief, all of the players were clothed from the waist down. Some still wore their pads and jerseys, but most were lounging around bare chested. The sight was distracting, to say the least.

  Larry Davis, the head coach of the Stallions, approached Melissa with a smile and an extended hand. I shuffled behind her cameraman and did my best to blend into the wall.

  “Thank you so much for having me, Mr. Davis. I was hoping to ask you a few questions, and then maybe interview a few members of the team,” she explained.

  He released her hand and gave her an indulgent grin. “Let me guess. You’d like to have the first local interview with our new star quarterback.”

  “I’d love to talk to everyone on the team,” Melissa assured him. “But, of course, if Mr. McAlister is willing, I’d love to speak with him too.”

  McAlister? Quarterback…? No. It can’t be.

  “I’m willing to speak with you,” a familiar voice boomed through the room and my face flushed hot as I fought the urge to look toward the voice.

  “Thank you so much,” Melissa answered, a note of gushing in her tone.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Ethan warned. “I’ll talk to you now and I’ll throw in a sit down after our first home game… on the condition that I can have a few moments alone with Emily. Just to talk, of course.”

  This isn’t happening. It’s the wine. I’m home asleep in bed, and this is all just a terrible dream.

  I looked up from the locker room floor; every eye was on me. Melissa’s mouth had fallen open in shock while the rest of the team seemed amused by the exchange. I cleared my throat and finally met Ethan’s charming, apologetic gaze.

  “Where would you like to talk?” I asked him, forcing a smile that was brighter than I felt.

  “Why don’t we step back out to the stadium? Melissa can find us there when she’s wrapped up the other interviews,” he suggested.

  I exhaled deeply. “Lead the way.”

  Melissa mouthed a quick thank you and turned back to the coach. Ethan walked past his teammates and led me back into the stadium. I was still recovering from my surprise at seeing him and was at a complete loss for words. He didn’t seem to mind the silence though. We sat down and stared at the field for a few moments before he finally spoke.

  “You said if we were supposed to meet again, we would,” he reminded me. “So what do you call this?”

  “I don’t know,” I hesitated. “I guess I’d call it a coincidence.”

  I wanted to believe that’s all it was, but I didn’t. I loved Ben, I reminded myself. At the same time, I felt the strangest pull toward Ethan. And when I looked at him, my heart soared with not only attraction but an odd sense of familiarity. The way it would after seeing someone I loved after a lifetime apart. I didn’t understand my feelings, and that terrified me.

  “I’d call it more than that,” he argued. “I think fate is trying to tell us something. You’re destined to give me a tour of this city, Emily Kinkaid,” he teased.

  We both knew he wanted a lot more than a tour, though for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. I was sitting in front of him looking my absolute worst for the second time in a week. He was a professional athlete, surrounded by groupies and cheerleaders on a regular basis. Yet, he wanted me.

  “I still have a boyfriend,” I reminded him.

  “I still don’t care,” he insisted. “I’ve decided he’s not good enough for you.”

  I let out a quick laugh. “Oh yeah? And I assume you are?”

  He nodded. “Yes. And before you shoot me down, let me plead my case. First off, I am incredibly attentive. This boyfriend of yours seems to leave you on your own an awful lot.”

  “Maybe I’m an independent woman who likes her space,” I suggested.

  Ethan stared into my eyes, his face full of understanding. “I can tell you’re an independent woman. But I think that’s more out of necessity, not choice. You’ve spent a lot of time alone in your life, haven’t you?”

  I nodded, amazed by how well he seemed to know me. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time alone, too. It’s a pretty common story. My parents divorced when I was eleven. Dad sent checks until I was eighteen, but he stopped showing up for his weekend visits when I was in junior high. Mom married a pompous ass who I still can’t stand, and I avoided them both as much as possible.”

  “That must have made for a lonely childhood.”

  He nodded. “But lonely was better than pissed off and bitter. So what’s your story? I shared mine.”

  “My uncle raised me. He was a pilot, so he was away a lot. And we moved almost constantly, which made it hard to make friends.”

  Why am I telling him this? I don’t even know him.

  Ethan cleared his throat and stared out at the field. “I understand you’re involved with someone, Emily. I admire that you don’t want to do anything to disrespect that. But I feel the strangest connection with you. I hope you’ll consider being my friend, if nothing else.”

  “I think I can do that,” I agreed, knowing it was the last thing I should do. “As long as you understand that we’re just friends.”

  “I promise I won’t cross any lines.” He held up a pinky and waited until I hooked mine with his. I let it go quickly. So quickly, his smile widened. “We probably don’t have much time until Melissa’s ready for me. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  “I’m a teacher, remember?” I replied, digging through my purse. I pulled out a handful of pens, crayons, and highlighters, along with a small spiral notepad I used to jot down lists of classroom supplies and ideas for lesson plans. Ethan grabbed a black pen and took the notepad from my hand.

  “I’m writing down my cell number,” he explained. “A lot of people would pay a lot of money for this, so I’m trusting you here. And I’m putting the ball in your court, so to speak. Call or text whenever you need a friend.”

  He closed the notebook and passed it back to me.

  “I will,” I promised, opening the book again. I scribbled my number on a black page, my heart racing. I knew I was flirting with fire. I tried to convince myself I had nothing but good intentions, that Ethan and I would just be friends and Ben would be okay with it. But the longing growing within me said otherwise.

  “I don’t like sports metaphors,” I told him, ripping the page from the book. I passed him my number with a smile. “No balls, no courts. When you need a friend, you know how to reach me.”

  Ethan gave me a satisfied grin and tucked the paper in the waistband of his football pants. I was about to ask him where he’d lived before Portland but heard Melissa’s voice from behind.

  “Are you ready for me?” she sang.

  I turned and watched her descend the stadium steps, her cameraman trailing behind.

  Ethan and I both rose and I stepped onto the staircase. Melissa moved past me, to sit beside Ethan. The cameraman continued two rows down and angled his lens up at their faces. I slid into a seat across the aisle and listened to the interview with rapt attention. The handsome quarterback intrigued me, to say the least, and I wanted to learn as much about him as possible.

  “Congratulations on your contract with the Stallions,” Melissa began. “What message would you like to give your critics regarding their claims that nepotism played a role in your coming to Portland?”

  Nepotism? What is she talking about? I should really do a better job of keeping up with the local news.

  I was a few rows behind Ethan and couldn’t see his face. I imagined him flashing his charming smile at the camera as he answered with ease.

  “I’d remind them that my record speaks for itself,” he repl
ied. “I’ve spent my career busting through records. My salary here is well deserved and has nothing to do with the fact that Victor is my stepfather. It was a happy coincidence that my contract with Dallas ran out around the same time the commission granted Victor permission to form this fantastic team. I’m honored to be a part of it.”

  Victor Montez is his stepfather? Holy shit… that’s more than a little intimidating. Ethan must have had an eventful childhood.

  “You were sidelined by a fractured wrist last season. Are you back to a hundred percent?” Melissa continued. “Has the injury affected your snap?”

  “I’m better than ever,” he assured her.

  “You were in Dallas for six years. Was it difficult to leave your old team behind?”

  “I will always look back fondly on the time I spent in Texas. I made some great friends there. But nothing beats being home.”

  Melissa thanked him, paused for a few moments, then yelled “Cut” and rose to her feet. She passed her microphone to the cameraman and extended her hand to Ethan.

  “Thank you so much for sitting down with me.”

  “You’re welcome. I look forward to doing it again after our opening game. I’ll make sure your camera crew has prime placement that night. And I’ll have tickets at the fifty-yard line messengered over to your office. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to be in a box.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked, her voice overflowing with excitement. “I know a lot of people probably prefer the luxury aspect of the boxes, but I’m a girl who wants to be close to the action. Thank you so much, Mr. McAlister.”

  They shuffled out of the aisle and walked up the staircase side by side. I stood and awkwardly waited for them to reach me.

  “It’s my pleasure, I hope,” Ethan told her before flashing me another knee-weakening smile. “I do hope you’ll use the other ticket, Emily.”

  “I’ll have to check my schedule,” I replied, dropping my eyes to the ground. I felt Melissa’s inquisitive stare and knew I’d have a lot of explaining to do during the ride home.

  “I’ll make sure she’s there,” Melissa promised.

  Ethan nodded and perched on the back of one of the stadium seats. Melissa looped her arm through mine and we said a final goodbye before making our escape. When we finally reached the safety of her car, she turned to me with an open mouthed grin.

  “This has to be one hell of a story. Start from the beginning.”

  ***

  “Hey Em, do you have a blank copy of the field trip permission slip? My laptop crashed again and Bentley Norris emptied a tub of finger paint onto my hard copies.”

  I looked up from my phone to see Linda standing in the doorway of my classroom. Loose strands of hair fell from her braid and her eyes looked defeated and exhausted.

  “Long day?” I asked, shuffling through a stack of papers on my desk. I found a blank permission slip and held it out to her.

  “Long doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. She crossed the room, took the paper from me, and perched on top of a nearby desk.

  “Last night—”

  My phone chimed while she spoke, immediately drawing my attention. I read Ethan’s latest message and felt a tell-tale blush spread across my cheeks.

  “I’m assuming that’s not your boyfriend,” Linda said with a teasing tone.

  I slid my phone into my lap and looked up at her amused face. “No, it was a message from Ethan. But it’s nothing, I swear. He’s really funny, but we’re just friends.”

  She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Does Ben know about your new friend?”

  I hesitated. Ben knew I’d gone to the Stallions’ practice with Melissa, and I mentioned meeting a few of the players. I hadn’t given him any more details and after cursing his luck for not being able to join Melissa himself, he hadn’t mentioned it again.

  “I take that as a no,” Linda announced. I could tell by her tone that she disapproved. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I’ve never been a fan of you and Ben together. But for your own sake, you shouldn’t start a new relationship until you’ve ended the old one.” She dropped her voice as she offered the next warning. “It’s bad karma, Emily.”

  “Ethan and I don’t have a relationship,” I argued.

  She folded her arms across her chest and stared back at me. “You’ve been glued to your phone for the past two weeks. If that’s not a relationship, what would you call it?”

  I felt my face flush hot again and diverted my eyes to my desk. I mindlessly shuffled paperwork and tried to come up with an excuse for myself.

  “Fine, maybe I’ve gotten a little carried away,” I relented. “I’ve flirted a little. But it’s still completely innocent.” I swallowed hard. “I love Ben. We have a future together. The attention from Ethan is exciting and flattering, but it will pass. He’s a celebrity, for Christ’s sake. It’s only a matter of time before he hooks up with a cheerleader or a pop star and forgets all about me.”

  “So you’re just enjoying the attention while it lasts?” she pressed. I could tell she still didn’t believe me.

  “That’s the plan,” I agreed.

  That wasn’t entirely true. My rational mind understood that the flirty back and forth banter between Ethan and me was temporary. But my heart was starting to get attached to his entertaining, often thoughtful messages.

  “All right,” Linda said. She let out another long sigh and rose to her feet. “Just be careful, Emily. You’re walking a thin line with this. I don’t think you and Ben belong together. But if you’re sure that’s what you want, you need to cut things off with the quarterback and delete all of his messages. Think of how Ben would feel if he found out about this.”

  A heavy weight of anxiety gripped my heart. I knew she was right, and I felt terrible for keeping such an enormous secret from Ben… just not terrible enough to stop.

  “I’m just trying to look out for you, Em,” she called over her shoulder.

  “I know,” I called back as she stepped through the door.

  I pulled out my phone again and reread Ethan’s message.

  Eating at the diner tonight. Care to join me?

  I fired off a quick message turning down his offer and then turned my phone off completely.

  Linda’s right. I need to put a stop to this. Flirting with Ethan has been fun, but there’s no future there. I want someone who’s happy with a quiet life, someone who comes home every night. Ben can give that to me. He’ll always be there when I need him.

  I slid my phone into my purse, gathered the rest of my things, and set off for the parking lot. I needed to assuage my guilt and decided that surprising Ben with his favorite meal was a great place to start. I drove home, took a quick shower, and spent an hour curling my hair the way Ben liked it. I slipped into my sexiest pair of skinny jeans, pulled on a deep V-neck t-shirt, and brushed on a light layer of makeup before leaving for the market.

  Ben was working at the Boys’ Club until seven; I knew he would be tired and wanted everything to be perfect for him when he got home. I hurried through the market, gathering fresh produce, thick cut ribeye steaks, and two different types of red wine. As a last minute impulse, I tossed an already made cheesecake into the cart and proceeded to the register. A few minutes and forty dollars later, I loaded my bags into the back of my car and made my way to Ben’s place.

  Ben lived in a large, generic looking apartment complex close to The Day School. With first-come, first-served parking, I was rarely able to park anywhere close. But that night, I got lucky and found an empty spot just steps away from his front door. I found my key to the apartment on my ring, loaded my arms with grocery bags, and decided to make a second trip to carry in the wine.

  I unlocked the front door, flipped on the lights, and continued on to Ben’s small galley kitchen. I set the bags down on the countertop and heard a soft, muffled noise from the bedroom.

  What the hell? He was supposed to be at practice until seve
n. I hope he isn’t sick.

  “Baby?” I called out, padding down the hallway.

  I heard a loud thud, followed by silence.

  What the fuck?

  I took hold of the doorknob, but it refused to turn. A blend of confusion, fear, and rage grew in my chest and I pounded on the door.

  “Ben, are you okay? Why is the door locked? Are you—”

  The door opened and my worst fears were realized. Ben stood before me wearing nothing but a guilty scowl. My eyes moved from him to the redhead, half covered by the blankets. She looked at me with an evil, triumphant grin and leaned back on a pillow.

  “Emily, I’m so sorry. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he stammered.

  “So you did plan for me to find out,” I countered, my voice flat. I was in too much shock to feel anything and reached for the wall for support.

  “No… I mean, yes. I mean… I think we’ve both known this was coming. We fit on paper, Em. But the spark just isn’t there.”

  “How long has this been going on?” I pressed, the weight of the moment starting to sink in. Tears stung my eyes and I bit the corner of my mouth, determined to hold myself together to whatever degree possible.

  “Ben and I—”

  “I didn’t ask you,” I snapped, turning back to the redhead. I gritted my teeth when she smirked again, lifting her nose into the air. I spun on my heel and stormed back to the kitchen. I started pulling things out of the grocery bags and slamming them on the counter. Ben appeared a few moments later wearing a pair of boxers. He seemed alarmed by my quick, violent movements and stayed a few feet away from me.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone cautious.

  “I thought it would be nice to have dinner together,” I explained, slamming a jar of artichoke hearts onto the counter. “But as I no longer have an appetite, I thought I’d just leave this here for you and your whore.”

  “Emily, I’m so sorry. I know you’re upset. But Becky isn’t a—”

  “Don’t you dare defend her,” I growled. “Don’t defend yourself either. My uncle was right about you. You’re nothing but a lying, cheating bastard. I recognize your precious Becky. It’s bad enough that you’re having an affair. But did you really have to screw one of the football moms? Does her husband know what the two of you have been up to?”