The Wedding Deal

by Cindi Madsen

  She twisted enough to look at him, those green eyes peering deep into his soul and grabbing hold of it. “Okay,” she said.

  As he drifted off with her warm body against his, he took a few seconds to memorize everything about her, from her scent to her mussed hair to how perfectly she fit against him and the happy sigh sound she made when he hugged her tighter.

  That way, when the bulldozer called life inevitably came calling, he could relive this moment, this night, again and again.

  Chapter Twenty

  To help ensure Charlotte didn’t wake up and immediately regret everything, Lance ordered coffee and asked them to bring more of the creamer she liked, since he’d noticed it was running low. He’d also added bacon, because bacon.

  She rolled over in bed as he finished up the call, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

  “I ordered breakfast,” he said after he’d done a contortionist-worthy twist to get the phone back in its cradle without risking Charlotte slipping off him.

  “I heard.”

  He swiped the hair off her face and dragged his thumb over her cheekbone. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  A contented sigh came out, punctuated by a brilliant smile.

  “Good,” he said. “I was afraid you might regret crossing lines.”

  She sat up, the sheet tucked across her breasts. “No. But that does remind me, I need to work up a new addendum and—”

  He groaned. “I should’ve never said anything. And that can wait. Right now, we’re enjoying the chance to lay in bed for a few more minutes.” He tugged her back to him, wrapping an arm around her and planting a kiss on her lips. It’d been a long time since he’d woken up next to anyone, and he found that he liked it. He knew he couldn’t get used to it—not when his life and the team was in such upheaval—but none of the panic that’d accompanied some of his previous relationships came along for the ride.

  Probably because she knew where he stood and he knew where she did, and that helped alleviate some of that pressure.

  “They said the food would arrive in about thirty minutes,” he said. “Think that gives us enough time to take a shower?”

  “Well, it’d certainly save time if we showered together, and we do have all that work to do.”

  He brushed his lips across hers. “Have I mentioned I like the way your mind works?”

  She surprised him by climbing over his body to straddle him and take control of the kiss. He happily let her have her way with him for a minute or two. Then he pushed himself up with her in his arms and carried her into the bathroom, where under the spray of water, they managed to amp up the steam even more.

  …

  After shower sex and breakfast, Charlotte had barely had time to rush to her room and change into fresh clothes before hurrying back to the “office” for the phone call with a prospective quarterback. His agent had contacted Lance yesterday while she was at the spa. His client was currently a restricted free agent who’d been wanting to play for someone different for a while.

  As the thirty-minute call was winding down, Lance thanked him for taking the time to talk with them and for his interest in the Mustangs.

  Charlotte was so lost in thought that Lance had to nudge her knee. “Oh. Yeah. Goodbye. It was nice chatting with you.”

  “We’ll be in touch.” Lance disconnected the call and twisted on the couch to face her. “What is it?”

  “You tell me your thoughts first.”

  He looked like he was going to object, but then he braced his forearms on his knees. “He’s our top prospect so far. He’s willing to play for us, for one, and he’s got a hell of an arm. He has a few seasons under his belt, so he doesn’t have some of the issues a rookie would, but he hasn’t played for long enough that he’s so set in his ways it’s impossible to get him to change it up. I think we can make it work.”

  She nodded. Then nodded some more.

  Lance curled his hand around her calf. He picked up her leg and settled her foot in his lap. His fingers dug in, and she nearly moaned at how good it felt. Dancing all night in heels wasn’t for the faint of heart. “You have your reservations. Why?”

  “I hesitate to voice them because I haven’t dug deep enough to know if the numbers will back me up.” She should’ve done a better job studying up on the guy before the call so she’d have more than the surface stats her brain automatically retained, but she’d chosen sex, and while she hated feeling unprepared, she didn’t regret it one bit.

  “Tell me your gut instinct.”

  Her lungs constricted, too many memories of her father getting upset about her failed hunches bobbing to the surface and increasing the pressure. “Gut instincts are sometimes wrong. Maybe my gut is just saying I’ve had too much coffee.”

  “Charlotte. Spill.”

  The dang guy could read her like a book, so she went ahead and let the thoughts bouncing through her brain pour out. “He’s been playing with some of the best, most seasoned receivers in the league, and when I mentioned that, he didn’t say one nice thing about them—just that he was ready to come up with some of his own plays and set his own records. He’s so entitled, and I could tell he thinks of us as either a stepping stone or his way to get famous quick.”

  “There are plenty of entitled, self-centered players. Several who win championships.”

  “He doesn’t play by the rules.”

  “Ah. I can see how that’s a big strike in your book.”

  She searched for the words to explain why everything in her was screaming wrong, wrong, wrong. “Right, but that combined with the other things… He got into a bit of trouble with the law back in college and was also under investigation for seeking improper benefits while being recruited. Not that it seemed to matter to his other team when they drafted him, but the last thing we need is a Deflategate on our hands.”

  Lance sighed and ran his hand over his face, and she worried he was getting upset with the opinion she’d voiced.

  “I could be wrong. I’m only a consultant. In the end, it’s your choice. The coach’s and general manager’s as well, if we have those in place before the draft in two weeks. But we could also think we have him secured, and he could be playing the field, promising several teams he’ll play with them to drive up his salary. Then if we do get him, we pay a lot and lose one of our draft picks.”

  “Hey.” He gestured for the other foot, and she swung it up so he could give it the same treatment. “The reason I’m sighing isn’t because I disagree. It’s because my gut says no, too. I wanted you to talk me into him, since he’s the best prospect we have.”

  “I can find a way to try to do that if you really need me to.”

  He stared at her for a few beats before using his grip on her foot to tug her closer. He leaned over and kissed her. “You are smart and beautiful, and I’m so damn lucky that my grandpa hired you. I value your opinion and like that you’re so willing to help me however I need you to. I need your gut more than I need you to bullshit me.”

  “Good,” she muttered against his lips. “Because I’m no good at bullshitting. And that guy just isn’t the one.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in the one.”

  “In football I do,” she said, although she was feeling more optimistic about the possibility of it in other areas after last night and this morning.

  He smiled and rested his forehead against hers. “How are we ever going to pull this team together in time?”

  “We’ll find a way. That’s the thing about not having a choice.”

  “Maybe just an ounce of bullshit would be good about now.”

  She laughed and slanted her lips over his, leaving her hand on the side of his face. “I promise we’ll get a team hammered together. It might be a bumpy ride, but we only have to win one game to be doing better than last year— That’s not even bullshit. Just a little sunshiney truth for you.”

  He squeezed her foot. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime. Also, see how
good we’re doing since signing the addendum for the l—dating contract?” She’d almost called it the love contract, which was the nickname she usually used for the Consensual Romance in the Workplace Agreement. Saying love—even as a nickname—seemed too serious and would probably scare both of them, and calling it a sex contract made it sound too Fifty Shades of Grey.

  For now the Wedding Deal had been updated with the paragraphs she’d taken out before, putting their semi-undefined relationship in print to cover both of their asses. His as the boss and hers as the human resources manager.

  “Yep,” Lance said. “Bonus, none of our nonexistent coworkers are uncomfortable with our PDA.”

  Charlotte giggled and even held her hand up for a high five. “Killing it.” The loud smack of their palms filled the air.

  “Hey, another reason not to hire anyone else. Silver lining right there.”

  “Sure. You play quarterback, I’ll be your tight end.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Then you can also coach while I do the GM thing. And human resources. And…I might need a raise. But now that we’re in a personal entanglement, you can’t give that to me, so…” She tapped her finger to her lip. “I’m starting to see a few flaws.”

  “Hey, babe,” he said, and her heart skipped at the pet name. “Maybe just rest the brain and logic for a bit.”

  “It’s not something I can just shut off.”

  “Well then let me do the honors,” he said, lowering his lips to hers and making her forget what they’d been talking about and why she’d thought it’d been important in the first place.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As tempting as it was to get lost in Charlotte again and again, Lance’s phone refused to stop ringing. If he didn’t answer, it’d only ring more. Dropping off the grid would also worry people or possibly lose him the chance to snag a player he might need, and as he lifted the phone, despising it the tiniest bit, he had to work to keep a snarl out of his greeting.

  Charlotte started to slide off his lap, their lunch/make-out break over, but he put his hand on her knee, holding her in place.

  “Say that again.” He needed to know he’d heard what he’d thought he’d heard correctly. Because it sounded like the agent on the other end of the phone had said the Pythons were willing to part with their second-string quarterback.

  Gavin Frost was a great player who rarely got game time—hazards of being backup for one of the top quarterbacks in the NFL.

  Lance swiveled the mouthpiece and gave Charlotte the name. Her eyes widened. He loved how she automatically understood.

  She slipped off his lap and began pacing the room, which struck him as funny since they’d reversed their usual positions for whenever he was on a call.

  Excitement rose up, growing stronger with each second, despite his best attempts to tell himself not to get too carried away. Not to let his desperation show. “What’s it going to take to get him to play for the Mustangs?”

  “Look, I’ll just lay it out there. He’s gotten a lot of interest. Money’s important, but it’s not what’s most important to him. We were both impressed when we heard the kind of changes you’re making, and he’d like to be part of rebuilding a team. What we both want is to find a place that’d make him a franchise quarterback, one synonymous with turning around the team. He’s scrappy and determined, and he won’t stop until he wins a championship, either.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re looking for,” Lance said.

  “So, make us an offer.”

  “I’m definitely interested, but I need some time to crunch numbers and see what we can do. I’ll get back to you.”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “I hear you. I’ll be in touch.” He hit the end button, waiting a few extra seconds to make sure the call was disconnected. He was almost afraid to say anything or even hope this could work. He’d admired Gavin Frost’s college career and wondered why no one had snatched him up until the third round of the draft. He was a damn good quarterback who’d sat the bench unless he was saving the Pythons’ praised golden boy from injury or fatigue. That would’ve irritated the shit out of him back in the day, so he could only imagine how frustrated Gavin had been the past three years.

  “You haven’t said anything,” he said, glancing up at Charlotte. She’d stopped her pacing, but she was biting her thumbnail, anxiousness radiating off her. His gut sank. Maybe he was wrong about Frost. If she told him she didn’t think he was the one, either, they might have their first huge disagreement about the actual team, and he wasn’t sure what that’d do. To them or to his head—it’d give him more doubts than he wanted to have about a decision this big, that was for sure.

  Her eyes met his. “I was waiting for you.”

  “I want him on the team.” Everything inside of him yelled yes all over again. There wasn’t a better option; he felt it in his bones.

  She nodded. “He’s exactly what we’ve been looking for. And we can afford to lose a third-round pick if we get a decent quarterback with a few seasons under his belt. I’m afraid to say it because I don’t want to jinx us, but that thing I said earlier about the other guy not being…you know. Well, Gavin Frost, he’s…you know.”

  Half the time he couldn’t follow her rambling or her references, but he perfectly understood what she was saying in this instance. The fact that she agreed and clearly felt so strongly about it sent reassurance rushing through him. “How do we figure out how much to offer so we won’t break the salary cap, lose him, or go completely broke?”

  “That’s a question for the CFO. I know I said that before when we were talking about the lawsuit, but this is a decision like that times twenty. You need to call John.”

  Lance could feel himself bristling, his shoulders crawling way up to his ears. It went against everything in him. Once he made a decision, he’d made it, and he dealt with the consequences, good or bad. “I told you I’d consider it.”

  “The time for considering is over, Lance. You need to call him, apologize, and beg him to come back so that we have that information ASAP.”

  Beg? Like hell he’d beg. His pride wouldn’t allow it. Not only was he shit at apologizing, his pride was one of the few things he’d kept all through his injury and even when his ex tried to break him in other ways. He’d be damned if he lost it now. “Just do what you can. I trust you.”

  Charlotte slowly walked around the coffee table, perched on the edge of it directly in front of him, and grabbed his hand. She smoothed his fingers out from the fist he hadn’t even realized he’d formed. “I’m good with numbers, but I don’t have access to those records. Even if I did, I don’t know the ins and outs, and I can’t take on another job.”

  She slipped her fingers between his, her calming influence breaking through his aggravation. “Even if it would mean not having anyone else to make uncomfortable at the office with all our PDA. Not that we’ll still be… I know we’re just taking it a day at a time, so I’m not saying…”

  “I know what you mean.” He almost added of course we’re still going to be doing this when we return to the office, because now that he’d had his hands and lips on her, he couldn’t imagine going back to not kissing her. Not touching her. But there was what he wanted and what he could realistically do. No promises or guarantees, not right now. And if he couldn’t get a reliable quarterback, that wasn’t going to change for a long time.

  “It’s too much pressure, and it’s unfair to ask that of me. It’d be setting me up for failure.” She was right. He hated that she was, but it was also why she was good for him.

  “Fine. I’ll…call John.” He eyed his phone but didn’t pick it up. “I’m not good at swallowing my pride. Not good at apologizing.”

  “Well, now you need to turn your team around. That’s part of being a leader, and I remember watching you on the field. You were one of the best at rallying your team. At leading them.”

  She’d watched him play. She’d said as much when they were on speaker phone with Foste
r, and when he’d made a comment about it, she’d called him Mr. Ego. It seemed like a lifetime ago in some ways, but this time, instead of saying she followed football, not him, she was purposely stroking his ego. There was genuine admiration in her voice, too, and it went a long way toward helping him prepare for the hit his pride was about to take.

  “One question before I make this call,” he said, dragging his thumb over her knuckles. “Back in the day, when you were watching me play, did you cheer for or against me?”

  “Depended on who you were playing that game,” she said in that sassy way of hers that turned him on. Her eyes locked onto his, a whole heap of passion swimming the green of her pupils. “But I’m cheering for you now. So stop stalling and make the call.”

  “Okay, but I just realized I don’t have his number, so I guess you’ll have to get your computer and pull up the personnel files. While you’re doing that, I’m just going to—”

  “No need.” She lifted her cell, and he watched as she input her passcode.

  “One-two-three-two? You deal with stats and numbers every day, and that’s the best you can come up with to secure your phone?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I deal with stats and forms, and there’s only so much information I can cram into my brain, so I don’t want my phone to take extra effort. Also, I’m not falling for another stalling tactic—we should be in Texas right now because that’s how big of a staller you are.”

  “I don’t think staller is a word. I do have another big thing you might be interested in, though…” He leaned closer and waggled his eyebrows.

  The loud sigh wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. She pulled up John’s information and swiveled the screen toward him. He wrapped his hand around the phone but couldn’t seem to force his fingers to move.

  Before he could protest or come up with another way to drag out the minutes, Charlotte hit the call button. “There. I even did the hard part for you.”

  “That’s not the hard part. The hard part is—”