In It to Win It

by Morgan Kearns

  He placed three magazines in her hand. “Roxy’s fine. Unless you wanted to make one out to ‘the best photographer a girl could ever want’.”

  Jane quickly autographed the front covers, addressing them just as he’d requested. “If these show up on EBay I will kick your ass.”

  At well over six feet with shoulders that nearly brushed door jambs, she didn’t stand a chance in physical warfare, but he still had the decency to feign fear. He stood and lifted the magazines. “Thanks for these. You’re a good sport, Jane.”

  “Ya know, this is totally ridiculous,” she told him, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Nobody cares who I am, really. They only care that I might be banging Grayson.”

  He raised a brow and the corner of his mouth quirked. She glared at him, knowing exactly where his thoughts had just taken him.

  “No, I am not banging Grayson. And don’t want to be.”

  Liar, his look said.

  “Go to hell, Nate … and say hello to Grayson when you get there.”

  6

  “…AND THE LAST THING I NEED FROM YOU is a location,” Jane said to Nate.

  They were driving along in the news vehicle; him driving, her in the passenger seat with a notebook in her hand. Nate didn’t respond, although Jane knew he’d heard her. That was what Nate did when he was thinking. While his mind churned with thoughts, Jane went down her list.

  Cake, check. Food—sandwiches (made by a sandwich shop)—check. Decorations—She and Molly had gone crazy at the party store.—check.

  Finally Nate said, “Well … I really want Gracie to be there.”

  “Of course.” It was completely appropriate to have the daughter of the birthday girl attending. “So we should probably do a Saturday afternoon, huh?”

  He nodded, but again drifted into his thoughts and fell silent. “I guess the park’s out.”

  “Unless we want to freeze our butts off.”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. His glanced at her quickly out the corner of his eye before staring out the windshield again. “I don’t suppose you’d like to have it at your place.”

  She turned in her seat and gaped at him. “You’ve seen my place. It’s not near big enough for the shindig you’re planning. Or the shindig I’m planning—according to your instructions.”

  “You’re probably right. I guess we could ask Dale if we could use Studio B.”

  “That’d be real fun for the kids,” she said sarcastically.

  “Why don’t we just do it at Chuck E. Cheese then,” he retorted, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

  She laughed and after a moment he did too. “It’s not that hard,” she said. “What’s wrong with your house?”

  “That is an option, but I’d rather not have to do it there.” He slapped his forehead with his palm. “I know the perfect place.”

  “Where?” she asked as he whipped his phone out.

  He pressed a button and the quick beeps of the speed dial rang out. With the speakerphone on, he popped his cell on the dash and waited for an answer.

  “Hey, man,” Rich Spencer answered.

  “Rich, I need a favor,” Nate said without preamble. “Can we use your house for Roxie’s surprise party?”

  There was a momentary pause. “You’re asking the wrong Spencer, my man. You’d better ask Kate about that. I’m sure it’d be okay, but I don’t wanna speak for her.”

  “Thanks.” Nate disconnected while Rich was still talking. His thumb worked over the keys and pressed send then put the phone back on the dash.

  “Hello?” came to soft feminine voice.

  “Kate.”

  “Hi, Nate.”

  “Can we use your house for Roxie’s surprise party?”

  “Sure. When?”

  Nate looked at Jane for the date and she answered, “A week from Saturday.”

  “Hi, Jane.” She could hear the laugh in Kate’s voice. “So you’re the one who got wrangled into planning the party?”

  “Yep, lucky me.” The two of them laughed and Nate snorted.

  Jane really liked Kate. She was kind and truly competent at her job. Jane knew too many anchors who sat back, doing nothing while the producers wrote everything for them. Kate was different, she wrote as much as she could. Along with the brains, Kate had beauty too. The girl seemed to have it all, Jane thought.

  “So … Kate, we wanna do it in the afternoon, so the kids can be a part of it,” Nate added.

  “Oh, Jesse would like that. If you bring the decorations over the night before, I’ll take care of it. Jesse would love to decorate.”

  “Um … well, I hate to do that to Molly. She’s kind of excited about it.”

  Kate laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. I think Molly and Jesse would get along really well. Why don’t you two come over first thing Saturday morning and we’ll all do the decorating,” she suggested.

  “Sounds good. Thanks, Kate.”

  “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ve gotta run.”

  “Well, everything’s settled,” Jane told Nate, plucking his phone off the dash and handing it back to him. “I’ll do the invitations tonight and mail them in the morning. I hope we’re not too late.”

  Nate shrugged and eased the truck to a stop at a red light. “Most everybody knows already.”

  Jane shook her head. “I’m surprised Roxy doesn’t know.” She studied his profile. “She doesn’t, does she?”

  “No!” His head whipped around to glare at her. “I can keep a secret.”

  “No, you can’t.” Jane laughed and patted his arm. “That’s okay, Nate, not everyone needs to have a mouth like Fort Knox. Besides it’s your secret to tell.”

  “Speaking of telling secrets,” Nate said. “What’s up with you and Grayson?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Are you into him or not?”

  “Not. Definitely not.”

  Grayson was the last man she should be into. But heaven help her, she was into him. She wanted him with an intensity that made her wonder if her brain had taken a vacation. And she knew that he wanted her, too. That knowledge was very dangerous. He had the power to hurt her, more than any other man on earth. But in order for him to do so, she had to let him. And she refused to give him that kind of power.

  Keep telling yourself that, her thoughts chided. Just keep right on lying to yourself.

  

  ROXY’S PARTY WAS TOMORROW AFTERNOON and with all the party preparations made, Jane was left with nothing but Grayson to occupy her thoughts. She turned on ESPN and watched as the guys debated the happenings in the day’s sports world.

  “Personally, I can’t believe he’s done it again,” one said.

  “You’d think he’d learn that there is no such thing as a closed door when you’re an athlete.”

  A picture popped up on the screen. Jane was going to be sick. Her insides twisted around themselves and bile rose up in the back of her throat. It seemed Grayson was at it again. This time a hooker he’d bought had taken pictures with her cell phone. Thankfully, it wasn’t too explicit. But it was still explicit enough to give the viewer a really good idea of what he had planned.

  She found herself leaning into the screen, scrutinizing the picture. There was something that bothered her about it, something she couldn’t put her finger on. But something bugged her. Something … just not right.

  Grayson was leaned back against the pillows with his arms behind his head. His biceps were sexily flexed. His brow was quirked and his smile promised all kinds of intimate acts. His eyes were looking directly into the lens of the camera. So … he knew he was being photographed. What an idiot!

  This wasn’t like the time that she had been with him. Neither of them had known then. They certainly wouldn’t have posed for the picture on purpose. Jane couldn’t imagine that Grayson would be so stupid as to pose for this picture, knowing full-well it would end up on the cover of a tabloid.

  Unless …

  Would he cast himself in a bad li
ght to draw attention away from the pictures of her?

  “In the interview,” one of the sportscasters continued, “the prostitute says he asked her to call him ‘master.”

  The three men laughed and Jane cringed. Another of the men, still chuckling, said, “He’s a little full of himself, isn’t he?”

  Jane turned off the television. She didn’t want to know any more about the story. She didn’t want to know any more about Grayson. She knew all she needed to; Grayson Pierce was not the man for her—no matter what her heart kept trying to tell her.

  “PUT A STOP TO IT, KEVIN!” GRAYSON YELLED into the phone. “I don’t care what kind of favors you have to call in. But you need to fix this!”

  “I did say that I wanted you to get publicity, I just didn’t think you’d go that far.” Kevin’s laughter gave Grayson a pretty good idea that his agent wasn’t taking the situation seriously, and that made Grayson’s anger spike.

  “Fix this, Kevin,” Grayson snarled, low and deadly serious. “I don’t want to see this anywhere.”

  What would Jane think?

  He knew exactly what she’d think.

  She’d think he was a womanizing jerk who requested his women call him ‘master’. His fingers rubbed circles on his forehead and his teeth ground together.

  “I want this fixed.”

  Kevin sighed through muffled laughter. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t see how this is necessarily a bad thing. I mean, the media loves when you’re bad. They’ve nicknamed you the ‘bad boy of baseball’. I love it.”

  “Yeah, well, I hate it. I’ve told you before I don’t want to be bad.” Grayson used his hand to rake through his hair. If he didn’t stop he was going to end up bald. He picked up the bottle of Mylanta and guzzled.

  “But you do it so well,” Kevin said through another bout of unrestrained laughter.

  “I pay you a lot of money to take care of shit like this, Kevin. Make it go away.”

  “I’ll do my best, Master.”

  Kevin’s sense of humor was not humorous and Grayson couldn’t even voice a farewell. Instead, Grayson hauled back and launched the phone into the wall. It splintered into pieces of plastic and electronic crap. He shook his head. He was known for the tight rein he kept on his temper.

  Yet another sign that he was losing it.

  “Totally losing it,” he grumbled, pulling out the broom.

  JANE AND MOLLY PARKED IN THE DRIVEWAY of the Spencer home and began to unpack the back of Molly’s pink and black Smart Car. With arms full of bags and boxes they waddled to the porch. Molly used a toe to knock on the door.

  The door opened a bit and a little boy’s face appeared in the crack. “Who are you?”

  “Is your mommy here?”

  “Mom!” he screamed, slamming the door. His muffled voice said, “Someone wants you at the door.”

  The door flew open again and Kate looked embarrassed, even if her son didn’t. He stared up at them with big brown eyes focused on the stuff in their arms. His skin was brown and his hair was black. His face was rounded with baby fat. He wore khaki pants, a denim shirt and brown shoes and belt. He looked like a miniature man.

  “Jesse,” Kate said, “please say hello to my friends. This is Jane and Molly.”

  “Hi,” he said, waving a chubby hand. He pointed a finger at Jane. “Which one are you?”

  “I’m Jane.”

  Molly bent down, nearly toppling her party supplies all over the ground. “And I’m Molly. Can you help us put all this stuff up?”

  “Oh, yeah!” He grabbed at a bag and hurried inside, dragging it behind him as he ran. He paused and turned around, waving at them. “Come on. Hurry.”

  Kate laughed and looked lovingly at her son. “I think he likes you.”

  It didn’t take long to get the decorations up. Molly was a wiz with the helium tank that Rich had gotten and Jesse, perched on Rich’s shoulders, made quick work of putting up the happy birthday banners. Jane had to remind herself not to stare at Rich, but couldn’t seem to help herself.

  Jesse looked nothing like his father. Rich, who was dressed just as his son, was so tender with the little boy. It was nice to see a man who adored his son … especially when the son was so obviously not his, biologically speaking.

  “So Jesse?” Jane asked when the two caught her looking at them. “How old are you?”

  He looked down at his fingers, concentration on his face. The digits wiggled in the air, his lip between his teeth. Finally he held up four fingers. “I’m four. I go to preschool. My teacher is Miss Hailey. I can write my name. Wanna see?”

  He didn’t wait for a response; running out of the room to fetch what Jane assumed would be paper and something to write with.

  He came back with a piece of white paper and a purple crayon. He plopped down on the floor and pressed the crayon to the page. His brows pinched together and his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth. The letters formed slowly, but they were legible. After he’d written his name Jane and Molly clapped.

  “That’s awesome,” Jane told him.

  He beamed and asked, “Can you write your name?”

  “I can.” She nodded, falling in love with him.

  The first of the guests began to arrive; Roxy’s parents, her brother and his wife, Jordan and Olivia. There were a few people she didn’t know, but Kate—or Rich—did and made the introductions.

  Rich pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the display. “They’re coming around the corner. Places everybody.”

  Everybody raced around like chickens with their heads cut off. There weren’t enough places to hide. Most of the people crammed into the kitchen or into the living room where they couldn’t be seen from the front door.

  There was a soft knock, followed by an insistent bell ringing that reminded Jane of Clayton’s persistence. Jane heard the click of the door opening and a little girl with blond curls ran in. She was younger than Jesse, but Jane guessed by only a year or so. Her dress was red and was like overalls with straps that came up over her shoulders. She had a white blouse underneath with white tights. Her black patent leather shoes clomped as she raced in … only to stop abruptly when she saw all the people.

  Her face crinkled, her bottom lip started to quiver and then her mouth opened to allow the bwaaaa! to escape. “Mommy!” she screamed, turning on her heel to run back in the direction of her mother.

  Jane couldn’t see the entryway from her vantage point, but she could hear Roxy’s voice say, “It’s okay, baby. What’s wrong?”

  Roxy rounded the corner, the little girl with arms and legs wrapped firmly around her like a backpack fastened to her side, and when shouts of “surprise!” rang out, her reaction was surprisingly similar to that of her daughter’s; her eyes filled with tears and her hand moved up to her mouth as her lip started to quiver. She murmured a soft, “Oh, Nate.”

  Nate plied the miniature Roxy from her mother and held the little girl tight against his shoulder. Nate’s eyes scoured the crowed and when he finally spotted Jane, he flashed a smile and nodded slightly. Now that Jane had been given her kudos, Nate turned his full attention back to the frightened baby in his arms.

  Jane saw his lips whispering next to the little one’s ear. Blond curls bobbed in a nod, and Nate set her down on her feet. She popped a thumb into her mouth and reached up to take hold of Nate’s finger.

  Roxy weaved her way through the crowd. Nate did too with Grace in tow, until the two of them came to stand next to where she and Molly stood in the kitchen. Nate’s knuckles bumped into her shoulder. “Good job, Jane.”

  “Hey, I helped,” Molly said in mock chastisement.

  Nate dipped his chin. “You both did great. I appreciate it so much. She was surprised. Did you see how surprised she was? I’m so gonna get lucky tonight.”

  “I’m lucky,” Gracie said.

  Nate yanked his daughter into his arms, hugging her tightly to his chest. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Yes, you
are, Gracie. You are very lucky. You’re my lucky charm.”

  “Graaaaaa-cie!” Jesse screamed from across the house.

  “Love you, Dad-dy.” Grace kissed his cheek and struggled to get down. “Jessss-se!” she answered, deafening her father in the process.

  Nate put her down and rubbed at his ear with his palm. “That little girl has a set of lungs on her.” He watched with a smile on his face as she took off on a dead run, then his grin turned mis-chievous. “Just like her mother.”

  7

  OVER THE NEXT MONTH, JANE WAS BOM-barded by people who wanted to talk to her. Her phone rang nonstop until Dale instructed the station receptionist to take messages (and there were a lot of them). Even the calls on Jane’s cell had increased substantially. It’d gotten to the point that if she didn’t know the number, she didn’t answer it. Not surprising, there were a lot of hang-ups.

  The whole situation was beyond ridiculous.

  Nate was a good sport about the whole thing. Before she’d teased him about being her bodyguard, now the statement had become a self-fulfilled prophecy. More than once he’d had to get between her and someone wanting a statement, someone who wouldn’t take “no comment” for the only comment they were going to get. He’d actually introduced Clayton Tate’s back to the wall of a building downtown.

  A trip to the grocery store had produced a totally-off-her-rocker groupie creeping around in fruits and vegetables. “Holy cow! I can’t believe it. You’re … you’re you.”

  Jane looked over her shoulder, hoping beyond all hope to find another you behind her. There wasn’t. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh! Oh!” Her head whipped around in search of something, Jane couldn’t be sure what. The girl finally grinned. “Please. Wait right here.”

  “Okay,” Jane said, knowing full well that she was going to dart as soon as this crazy girl walked away. She raced to the dairy department for some yogurt and milk so that she could get out of the store before…