by Erin Hayes
He was threatening to blackmail me.
But to the newspapers? This guy was stuck in the eighties. Maybe, given his other comments, the eighteen-eighties.
“So, I think,” he said very slowly, like I was a child being scolded, “that you should stay away from my players. And just do whatever you want—away from the Yellowhammers.”
I opened my mouth, ready to make a retort.
“Or I may be forced to go to the media with that.” He let out a snicker. “If you can do that, then I can let your little email and your little...flings...slide by. Just stay out of my way, Miss Harte. And we’ll get along just fine.”
I couldn’t believe what just happened. The coach just gave me an ultimatum. And he had all the power in this. I was at his mercy. And I was about to bend to it.
I lowered my eyes. “I... understand.” What else was I supposed to do?
He brightened and slapped the desk, making me jump. “Good! Then the next time I see you, it will be in the owner’s box at our first preseason game.”
With that, he got up from his seat and left me in my office, staring out into space.
Damn, I hated that man.
And I was going to keep my distance.
Maybe.
Twelve
I stood on the sidelines, watching the team practice while also avoiding making eye contact with Coach Mack. I could feel my cheeks flaring pink whenever I felt him looking my way.
Who cares what he thinks, anyway? This is my team, and I can do with it whatever I want. It’s not really up to him.
That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway. Was he going to go to the media with the news that I was a... what was it he’d called me? A Jezebel.
After that conversation, I’d gone back to the hotel and fretted about what he might do to me. I’d hidden in my hotel room and eaten too much room service. And then it had dawned on me: he only had power over me if I cared what the “newspapers” said. And I didn’t—or rather, I only cared if it kept me from selling the team.
So all I really had to worry about was whether he followed through on those threats before I sold the team.
I needed to move fast, I suspected, but it was a risk I was willing to take.
Besides, I was so sick of my hotel room I was ready to scream. There’s only so much sightseeing to be done in Birmingham at the best of times. I’d pretty much done it all.
So here I was, back on the field the very next day, braving the wrath of Mack.
I flipped through the cards Clancy had made for me. If I concentrate on these, I won’t have to worry about whatever it is Coach Mack is thinking.
Okay. Andre was the quarterback. I knew that, and I knew what he was supposed to do: get the ball down the field and make a touchdown.
Or maybe pass it to someone else so they could make a touchdown.
“This is absolutely hopeless,” I muttered.
“You know,” a voice beside me said, interrupting my snarling reverie, “most teams don’t even play their first string during the preseason games.”
“Ashley!” I screamed, throwing my arms around her neck—and tossing my flashcards into the air at the same time. “And you brought Winston.”
I knelt and gathered my hefty dog in my arms. “Oh, my sweet baby,” I crooned. “I missed you.”
“I knew you would,” Ashley said. “That’s why we’re here. Also because I suddenly realized how dumb I was being—my best friend owns a football team, and I stay behind to dog-sit instead of joining her to check out the goods? Stupid.”
Ash always could make me laugh my way out of being upset. “I’m glad you got smart, then.”
Pulling down her sunglasses to peer over them at the guys on the field, she said, “Oh, and so am I. You have no idea how glad.”
“I think I might.” Winston started struggling to be put down. With a final squeeze, I set him down gently and took his leash from Ashley.
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
“With you, I hope.” She grinned, and I couldn’t help but laugh again.
“You’re lucky the room has two beds. Remind me to give you my extra key.”
“So, what’s with the homework?” She tapped her glasses back up onto her nose and waved a hand at my forgotten flashcards, already swirling away on the wind.
“Dammit. I need those.” I scrambled to gather them back up. Winston, sensing a great game, began chasing them down, too, trying to pounce on them. He caught one and brought it back to me, grinning his doggy grin, but when I tried to take it away from it, he decided we were playing tug-of-war.
“Give me the damn card, Winston.”
Ashley snorted and bent to help me gather some more flashcards. “How’s it going here?”
I flapped a handful of cards at her. “About like this.”
“That good, huh? Yikes.”
“Yeah, well, at least I have some help. Clancy Drew made these cards for me.”
“I can’t get over that name.” Ashley shook her head.
“Wait until you meet him. He’s…” I paused, not sure how to get across my mixed feelings about the linebacker.
“Dreamy?”
“Something like that.” I’d save my full story for when we were alone. “Anyway, what were you saying about most teams not playing their first strings? That means their best players, right? Why would they not want those players playing?”
“Risk of injury. If their best players get hurt during preseason, they can be out the rest of season, and that will hurt the team’s chances of winning in the real games.”
I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. “How do you know all this?”
“I’ve been doing your homework while you’ve been gone.”
“My homework?”
She snickered.
“Fine. Who does play during the preseason, then?”
“The team’s second string. The coaches pretty much use the preseason games to decide which players to cut and which to keep.”
“Which players to cut? I was told we didn’t have enough players to cut any.”
“That’s because your team sucks. Once your uncle died and no one knew what would happen with the team, no one was willing to sign with the Hammers.”
“Could I get more players now?”
Ashley frowned. “I don’t know. There’s something about a draft and picks, and it’s long over.” Her expression cleared. “Anyway, I don’t think players would join up now, either, since no one knows what you’re going to do with the team.”
Great. Even my best friend didn’t think we had a chance. How was I ever going to convince some rich dude to buy this team off me?
And anyway… “How do you know all this?”
“I’ve been reading about you in the news.”
My jaw dropped. “What news?”
I couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark frames of her sunglasses, but I knew from the way she tilted her head that she’d have that cool, calculating look she got when she thought I was being needlessly dense. “The news. The bits about sports. You’re all over it—and they’re talking about how a spokesperson from your office has been issuing ‘no comments’ left and right.”
A spokesperson from my office? Who the hell has been speaking for me?
As I spluttered, Ashley nodded. “Yep. I didn’t think you would have bothered to watch the news.”
“How did you know I wasn’t the one who issued the no comments?”
“Because I’ve known you for years, and I have never once seen you not have a comment on something.”
Part of me wanted to be pissy about her analysis—but okay, she was right. I did have a thing about giving my opinion.
But maybe it was right in this case to follow my office’s lead?
Whoever ‘my office’ is.
I needed to find that out before I made any decisions about how to deal with the press. It wasn’t like I was completely ignorant about publicity. With the startup, we’d had a lot of
positive press along the way. I’d talked to reporters, given interviews, explained our plans.
Then again, I understood what it was we were doing with the startup. I probably needed to get a better sense of what I should and shouldn’t tell the press about the football team before I started talking to reporters.
For now, I’d shelve the issue.
“What else has the news been telling you about my team?” I asked Ashley.
“Not much. Basically, the Hammers suck, they have a new owner, she won’t tell us what she’s planning. Then the analysts come on and talk about how you can’t sell the team, anyway.”
I groaned. “That’s what I’m trying to fix.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“I’m glad you know me so well.” My voice trailed off because at that moment, Andre jogged toward the sidelines—toward us—taking off his helmet as he ran, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember what Ashley and I had just been discussing. I loved watching the muscles in his legs as he ran.
“God, he’s gorgeous,” Ashley murmured, such a perfect reflection of my own thoughts that for a split second I wondered which of us had said it.
Then Andre trotted up to me and all thoughts fled again.
“Hey, Ms. Harte,” he said, his tone perfectly polite but his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Hello, Andre.” I tried to match the polite-but-twinkly tone, but I was pretty sure all I managed was sounding congested.
“Could I speak to you for a moment? I’m headed in toward the locker room, if you’d like to walk with me.”
Ashley smirked. “You two kids go ahead. I’ll run interference out here, if necessary.”
Andre grinned at her. “Running interference—isn’t that my teammates’ job?”
A knowing look crossed her face. “Oh, I think your teammates are going to be busy with their own plays.”
Andre’s resigned expression made my stomach clench. Dammit, Ash. I need to talk to him about this situation before you start giving away how much I want all these guys.
“Oh. This is my roommate, Ashley,” I said belatedly.
“Nice to meet you.” Andre tilted his chin up at her.
“You, too.” She grinned triumphantly. “Now run along. You probably don’t have much time.”
She was right—and I knew she’d keep people away from us as long as she could, God bless her.
I groaned inwardly at the thought. I would never have even thought a phrase like that before I’d come to Alabama. Now I was blessing people and cheering for Tide Pods. Who knew what else I’d be doing if I spent a whole football season out here?
Nope. I couldn’t do it. I needed to sell the team and move on.
“You doing okay?” he asked me once we were inside the building. “I heard Coach got on his Biblical high horse with you the other day.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. You need to ignore him when he does that. It’s just how he is.”
“Hm.” Yeah. I definitely needed to sell the team, if that’s the kind of behavior I was going to have to learn to ignore.
I couldn’t stay here in Alabama to be with a football player...or three.
Not even if Andre was grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the locker room. Even if I wanted to push him inside and down on a bench and…
At the threshold, I stopped, pulling against Andre as he pushed through the doorway.
“Nobody else is in there,” he said.
“But it’s the locker room,” I protested.
“You own it,” he pointed out. “You own the team, the locker room, everything. Nobody can tell you not to go in there. Unless me being sweaty is a deal-breaker.”
It most certainly was not, because I wanted to lick the sweat off him.
He was so much bigger than me that he could have easily dragged me inside. I liked that he didn’t use his superior strength against me in any real way. This was a game, and I could walk away at any point.
But as long as we were playing…
I suddenly changed direction, pushing against him where I had been pulling, and shoved him through the swinging door.
I probably should’ve been horrified by the smell of my football team’s locker room, but I was so completely overwhelmed by everything Andre that I didn’t even notice—and he was all man. I pushed him back more, and he let me, finally stopping when he came up against a locker.
I pushed close to him, and he wrapped his muscular arm around my waist. It encircled me entirely, his hand coming to rest on my other hip. I didn’t think I’d ever dated anyone big enough to do that. Most of my boyfriends had been tech guys, like Jacob. Big on brains, not muscles.
Andre had both.
I smashed myself flat against him, my nipples coming to attention under my shirt and bra, as if they remembered brushing against his chest in some completely physical way that my conscious mind had forgotten.
Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to take him back to that hotel room where we had first connected.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
It was as if he had been waiting to hear those two words all his life. Without hesitating, he swept me into his arms, lifting me so that my feet barely brushed the floor. I stood on my tiptoes as he pressed his lips against mine.
It started off slow, but there was nothing tentative about the way Andre kissed me.
His lips teased mine hard, his tongue sweeping through my mouth and dancing with mine. I felt myself soften against him, as if I were melting, and he made a funny little possessive growl in the back of his throat as he gathered me up closer to him, lifting me off my feet entirely, our bodies melding together. I twined my arms around his neck, my fingertips tracing the muscles of his shoulders.
Heat swirled through me, my desire for him growing every second, until finally, Andre pulled back, his breath ragged. “We have to either stop, or take this someplace even more private,” he said.
I glanced around the otherwise empty locker room and raised my eyebrows.
“Someplace we’re not likely to get walked in on,” he clarified.
Gently, he loosened his hold on me, my whole body sliding against his on the way down. When my body grazed his cock, hard under his sweatpants, he groaned. “Soon, please.”
I dropped down to stand flat-footed, my arms uncurling from around his neck and my hands trailing down to rest on his chest between us. “Probably we should discuss some things before that,” I said.
His mouth twisted in something between a grin and a grimace. “Or some people, I’m guessing.”
I shrugged. “Or that.”
“I want to hold you, kiss you, fuck you,” he whispered, the longing in his voice sending shivers up and down my spine. “Unless you’re secretly married to someone else, any conversation we need to have can wait until after that.”
“Are you sure?” I meant to sound calm, but my voice caught in my throat, which had suddenly clogged at the thought of Andre being as raw with me as his voice was now.
“I’ve never been as sure of anything in my life as I am of that. I want you. Now.”
Thirteen
“Oh, God. I can’t believe I’m about to say this. But…I can’t. Not right now. Ashley’s waiting for me, and I can’t just run off and leave her.” Even though she said not to worry about her.
Besides, I really don’t want to have sex with you without having that talk first. Maybe.
It physically hurt to pull myself away from him. But he nodded. “I get it. Let’s discuss it more later, though, okay?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
I all but ran from him in my determination not to throw myself at him.
Back on the field, the team was still practicing. Ashley stood on the sidelines, her mouth hanging slightly open as she watched the team practice. She waggled her eyebrows at me, her unspoken question hanging in the air. I shook my head in answer, and she looked disappointed.
Winston sniffed around her feet in a sus
piciously doggy way, one I recognized from our many years of walks together.
I kicked at the grass on the field. I was pretty sure it wasn’t real. But even if it were, my guess was that the groundskeepers—or whatever you called the guys who took care of the field—weren’t interested in cleaning up after my dog.
Dog poop: not good for morale.
“I’m going to take Winston for a walk outside the stadium,” I said to Ashley. “Want to go with us?”
I waited until we had made it all the way outside the gates to talk about anything interesting, confining our discussion inside the stadium to talk of her flight, where she was staying, that sort of stuff.
As we circled around the front of the stadium, waiting for Winston to finish his business, she said, “Okay, now that we’re off the field, tell me what’s up with all these guys Rodney, Clancy, and Andre. Also, I want more details about what happened with Andre when you first got here.”
“You know perfectly well that I don’t remember what happened with Andre when we first met.”
She sighed. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me anything since that.”
“Oh, I tried to.” I gave her the saga of the missent email. “So now Coach Mack thinks I’m a horrible bitch and trying to seduce his entire team.”
Ashley flashed an evil grin. “And how far off is he?”
“Which part?” I laughed, but I was about half serious. “He makes me feel pretty bitchy. And I’m only trying to seduce three of them. Not the whole team.”
Ashley’s howl of laughter caused Winston to glance up from his serious pursuit of the perfect pee spot. Apparently taking her response as some sort of prodding, he lifted his leg.
“And of course, what none of them know,” I continued, “is that I’m planning to sell the team.”
“Maybe, but you can’t do that until the team is in better shape—until they’re more profitable.” Ashley’s calm rationality always made me feel better. “And they can’t be more profitable until they work together as a team.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I was watching them play out there. I don’t know much more about football than you do, and even I could tell they aren’t working together well.”
