“I don’t remember reading that.”
“That’s because you had a shitty lawyer. I remember her. She was sliding me her number on a business card during your contract review. Big thighs. Soft mouth.”
“That’s a lie! She wasn’t flirting with you.”
“Actually, she was. I definitely hit that.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Coop finishes his set of push-ups, stands up, then watches me closely as I reluctantly follow the line of sweat that drips from his throat down to the V of his abdomen.
“I thought you didn’t like sweat?” he asks with a smug look on his face.
“I’m gagging as we speak.”
His voice deepens. “Does it make you angry that I slept with your lawyer?”
“That woman is from my church,” I snarl.
“Praise the Lord.”
“I’ll buzz you when my replacement gets here. It can’t be soon enough for me.”
I storm out in a blaze. Tito doesn’t say anything when I whiz by him in the common area without saying hello. I already know what he’s thinking. It’s written all over his face.
Since when have I cared who Cooper Barnes sleeps with?
Chapter Fifteen
The man at the front desk of the building lets me know once my applicant has arrived, so I go downstairs to meet her at the lobby. Her name is Jane Perez, and she looks exactly as I desperately hoped she wouldn’t. She’s freakin’ gorgeous.
A beautiful woman with honey colored skin and plenty of brunette hair that hangs in soft waves to her bra line. She has an hourglass figure, a gentle smile, and I stare at her with envy for a moment because her breasts are definitely not like my teacups—they’re jugs.
I should have hired a man.
“Miss Perez?”
“Hi, Miss Owens. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.”
We shake hands and I can’t even find fault in that either. Her hand is warm but not clammy, slender but not fragile, and her nails are painted the perfect nude tone. I’m lucky if I can fit in a manicure on the holidays.
“Thank you for coming in. I’ve reviewed your qualifications and checked your references and I think that you may be a good match, but obviously the final decision comes down to my boss. We’ll go straight up to meet him unless you have any questions for me.”
One of the great things about the head-hunting agency we use is that they fill positions for high-profile employers anonymously. The applicants don’t get to know who’s doing the hiring until they come for the final interview which is exactly what we’re doing today.
The big reveal.
“Umm, no questions.”
Hmm, maybe Jane’s one flaw is finally exposed. Now that we’re on our way to meet Coop, she’s turned a slight shade of gray that tells me she may be ready to puke. While it’s normal to be nervous on a first interview, in Coop’s world it’s not a good thing to wear those nerves on your sleeve.
“You okay, Miss Perez?”
“Fine. Just excited.”
I knock on Coop’s door and wait for him to answer instead of walking right in like I usually do. When he opens the door my mouth almost drops to the floor in surprise and maybe even in a bit of lust.
He’s dressed in a freakin’ suit. An expensive one at that. A custom fit, Italian made, steel gray suit with a white shirt and black tie.
He almost takes my breath away, and I’m not sure how it happened or when it happened. I’ve been looking at this same man for years. So why does he look like a completely different person to me at this moment?
“Jane, this is my employer Cooper Barnes.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she says eagerly. “I’m Jane Perez.”
Coop lazily rakes his eyes up and down Jane’s curvy frame. They settle on her breasts for a moment and then back to her face. It’s quite obvious that he approves of the visual.
Shake it off, Ursula.
A small grin spreads across Coop’s face.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asks sounding almost relieved.
Jane looks as if she isn’t totally sure what she should say right now, but it’s not my job to bail her out. I need to make sure she can handle herself—especially with Coop.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Not a football fan?”
“No, not really. I’m more of a tennis girl.”
“Who do you like?”
“Sir?”
“In tennis. Who do you like?”
“I like a lot of players, but I guess my favorites right now are Nadal and Federer.”
“Ohh, the hot men of tennis.”
Jane blushes.
Is she for real?
“You could describe them in that way, but what I love most about them is their game. They’re true champions and give a hundred percent effort every time they’re on the court.”
“I guess somebody may see a few Wimbledon tickets in her future,” Coop jokes.
There she goes blushing again.
And why is he trying to impress her?
“Tickets would be very much welcomed if they come as a perk of the job.”
“Well I’m not a tennis player, but I can definitely identify with being a champion. I’ve earned three Super Bowl rings and have been to five Pro Ball games,” he boasts.
“Wow, that’s quite an accomplishment for someone so young.”
Coop peels off his jacket and lays it neatly on the back of his sofa. Then he starts rolling up the sleeves on his shirt bearing the ink on his forearms. Jane is doing a bad job of trying to avert her eyes from his thick, corded arms, although I’m not doing too much better either. I help myself to a bottle of water from Coop’s mini refrigerator in an effort to swallow the massive lump that feels lodged in my throat.
“Would you like some water as well, Miss Perez?” I ask.
“No, thank you.”
“I’d like some,” Coop says with an intensity and tone he’s never used with me before.
I grab another water as he silently watches my every movement. Then I hand it to him without saying a word. Feeling jittery the entire time.
“Thank you, Miss Owens.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So … Jane, just so you’re clear about the job. I play tight end for the New York Nighthawks which keeps me busy from July to playoff season. So, if we have a crappy season, I’m on six months and off six months but if we make it to the big dance, I’m on seven and off five. Either way those will be your busiest months, because when I’m playing football, it’s the only thing I want to concentrate on.
“I need to know that there is someone handling everything else when I’m not around and handling it well. I own several businesses, and I’m about to open a private high school for boys in Brooklyn. You’d be managing all of my appointments, phone conferences, and correspondence. In other words, you have big shoes to fill.”
“I look forward to learning all that Miss Owens has to teach, Mr. Barnes. I assure you that I will do my best to learn quickly and make this transition seamless for you.”
“Awesome. So, tell me—” Coop glances at me then back at Jane. “Are you married, Jane?”
“No, Mr. Barnes.” She almost giggles.
I CANNOT with her.
“Boyfriend?”
“I have no time for any of that, Mr. Barnes. I’m putting my little brother through school. He was born with a birth defect of the spine and isn’t able to walk but is a whiz with computers. This is his freshman year in college.”
Oh my God.
Kill me now.
Jane is a saint.
A saint with jugs.
“How do you work full time and take care of your brother?”
“My aunt is his companion, but I financially support the three of us.”
“Very admirable.”
“There wasn’t even a question of what to do. Family takes care of family.”
“Very true. So just one las
t thing, Jane, how we were so lucky to come across you for this position? Are you in between jobs?”
“My last employer said something derogatory about my brother’s disability in a fit of anger. I could not work for her any longer. While I realize that things are said in the heat of the moment, I lost all respect for her. I can’t work for anyone whom I can’t respect.”
Well good luck with that then.
“I love that!” Coop claps his hands together once loudly. “Let’s give it try then, Miss Perez. You’re hired.”
My head is suddenly clouded with second thoughts.
What have I done?
“Owens, she can share your office.”
Ugh.
Chapter Sixteen
“I demand to see the medical documentation proving that there is any therapeutic benefit to soaking our balls in ice water after every practice.”
I’m in pissy mood.
Practice is over for the day and now it’s time for NFL styled aftercare. Some players are stretching out, others are getting massages, but a few of us, including Saint and I, are taking our turns to sit and shiver to death in NFL approved cold water immersion tubs.
“I’m pretty sure there are hundreds of years of medical research supporting that, although there probably is a sadist in the afterworld somewhere laughing his head off at us.”
“They should serve alcohol in here.”
“I take it that you haven’t let Owens sit on your face yet.”
“I will shove your head down in this ice if you talk about her like that again.”
Saint laughs out loud.
“Well have you at least told her that she’s a great assistant? Have you told her how much you appreciate how she always has your back? Have you told her that you don’t want her to leave?”
“Not exactly.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’ve never told her how valued she is?”
“Her paycheck tells her that.”
“People need to hear the words. No wonder she wants to leave. And now that she is you still can’t find the words to ask her to stay?”
“It’s not that I want her to stay, I just want to understand why she’s leaving.”
“That sounds like the same thing to me. If you didn’t care you wouldn’t need to know.”
“She knows how I feel.”
It’s just that she doesn’t give a damn.
“You still seeing that Kiera girl?”
It’s been a while since I’ve seen Kiera or any woman for that matter. I’ve been too preoccupied with figuring out what the hell is the matter with Owens.
“No, I’ve just been chilling. Getting my head right for the season.”
The team doctor, Dr. Collingswood, comes by to check on us.
“How’s the temperature, guys?”
“Frigid.”
“Arctic,” I add for emphasis.
“Well that sounds about right. Means all your muscle micro tears are healing.”
The doc double checks the thermometer and the timer on the tub.
“You’ve got about five more minutes, fellas, and then it’s time for your rub downs.”
“Thank fuck.”
“And by the way, Coop, everything looks good with your ear. No significant changes since last year. You should be all clear for the season.”
“Thanks, doc.”
The doctor moves on to the next tub of players.
“You know I’ve never pried into your private life, Coop.”
“But it sounds like you’re about to do just that.”
“Well, we’ve known each other over five years, and you’ve never told me about what happened to your ear.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I was involved in an accident back in the day. The collision blew out part of my ear drum.”
“Gotcha.”
“Not the story you were looking for?”
“If you think for one minute that I believed those stories about Coach Barnes you must be crazy. I know your father is a good man. I was just curious. Even though you play around a lot, and have a good heart, you’re very much a secret squirrel. Very guarded. It’s hard to get to know you. It’s difficult to talk to you. It’s probably part of the reason why you had no warning that Owens was leaving. People feel as if they can’t tell you anything. That you don’t want to hear it or that you don’t care. Maybe that’s why you were blindsided.”
“I am not the person who you’re describing. That’s not me.”
“Aren’t you? Think about your inner circle. There’s me. Probably the only player on the team you talk to about stuff other than the game. And let’s be honest, we first became friends because my brother asked me to look out for you when you came here.”
“Thanks for that,” I say sarcastically.
“You’re welcome. And then there’s Tito. Your personal driver who probably says five words out loud a day. Just the way you like it. And then there’s the woman of the week. A few months ago it was Megan. Last week it was Kiera. This week it will be someone else. You pick very, let’s say, sexual women who you will never get serious about and could never bring home to your mother.”
“Which is exactly the point.”
“And then there’s Owens. The dutiful assistant who spends the most time with you but probably knows you the least. If she did, she should have known that her exit wasn’t going to be a smooth ride out of the door, but I don’t think she knew that. I think she thought you wouldn’t give a shit. That she was replaceable. That maybe you’d give her a bonus check, a good reference, and a nice knowing you.”
Saint has the unique ability of making me think of things in a different way. Ways that make my head hurt.
“They really should start serving drinks in here.”
“Have you said anything to the Parinzino yet?”
“Hell no.”
Paul Parinzino is Saint’s new backup quarterback who is now sleeping with Megan and evidently taking her to award shows. I have no interest in talking to him unless he’s throwing me a ball on game day.
“What a bitch.”
“Him or her?” I snicker.
“Either of ’em.” We both laugh. “But I’m not worried about Parinzino. I’ve never felt better. I’m going to crush it this season. He’s not taking my spot anytime soon.”
“It doesn’t matter about Megan either. We were never exclusive. She can sleep with anyone she wants to. Even a teammate.”
“That’s so ridiculously sad I think I’m going to cry.” Saint pretends to rub phantom tears away with his hands.
A few of the players around us start laughing, so I have to get a jab in.
“Like the way I cried the day you handed over your manhood to Sabrina on your wedding day?”
I get a couple of oohs from the guys.
“Hey, I don’t understand why you were crying for me. I get a home cooked meal and a blow job every night. What do you get?”
The therapy room fills with raucous laughter. Even the straight-laced Doctor Collingswood cracks a smile.
“You’re such a jackass.”
I flick an ice cube at his head.
“I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you. Oh, by the way, guess what I heard?”
“Aren’t you the fucking busybody this week.”
“It’s about Owens,” he singsongs.
Of course, that gets my immediate attention. I take the bait.
“What.”
“That guy Jim from The Examiner was overheard talking about her. Something about her fat ass.”
“You’re lying.”
I can feel my pressure rising.
“Why would I lie? You think half of the team isn’t looking at Owens when she comes to practice in those fucking tight workout pants and tiny T-shirts with no bra?”
“Who’s looking at her?!” I yell to the room. “Who is looking at Owens?”
A couple teammates on my offensive line start slowly raising their hands. Belkin. Ra
nd. Hobson. What the fuck?
“Sorry, but she’s hot, Coop.”
“Owens is not to be fucked with!” I bark.
“We know, dawg. That’s why no one has.”
“What else did Jim say?” I ask Saint.
“He’s taking your girl to dinner this week.”
“What?” I shake my head in disbelief. “It must have something to do with the interview I said I’d do. Owens doesn’t date.”
“Owens is doing a lot of things she didn’t used to do.”
“It’s not a fucking date.”
“Well what else would you call it?”
“There’s no way that she would give someone like him the time of day. I’m telling you this is all about that damn interview that I already regret agreeing to.”
“Whatever you need to believe.”
“Yo, what the hell is she doing?” I splash the ice water angrily with my fist.
“Hey, watch it!”
“She’s confusing the fuck out of me. Maybe she has cancer or something?”
Saint gives me a screwed up face.
“First of all, why would you even say something so stupid like that. Owens does not have fucking cancer. You’re grasping at straws. Quite desperately I might add.”
“Well why else would she quit out of nowhere and consider going out with that douchebag. Maybe she’s working on some sort of bucket list. Maybe she’s—”
“Going to sit on his face this week?”
The entire room erupts in laughter, and before I can shove Saint’s big mouth under the ice, the good doctor intervenes.
“Time’s up, you two. You have thirty seconds to get to the massage room.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Morning, everyone.”
“Morning, Mr. Barnes!” Jane responds.
Tito just gives a head nod as usual and I respond … cautiously.
“Good morning.”
It’s rare to find Coop in such a good mood this early in the morning. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s odd.
Wolf: A Sports Romance: The Nighthawk Series #2 Page 7
