HARLEY BRENNAN,
RUNNING BACK
First & Ten series, 7
Jean C. Joachim
Sports Romance
Moonlight Books
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A Moonlight Books Novel
Sensual Romance
Harley Brenan, Running Back
Copyright © 2016 Jean C. Joachim
E-book ISBN: 978-0-9971833-0-6
Cover design by Dawné Dominique
Edited by Tabitha Bower
Proofread by Renee Waring
All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Moonlight Books
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Moonlight Books
Dedication
To Football players past, present, and future and early
Diagnosis and prevention of CTE.
Acknowledgment
Thank you to the following people for their support:
Tabitha Bower, my editor, Renee Waring, my proofreader, Ariana Gaynor, David Joachim, Marilyn Lee, with special thanks to Larry Joachim and Steve Joachim, for providing guidance and insight about football.
Other books by Jean C. Joachim
FIRST & TEN SERIES
GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK
BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER
PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH
DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK
SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY, OFFENSIVE LINE
AL “TRUNK” MAHONEY, DEFENSIVE LINE
HARLEY BRENNAN, RUNNING BACK
OVERTIME
THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB
RESCUE MY HEART
SEDUCING HIS HEART
SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME
TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE
HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES
IF I LOVED YOU
RED CARPET ROMANCE
MEMORIES OF LOVE
MOVIE LOVERS
LOVE’S LAST CHANCE
LOVERS & LIARS
His Leading Lady (Series Starter)
NOW AND FOREVER SERIES
NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY
NOW AND FOREVER 2, THE BOOK OF DANNY
NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE
NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART
NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY
NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY (series starter)
MOONLIGHT SERIES
SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS
APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT
UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON
MOONLIGHT & ROSES (prequel)
LOST & FOUND SERIES
With Ben Tanner
LOVE, LOST AND FOUND
DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST AND FOUND
NEW YORK NIGHTS NOVELS
THE MARRIAGE LIST
THE LOVE LIST
THE DATING LIST
SHORT STORIES
SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED
TUFFER’S CHRISTMAS WISH
HARLEY BRENNAN,
RUNNING BACK
First & Ten series
Jean C. Joachim
Copyright ©2016
Chapter One
Kennedy Airport, New York City
Harley Brennan eased his tired body into a comfy recliner in the Eagle Airlines V.I.P. lounge and ordered a lemonade, a ginger ale, and an empty glass. He then mixed his own “Carla Special.”
“Always do you own bartending?” a seductive female voice asked.
Harley turned to stare into the gorgeous, baby blues of Shyla Hollings. “Shyla, sweetheart. What’re you doing here?”
“Heading to L.A.”
“L.A.? Me too. What for?”
“A set design job. I heard you’re going to be the next, future husband on Marriage Minded.”
“You heard?”
“It’s all over the media. Your handsome face is everywhere. Don’t you watch television?”
“Not lately.”
“Oh, that’s right. Concussion. No TV.”
“Were you at the game or was I hallucinating?”
“I was there. Penny had tickets. So I had to sit on the Demons side and cheer for Mark, but I was rooting for you too.”
“You came by after?”
“I did. You remember. I guess the injury wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”
“Bad enough. Want a drink?”
“Can I try yours? Looks interesting.”
“No alcohol, but it’s great.” He slid the beverage toward her.
She picked up his glass, never removing her gaze from his. She took a sip then ran her tongue over her lips. He got chills. “Delicious.”
And so are you, sweetheart. Harley reordered the same ingredients and mixed one for Shyla.
“So, why the TV gig?” she asked, taking a drink of hers and nodding her approval.
He looked down at his hands. “I gave up.”
“Gave up?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Gave up hope you’d come back. Gave up hope another Shyla Hollings would walk through my door. I want to settle down.”
“So, you contacted the show?”
“They came to me. Convinced me I’d find my true love. My soulmate.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you allowed more than one soulmate in a lifetime?”
She blushed, making her fair complexion even more beautiful. Blonde hair fell across her forehead as she turned her head to avert her gaze.
An announcement came over the loud speaker that their flight would begin boarding in ten minutes.
“Traveling first class?” he asked.
“As usual.”
“Maybe I can get your seat switched to be next to mine.”
“That’d be great.”
“If I can’t have you forever, guess I’ll have to take what I can get.” He rose and offered his hand. She took it.
They settled in, next to each other. Shyla relaxed her arm on the armrest. Harley managed to brush her fingers a dozen times before they even taxied down the runway. Once the plane was airborne, the stewardess came by with champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
Harley had expected to be able to greet Shyla as an old friend whenever they met again. After all, it had been a year since they had dated. Could you even call it dating? Stolen weekends here and there…a month together, two months apart. Shy traveled around the world for her work, doing set design for theater, movies, and television. Harley spent half his time on the road during football season. It had
been a miracle if they were within a hundred miles of each other on a weekend.
For Harley, the magic had started during that week in Costa Rica, at Penny and Mark’s wedding, and it had never faded. The electricity, the spark, the chemistry they had had in that tropical paradise still beat inside him. His blood pumped faster, his tongue got tied, and every nerve cell jumped to high alert whenever he had the good fortune to see her.
Did she feel the same? His question had been answered by her broad smile, warm greeting, and enthusiasm in bed. He had believed her feelings matched his, at least at the time. Her early design success hadn’t dimmed her interest in him, as they had met whenever they had been within a short plane ride of each other. Eventually, their jobs had stretched their bond, like taffy, to the breaking point. Getting together had simply become too difficult, so they hadn’t.
Harley had first met her right before she had gotten her big break into top television shows and A-list movies. She had been an aspiring designer, a nobody. He had found her to be quiet, unassuming, artistic, sweet, shy—just as her name predicted—and beautiful. He had been drawn to her immediately. Expecting to find only a hot bed partner for that week in Costa Rica, he had been knocked off his feet by her wit and genuine warmth.
Shyla Hollings could deadpan like the best comics in the world. She was funny—hilarious, in fact—and had kept him laughing every minute that he hadn’t been kissing her. She had become his soulmate, the total package, the one woman he’d been seeking. His heart had sung. Then, it had happened. She had gotten called by a major Hollywood producer’s office to work with an Academy Award winning set designer, and her career had taken off, leaving their affair to exist on crumbs until it simply hadn’t been enough.
Football season had ended until training camp in July. Just turned thirty-three, Harley had settling down on his mind. But Shyla’s career had been flying higher than ever. They had tried to fit in a committed relationship, but the physical distance had become overwhelming. He had grown lonely and wanted his freedom. She had been the greatest, but going to bed alone every night hadn’t.
After giving it everything he had, Harley had faced the only option left—giving up the greatest girl in the world for one who was in the same city. He had asked her if they could take a break. She had cried, but agreed. And that had been just over a year ago. Was Fate playing a hand, bringing them together at the airport? If so, Harley had to admit Fate had lousy timing.
Sitting next to her on the plane, he was drawn to her, again, like metal to a magnet, as if they had never parted. Her makeup was perfect, and she wore a silk tank top in aqua that showed enough cleavage to tempt him. Her nails were a soft peach color, and her blonde hair just long enough, but not too long, expertly styled. Her appearance screamed success, cool sophistication, and movie-star beauty. Obviously, she could have her choice of men.
On the way to their seats, Harley had noticed each man they had passed staring at the lovely blonde. Being the envy of every guy on the plane boosted his ego. He raised his glass.
“To old friends,” he said.
“To old lovers,” she countered.
“Touché,” he replied.
They drank and nibbled on gourmet snacks. Shyla filled his senses, her beauty, her unique scent, wrapped in an expensive perfume, wafting across the seat to him, the softness of her skin as his fingertips touched the back of her hand. Simply sitting next to her had him wired. Harley had no idea what he was putting in his mouth, but he wished it were a certain part of Shy, instead of a cheese puff.
“So, you won the Super Bowl, now you’re looking for a wife?”
He nodded. “That’s about it.”
“I can’t believe you can’t find one on your own.”
“All those groupies in bars aren’t exactly the girls I want to take home to mother.”
“That would be quite a trip, since your mom’s been gone five years now.”
He almost spit out champagne. She laughed and handed him a napkin.
“Nice way to talk about my mother.”
“None of your teammates can fix you up with the perfect girl?” She arched an eyebrow.
“If they could, would I be sitting here?”
She shrugged. “Guess not. Well, they can’t all be me.” Mischief twinkled in her eyes.
He grinned. “You got that right.”
The steward brought out caviar on toast, which they gobbled down. They dined on filet mignon, cooked medium.
Harley thought he’d lose it when she pulled out the same book that he had finished recently. “Damn it, Shy. Why do you have to be so much like me?”
“A man-whore?”
“You know what I mean. I read Grafton’s latest book last month.”
She chuckled. “My male twin. Oops, that would make us incest.”
He smiled before replying, “Is there an ‘us’?”
Color crept up to her cheeks. She turned away, peering out into the blackness of night. “I guess not. Not if you’re on the quest for connubial bliss with someone else.”
“Did you want to get married?” His eyebrows shot up. How could she do that if she’s never in the same place for more than a few weeks?
“The idea had crossed my mind once or twice.”
“About me or some other guy?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She shot him a saucy look with narrowed, sparkling eyes.
A twinge between his thighs brought panic. For God’s sake, don’t get hard on the plane! “And if I said I did want to know, would you tell me?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Dead serious.”
“I’m not going to tell you!” she teased, as she raised her glass.
Sassy as always, Shyla brought out the beast in him. He wanted to crush her to him, kiss her silly, and take her right there. Harley’s self-control kicked in. The pilot came on the loudspeaker and announced their descent into LAX airport. Shy fastened her seatbelt. Her fingers sought his, clutching tight, reminding him of her fear of landings.
“You’re still afraid? How the hell do you travel around the world if you’re scared to land?”
“I make sure to sit next to strong, sexy men who’ll hold my hand. It’s a great icebreaker.”
He laughed, opening his hand to her small one then closing around it. They settled back in their seats, enjoying a comfortable silence. Color drained from Shyla’s face as the jet dropped.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“The Versailles.”
“Me too. How about joining me for a drink in the bar?”
She drew her stare from the window to his eyes. “Tonight?”
He nodded.
“Why not?”
“You can finish that story about the Swedish director and the camera man.”
Her worried expression melted as a smile stretched across her face. “Oh, yes, that one.”
She squeezed hard as the plane bumped down onto the runway. He lifted her fingers and kissed them. Their gazes held for a moment before the stewardess returned to retrieve blankets and pillows. The thought of what he and Shy could have done with a blanket spread between them invaded his brain. He shook his head slightly to clear out the lustful ideas.
After they claimed their bags, a man came forward, holding a sign with Harley’s name on it.
The footballer grinned. The show sent a limo for me. “Your carriage awaits, my lady,” he said, with a sweeping gesture. The chauffeur opened the door, and they piled in. If this is what it’s like to be on Marriage Minded, I made the right decision.
The vehicle pulled up in front of the Versailles Hotel. Shyla didn’t have a reservation. Harley had a suite.
“Stay with me. Save money.”
“Yeah, right.” She shot him a sharp glance. “We’re old news, Harley. I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to bunk in with you.”
He sighed. The hotel found a room for her and took care of their luggage. Shy and Harley headed fo
r the elegant bar. The decor had a French flavor, and the watering hole was no exception. It carried the finest French wines and liqueurs, including cassis from Nuit St. Georges.
They claimed a small, round table by a window overlooking a manicured lawn, highlighted by the soft, yellow glow of lanterns. The two, plush, stuffed armchairs were close together. Shyla ordered a Kir, made with the finest cassis from France, while Harley sipped a superior cognac. The room was dark, with only a candle on the table to light their faces. Shyla’s cheekbones were outlined by the reflection. Her eyes were bright, mirroring the flickering flame. Her beauty shone through the dark, quiet atmosphere.
Although Harley had only had two drinks, when he arose to say goodnight, he stumbled.
“I thought you could hold it,” she said, snaking her arm around his waist to steady him.
“Concussion, remember? Haven’t been drinking for a couple of months.”
She nodded as she steered him toward the elevator. When the door opened, she slipped her hand into his pocket to retrieve the key, making him giggle like a schoolgirl.
“If you’re gonna do that, I’m not gonna be responsible,” he said, leering at her.
Shyla sniggered as she propped him up against the door and slid the card into the slot. Once inside, she flipped on the light and gasped at the opulence of the apartment. The foyer was large, with a huge, gilt mirror and a small table hugging the wall. He staggered to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders, almost knocking them to the ground.
Harley was six feet tall and two hundred pounds to her five foot, three inches and barely one thirty-five, soaking wet. She guided them to the bedroom. He flopped down on the bed. She took off his shoes and managed to remove his jacket. She hung it in the closet, approached him, and rested her hands on her hips.
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