Shane had no problem picturing Carly reading Gabe’s wife the riot act. Her crazy blue eyes would be wild in her agitation. Her breasts all perky as she stomped around reciting the signing bonus rules chapter and verse. He was getting excited just thinking about the two women sparring. Despite a Herculean effort during the past week to banish Dorothy from his fantasies, he hadn’t been too successful.
“I missed a girl fight?” he asked reverently.
Donovan laughed. “Not quite, but that probably would have made TMZ.”
“Damn.” Shane slowed briefly to call to the Labrador retriever who’d been sidetracked from the jog when a passing scent caught his attention.
“Probably would have been a good fight, too. According to the office scuttlebutt, there’s no love lost between Carly and the little bridezilla.” Donovan bent down to massage his knee.
Shane lifted his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. “How’s that?” he asked through his shirt.
“Who knows,” Donovan said as he stretched his leg. “Probably has something to do with her being jealous of Carly and Gabe. She practically accused Carly of purposely withholding his bonus because she had a thing for him.”
“Carly and Harrelson?” His pulse, already racing from his run, ratcheted up a point or two.
Donovan looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “No,” he said. “They’re just friends. Carly was recovering from a serious burnout in a relationship. Gabe is more in touch with his feminine side. In fact, I’m surprised he even married, if you get my drift. Anyway, he was more like a confidant to Carly while she got over that crazy Italian soccer player she was engaged to. Guess Gabe’s new wife is just the jealous type.”
She wasn’t the only jealous type, Shane thought. Not that he’d admit to being jealous; more like curious. The first opportunity he’d gotten after overhearing Carly’s conversation in her office, Shane had searched the Internet for details about her former fiancé. The story played out like a soap opera within the European media, specifically the tabloids. Maxim Vicente charmed “Darling Carly” while having a secret relationship—and a child—with a married woman, eventually leaving Carly a month before the wedding. Unfortunately, the paparazzi painted Carly as an unstable victim, unable to hold on to her man.
“About you and Carly . . .” Donovan’s sharp tone brought Shane out of his reverie. Neither man had broached the subject of the incident in Carly’s office the other day. Shane had hoped his friend would just let it lie, but apparently not. Donovan stood facing him, hands on hips, his interrogator’s face clearly in place.
“There is no ‘me and Carly,’” Shane answered. Trying his best to project nonchalance, he locked eyes with the former Marine, challenging him to say otherwise.
Donovan held his ground for a moment, before finally shaking his head and looking away. “Look, Shane,” Donovan said. “What you do is your business. But Carly . . . she’s been through a lot, you know? She comes across as all poised and sophisticated, but underneath, she’s still pretty tender and raw. I just wouldn’t want to see her hurt.”
Shane tried not to wince at Donovan’s words. Obviously, his friend bought into the public’s perception of him. The implication that he would somehow hurt Carly rankled. People’s opinions of him hadn’t mattered before, so why were they becoming important now? And why did the idea of Carly being hurt—by him or someone else—bother him so?
“You ready to head back to your place?” Donovan asked.
“Yeah, I probably should get this guy a drink.” Shane gestured to the large chocolate-colored dog lolling in the shade of a large tree, his pink tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth.
“A beer sounds good to me, too,” Donovan said with a grin as he jogged down a side street.
Shane lived in one of the team’s rental properties in the elite, gated community. The four-bedroom house sat on over a half an acre on a cul-de-sac at the very back of the neighborhood. He and Donovan navigated a maze of smaller row houses to get to the more exclusive area of the community.
“You’re lucky you got a place in here, man,” Donovan said as they rounded a corner. The tree-lined street was quiet in the early evening. “A few of the Blaze staff live in here and they say it’s pretty quiet. I guess you’ll be running into Carly in here, too.”
Shane stumbled, but he was able to right himself without Donovan taking too much notice.
“Carly lives here?” he asked, the words escaping his mouth before he could temper his reaction.
“Yeah.” Donovan looked at him sharply. “In fact, that’s her place up ahead.”
Shane looked farther down the street to where the object of his distraction stood gesturing to another man. The trunk of her Saab convertible stood open. It looked like she’d been disrupted in the act of carrying in groceries. The man was obviously offering to help haul in her bags, but Dorothy was having none of it.
“Shit!” Donovan swore, picking up his pace. Shane followed suit, his pulse beginning to shoot up again. He wasn’t sure if it was from seeing Carly again or from Donovan’s apparent concern.
* * *
The cloying smell of Joel Tompkins’s cologne first alerted Carly to his presence behind her. God, this guy is a pest, she thought to herself as she turned from the trunk of her car to see him reaching in to grab a grocery bag. It went against her nature to be openly hostile to another person, but she was beginning to think today might be an exception.
She was still reeling over her encounter with Gabe’s wife earlier. That woman was a nutcase! What could have possibly possessed Gabe to marry her? Okay, Carly knew why he had married her—for the publicity—but the little bridezilla obviously did not. Carly actually sympathized with Chloe; right up until Chloe accused her of being involved with her husband. The little scene in the lobby of the training facility had propelled Carly’s pity into annoyance. Damn Gabe for sending the tabloid princess to do his dirty work anyway. The fight for his signing bonus was going to get messy, but Carly knew she had an iron-clad contract on her side.
Escaping her office early, she’d sought solace in a Pilates class at her health club. She’d been looking forward to an evening of kicking back with a glass of wine and watching Downton Abbey reruns on PBS. Instead, she was staring into the hooded, dark brown eyes of Joel Tompkins.
When she’d first met him, Joel had reminded her of a puppy. Eager and affectionate. Lately, however, he was becoming more persistent and clingy. More . . . menacing. He took the plastic grocery bag from her hand.
“I’ve got it,” Carly said, pulling the bag back from him. Her gut was telling her not to give him any excuse to come inside her home.
“I insist.” He pulled back, nearly tearing the plastic bag. A nervous laugh escaped as she envisioned the grocery bag rupturing and her jumbo box of tampons flying across the lawn. The lopsided grin he offered her in return made her shiver. Were his teeth always that big? Crap, now she was imagining him as a wolf, not a puppy. She nearly shrieked with hysteria at the low growl that seemed to be conjured up by her thoughts. The growl caught Joel off guard as well; he loosened his grip on the grocery bag and she quickly pulled it to her chest before it ripped completely.
“Is there a problem here, Carly?”
She looked up to see Donovan Carter standing, hands on hips, next to her open car trunk. A large brown Labrador retriever was insinuating itself between her and Joel, letting out another low growl as it sat possessively on Carly’s feet. Joel looked from the dog to Donovan. A brief scowl covered Joel’s face, but he quickly hid it.
“No problem here, dude. I’m just helping the lady with her groceries.” He looked down at the dog. “Your dog’s got a bit of an attitude, though.”
“The dog’s mine.” Carly’s head whipped around to see Shane standing on her other side, his arms folded across his chest, hands tucked under his arms. Looking more menacing than Joe
l ever could. She glanced down at the panting dog now lying across her sneakered feet. The dog thumped its tail as its eyes darted from her to Shane. Joel moved to grab the grocery bag again and the dog immediately came to attention, its growl fiercer than before. Taking a step back, Joel looked at the animal as if he might kick it.
“Hack journalism must not be paying well these days, Tompkins.” Donovan stepped between Joel and the dog. “Now you’re working as a bag boy?”
“I was in the neighborhood. We’re friends, so back off, man.” Joel was becoming increasingly defensive. It didn’t help that Donovan now stood inches from his face. Carly thought she really should step in and defend Joel. He worked for the local television station, after all, and she didn’t want any bad publicity for the team.
“That right, Carly? You two friends?” Donovan asked, his eyes never leaving Joel’s face.
But Joel had become a pest. Maybe Asia was right: The only way to get rid of the guy was to be a little mean.
“No.” Her voice shook a little. “Joel, we work in the same place. We are friendly to one another, but that’s it. It really wouldn’t be professional for us to have any other type of relationship. I’m sorry.”
Jeez, she felt like a hypocrite. Not more than a week ago, her hands had been all over Shane Devlin, and he was one of the team’s players! And two of the three men standing there knew it. She didn’t dare turn around and look at Shane.
“You hear that, Tompkins? The lady doesn’t need any help.” Donovan backed Joel toward his car. Joel’s face briefly clouded with anger. But, as before, he quickly masked it. When he looked up, he had become the overeager puppy dog again.
“Sure. Whatever. You can’t blame a guy for trying.” He smiled at Donovan as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. “She is pretty hot,” he said with a wink as he slid into his car and started the ignition.
“Thank goodness.” Carly let out a relieved breath as she absentmindedly stroked the broad head of the dog.
Donovan turned to face her as Joel drove off, the bass of the car’s stereo thumping down the street.
“I don’t trust that guy. I’m going to jog out to the guard house and make sure he leaves. I also want to know how he got in here.” Donovan looked past Carly to speak to Shane. “I’ll be back in five.”
As he jogged off, Carly tried not to think about being left alone with Shane. He’d been remarkably quiet during the exchange with Joel. It didn’t seem to be in his personality to resist an opportunity to strut his testosterone. She wondered if he was saving it up for her.
Stop thinking like that!
In the week since their encounter in her office, she had done some serious introspection. This thing between the two of them couldn’t continue. Shane Devlin wasn’t her type. Sure, he was dark, brooding, and sexy as hell, but he wasn’t the type to stick around. And Carly had had a lifetime of men who didn’t stick around. She wanted more than that. She wanted happily ever after, the kind that was quiet and out of the public eye. Shane Devlin was not happily-ever-after material. She’d just gently but firmly let down Joel Tompkins—and he hadn’t gone postal on her. Now it was time to set things straight with the team’s new quarterback.
She looked up from her musing, still absently stroking the dog’s head, only to find the object of her thoughts had silently lifted the remaining grocery bags from her trunk and was striding toward the front door of her row house. She let out a frustrated huff. Just moments ago, her instincts were telling her not to let Joel Tompkins in her house. Those same instincts were remarkably quiet right now. Alarm bells should be going off, but her mind was silent as she watched a pair of muscled thighs and a tight butt—perfectly displayed in running shorts—disappear through the door. The dog rose and trotted after its master. At the steps, it paused to turn its chocolate eyes to her.
She swore the dog was asking her if she was coming.
“Oh, all right,” she muttered as she slammed the trunk closed, following man and beast inside. This conversation would be a lot easier if it didn’t take place in her house.
Shane had already placed the grocery bags on the counter of the kitchen by the time she and the dog arrived. He stood silently, giving the room the once-over, and she suddenly became conscious of how small her kitchen was. His presence seemed to stretch the limits of the room. He’d been running, and she could see the sweat staining his shirt. His scent should have been offensive, but instead he smelled . . . good. Like a man. All man. As his scent permeated her nostrils, she could almost taste him. She had to swallow as she remembered the taste of his skin beneath her lips. Heat pooled low in her belly. Quickly, she turned away from him to regain her composure. Trying to distract herself, she reached up into the cabinet and pulled down an empty, plastic whipped topping container from a stack of twenty or so. Great, now he knows I’m addicted to whipped cream. Filling the makeshift bowl with water, she set it on the tile floor. The dog paused in its perusal of the baseboards beneath the breakfast stools to drink. For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the dog lapping up water.
“Look, Carly.” Shane hadn’t moved any closer, but his voice seemed to caress her. “Donny will be back any minute and we need to clear something up.”
Carly turned to face him. She leaned a hip on the counter and raised her chin up a notch, waiting.
“About the other day in your office,” he began.
“Let’s forget it happened,” Carly said quickly, standing up straight.
“It was a mistake.” Shane said at the same time.
A mistake? She hugged her arms to her chest and willed the tears not to come. His words stung. For a moment, she was back in Italy. The press labeling her as pathetic, unable to hold on to a man. Why was it always her fault? Hadn’t Shane initiated the kiss in her office?
“Whoa,” Shane said, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t say it never happened, Dorothy. I’m pretty sure that was your tongue down my throat.”
Seriously? He could call it a mistake, but she was supposed to be pining for more? No freakin’ way. Carly rolled her shoulders back. She was not that gullible girl the Italian paparazzi had created. It had taken her months to get over Maxim’s betrayal, but she was over him. She could easily handle Shane Devlin.
“It’s not like I’m lying awake nights dreaming of it,” she said smugly.
She dared to look into his eyes. What she saw reflected in them surprised her. She expected to see arrogance. Instead, she saw hunger. And heat. That same look she’d seen in Cabo. With a little bit of loneliness mixed in. She turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears that still threatened. Ripping off several sheets of paper towel, she threw them on the floor, stepping on them with her sneaker to wipe up the water the dog had slobbered. Shane sighed behind her.
“I’m sorry, Carly.” It sounded as if he were speaking through his hands. “I’m not good at this.”
She turned to see him run his fingers through his hair.
“What I want—what I think we both want—is to keep this professional. I don’t have a very good track record when it comes to relationships. If I’m going to screw something up, I’d rather it not be with the GM’s assistant. Especially if she happens to also be the coach’s sister-in-law. As much as I’d like to explore whatever this is between us, it’s just not a very good idea.”
Honesty. That was not what she was expecting from Shane Devlin. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.
“Even if she is hot,” he finished softly. The grin he added nearly took her breath away. She knew she needed to say something. Something mature. But she couldn’t trust her voice.
“So, we’ll just be friendly to one another around the office,” he forged on, repeating her words to Joel from earlier.
“Yeah.” She let a slow smile escape. “That would be best.”
He held out his right hand for her to shake. She went to take it,
but pulled back at the last instant.
“I . . . don’t think we should . . .” She stumbled over the words.
“Yeah, no touching,” he finished for her. “I don’t seem to know how to stop once I start touching you,” he whispered.
They stood there, not touching, for a moment more. The only sounds in the room were the hum of the refrigerator and the deep breathing of the dog dozing on the floor.
“I’d better go,” he said finally. “Donny’ll be looking for me.”
Shane headed for the door, whistling for the dog as he went. Scrambling to its feet, its tongue still hanging out, the retriever happily followed him out of the house. Carly remained rooted to the kitchen floor. Being friendly coworkers was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?
Six
The next four weeks went by quickly for Carly. Her usual duties assisting Hank in the Blaze front office had been fairly light, it being the off-season. Still, between monitoring Shane’s media blitz and dealing with Gabe Harrelson’s crazy new wife, Carly had very little extra time to help Lisa plan for her gala—which the team was cohosting—now only a week away.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor of Asia’s office, Carly carefully stuffed engraved tickets into envelopes that she then neatly stacked in assigned piles beside her.
“I can’t belief Gabe is giving the team such a hard time about his signing bonus,” Asia said from her perch on the sofa behind Carly where she was monitoring media reports about the team on her iPad. “He’s out for the season, if not for good, and it was his own fault. He’s an idiot for going hang-gliding.”
“Actually,” Carly said, “Gabe hasn’t been in contact with the team at all. Neither has his agent. It’s just crazy Chloe. Between emails and phone calls, she’s averaging fifteen rants a day.”
Game On (AN OUT OF BOUNDS NOVEL) Page 7
