Leaning back on the two back legs of his chair, Shane took in the scene. Carly was dressed in khaki shorts and a fitted Blaze golf shirt, her hair neatly pulled back in some kind of braid. He hadn’t seen her since the incident at the television studio earlier in the week. The remaining media commitments were national and Asia was handling them now that she was back at work full-time. Fortunately, the major sports writers focused most of their questions on the x’s and o’s of football, steering clear of his personal life. The final stages of the Blaze media campaign had been easy for him, in more ways than one.
Carly was all smiles dealing with the kids, handing out napkins and dispensing spoons and sprinkles. She looked like she was actually enjoying catering to the little ankle-biters. Shane wasn’t much for kids. His agent, Roscoe, had a pair of twin boys aged somewhere between diapers and kindergarten. The few times he’d been around them, he’d ended up with some sort of food product or worse stuck to his clothing. Shane shuddered at the thought. Although, watching Carly gently stroke her hand over a little towheaded boy stirred something inside him. Probably just feeling jealous of the little bugger. Shane took a pull from his protein shake as Carly walked over to his table.
“Can I grab this chair?” she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. You running a day care now?”
“Well, after working with you for two weeks, how hard could an afternoon with seven preschoolers be?”
“Nice one.” He saluted her with his drink.
Carly grinned at his compliment. “We do this most Fridays, especially during the season.”
“You bring in kids to play? Here? During the season?” he said, not bothering to hide his shock.
“Not just any kids. Children of the players and coaches. We also have a family dinner on Wednesday nights. The coaches and players spend so much time here during the season that we try to give them an opportunity to see their families, too. It makes for a stronger team. One big, happy family.”
In Shane’s experience, families weren’t generally happy, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. She looked so proud of the concept that he figured it had to be her idea.
“It works pretty well, if I do say so myself,” she said, notching her chin in the air.
Yep, definitely her idea. One thing he’d learned about her these past few weeks: Carly would do anything for her family. In fact, her life outside the office pretty much revolved around helping out her half sister, Coach, and their kids.
“As long as I don’t have to play the family game,” he said.
Carly tilted her head to the side, studying him for a long moment. “What’s your problem with the concept of family?”
Shane thumped the front legs of his chair back down. “I don’t have a problem.”
Placing her palms flat on the table, she leaned in front of him, giving him an excellent view down her shirt. His groin grew tighter beneath his workout shorts.
“Okay, then, if you don’t have a problem with families, why do you clam up every time an interviewer asks you about your father? Or your brother?” she demanded.
Shane’s eyes shot from her breasts to glare at Carly’s face. He was so not having this conversation with her. His father was not up for discussion with anyone. Period.
Bruce Devlin might be his father, but he was not Shane’s family. The man everyone was so interested in was on the upside of life again. He’d landed on his feet after conquering his addiction and was now regarded by many as one of the top coaches in college football. After dragging himself from the gutter, he’d found religion and was now leading his alma mater to bowl game appearances while lecturing at faith conferences for athletes across the country.
Further aggravating Shane, Bruce Devlin also managed to acquire a hot new wife half his age. A former Miss South Carolina, Lindsey Devlin was everything Shane’s own mother had never been: beautiful, well educated, and possessing enough social graces to charm the shit off a man’s shoes. Shane had taken an instant dislike to the green-eyed, statuesque brunette who was his father’s young wife. The few times Bruce and Lindsey had invited him to visit when he was a teenager, Shane took every opportunity to demonstrate that his soul was beyond redemption—including propositioning his father’s wife.
Looking back, Shane was ashamed at his childish behavior. Bruce and Lindsey—especially Lindsey—had treated him with extreme patience. She continued to invite Shane to family events despite his staunch refusal to attend. He chalked it up to her doing her “Christian duty.” Making the effort to include Shane probably allowed her to sleep at night. He assumed his father was glad he stayed away so as not to poison the character of his other son.
The one Bruce Devlin stuck around to raise.
When Shane continued to glare at her, Carly stood up crossing her arms under those problematic breasts. “Seriously, Shane? Not even a smart comeback to my question?”
“I’ll answer your question when you answer one of mine.”
She annoyingly arched an eyebrow at him, refusing to back down.
“What was the problem at the television studio the other morning?” he challenged.
For a moment, he didn’t think she’d answer. In fact, he was counting on her not answering and stalking back to her charges and leaving him the hell alone. Instead, she surprised him, sinking down into the chair next to his. He watched her, curious, as she picked up the wrapper from his straw and silently twisted it around her finger. After a quick glance over her shoulder at the little ones still enjoying their yogurt, she finally looked at him.
“That guy who was outside my home a few weeks ago when you and Donovan ran by—Joel Tompkins—he works at the station. He’s very . . . eager . . . for a date with me, even though I’ve told him no a couple hundred times,” she said.
From the look on Carly’s face, Shane knew there was more to it. “What. Did. He. Do?” he demanded.
Carly took exception to Shane’s tone, stretching back in her chair to put some space between them. The move made Shane angrier.
“I’m serious, Dorothy. If the guy’s a problem, you need to let Donnie or Coach know. One of us can handle him.”
Rolling her eyes at him, she let out a huff. “Donovan has already handled him. He and Asia had Joel reassigned from the Blaze complex, but Donovan has no jurisdiction at the television station, although he’s tried.” A chagrined smile quickly came and went from her face. “Donovan had him banned from my neighborhood. Now that I know where he works, I’ll definitely boycott Channel Three. Problem solved.”
Shane banged his head back on the wall behind him and closed his eyes in frustration. “I hadn’t figured you to play the victim.”
“Been there. Done that,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to play the victim ever again.”
Opening his eyes, he looked into her determined face. He sighed. “Just promise me you won’t be a hero?”
A slow grin spread across her face. “I promise.”
They sat there staring at each other like two idiots for who knows how long, until Asia hobbled up. She thumped something that looked like a seating chart onto the table between them.
“Just the two people I’ve been looking for,” Asia huffed, pushing her crutches aside to slide into the other empty chair. “I need to finish this seating chart for the gala tomorrow night and you two are the last singles I need to seat.”
Shane had bought his ticket for the thousand-bucks-a-head gala, but he hadn’t actually planned on attending, so he really didn’t care where Asia sat him. Looking at the faces of both women, Shane decided it was best to keep his planned no-show a secret.
“I’m sitting at the kids table,” Carly said, pointing to a spot on the chart.
“Shocker,” Asia said.
“There’s a kid’s table?” Shane asked.
“Yes, Shane, there is,” Carly sa
id. “Since this is a foundation for kids, Lisa and Matt want their children there for the fund-raising launch. They want to share the moment with their fam-i-lee.” She shot him a cheeky grin.
“Yeah, and you’ll be the babysitter.” Asia rolled her eyes at Carly. “And, to make your evening more enjoyable, I’m putting the punter, Tom Rakowski, next to you since he’s coming stag. Seriously, you guys are professional athletes. Why is it you can’t get dates?” she asked, looking up at Shane.
“Kickers are dweebs,” Shane said. Still, he was a more than a little bothered by the fact that the Blaze’s punter would be spending tomorrow evening making nice with Carly.
“While you, Shane Devlin, have star quality. I’m putting you at one of the big spender tables. Most of the men are in their seventies, but their trophy wives will appreciate the view you bring,” Asia said. Something about her tone gave Shane the feeling she might not be joking.
“Hey, why can’t Rakowski man the cougar table?” Shane asked.
“Dweeb, remember?” Asia said, penciling something on one of the circles on the chart.
Carly laughed, her eyes sparkling at Shane.
“Or . . .” What was he doing? He wasn’t even going to the damn dinner. “Carly and I could sit together and Rakowski can sit with the Richie Riches.”
Both women stared at him.
“It wouldn’t be like a date, really,” Shane bumbled. “Just ‘friendly coworkers’ going to a team function together.”
“So not a date, then,” Asia said with a perplexed look. Carly continued to stare at him.
“Well, sort of like a date, but not. A safe date,” Shane said.
“Ah, a safe date,” Asia drawled. “Hmm. Well, Carly, what say you? Do I pencil the dweeb kicker at the money table, leaving Mr. Safe here with you at the kids’ table?”
Shane tried not to shift uncomfortably in his chair as Carly just stared at him. If she said yes, he was going to the gala tomorrow night. He didn’t want to go. So why did he desperately want her to say yes?
“Sure,” Carly finally said. “It’s a date. A safe date.”
Seven
“Safe date, my ass,” Shane muttered as he leaned against the bar.
Looking across the crowded ballroom, he was oblivious to its backdrop: a panoramic view of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. He didn’t notice the glittering lights on the masts of the tall schooners moored beyond the windows. Or the sparkling centerpieces of black-eyed Susans and flickering tea lights neatly placed on the tables. All he saw was Carly standing in the center of the ballroom. She looked radiant.
From his perch, he watched as most of the men entering the gala stole a quick glance at her. Not that he blamed them. Her dress wasn’t so much the “do-me” dress he had envisioned; it was better. It was made of some shimmering blue fabric that softly reflected the light, making her look like the ocean on a dark summer’s night. He was sure that women would have another name for the color, but to him, blue said it all. It somehow wrapped around her body, highlighting her luscious curves, ending in a knot between her shoulder blades.
Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head. Not exactly the neat little knot she wore to work every day. Tonight, wisps of hair escaped their sparkling clips and drifted down over her slender neck. Shane’s fingers itched to pull the rest of her hair down and untie that knot holding her dress up. God, this had been a huge mistake. He should have stuck to his original plan and stayed home tonight.
“Jack Daniel’s, neat,” he said as the bartender came by to take his order. He really should order something for Carly, but he didn’t know what she liked. He figured margaritas wouldn’t go with the dress, so he ordered her a glass of chardonnay instead.
“You drinking the hard stuff tonight?” Donovan asked as he slid up to the bar next to Shane.
“I’m dressed like a waiter, so I thought I’d play the part this evening,” Shane told him. “Carly’s father wanted a drink, so I offered to get it for him. I’m sticking to my game plan of water with a splash of lemon.” He really wanted a beer, but he needed to keep his wits about him where Carly was concerned.
“They both look pretty hot tonight,” Donovan said a little reverently as he stared across the room. Shane turned to see Asia, walking tonight with just a cane, join Carly and her father, network news anchor Hugh Delaney.
“They do,” Shane agreed. It seemed he wasn’t the only one lusting after a Blaze employee. Only in Donovan’s case, his relationship wouldn’t be as complicated as anything between Carly and Shane. He tipped the bartender and both men headed over to their dates. Shane handed the drinks to Carly and her father.
He’d met Hugh earlier in the day, as the family gathered for appetizers and cocktails before the gala. His first thought was the television newsman seemed older than he appeared on TV. No surprise there. His second thought was he was an ass for treating Carly like the second or third string. Hugh acted as if his beautiful daughter were a friend of Lisa’s, not a sibling. Sure, the guy was attentive to her, but in the way a parent might humor a neighborhood friend of their own child. One who came over for dinner most nights because he had no place else to go. It was a feeling Shane knew too well. And his gut burned at the thought of Carly being on the receiving end of it. The problem was, from what Shane could tell, Carly didn’t seem to mind it. She smiled serenely at her father, picking up the morsels of attention Hugh threw her way as if they were treasured gems she’d string on a chain around her neck. Shane’s hands balled into fists just thinking about it. She deserved better. Just as he had from his own father. Neither of them deserved to be treated like mistakes.
The governor entered the ballroom accompanied by the owner of the Blaze, and Hugh quickly excused himself. Asia and Donovan followed closely on his heels to do a little ass kissing themselves, leaving Shane and Carly alone. Or, as alone as they could be with three hundred or so other people milling about. Carly turned to Shane, taking a sip of her wine.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he said, gesturing to her glass.
“This is fine,” she said, taking another sip.
Man, he was an idiot. He was standing in the center of the room making inane small talk when all he wanted to do was tell her how beautiful she looked. The words were out before he could stop them.
“You look . . . amazing,” he said.
A faint blush crept up her neck.
“Why thank you,” she said, returning his compliment with a smile. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Devlin.”
“Next time I’ll remember not to put my jacket on the sofa before I put it on. It took me a half an hour to get the dog hair off.”
“I think you might have missed one.” Reaching over, she pulled a stray dog hair off his arm. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from taking her hand and holding it in his own.
“Beckett says hello, by the way.” He rocked back and forth on his heels.
“He does?” Carly was beaming now. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but they began to stroll from the center of the ballroom. By mutual acceptance, they wandered to a quiet corner behind the dais. She stopped in front of the picture windows overlooking the harbor. As she turned to face Shane, the lights in Fells Point cast a halo around her head.
“I didn’t figure you for having a dog. You don’t seem the type to want the responsibility.”
It was the truth, but her words struck a nerve. Once again, he found himself wondering why people’s opinions of him mattered.
“Actually, he found me.”
“Seriously?” Carly tilted her head to the side, awaiting further explanation.
“He belonged to a family in my neighborhood in San Diego. I’d see him outside playing with the kids when I went jogging. He was always coming up to me and jogging along until we got to the end of their yard. He really is a good dog. One day, I was driving by and noticed the
family had moved. I guess I hadn’t been paying too much attention because I didn’t realize the house was on the market. Anyway, a few days later I found Beckett rummaging through my garbage cans. The family had just up and left him. I learned later that they had been foreclosed on. I guess they couldn’t afford the expense of another mouth to feed.”
“But leaving him to fend for himself, that’s cruel!” Carly’s eyes widened in horror.
“Yeah, well, the vet says it happens more often than you’d think. I meant to find him a home, a family with kids. He really seems to like them. But it’s been six months and I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“Shane Devlin, you’re never getting rid of that dog,” she said with a knowing grin.
She was right, of course, her confident words touching something deep inside. Shane stood riveted, admiring her smile as the lights danced on the harbor behind her head. She took another sip of her wine and held his gaze.
“Aunt Carly!” Molly appeared out of nowhere, shattering the moment. “Mom says we need to find our table for dinner. Can I sit next to you, please! I don’t want to sit next to Grandpa Richardson. I think he took a bath in his Old Spice again, and if I have to smell it at dinner, I’ll just puke!”
He watched jealously as Carly turned her beautiful smile to her niece, reaching over to gently cradle the girl’s cheek, a move that instantly settled the girl down.
“Of course, pumpkin. Go ahead to table number three and pick out the seats you want us to sit in.”
Molly left them at a gallop, weaving her way through the crowd to find their table.
“She’s a bit of a drama queen, but she’s a sweetie,” she said with an apologetic grin.
“That’s okay. I’m not that big a fan of Old Spice, either.”
Carly laughed then. Really laughed. Shane nearly lost his breath at the sound. Unable to resist temptation any longer—he had to touch her—he held out his arm to her.
Game On (AN OUT OF BOUNDS NOVEL) Page 9
