“Shall we?” he asked. Without hesitation, she wrapped her hand around his sleeve.
* * *
Carly really had to stop drinking. She’d guzzled a glass of wine already and was moving quickly through a second with dinner. Her nerves were a mess. It was bad enough to have to spend the evening doing the pretty with her father and his wife, but Julianne had wrapped her in some concoction that had most of the men ogling her all evening. Publicly flaunting her sexuality had been her mother’s trick, not Carly’s. As much as possible, she preferred to fly below the radar.
Then there was Shane. Oh my, he looked good in a tuxedo. If she were being honest, Shane looked hot even when he had on sweaty running shorts and a T-shirt. But when she laid eyes on him tonight, she nearly keeled over in her high heels. Most athletes looked like sausages stuffed into a tux, their necks too wide for the collar or their thighs bulging out of their pants. But not Shane. He looked like he just stepped out of a 1950s nightclub. And he was being sweet. Almost as if he sensed how stressed she was by having to spend the evening with her father and stepmother.
They were seated at a round table just next to the dais, surrounded by her nieces and nephew, Matt’s parents and Penny, who was escorted by one of the team’s crusty offensive line coaches. The dinner had been enjoyable with the old coach and Mr. Richardson trading stories, each more colorful than the next, until Penny and Mrs. Richardson had reminded both men that “little ears” were present. Shane seemed to be enjoying himself, too. The strain she’d perceived during that first dinner with the family not evident this evening. He joked with the older men at the table and paid equal attention to the kids. He and C.J. spent part of dinner discussing cars and football, C.J. apparently having left his surly demeanor at home. At times, Molly stood between Shane’s and Carly’s shoulders, watching as Shane played a game on her pink Nintendo DS.
“I wonder what’s on the menu for dessert?” Mr. Richardson asked, patting his belly and winking at his grandchildren.
“Chocolate mousse cheesecake,” Penny said.
“Aunt Carly’s favorite!” Emma clapped her hands.
“With lots of whipped cream, I’ll bet,” Shane said softly. Carly quickly turned to glance at him. He was leaning toward her, his shoulder lightly touching hers. His forearms rested on the table as he openly grinned at her, that errant lock of hair tempting her to touch it. She blushed for the umpteenth time that evening. Oh God, he had noticed all those whipped topping bowls in her kitchen. Taking another sip of wine she shouldn’t be drinking, she turned away from his knowing grin.
“Has anyone seen Molly?” Matt stood behind his son, looking around the table.
“She went to the bathroom awhile ago, Dad,” Emma said.
“She probably fell in.” Apparently her nephew hadn’t left his attitude entirely at home. Matt lightly smacked him on the head.
“You promised me,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’ll go get her,” Matt’s mother said as she rose from her seat, placing her napkin on the table.
“No, Mom.” He stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. “The governor wants to meet you all. He’s on his way over.”
“I’ll do it,” Carly said, pushing away from the table. “I need to freshen up anyway. And, I’ve already met the governor,” she teased him.
“Hurry back,” he said. “Lisa wants to start the program soon.”
Carly waved in acknowledgment and traversed her way through the crowded ballroom. No sooner had she made it to the main lobby when she spotted Molly. A woman dressed in a tuxedo played a ragtime tune on the grand piano in the foyer while Molly sat on a stuffed chair behind her, feet swinging in time with the music, her face buried in her video game.
“Molls,” Carly said, stopping in front of her chair. Her niece looked up with a sheepish grin. “Your dad is looking for you. They’re going to start the program in a little bit and he wants you back at the table.”
Molly sighed as she turned off her game. “Do I have to? It’s so loud in there!” But she was already standing, carefully tucking the game in her small purse. Carly smiled and brushed the girl’s hair back over one shoulder.
“Sorry, pumpkin, but you’ve got to be a team player. Tonight’s important to your mom.” Carly tweaked her under the chin. “I’ve got to use the restroom. You go back to the table and make sure they leave me a big piece of cheesecake, okay?”
Molly suddenly reached forward and grabbed Carly in a fierce hug.
“Aunt Carly,” she mumbled, her face buried against Carly’s stomach. “Thanks for making my mom better.”
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she leaned down to kiss the top of Molly’s head.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered. “Now, get back in there!”
Her niece released her and, with a quicksilver grin, hopped back into the ballroom.
It took great effort to keep the tears at bay. Carly hurried to the restroom before anyone noticed. Glancing at herself in the mirror as she passed through the ladies’ room, she was surprised by her reflection. The woman looking back at her was poised and beautiful. Not exactly how Carly felt.
The dress Julianne designed for her was exquisite. Dressed like this, she looked like one of the portraits of her English ancestors hanging in her late grandmother’s estate. She wondered if her mother had felt the same way. By all accounts, Veronica had been quite the rebel, turning her back on her place in English society—on her family—to work as a foreign news correspondent. Carly’s recollections of her mother were from the standpoint of a young girl. At times, Carly wished she could have known her as an adult. Perhaps she would have understood her better.
Really, what was she doing thinking of her mother? Molly’s thank-you was turning her into a sap. She needed to pee and get back to the ballroom.
A few minutes later, she finished touching up the damage her unshed tears had caused to her eye makeup, then snapped her evening bag shut authoritatively.
“Get ahold of yourself,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. “No more wine. Just coffee and cheesecake.” She couldn’t afford to be tipsy around Shane. He’d been playing Prince Charming all night; the safe date. But Carly was getting tired of constantly denying the attraction between them. She needed to get this night over with before she did something stupid. Something that might make her happy for tonight. But that type of happiness would only be temporary, she was sure of it.
Charging out of the ladies’ room into the now empty hallway, she suddenly collided with a man standing directly outside the door. Two hands grabbed her bare forearms a little too tightly. Startled, Carly looked up into the eyes of Joel Tompkins. A very high Joel Tompkins. Quickly glancing around for someone to help her, Carly tried to yank her arms free, but Joel held her tighter. He smiled, his big white teeth a little too close for comfort.
“Well, well. Look who we have here.” His breath reeked, causing bile to rise up in the back of her throat. She didn’t know what he wanted. He certainly wasn’t an invited guest. Especially dressed as he was in a Grateful Dead T-shirt, black cargo pants, and flip-flops.
“Damn, Carly. You look hot,” he said, pulling her closer to him. “It’s just you and me. Alone. Finally.” Leaning in, he began to kiss her neck. Pressing her hands on his chest, she tried to push him away. Her breath came in quick staccato beats and she couldn’t get enough air to speak. She barely managed a squeak when he bit her along the collarbone.
“Joel, let me go! You’re hurting me!” She forced the words out. But he didn’t seem to hear her. Panic spread through her body. Her heart was beating too quickly and her skin felt clammy. She opened her mouth to scream and he closed in. She gagged as his tongue swept through her mouth. Her struggle against him proved futile. So she resorted to the only option left to her: She bit his tongue. Hard.
“Oww,” he cried, pulling away from her, wiping
at his mouth. “What did you do that for?”
Carly wiped at her own mouth. “Joel,” she said, her voice raspy and a bit unsteady. “Get away from me.”
“But Carly, you want this. You want me.” He moved toward her as she pressed her back to the wall. Clearly, this guy was delusional. Looking around quickly, she weighed her options as he reached out for her again.
Suddenly, Joel was no longer holding her and she slid down the wall. The sounds of fist meeting bone filled the air as a huge shape wrestled with Joel. She tried to stand, but she was afraid of getting caught in the melee. A low growl escaped one of the men as a head hit the wall. She wasn’t sure if it was Joel or her rescuer.
“Shane!” Donovan grabbed at the huge body standing over Joel. “What the hell are you doing?”
She should have known it was Shane.
“You okay, sweetie?” Asia was sliding down the wall next to Carly.
Donovan turned at the sound of Asia’s voice. He obviously hadn’t seen Carly until that moment. His hands were in fists as he turned back to Joel’s body slumped on the floor.
And then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the bright flicker of a camera flash went off in Carly’s face.
* * *
“Let me see if I can get this straight,” Hank Osbourne said. Carly was sitting in the office of the hotel’s general manager. Lisa and Shane were crowded on either side of the sofa with her. The jacket of Shane’s tuxedo was draped around her shoulders, but Carly still couldn’t seem to stop shivering. Lisa gently rubbed a hand over Carly’s back. Matt stood in the doorway like a sentry, his arms crossed over his chest. Hank paced the room, pinching his nose between his fingers.
“The quarterback whom we’ve paraded around Baltimore these past two weeks to dispel his reputation as a hotheaded, rebellious smart-ass just pummeled some guy unconscious in a downtown hotel,” Hank said, his normally taciturn composure threatening to explode.
Shane shifted beside her. “It was one punch,” he mumbled. “I swear I only hit him once and the jerk crumpled.”
“That jerk, Devlin, is the grandson of a very powerful man in this city. His grandfather was sitting in the dining room with the rest of us. Now he’s threatening to press charges,” Hank yelled.
Surging to his feet, Shane got right in Hank’s face. “I don’t give a shit who that stoner’s grandfather is! He was all over Carly. Guys like that . . .” Shane shook his head in disgust. “But I didn’t pummel him. I only threw one punch.”
Matt grabbed Shane and forced him back onto the sofa, pressing a hand to his shoulder to keep him seated. Hank stood before them, hands on his hips pushing his tuxedo jacket open. Carly felt like she was in the principal’s office awaiting expulsion.
“Hank, Shane didn’t start this. Joel did!” Carly tried to intercede on Shane’s behalf.
“Well, I guess we’ll just see how the incident went down because apparently there’s film at eleven,” the GM ground out.
“Not again,” Carly groaned, burying her face in her hands. Lisa wrapped her arm around Carly’s shoulder.
Not for the first time in her life, Carly was in the wrong place at the wrong time when the media were watching. It was bad enough Joel had put his hands—and mouth—on her, but now the paparazzi could blow the incident out of proportion. What was it about her that the media found so fascinating? She’d already been run out of Italy and a job she liked by the actions of a man and the overzealous media he practically commanded. Surely it wouldn’t happen again.
Worst of all, Shane was telling the truth. Joel had collapsed after one punch. Apparently he couldn’t hold his liquor or his drugs. The facts would win out and the Blaze would probably be able to protect Shane. But who would protect Carly from the evening entertainment shows? She wasn’t a celebrity, but by virtue of the fact that her mother and her former fiancé were, she had to suffer the media scrutiny. Well, she’d had her fifteen minutes of fame—and then some. The thought of enduring more made her sick.
“Hank,” Lisa said. “Could we please not forget about Carly?”
Hank rubbed his hand over his head before crouching down on his knees in front of the sofa. “I’m sorry, Carly. Nobody should have to go through what you did with Tompkins. We’ll make this right. The Blaze organization is a family, and we take care of our own.” Hank took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. The warmth in Hank’s eyes did a great deal to calm Carly’s racing nerves.
Donovan hustled into the room. “The bartender told police Tompkins had three drinks in the hour before he confronted Carly. He also said Tompkins was pretty wasted when he arrived. Police are taking his statement now.”
“Can the police ask for drug and alcohol tests while he’s in the ER?” Hank asked.
“Already done,” Donovan said.
“Good,” Hank said. “That’ll give me something to bargain with in convincing the grandfather not to press charges.”
Donovan handed a disk to Hank. “Surveillance tapes. The hotel gave me the originals. Their security chief is a friend. Also, the photographer in the hallway is just a hotel patron. Asia convinced him that season tickets to the Blaze and a comp hotel room for every game were a better bargain than whatever the picture would be worth to someone else.” He winked at Carly and she was finally able to breathe normally.
“Nice work,” Hank said, pocketing the disk. “Let’s hope my negotiations with the grandfather go as well. I suggest you two quietly leave the hotel. The media know something is up since the police were called, but I’d rather we control the spin on this.”
They all stood and walked out of the office, Lisa’s arm draped over Carly’s shoulder. Hank was examining Shane’s hand.
“Get some ice on that,” he said. He walked over and gave Carly a gruff kiss on the cheek. “You get some rest. I’ll see you on Monday.” He made his way back to the ballroom, presumably to speak with Joel’s grandfather.
Matt was next. He took Carly in his arms and brushed his lips over the top of her head before handing her off to his wife.
Lisa gave her a squeeze. “You call me if you need me. No matter what! Promise?” she demanded.
“I promise. Now go and wow them with your speech.” Carly shooed her sister and brother-in-law away, offering them a forced smile as they left. Once they disappeared into the ballroom, Carly turned to Shane. Gently, he put his hand on her back and guided her over to the concierge desk. He reached for his jacket. Carly began to shrug it off her shoulders, but Shane pulled it closed instead.
“Huh-uh,” he said, his warm breath stirring the tendrils of hair along her forehead. “I just need my valet stub.” He reached into the breast pocket of the jacket, lightly brushing her bare shoulder. She took a calming breath as heat rose in her belly. Apparently not even being accosted by a drug-crazed creep could temper her body’s reaction to Shane. He retrieved the ticket and put his hands on her shoulders, gently easing her down onto an upholstered bench tucked behind the concierge.
“I’ll be right back. Sit. Stay,” he commanded her. Carly raised her chin to stare at him, arching an eyebrow for good measure.
“I’m not Beckett.”
“No, you’re not.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin on her neck. “You smell better.” Shane smiled. And Carly felt her heart flutter. He was the same man who’d been charming her all night. Except now she was looking at him differently. He’d just put his position on the team in jeopardy so he could help her. She returned his smile with a genuine one of her own. He froze for a minute and she thought he might say something. Instead, he clucked her on the chin.
Carly slowly leaned back against the wall as she watched Shane walk away. He stopped to speak sternly to the hotel security guard who was following them discreetly and then left her there in search of the valet. She closed her eyes as she waited for him, her inner self telling he
r she could trust Shane. The prickling sense of fear she felt whenever she was around Joel wasn’t evident when Shane was near. He’d come to her aid tonight. She hated that Hank was so ready to accuse him of being a bully, when Shane was really the hero in all of this. Heck, the man even rescued lost dogs. What would the media think of that? She smiled to herself. Yes, she could trust Shane to keep her safe. Too bad he wasn’t the type of guy she could trust with her heart.
Eight
Shane was still seething as he held the passenger door to his Lincoln Navigator open for Carly. As elegantly as was possible considering the circumstances, she climbed up into the SUV, gathering the skirt of her dress up under her. The car wasn’t exactly made for women in high heels and evening gowns, but he didn’t like cramming himself inside a tiny sports car. He needed space. As he walked around to the driver’s side, he ripped at his bow tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar. Enough of the monkey suit.
Climbing in beside Carly, his hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. He took a deep breath before glancing over at her. She sat with her eyes closed, her head leaning back against the headrest. Man, what a night, he thought as he looked out over the hotel’s drive. He could have killed that bastard Tompkins. If Donovan hadn’t come along, he very well might have. Thoughts of what might have happened if he hadn’t gone looking for Carly made his palms sweat. He didn’t even know why he’d gone looking for her, except that he missed her. Boredom had set in within two minutes of her leaving the table. Trying to calm his thoughts, he dragged in another breath.
“You okay?” Carly asked softly. He turned to look at her. The interior of the car was dark, but he could see her cheek silhouetted against the streetlights. Reaching over, he traced a finger along the spot on her shoulder where Joel had grabbed her.
“I should be asking you that,” he said. “I don’t think he left too much of a mark.”
Game On (AN OUT OF BOUNDS NOVEL) Page 10
