“Dammit, I felt it too! McEnnis and Rask said I was imagining it.” I knew I wasn’t imagining shit. As a lifelong athlete, I knew my body and I knew when something felt off. “Thanks Syl. So what’s new? Have you conquered the world yet?”
“No. But I did win a big case today. Marcos was acquitted.” She grinned, so proud of herself, but I could see the tension underneath her smile. She loved that she’d won, but these clients were slowly killing her spirit. “He put down a retainer for my services.”
“That’s great, Syl. Now tell me what’s wrong?”
She blinked a look she always thought made her look innocent. It didn’t, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her. “What do you mean? Did you just hear what I said? I won.”
Head cocked to the side with a bored expression on my face, I waited her out.
“Fine, there is something, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Let’s enjoy the next twenty four hours and then we’ll talk.” Her hand went to her silky red curls, smoothing them down in a slow, calming motion.
“Come on, Syl. Don’t make me drag it out of you. I’ll never focus if I’m worried about you.”
“Maybe. But once the final is behind you and another trophy is in your hands, you’ll be ready to listen better.”
“I’m a great listener.”
“You are, but this is important and I need you to really listen and keep an open mind.”
Now I was just plain intrigued. For years it felt like I got so much more out of our friendship than Sylvie did. She was the one who encouraged me to go to a smaller university with better coaches, and it was Sylvie who pushed me to take on a coach everyone else thought was washed up. But he had won four grand slams in the past, and she insisted his style was similar to my own. She’d been right. Just as she’d been right when she encouraged me to ask for more upfront money on my first endorsement deal from a startup that went belly up two years into a five-year contract.
“Fine. Sunday night over dinner, we talk.”
She flashed her killer smile. “Great. Now the question is, are we going to split that fudge cake or are you simply going to watch me eat it?”
I’d never been so glad that my internal thoughts didn’t appear in bubbles over my head, because somewhere deep down, a few dirty thoughts came to mind. About my best friend.
“Just enough frosting to be worth it.”
She grinned, thinking of the game we used to play when I was training. “I’ve missed you. Six months is too long. I hate only seeing you on TV.”
“Even though I look so handsome?” I preened mockingly, and she laughed.
“I don’t know, they say the camera ages you.” She could barely contain her laughter, it damn near bubbled out of her. The harder I glared, the harder she laughed. “I’m just kidding, you’re still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s better.”
With Sylvie here, everything did feel better.
“Damn Sylvie, take it easy on a guy.”
She gone out early this morning while I was at practice to get a new dress for the reception tonight. She refused to show up, “looking like a hot mess on the arm of the number one tennis player in the world.”
Her words, not mine.
She laughed and twirled, doing her patented shake and shimmy as she did. The red dress clung beautifully, hugging all kinds of curves and showing off her shapely legs. Her red hair hung in sexy, touchable waves that shielded most of the flesh bared by her backless dress. And the shoes, well I wouldn’t even think about them because she was my best friend. But I am a man, and the whole outfit made it hard to remember who she was.
“What fun would that be? I have to look like the kind of girl who could attract Bad Boy Brady.” She did another little hip shake and I grabbed her arm and pulled her along.
We arrived at the reception fashionably late, which meant the bulk of the press attention was on us as we posed for photos and interviews. It was all part of the song and dance for the final of pretty much every tournament.
“Put on your best smile.”
She did and clasped my hand in hers, giving me a confident nod as we progressed on the line, answering questions about who she wore, who I wore and whether or not we were a couple. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I joked to a well-known sports journalist. Everyone wanted to know about the bombshell on my arm but Sylvie just smiled, whispering jokes and smiling beside me to make sure I didn’t take any of this too seriously.
“Is it serious?” The question came from a popular entertainment show host and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“Deadly serious.” That much was true. My relationship with Sylvie was serious. And permanent. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I promised to twirl my girl around the dance floor.”
“You handled them smoothly.”
“Not my first rodeo,” I said and pulled her into the big ballroom where the dinner and dancing were well under way. We said our hellos to all the important people in the room, Sylvie impressed a few of them with her fan girl stats.
Tennis icon, Eric Gladden approached us before we made it onto the dance floor. “Brady, great match tonight and all week. If you’re ever ready to replace McEnnis, I’m interested.”
“Thank you, Eric. It is something to consider before the Open.” I had been thinking of replacing McEnnis who was now what everyone thought he was a decade ago.
Eric’s smart brown eyes flashed surprise. “Great. And Mira has been gushing all night about how adorable you are together,” he wrapped an arm around his wife, who’d famously won a Golden Slam which meant she won all four grand slams plus the Olympic gold in the same year.
“Uh, thanks?”
Gladden shrugged. Men didn’t notice these things. “She said she’d never seen you so happy and in love, and to make sure I passed on the message.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gladden. I am huge fans of both you and your wife, so I’ll take whatever compliment you pass on.” Sylvie flashed a sweet smile that mesmerized Eric for a brief moment before he pulled back.
“Thank you.”
“Sylvie.”
“Great to meet the woman able to tame this guy,” he told her and shook his head as he walked off with a smile.
Sylvie turned to me with a disbelieving stare. “I can’t believe you did that! Don’t blame me when it’s all over the world that you’re in love and then you can’t get a date.” She stuck her tongue out and all I could do was laugh.
“I won’t because you’ll just have to be my date. Problem solved.” I’d rather spend time with her most days anyway.
She snorted and bumped my shoulder as we finally made it onto the dance floor. “Yeah but I don’t put out.”
True. “You say that now, but I haven’t put the moves on you. Trust me, my moves work.”
She tossed her head back and laughed, sending her soft curves in even closer contact with the harder parts of me while I spun her around the dance floor. “It’s been so long they just might work.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about whatever she needed to talk about. So as soon as I could leave without being rude—after the awards and speeches and rubber chicken—I grabbed her hand and reversed our path back to the limo. We laughed and talked the whole way back, especially when she told me how the notorious Marcos Antoni was jealous of me this weekend. The man was smart to be jealous.
Back at the suite we changed into comfortable clothes, made drinks and ordered room service as we prepared to talk. I handed Syl two fingers of whiskey in a crystal tumbler. She took a long, fortifying swallow.
“Now spill.”
With a twitch of her lips, Sylvie nodded and took another sip. She sighed and drank a bit more. Fidgeted and then sighed before finishing off her drink.
“Okay,” she said on an exhale. “You know how hard I worked to make junior partner, and I think soon they’ll make me senior partner. Which is all great, except it hasn’t left time to develop any significant relationships, not t
hat I did all that great with the insignificant ones,” she joked. “Let’s just say I’d rather do another green juice cleanse than try another relationship. But that doesn’t mean I want to give up all my dreams for the future. Specifically, a child.”
Okay, I could handle that. “You’re going to be a great mom, Sylvie. You’re bossy as hell and so damn nurturing. Most people didn’t think of that when they thought of the powerhouse shark attorney Sylvie Porter, but I knew her best.
She grinned, just as I hoped she would. “Thanks, Brady. I’ve done a consultation, two actually, with a fertility clinic and I got as far as looking at donor profiles when I realized I couldn’t do it. I can’t let a stranger father my baby.”
She sounded so bleak, so hopeless I nearly volunteered to give her a baby myself. “Okay,” I said instead, unsure how else to respond to that. She took another deep breath and laid those big blue eyes on me.
“I want you to give me a baby, Brady. Just listen before you say no. I’ve known you forever, so I know your family’s mental and medical history. Which let’s face it, is a crucial fact with a stranger who sells his jizz. Plus, we’re best friends, so you’ll always be around to answer questions, if you want,” she added the last part late, as though it had just occurred to her. “Oh, and you don’t have to be the ‘dad’ if you don’t want to be.”
I let her words sink in for a moment, because it was a hell of a lot to process. In one breath, she’d just sent my world tumbling headlong into uncertainty. I turned back to the bar and grabbed two big handfuls of mini bar bottles because this was no time to worry about quality.
Sylvie wanted a baby.
My Sylvie wanted a baby. And she wanted me to give it to her. That was enough on its own, but she was giving me the option of being involved or not. “Wow,” I said and drained another bottle.
“I know, and I don’t mean to spring this on you Brady. If you feel uncomfortable you can say no, and it won’t change us. Take some time to think about it.”
“How long until you need an answer?”
She sighed in resignation. “Well I’m already off birth control and I don’t think I’ll need any hormonal help getting pregnant, so I can give you five or six months to decide.”
I heard what she didn’t say, which was she hoped I’d make up my mind much sooner. “And after that?”
Then she did sigh, and I heard the disappointment. “I’ll go back to a fertility clinic. Too bad you don’t have any brothers,” she offered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her big blue eyes.
“Tell me about it,” I laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Poor Brady never got a brother or a pony for Christmas.” She rolled her eyes affectionately and patted the cushion beside her. “Come on then, let’s table this discussion until you’ve had some time to think about it. Right now, I’ll rub your stinky feet while we veg out right here.”
I took a seat and she rested my feet in her lap, flipping on a music station before she began to dig deep into the tension in my feet. “Fuck that feels good, Syl. Why are you so good to me?”
“You’re my best guy, Brady.” She flashed that girlish smile that reminded me so much of teenaged Sylvie. Even then she’d been unaware of her own appeal, but even with glasses and a poor fashion sense, she’d been beautiful to me.
I relaxed into the sofa, trying hard not to think about the fact that Sylvie wanted me to give her a baby.
Or the erection her massage caused.
Sylvie
The day after the reception I slept in, and when I finally woke up, Brady was already at practice. Even though he’d just won a tournament, there was another one in a week and he had no down time. It was an exhausting lifestyle but he seemed to excel at it.
I dressed quickly and decided to do something I hadn’t done in years. I explored the Indian Wells gardens, and let my thoughts focus solely on Brady and what he might think about my proposal.
It was obvious he was nervous. Worried and a little hesitant, all of which was to be expected. But he never revealed what he really thought about it, and I knew that overthinking something I couldn’t change was a recipe for stress, which I couldn’t afford at the moment. Either Brady would help me, or he wouldn’t. The end.
But as much as I wanted to forget it, I couldn’t. It was a huge ask, I knew that. Hell, it was an ask that might end our friendship if he was really committed to being commitment and responsibility free. But as much as I wanted a baby, I didn’t know if I could risk it. Maybe an anonymous donor wasn’t so bad?
Yeah right.
Even the crisp, clear day and the colorful flowers couldn’t distract me, so I turned and made my way back to the room. I could tell Brady was back the moment I entered because his cologne lingered in the air. I found him in the main room with his head back, eyes closed and feet on the table as he relaxed in nothing but a towel that hung low on his hips.
Damn but he was a beautiful man, inside and out sure, but right now, those abs…
“Jeez I seriously need to get laid if I’m gawking at you with my tongue wagging out.”
His mouth curved into a slow grin and one green eye popped open, then the other. “Hey babe, I don’t work hard to not look this good.”
“Of course not. You work hard to make what, half a million for a week of work?”
He frowned. “One point one.”
My eyes bugged out of my head. “I guess you chose the right time to become a tennis great.”
“Don’t forget the glory and the fame,” he said around a goofy grin.
“Right. How was practice?”
His expression instantly changed and I had my answer, but still, I waited. “Shit. I lost serve three times in that second set on fucking double faults and you know what McEnnis said? He said fuck all, jack shit about it, Syl!” He shook his head, completely disgusted. “I did it on purpose hoping he could see it so we could work on it before heading to Montreal tomorrow. But he’s fucking useless.”
I knew he wouldn’t want to hear my next words, but I said them anyway. “Are you hurting somewhere and hiding it?”
“No,” he answered a little too quickly, and I quirked my eyebrow.
“Then maybe you should call Gladden sooner rather than later.” He wanted to, I knew he did. The man was an amazing tennis player, but he was a better coach, and until now he’d only worked with new talent. Kids on the cusp of greatness. “He offered. The least you can do is hear what he has to say about your game.”
He groaned, stretching his long body until the towel dipped so low I spotted a sprinkling of dark hair that intrigued me. I really needed to get laid. Things were bad if Brady was getting to me.
“You’re right.”
“I usually am. Now get dressed, get pretty and let’s go do some tourist crap before you go.”
“We always do tourist crap and we’ve both been here too many times.”
“Fine. Stop whining and tell me what you want to do.”
He grinned that salacious grin he did so well and I rolled my eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter, I want to eat.”
“Sushi?”
“Who in the hell is that going to satisfy? I want some barbecue, ribs with cole slaw and corn on the cob.”
“Oh sure, there’s a place where I hear they give out blood pressure medication with every half slab of ribs.”
He stood and the towel nearly fell, but he caught it and winked at me. “I’m completely okay with that.”
“Then let’s go.” I smiled as he disappeared into his room. Things were still normal, still right with us.
No need to worry.
“You want me to do what?” I leaned forward in my seat around the conference room filled with junior and senior partners, palms flat on the table and I’m sure, outrage splashed all over my face. I’d heard exactly what they, no what he said. And it was pure bullshit.
“You heard me, clearly.” Paul sneered at me like a fucking child.
I looked around the table at t
he other senior partners, waiting for someone to smile and say it was a prank. Or to brush off Paul and say this was all a mistake. But they didn’t. “So after winning this case, thousands of billable hours with only one associate to help, you want me to give Antoni to Paul?”
“One associate?” Harvey Milsen, one of the named partners cut a curious glance at Paul. “The Antoni case required at least two associates.”
“Yet I got it done with one. I won that case. While Paul suggested a deal right out the gate.”
He scoffed the same way he did when Marcos told him “fuck no” on a plea deal. “Everyone knows what Antoni is.”
I laughed. “Maybe. But what matters is that they have to be able to prove it. And last I checked it was our job to make sure they can’t prove a damn thing.”
I’d felt so good this morning. A few days with Brady was just what I needed to give me a little more gas to get through the week. I made it to Thursday on that alone. And then this shit at the weekly staff meeting.
“Sometimes a deal is what’s best, and you’ll learn that. When you’ve had more experience.”
It was my turn to scoff. “I agree, but this time was not one of those times.” I held my hands up, taking a quick second to admire my pink French tips, to stop anymore words. “What is this, you want me to talk to Marcos and get him to agree? Because he does not like Paul.” Paul and the other senior partners bickered and I tuned them out, looking out the window and wishing I was anywhere but here.
If Brady agreed to help me start a family then I would look for work at a smaller firm. Or maybe start my own little firm somewhere else. Even if he didn’t agree, it was time I started making plans. Past time, actually.
“Are you still with us, Sylvie?”
“Sorry, no. What did I miss?” A few people snickered but I wasn’t trying to be a smartass, I had just lost interest.
“I want Marcos Antoni on my roster. Make it happen.”
Fake Fiancé Next Door_A Small Town Romance Page 12
