A Gentleman's Agreement (15 page)

Wearing a wireless
headset, Blake paced laps around his office as he waited for Johnny Giles to
answer the line. He’d known the man a number of years. Considered him a friend
even. But only trusted the smooth-talking man as much as he did a rabid fox. It
wasn’t through any fault of Johnny’s. Early years in this business had taught
him about misplaced trust.

He’d also learned early
on, that it wasn’t what you knew, but who you knew. And Johnny was definitely a
person you wanted to know.

“Johnnny G,” Blake said
when the raspy voice came on the line. “It’s been a minute. How was your holiday?”
Johnny G coughed and Blake feared the man would hack up something vital.

“Grandkids made me feel
old. Kids drained me dry, wife threaten to leave me if I didn’t quit smoking. All-in-all,
it was wonderful. How was yours?”

The man always tried to
put a positive spin on things. Blake contemplated the question. “Eventful.” He
slowed to a stop. “Did you get my package?”

Johnny G was the man
you went to when you needed information of the sensitive nature. He had
connections from skid row to the pentagon. Did whatever, whenever, to find what
one was looking for. All within legal lines, of course.

“Got it two days ago. I
should have something for you in another day or two.”

“You the man, Johnny
G.”

“I’m just the man who
knows a man.”

The line went dead.

Eyeing the time
reminded him of the call he needed to make. Pressing in the number, he waited.
Like the last ten calls, this one, too, floated into voicemail.
Damn
. He
hung up without leaving another message for Fredrick Bass. It was official. He
was being ignored. The thought made his blood boil. If Freddie Fingers wasn’t
taking his calls, he was taking them from someone else. Namely, Palmer Elliot.

Dropping into his
office chair, he massaged the tightness in his neck. He’d pulled twelve hour
days every day that week. Tonight would have been no exception had he not made
plans with Eunice. The thought of falling asleep with her in his arms brought a
smile to his face.

Damn, he was smitten with
that woman.
Smitten
? He laughed out loud. He was his father’s son.

Blake pulled out his
bottom drawer to remove the bottle of ibuprofen he kept there. The cherry wood
box caught his eye. Removing the
Audemars
timepiece—a seriously
overpriced trinket given to him by one of his clients for a job well-done—he
shook his head. Despite the rigorous financial courses he required his clients
to attend, the kid still spent money like it grew on a tree in his backyard.

“Forty thousand for a
watch.” He shook his head again and replaced the box. He would save it until
time came when the kid needed the funds. At the rate he was going, Blake gave
him two years, tops. He just couldn’t convince the young player that even
ninety million didn’t go far when you’re balling out of control.

He looked at the less
extravagant watch he wore every day. It’d been his grandfathers. A simple
device that had probably cost his grandfather no more than eleven dollars. But
to Blake, it was priceless.

Gathering everything he
might need—on the off chance he would be able to get some work done away from
the office—he shut down his computer and pondered making one last call to
Freddie. Blake wasn’t sure why he was so eager to sign him. It wasn’t like his
company would fold if he didn’t. Far from it. FSM was solid.

Maybe it was the fact
he saw something in the kid. Something that he saw in himself—drive and
determination. Without great management, Freddie would never reach his full potential—no
matter how good he was at dribbling a ball. He couldn’t lie; there may have
been a minute amount of competitive spirit involved also.

What the hell
?
He punched in the number again. Much to his surprise, Freddie answered. Blake
straightened in his chair. This was his time to shine. He piped up the charm
and worked that Farrington magic that had acquired all of his current clients. This
was what he knew. He couldn’t lose, wouldn’t lose. Especially to Palmer
Elliot’s weasel ass.

An hour later, Blake
stabbed at Eunice’s doorbell. He propped himself against the doorjamb and
waited for her to answer. Had he not cancelled their dinner plans twice prior,
he certainly would have tonight. He was whipped—both mentally and physically.

The talk with Freddie
hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Although Freddie claimed he’d give signing with FSM
some thought, Blake doubted his commitment. Well, he’d done all he could.

Was he losing his touch?
He recalled the days when all he had to do was say Farrington and potential
clients were lining up to sign on the dotted line. What had changed? Blake
tilted his head toward the sky. When a star twinkled in the distance, he smiled
at the gift Eunice had purchased him.
Nah
. He wasn’t losing his touch.
He was still a rock star.

The industry was
dealing with a new breed of athlete? Ones who were more concerned with the
number of endorsements or zeros he could get them, rather than the fact that he
was genuinely concerned about their careers. Yes, endorsements and zeros were
good—and also part of his job—but in Blake’s opinion, a solid, long-term
relationship was also important. It was something he’d strived for with each
and every one of his clients, along with building wealth that would sustain
them far beyond their playing years.

Blake dug the heels of
his hands into his tired eyes just as the door opened. “Hey.” His gaze roamed
over Eunice’s body. “You’re not dressed.” She ignored him, took his hand, guided
him inside and up the stairs.

“I cancelled our
reservations.”

“Why?” Especially since
he was starving.

“A little birdie told
me you’ve had a very trying day.”

Eunice had been the
first person he’d called the second he’d gotten off the phone with Freddie. “For
the record, your little birdie was right.”

She smiled over her
shoulder. “He usually believes he is.”

He playfully pinched
her butt. As exhausted as he was, the move roused him. Surely, he could conger
enough energy for a little naughty play.

His brow furrowed when
Eunice led him passed the king-size bed and toward the closed bathroom door. A
cloud of steam greeted them when they entered. Inside, Eunice tilted her head
slightly and studied him for a moment. “What?”

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

“You fascinate me,” she
said, running her hands down his chest.

“How so?” A stroke of
the ego couldn’t hurt.

“Most people would have
given up on Freddie Fingers, but you rode it out. Not for money. Not for
bragging rights. But because you knew you could be good for his career. You’re
confident, unselfish, and steeped with integrity. Those are three of the things
I love about you.”

“I needed to hear that.
Thank you for cheering me on.” His father’s words played in his head.

Eunice’s hand continued
to search his chest. Would he wind up having to replace another shirt? She was
going to make him start purchasing from the clearance rack. Luckily, she
decided to unbutton this one.

“I know exactly what
you need.”

Yes. Yes, he did need
it. She hugged her arms around him and ran her hand up and down his back. That
wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but it was amazing what a simple hug could
do. “Mmm. That is exactly what I needed. You know me too well.”

She pulled away and her
attention fell to his belt. With delicacy, she removed the leather accessory,
then snapped the button on his pants. This day was getting better and better by
the minute.

Eunice’s lips curled
when she saw the swell in his pants. “Down boy.”

He shrugged. “He’s
under your control, not mine.” He could tell she liked what he’d said by the
way her smile widened.

After another minute,
the only thing left on his body was a pair of black socks. He watched Eunice
take a step back, smile, and gnaw at her bottom lip.

“I thank God and good
genes,” she said with a wicked grin. Moving within striking distance, she eased
to her knees.

Oh, yes
. This
was exactly what he needed, too. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Feeling
a tug at his ankle, his head sprung forward.

“Lift your foot so I
can remove your socks.”

“My socks?” he asked
dumbly.
My socks? But…

“You don’t want to wear
them into the shower, do you?”

It took Blake a moment
to completely grasp the fact that he’d gone from anticipating oral pleasure to having
his socks removed. He’d totally misread this one.

Eunice returned to a
full stand, took his hand and led him to the walk-in shower, opened the door,
and guided him inside. Was he going to have him pull the wet clothing from her
body?
That would work
. Better yet, was she going to pull the wet
clothing from her own body—giving him a strip show?
Hell, yes. That would
work even better
.

Eunice closed the door,
leaving him inside—alone. “You’re not coming in?” he asked from behind the
frosted glass. “Eunice?” When he opened the door and peeped out, the room was
empty.

He released a heavy
sigh, allowing the warm water to flow over his body. Anticipation and let down
had been the blueprint for his day. At least the evening was being consistent.

***

When Blake sauntered
from the bathroom, Eunice was there waiting with a drink in her hand. Her eyes
trailed along his damp chest and settled on the towel concealing his lower
half. Her body reacted to the knowledge of what lie beneath.

He took the glass she
offered, then kissed her gently on the lips. “What’s this?”

“Love potion,” she said.

Tipping the glass, he
hummed. “Mmm. Rum and coke. My favorite.”

Of course it was. “You
look good in a towel.”

“You took my clothes.”

“You won’t need them.” She
turned and started toward the bed.

Blake gently grabbed
her arm. “Come here.” He stared into her eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”

Their lips met and she
almost lost sight of the bigger picture. She pulled away reluctantly. Leading
him to the bed, she said, “Sit.” She climbed onto the bed, positioned herself on
her knees behind him, then pressed play on the remote.

Blake bobbed his head
to the melody. “Johnny Gill.”

Pouring warm oil into
her hands, she kneaded at his shoulders.

His head dipped
forward. “Damn, that feels good.”

“Your shoulders are so
tight. Relax.” She kissed the back of his neck. “Let the tension fade,” she
said, singing a line from the song. Her arms rowed up and down his. Her nipples
hardened from the friction of her breast gliding over his back. This man had a
way of making her lose focus.

“You know, my aunt said
Fredrick shops at the same market as she does.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He didn’t sound much
more convinced than she had when her aunt had told her. Not being one who
watched sports, Eunice wasn’t sure her aunt even knew who the man was. “Yep.”

Blake chuckled. “Have
her put in a good word for me. Maybe she can get him to change his mind.”

She kissed his
shoulder. “Done.”

As much as Eunice would
have preferred this moment to have truly been about romancing Blake,
truthfully, it was more about softening him up for the bomb she was about to
drop on him. Like she’d expected, Caleb had told her exactly what she’d wanted
to know. Unfortunately, she’d had to endure twenty minutes of his
touchy-feeling behavior to get him distracted enough while she probed him for
details.

“Blake?”

“Yeah.”

His tone sounded so
weary. Could she really drop one more piece of bad news on him tonight? It
wouldn’t hurt to wait another day to tell him the name of the rat carrying cheese
to Palmer Elliot, right? Besides, if she told him now, there was no telling
what he might do.

Eunice kissed Blake’s
shoulder, comfortable with her decision to hold off telling him until tomorrow.
“Everything is going to be okay.”

“I know it will. I have
you by my side.”

In a swift motion, he
had her in his arms. The way his eyes studied her caused a sensation to warm
her chest. For a moment, it looked as if he were about to say something, but
reconsidered. He lowered his mouth to hers, igniting a flame that could only be
extinguished in one manner. Oh, how he was good at putting out fires.

The following morning,
Blake woke her with a kiss to the shoulder. Cracking her eye toward the clock,
it read 4:30am. She’d only gotten an hour and a half worth of sleep. She’d be a
zombie at work today.

Blake was fully dressed
when her eyes settled on him. “Where are you going? Come back to bed.”

“I wish I could. I have
to be at the office early. Seven o’clock conference call.”

Eunice pouted. “Okay.”
She snuggled back into the covers. “Can you pencil me in?”

“Absolutely. What will
we need two, three hours?” His brows bounced.

“You are insatiable.
Go,” she said, shooing him away. “I need my two hours.”

“I’ll see you at the
office. Don’t be late.”

“Am I ever?” she said,
her voice muffled by a pillow.

Blake snapped his
finger. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

“To kiss me?”

He lay across the bed
and pushed his lips to hers. “That…” He kissed her again. “And to tell you I
love you.” He winked and pushed off the bed, disappearing through the door.

Her cheeks swelled. “I love you, too,”
she called out, then snuggled into the covers again. Yep, there was definitely
a happily ever after with this man in her future.

The last thing Blake
expected when he arrived in the office that morning was a visit from Palmer
Elliot. But here the man was, as pretentious as ever. Blake directed him toward
one of the club chairs. When Palmer took a seat, Blake eased into the chair
behind his desk. “To what do I owe this honor?”

A smug expression
crawled across Palmer’s face and Blake couldn’t help but notice just how much
the man really did resemble a weasel—thin face, beady, dark eyes, long, lanky,
and bloodthirsty. And just like a weasel, he couldn’t be trusted.

“I was in the neighborhood,”
Palmer said.

Blake envisioned
coughing the words “bullshit.” But his parents had raised him better.

Palmer crossed an ankle
over his knee. “I thought I’d stop by and offer my condolences.”

Blake rested his elbows
on his desk and intertwined his fingers. “Condolences?”

“Freddie Bass. I know
how much you wanted to sign him to your company.” He glanced around the room as
if insulted by his surroundings.

“Thank you for your
thoughtfulness, but the prospect hasn’t died just yet.”

Palmer flashed his
index finger. “Actually…it has. Freddie committed to me this morning. All that’s
left is to sign the paperwork.”

Blake’s jaw tightened,
but the news really didn’t come as much of a surprise. He ground his teeth. By
the smirk on the weasel’s face, he’d enjoyed every second of delivering the blow.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, hey, you win some, you lose some.” He wouldn’t
give Palmer the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d gotten under his skin.

“Seems like you’ve been
on a losing streak lately, brother.” He spread his hands. “But hey, we can’t
win ‘em all, right?”

A vision of smashing
his desk lamp into Palmer’s face played in Blake’s thoughts. Nah. He couldn’t
risk damaging the pricey piece on Palmer’s swollen head.

“I’m sure Freddie will
be extremely happy with your company. He’s in…
able
hands.”

“Of course he will be.
We’re the best.” He studied Blake a moment. “Well, I guess—”

Palmer paused when the
door swung open and Eunice entered, her focus on something in her hand.
Whatever she held had her undivided attention.

“Blake—” When she
glanced up, she came to an abrupt stop. “Oh. I apologize. I didn’t know you
were in a meeting.”

Blake could read her
mind. More so her body language. She was wondering what in the hell was Palmer
Elliot doing there. “Palmer stopped by to offer his condolences,” Blake said.
“He was just leaving.” He eyed a knowing Palmer.

Palmer stood and faced
Eunice. “Eunice…” He took her hand. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

When he pressed his
crusty lips to the back of her hand, Blake’s fingers curled into tight balls.
There were some things he could ignore…and some things he couldn’t. Like Palmer
being touchy-feely with his woman.

Eunice eased her hand
from his and nonchalantly wiped it against her pants leg. “Thank you.”

“Eunice, I’ll buzz you
as soon as I’m done here,” Blake said.

She nodded, gave Palmer
an awkward glance, then exited the room.

Palmer wrung his hands
together as he watched Eunice walk away. “Yeah, I see why you banished that no fraternization
policy.”

Blake’s scrutinized the
man.
How the hell
—? Johnny really needed to come through fast. Blake
made a note to have Colin in IT scrub every email account in the building.
Maybe Palmer had had some kind of computer virus sent to their server. He
wouldn’t put it passed the man.

 “You’re one lucky dog,
Farrington. I hear Eunice is as sweet as sugar.” He started to move to the
door. Over his shoulder, he tossed back, “Both inside and out.”

Blake stood from behind
his desk, the man’s words drawing him dangerously close to losing his patience.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I
wouldn’t bet on that deal with Kyro Reed going through. Word on the street…he’s
considering going in a different direction.” Palmer tossed up two thin, dark
fingers. “Peace.”

You son-of-a—

Blake snatched up the receiver
to phone Kyro but slammed it down when his cell phone rang.
Johnny
.
“Just the man I needed to hear from. Whatcha got for me,” Blake answered,
forgoing a customary greeting of hello.

Listening, Blake wanted
to believe Johnny had gotten this one horribly wrong. Hell, he would pay him to
be wrong. But that was the thing with Johnny, he never got it wrong. Blake
massaged his temple. “Johnny, I need you to be two hundred percent sure about
this one.”

“Sorry, brother. I know
it’s not what you wanted to hear. Especially since you and Eunice are a thing now.”

How in the hell did so
many people know so much of the business that he wasn’t sharing? “Dammit.” Blake
massaged his jaw as if he’d been slapped. “Dammit.”

“She met with Palmer’s
man yesterday. Caleb Martin’s his name.”

Eunice? Betray him? No,
there was no way. He glanced toward his office door, his overactive imagination
getting the best of him.
Was that the reason for Palmer’s unexpected visit
?
And that look. The awkward one Eunice had given Palmer. Maybe she feared Palmer
was telling him everything. Blake massaged his now throbbing temple.

Nah
.
Not
Eunice
. Wasn’t possible. Was it?

“It could be nothing,”
Johnny said, clearly as a means of helping Blake cope with the information he’d
delivered. “But since you are paying good money to deliver
all
the
information…” Johnny paused.

“What is it?” Blake
hadn’t meant to snap at the man.

“The two used to
entertain a friend-with-benefits type of situation. But I found nothing to
suggest that’s still the case.”

A bout of nausea rushed
over Blake. “Thank you, Johnny.”

“You know how to reach
me.”

The line went dead.

Any other time Blake
would have taken Johnny’s word as law. Not this time. He refused to believe Eunice
would—could—betray him like this. Though he knew he was only pacifying the
situation, he needed further proof. He wanted Johnny to be wrong. He
needed
Johnny to be wrong. Because if he wasn’t, Blake knew he’d never be the same
again.

***

Eunice yelped when
Blake burst into her office like he was on fire and looking to be extinguished.
And by the red-hot expression on his face, he could go up in flames at any
moment. What had Palmer Elliot done or said to him?

Blake’s stern eyes
never left her when he snapped his finger in Trevor’s direction and said, “Get
out.”

Eunice’s mouth dropped
open, stunned by his actions. Trevor looked as if he wanted to protest, but
Eunice warned him against it with a slight head shake. Whatever had Blake
rattled, it wasn’t good. A moment later, Trevor left the room.

Blake slammed the door
behind him with so much force a plaque fell from the wall. Coming from behind
her desk, Eunice stood directly in front of him. “Blake, what’s wrong?”

He jabbed his finger at
her. “I trusted you.”

“What do you mean you
trusted
me? Have I given you a reason not to any longer?”

He tossed the stack of
papers he’d entered with onto her desk.

“What is this?” she
said, glancing down at what looked to be phone records.
Her
phone
records.

“I had Colin run your
incoming and outgoing calls.” In a tight tone, Blake said, “I’m curious. How
long have you been screwing Caleb Martin?”

This drew her
attention. Resting a shaky hand over her collarbone, she said, “Wh-What?” She’d
heard him clearly, but she needed to buy some time to get her thoughts together.

Blake’s eyes darkened
to an onyx hue. The predatory way he studied her rattled her nerves. How could
he honestly believe she would betray him?

“Did you really think
you could hide this from me? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out you were
the mole? Did you really believe you could do all this right under my nose?”

He had it all wrong. “Blake,
listen—”

“No. You don’t get
another second of my time.”

Eunice shook her head. “You
have it all wrong, Blake. I am not your mole. And I was going to tell you about
Caleb, but not until—”

Blake pointed to the
door. “Get out.”

His tone—harsh and
cold—froze Eunice mid-sentence. “What?”

“Get out of my building.
You’re fired.”

His words crushed her. “Blake—?”
When she touched his arm, he snatched it away. “I’m not leaving until you hear
what I have to say.”

“Don’t make me call
security.”

This was the man she’d
given her body, given her love to, and he could just toss her away like trash? Despite
the many emotions bubbling inside her, Eunice kept her tone steady. “Security?
You would call security on me, Blake?” He remained silent, his cold eyes never
leaving her. “You don’t have to call security. I’ll leave.”

When she began to pack
her things, he poured salt into her gaping wound.

“I’ll have your belongings
sent to you. I need to go through it first to make sure you’re not giving any
more information to Palmer.”

Stunned, Eunice stared
at him. He held their connection only a few second before rolling his eyes
away, turning and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

In a fit of anger,
Eunice snatched up her purse and rushed behind him. Outside her office, she
stood in the middle of the hallway and yelled his name loud enough for the
entire building to hear. “Blake!”

Surprisingly, he faced
her. The expression on his face suggested he thought she was insane, but at the
moment, she didn’t give a damn what he or anyone else thought.

In a much calmer tone,
she said, “The next time you tell someone you love them, you should really mean
it.”

With that, she turned and left. Her
pride intact, but her heart in pieces.