Bigger Than Beckham (43 page)

She and Nate argued for several more minutes,
though, until he finally capitulated. “Stubborn, hard ass woman,”
he grumbled. “I’ve never been able to change your mind about
anything.”

Martha stuck her tongue out at him before
answering. “I suppose that’s why Holly Bell got to be the lucky
woman to rein in Nate Carter, not me. Though God knows I can’t
understand why an absolute knockout of a surgeon couldn’t have done
better than marrying your sorry butt.”

Nate’s expression turned goofy and
adoring—which seemed to happen whenever he looked at his fianceé,
or even thought about her. “You got that right. I’m the luckiest
dude on the planet.”

Martha knew he meant every word too, and
nothing was going to make her happier than to see Nate and Holly
joined together as husband and wife, especially after the travails
they had gone through to find each other. “I’ll say, but she’s a
darn lucky woman, too.”

Nate unleashed a lopsided grin. “Enough with
the mushy stuff, pal. Let’s get back to business. I take it you’re
going to wind up selling the team, then.”

She nodded. “I guess so, if I can figure out
how I’m going to face Daddy at the pearly gates. Assuming I ever
get up there, that is.”

“There’ll be a parade of angels in your honor
that day,” Nate said with affection. “I know how much that promise
meant to you, so of course you’re going to feel like crap about
what’s happened. But, hell, you worked your ass off to turn a
really bad team around.” He reached over and took her hand again,
meeting her gaze dead-on. “So, as far as I’m concerned it’s time to
get over it, babe. You don’t honor your dad’s memory by torturing
yourself over this.”

Martha flinched even though she shouldn’t
have been surprised. Nate had always been brutally frank with
her.

She pulled her hand away. “You mean get over
a promise I made at the very bedside of my dying father? A vow he
literally begged me to make? Oh, sure, that’ll be a snap, pal. I’ll
get right on that.”

If anyone else had spoken to her like Nate
just had, Martha would have probably dumped the pitcher of iced tea
on his head. But they were used to sharing hard truths with each
other.

Which didn’t make this particular truth any
easier to take.

Nate’s gaze morphed into that no-bullshit,
hard as flint look she’d seen so many times.

“Hey, don’t give me that,” he said. “How many
years did I know Will? Six or seven? You know I loved him, and
admired him in a hundred ways. But he was dead wrong to ask that of
you. He was obsessed with getting that soccer franchise, and then
obsessed with making it into some kind of permanent legacy.”

He leaned both arms on the table as Martha
shook her head, letting his gaze bore into her. “Don’t do that,
babe. Don’t shake your head at me. You know damn well I’m right,
because we used to joke about how demented he was when it came to
that team. Right up until he laid that promise crap on you.”

She hunched her shoulders, crossing her arms
across her chest. She wanted to deny it but she couldn’t, so she
took refuge in silence.

Nate visibly throttled back his irritation.
“If you’re not going to take help from Holly and me, then the only
choice left is to sell to one of these bidders,” he said in a
softer voice. “And to make the best you can out of a rotten
situation. Just don’t make it about your guilt, okay? You owe it to
yourself and the people who work for you to do the best you can
with these offers. Your dad would have wanted you to do that, not
poison yourself with guilt and regret.”

With a sigh, Martha propped her elbows on the
table and hid her face in her hands. After a few moments she spread
her fingers wide to look at Nate. “He wouldn’t have wanted me to
suffer. But I guarantee he’d think I failed him yet again,” she
said morosely.

Nate made a scoffing noise. “That’s crap. You
can’t know that, much less guarantee it. Look, you didn’t fail
him—you just couldn’t quite meet the expectations he loaded onto
you. Unrealistic expectations, by the way. Actually downright nuts
if we cut right down to the heart if it.”

Deep inside, she knew he was right. But
making that admission felt a little like losing her father all over
again. As long as she owned the team, Daddy was somehow still with
her.

“If I have to wind up selling, I don’t want
it to be to Steam Train and its slimy, ratbag CEO,” she finally
said. “I just hope I have a choice in the end.”

“It’s no contest as far as I’m concerned,”
Nate said. “You know your dad would want you to sell to a football
man, not a frigging brewery. Besides, Tony Branch is a smart man,
and a good guy, too.”

Martha bolted upright in her chair. “Huh? You
know Branch?”

Nate had just stuffed more fries into his
mouth, so she had to wait impatiently until he chewed and
swallowed.

He nodded. “I’ve met him a couple of times at
hospital charity events. The guy’s a big gun fundraiser for the
Evelina Children’s Hospital in London. A while ago—I guess it was
about three years now—we both spoke at their annual dinner. We got
on great, so the year after that I arranged to have him come over
to Philly to help out with our big PCH fundraiser.”

Right.
Martha had missed the charity
sports dinner that year as she was away covering a tennis tour
event. But she vaguely remembered seeing Tony’s name on the list of
celebrities that had attended the fundraiser for the Children’s
Hospital. “Of course. I didn’t realize until now that you two had
that in common.”

Nate arched a brow. “You said you’re meeting
with Tony today, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It should certainly be
interesting,” she said in the blandest voice she could manage.

“Maybe I can catch up with him sometime later
tonight. It would a shame to miss him when we’re passing through
the same town. Do you mind giving him my cell number?”

Martha thought Tony might have other
plans—plans involving her and a lot of sweaty, naked skin—but she
wasn’t about to share that sweet prospect with Nate, best friend or
not. “Sure. No problem.”

“I decided to spend the night down here
anyway,” Nate said. “Maybe we could all get together later.” He
nodded. “Yeah, why not? Give you more of a chance to check him
out.”

Crap.

“There’s something I need to tell you about
Tony Branch, hon,” she said with a sigh.

Nate stared at her for several long seconds,
then slowly raised his eyebrows.

Double crap.

“Ah, I was in London last weekend,” she said,
“to do an interview for an article Martin James asked me to write.
And, well...Tony and I kind of got together.”

What a lame euphemism
that
was for the
best sex of her life.

Nate clearly didn’t buy it for a second.
“Kind of got together, huh?” His mouth curved into a teasing grin.
“Well, I think I like the sound of that, but it complicates things
a little, doesn’t it? Fun is fun, but you can’t let it mess with
business, right? In fact, I’d say you could probably use a good
agent to negotiate this deal for you, especially if you’re feeling
conflicted about it.”

Was she conflicted? Without a doubt, Martha
would have preferred to sell to Tony even if she’d never slept with
him. But was her head on straight enough that she could negotiate
the best possible contract, particularly when it came to saving
jobs? Could her heart stand up to a full frontal assault from Tony
Branch?

Nate was right to ask the question, and
Martha knew she’d better be able to answer it very soon.

Martha got off the Hyatt Regency elevator on
the seventeenth floor and quickly found the corner suite where she
knew Ginny Cross had settled in a short time ago. Tony had called
Martha from the airport as soon as his plane landed, insisting she
make the interview with Ginny a priority. That had surprised
Martha, since she’d figured Tony would want to deal with the sale
of the Thunder as soon as he got boots on the ground.

Though it scared her half to death, she
couldn’t wait to see Tony again. That simple fact begged the
question of how she was supposed to negotiate the sale of her team
when a good part of her brain and all of her hormones were focused
on getting him into her bed. Like Nate had said, their personal
relationship
did
complicate things. Martha understood that
she was going to have the very devil of a time ensuring that
business and pleasure didn’t combine into a destructive fireball
that might well burn them both to a crisp.

Despite all the stress she was under
regarding the team, she was totally pumped to meet Colton’s ex-wife
and hopefully sign her on for the article. Her excitement was a
weird mix of determination and nervous energy as she thought
through all the obstacles that stood between her and bringing
Colton down. In order for her to succeed, Martha needed to gain
Ginny’s trust, and that was a tall order.

When she heard movement behind the hotel room
door, Martha fixed a friendly smile on her face and hoped she
didn’t look as anxious as she felt. It wouldn’t be an easy
interview for either of them, and she needed to make it as
comfortable as possible for Ginny. Appearing confident was
essential.

The door swung open and a stunningly
beautiful, auburn-haired woman stood before Martha.

“Hello, Martha. I’m Ginny Cross,” the woman
said in a subdued, cultured voice. She didn’t exactly frown, but
her dark eyes were narrow and guarded and her full lips held no
hint of a smile.

“I’m so glad to meet you, Ginny,” Martha said
warmly. “Thank you so much for seeing me.” She almost said
Tony’s told me a lot about you,
but managed to bite her
tongue just in time.

Ginny wore a simple, white linen shirt and
tight, ankle-hugging black pants. She looked casually put together
but also weary, even drained. As Martha followed her down the short
hall into the spacious suite that overlooked the downtown area, she
noticed Ginny’s shoulders were hunched up around her ears and her
arms were tightly crossed over her chest.

With a nod, Ginny pointed Martha to a
comfortable-looking armchair placed at a right angle to the sofa,
then sat down in the counterpart armchair directly across. A sturdy
wooden coffee table separated the chairs, leaving the women eight
feet or so apart. Clearly, Ginny wanted to maintain her
distance.

“I can order room service, Martha,” she said.
“Coffee or tea? Or bottled water, if you prefer.”

“Coffee would be great, thanks.” What Martha
really wanted was a drink, and she suspected Ginny could use one,
too. But asking for a stiff shot of bourbon wouldn’t exactly leave
the best impression.

As Ginny ordered coffee, Martha covertly
studied Tony’s former lover. She was about Martha’s age, and
average height and weight. But that was all that was average about
Ginny Cross. Aside from her model perfect face, God and genetics
had blessed her with a figure that would have guys howling at the
moon. While Martha was long, lean, and blonde, brunette Ginny was
all about generous, sexy curves, even as she managed to convey an
aura of fragility that men would likely find very appealing. It was
obvious why Tony had fallen for her all those years ago, and Martha
was honest enough to acknowledge a sudden flash of insecurity.

As they waited for the coffee to arrive, she
marshaled the techniques she’d learned over years of interviewing
reluctant subjects. She started by explaining her background as a
sports reporter, but refrained from mentioning that Colton had
specifically asked her to write the article in question. That piece
of information certainly wouldn’t inspire trust on Ginny’s part,
even though Martha clearly was
not
on Colton’s side.

“Tony filled me in on some of your
background,” Ginny said after a few minutes of small talk about
London. “He spoke extremely highly of your qualifications as a
journalist.”

“That’s gratifying to know,” Martha replied,
keeping it simple.

For the first time, Ginny gave a hint of a
smile. “He also said you’ve known Colton for some time, and that
you’re not exactly a fan.”

Martha gave a little snort. “I admire his
golfing ability, of course, but that’s about all. I think Colton’s
a vile, despicable ass, especially for what he did to you.”

Ginny’s eyes widened, but a knock startled
her as she was about to speak. She got up quickly and went to the
door, leaving Martha to ponder the cutting remark that had just
emerged from her mouth.

Once the room service waiter had taken care
of business and departed, Ginny poured coffee for them both and
then sat back, taking a deep breath as she looked Martha straight
in the eyes.

Game on, Martha thought.

Ginny’s gaze dropped to the coffee cup
perched on her lap. “Did he try to sleep with you, Martha?” she
asked in a crisp voice.