Game On (6 page)

She swore the dog was asking her if she was coming.

“Oh, all right,” she muttered as she slammed the trunk closed, following man and beast inside. This conversation would be a lot easier if it didn’t take place in her house.

Shane had already placed the grocery bags on the counter of the kitchen by the time she and the dog arrived. He stood silently, giving the room the once-over, and she suddenly became conscious of how small her kitchen was. His presence seemed to stretch the limits of the room. He’d been running, and she could see the sweat staining his shirt. His scent should have been offensive, but instead he smelled . . . good. Like a man. All man. As his scent permeated her nostrils, she could almost taste him. She had to swallow as she remembered the taste of his skin beneath her lips. Heat pooled low in her belly. Quickly, she turned away from him to regain her composure. Trying to distract herself, she reached up into the cabinet and pulled down an empty, plastic whipped topping container from a stack of twenty or so.
Great, now he knows I’m addicted to whipped cream.
Filling the makeshift bowl with water, she set it on the tile floor. The dog paused in its perusal of the baseboards beneath the breakfast stools to drink. For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the dog lapping up water.

“Look, Carly.” Shane hadn’t moved any closer, but his voice seemed to caress her. “Donny will be back any minute and we need to clear something up.”

Carly turned to face him. She leaned a hip on the counter and raised her chin up a notch, waiting.

“About the other day in your office,” he began.

“Let’s forget it happened,” Carly said quickly, standing up straight.

“It was a mistake.” Shane said at the same time.

A mistake?
She hugged her arms to her chest and willed the tears not to come. His words stung. For a moment, she was back in Italy. The press labeling her as pathetic, unable to hold on to a man. Why was it always her fault? Hadn’t Shane initiated the kiss in her office?

“Whoa,” Shane said, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t say it never happened, Dorothy. I’m pretty sure that was your tongue down my throat.”

Seriously?
He could call it a mistake, but she was supposed to be pining for more? No freakin’ way. Carly rolled her shoulders back. She was not that gullible girl the Italian paparazzi had created. It had taken her months to get over Maxim’s betrayal, but she
was
over him. She could easily handle Shane Devlin.

“It’s not like I’m lying awake nights dreaming of it,” she said smugly.

She dared to look into his eyes. What she saw reflected in them surprised her. She expected to see arrogance. Instead, she saw hunger. And heat. That same look she’d seen in Cabo. With a little bit of loneliness mixed in. She turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears that still threatened. Ripping off several sheets of paper towel, she threw them on the floor, stepping on them with her sneaker to wipe up the water the dog had slobbered. Shane sighed behind her.

“I’m sorry, Carly.” It sounded as if he were speaking through his hands. “I’m not good at this.”

She turned to see him run his fingers through his hair.

“What I want—what I think we both want—is to keep this professional. I don’t have a very good track record when it comes to relationships. If I’m going to screw something up, I’d rather it not be with the GM’s assistant. Especially if she happens to also be the coach’s sister-in-law. As much as I’d like to explore whatever this is between us, it’s just not a very good idea.”

Honesty. That was not what she was expecting from Shane Devlin. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“Even if she is hot,” he finished softly. The grin he added nearly took her breath away. She knew she needed to say something. Something mature. But she couldn’t trust her voice.

“So, we’ll just be
friendly
to one another around the office,” he forged on, repeating her words to Joel from earlier.

“Yeah.” She let a slow smile escape. “That would be best.”

He held out his right hand for her to shake. She went to take it, but pulled back at the last instant.

“I . . . don’t think we should . . .” She stumbled over the words.

“Yeah, no touching,” he finished for her. “I don’t seem to know how to stop once I start touching you,” he whispered.

They stood there, not touching, for a moment more. The only sounds in the room were the hum of the refrigerator and the deep breathing of the dog dozing on the floor.

“I’d better go,” he said finally. “Donny’ll be looking for me.”

Shane headed for the door, whistling for the dog as he went. Scrambling to its feet, its tongue still hanging out, the retriever happily followed him out of the house. Carly remained rooted to the kitchen floor. Being friendly coworkers was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?

Six

The next four weeks went by quickly for Carly.
Her usual duties assisting Hank in the Blaze front office had been fairly light, it being the off-season. Still, between monitoring Shane’s media blitz and dealing with Gabe Harrelson’s crazy new wife, Carly had very little extra time to help Lisa plan for her gala—which the team was cohosting—now only a week away.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of Asia’s office, Carly carefully stuffed engraved tickets into envelopes that she then neatly stacked in assigned piles beside her.

“I can’t belief Gabe is giving the team such a hard time about his signing bonus,” Asia said from her perch on the sofa behind Carly where she was monitoring media reports about the team on her iPad. “He’s out for the season, if not for good, and it was his own fault. He’s an idiot for going hang-gliding.”

“Actually,” Carly said, “Gabe hasn’t been in contact with the team at all. Neither has his agent. It’s just crazy Chloe. Between emails and phone calls, she’s averaging fifteen rants a day.”

“She’s been very effective using the media, too. What do either of them need the money for? Gabe must be set for life and Chloe should be making a mint on the residuals from her days on that sitcom. According to
Daily Variety
, her show is broadcast every day on hundreds of stations around the world.”

Carly brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t believe everything you read.” It was an axiom she lived by. The matter of Gabe’s signing bonus was beginning to annoy Carly, however. Chloe demanding money from the team just didn’t make sense. Asia was correct; Gabe didn’t need it. Most likely, the situation was a case of the young actress trying to kick-start her career through her marriage to a sports icon. Carly wondered if Gabe even knew of his wife’s efforts.

Several times these past weeks, Carly had tried to contact the injured quarterback, but he wasn’t returning her phone calls, texts, or emails. She thought they’d been friends. Gabe’s sudden reluctance to talk was a mystery. Video of him rehabbing his injured hip in Southern California appeared on
TMZ
a few days ago, but there was no sign of his young bridezilla accompanying him. Carly thought back to the times Maxim had been injured, when she’d become invisible to the soccer star as he rehabbed his body to get back to the one thing he loved most. She almost felt sorry for Chloe.
Almost
.

“Well, at least our new quarterback is behaving himself. His interviews seem to be going well,” Asia said. “You’ve done a great job running him through the media circus, Carly. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Asia let out a hiss as she tried to maneuver her leg to a more comfortable position.

Carly jumped up from the floor to help her friend, adjusting the pillows beneath Asia’s brace. “It really hasn’t been too bad. I’m pretty anonymous among the sports press here in Baltimore, so no one even notices I’m there. It’s kind of nice doing a job I’m comfortable with. I guess journalism is in my blood.” Carly smiled down at Asia before resuming her place on the floor.

She was telling Asia the truth; working as a publicist again was kind of fun. Working with Shane wasn’t too difficult, either. All she had to do was accompany him to his various interviews and stand back and watch. Shane was a natural at navigating his way through an interview. He was knowledgeable about the game of football and patient with those who weren’t. His candor was appreciated by both the interviewers and the fans who called into the radio talk shows Shane appeared on. When questions got too personal, Shane expertly steered the conversation back to football. Carly couldn’t help but be a little envious of such a well-honed skill.

For the most part, Shane was relaxed and charming during the interviews. Except when the questions were about his father. Whenever the topic shifted to Bruce Devlin, Shane’s whole body language changed. He became tense and his answers more curt. The change in his demeanor was subtle, making it almost indiscernible to most people. But Carly had spent enough time with Shane these past weeks to pick up on the tension.

She was curious about Shane’s relationship with his famous dad, but not enough to ask him directly. While the sexual tension still hummed between them, Carly and Shane managed to carry on the guise of “friendly coworkers” by keeping their interaction to a minimum. It was working just fine. So far.

“Oh, puh-lease! Like you could ever be anonymous with those looks.” Asia’s comment brought Carly back to the conversation. “I’ve had at least three calls this week alone from guys at the radio and TV stations asking who you are and if you’re single,” Asia practically snorted.

Carly jerked her head up. “Tell me you didn’t let on who I am,” Carly pleaded.

“No way!” Asia said. “You know I’d never do that, Carly. Besides, I finally got that dweeb Joel Tompkins reassigned. We don’t need some other pest from the media creeping around after you.”

“Thanks,” Carly said with relief. “And thanks for taking care of the Joel situation for me. It’s been nice not to have to check around corners every time I walk around the building.”

“No problem.” Asia tossed her iPad onto the table next to the sofa. “Donovan said he wasn’t getting a good vibe from the guy. It wasn’t easy getting him out of here, though. Apparently, his grandfather owns the television station. Despite that fact, Joel doesn’t have too many friends there. He obviously makes a habit of creeping people out. No one actually wants him working for them. It took some doing, but Donovan and I persuaded them to transfer Joel to covering the Orioles. Let him bother some baseball players.”

“You and Donovan, huh?” Carly grinned. She carefully placed the last of the envelopes into a cardboard box. “Should I scratch the ‘and guest’ off his ticket to the gala?” she asked.

Asia smiled serenely. “He offered to take me. Obviously he’s not afraid to be seen with an ungraceful, gimpy woman.”

“Oh, puh-lease,” Carly mimicked her friend. She stood and brushed off her pants and glanced at the clock on the Asia’s desk. “Wow! Four thirty already. I promised to do Emma’s hair for the dance tonight. I’ll drop these off with Amy before I go. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

“You can answer a question for me,” Asia said.

Carly gathered the box under an arm. “Sure, anything.”

“Do you ever do anything for
you
?”

Carly looked at her friend quizzically, unsure of what Asia wanted her to say.

Asia reached out to grasp Carly’s free hand. “You’re always running around here doing for everyone else. Or at Matt and Lisa’s doing for them or the kids. Even if Hank hadn’t butted in on your trip to Cabo, you still wouldn’t have spent it as a vacation. You would have been
doing
for Julianne.”

When Carly didn’t answer, Asia squeezed her hand. “All I’m saying is you don’t have to do so much for everyone else. You can say no once in a while. Instead of trying to make everyone else happy, why not do something that makes you happy? You’re allowed. The media won’t crucify you. I promise.”

“I am happy,” Carly pushed out through her suddenly tight throat.

Asia stared at her a moment before finally releasing her hand. “Go. Make your beautiful niece look more beautiful. Just remember what I said, okay?”

“Sure,” Carly said. It was unlikely she would forget.

In fact, Carly spent a restless night pondering Asia’s words. Was she happy? Staring at the ceiling as sleep evaded her, she ticked off the things in her life she was happy with: Her family. Or her half sister’s family, to be precise, definitely brought her joy. Lisa was alive thanks to her bone marrow, and Carly couldn’t be more thrilled.

Money wasn’t an issue, thanks to a generous trust fund left to Carly by her mother. In spite of that, Carly had a job she enjoyed, one that felt purposeful. It was certainly better than the life of a party girl the media expected of her. And she had friends. Carly had a few left who wouldn’t sell her out to the paparazzi.

All that was left in the happiness department was her love life, which was currently not bringing her much joy. Carly tried to rationalize with herself that she wasn’t necessarily
unhappy
with her lack of a love life, but her close encounters with Shane Devlin pretty much negated that argument. This thing—this pull—she felt for Shane made her aware that she missed the intimacy she shared with her former fiancé. Fortunately, she no longer missed Max.

Which left her where, exactly? A fling with Shane was out of the question for so many reasons. He was a public figure, for one; what’s more, he was a professional athlete.

Maybe Asia was right. Carly should do something to make herself happy. She needed to start by actively searching for her Mr. Right. Only, thoughts of an accountant or podiatrist weren’t exactly torching her body the way a single look from Shane Devlin could.

* * *

The following morning, standing next to a tangle
of utility cords off to the side of the set of the
Good Day, Baltimore
show, Carly watched as Shane bantered with the program’s perky female host during a cooking segment. To the amazement of the host, and everyone else in the studio, he was actually whipping up a plate of strawberry crepes. Shane laughed at something the woman said, his killer dimple appearing on one side of his mouth. Carly rocked back on her heels, his handsome smile nearly knocking her off her feet. He was definitely oozing charm this morning.

Shane was dressed in a Blaze golf shirt, which stretched handsomely over taut pectoral muscles and broad shoulders. He’d declined to wear the show’s logo apron, instead draping a pink breast cancer towel over his right shoulder. His fashion statement did nothing to diminish his masculinity. Carly tried not to drool as his strong hands whipped the wire whisk in the metal bowl. Her stomach growled. She wasn’t sure if she was hungry for the delicious-looking food or the more delicious-looking man.

“You certainly know your way around the kitchen, Shane,” the woman said, slithering a little closer to him.

“I make it a point to be good at whatever I attempt, Cindy,” Shane replied with a wink at the now blushing TV host.

He’s definitely good at kissing, Cindy.

As if he’d read her thoughts, Shane looked up past the TV camera to where Carly stood and shot her a quicksilver grin. Carly felt her blush to her toes. She stepped back farther into the wings so as not to distract Shane. Or, more likely so she wouldn’t run on camera, douse him with whipped cream, and lap him up.

Moving away from the glare of the bright television lights, Carly was forced to close her eyes momentarily, allowing them to adjust. When she opened them, she slapped a hand over her mouth to avoid interrupting the show with her shriek. Joel Tompkins was standing in the shadows, blocking her path.

“Hey there, Carly,” he said quietly.

Carly tried to take a step back, but she was pinned in by a huge teleprompter. The only way to escape Joel was back across the live set where Shane’s cooking segment was being filmed.

“Joel,” Carly said, straightening her spine. Joel was a pest, but so far he’d been basically harmless. She could be nice for a few minutes. There was no need to panic.

Joel closed the space and reached over to push a piece of Carly’s hair behind her ear. Carly flinched. “Please don’t touch me,” she said, trying not to let her voice betray her now quivering nerves.

“The Blaze’s badass security dude isn’t around to interrupt us. Maybe we can take a ride and grab some breakfast. Or something.”

No way were they grabbing anything
. Carly looked around for reinforcements, but everyone was still fascinated with Shane’s cooking skills, their backs to her and Joel. She would not panic. They were in a crowded studio. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Carly figured she could stall Joel until the commercial break. One look into his eyes, though, and she realized reasoning with him might not be easy. He was high as a kite. She was sure of it. Years spent at a prestigious boarding school for the rich and unwanted had exposed her to all kinds of addicts. Joel was exhibiting all the classic signs of the stoned.

Now, it was time to panic.

Just as she was about to speak, the alarm bell sounded, indicating the show was no longer live. People started to mill around and, not wasting an opportunity, Carly made for the set. Joel reached out and wrapped his fingers around her arm, but before he could do or say anything, a voice rang out.

“Tompkins! Get that teleprompter moved over to Studio B. Now!”

Joel hesitated, seemingly weighing his options. Carly pulled her arm from his grip. With a menacing smile, Joel grabbed the handle of the teleprompter. “Don’t worry. We’ll get our time, you and me. You’ll see.” And with that he left the studio.

Carly’s stomach was no longer growling. It was rolling with waves of nausea.

* * *

Shane’s megawatt smile dimmed along with the
hot, tungsten studio lights. He’d outdone himself this morning. No one in the Blaze organization had better dare complain that Shane wasn’t giving the media blitzkrieg his best.
Christ, they ought to give me a freaking Academy Award
.

Tossing the hand towel onto the countertop, he looked around the set for Carly. The show’s host—Candy, Cindy, or whatever the hell her name was—rubbed her hip next to his, leaning across him to drag her finger through the bowl of whipped cream. A seductive smile on her face, she stuck her whipped-cream-laden finger into her mouth and sucked on it dramatically, her bright red collagen lips bulging.

Seriously, lady
? Shane looked around the studio in disgust. He hated these television segments. Why did anyone care what he was like off the field? Wasn’t his job to win football games? And where the hell was Carly? It was her job to run interference with the overly made-up television hostess. Usually, Carly jumped right in at the end of each interview, graciously but effectively untangling him from fans and interviewers and herding him out the door to his next gig. Right now, Candy-Cindy was being a bit too playful as she shoved her business card in the back pocket of his jeans, her hand lingering on his ass just a little too long.