Game On (9 page)

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 her 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.”

“I’m fine.” Her battle cry for the past hour.
She gave him another one of those fake grins she’d given to her sister and Coach. The darkness of the car’s interior obscured her eyes. He desperately wanted to know if she was really okay.

“Let’s just go home,” she said. With a sigh, he started the car. He slid in a jazz CD and Carly once again rested her head against the seatback. She seemed content to just be in the car with him. He was astounded at how well she was taking the events of the past hour. Most women he knew would be hysterical by now, but not Carly. Growing up in a media fishbowl had obviously toughened her up. It was almost as if she were resigned to her fate. The thought made Shane’s gut clench.

Braking for a red light, he looked over at her again. She was still leaning against the headrest, but her eyes were open and she was staring at him.

“Thank you,” she said.

“We’re not there yet. Don’t thank me until you’ve arrived at your door in one piece.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile as she gently shook her head from side to side.

“No. Thank you for earlier. For, you know, dealing with Joel.”

Shane swallowed. God, she made it sound so simple. As if guys tried to force themselves on her and she needed rescuing all the time. His fists clenched more tightly on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

“Don’t mention it. I have a reputation as a brawler, remember?” he quipped.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she reached over to lightly caress his right hand where it rested on the steering wheel. He flinched as she grazed a bruised knuckle.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, quickly pulling her hand away. He hadn’t flinched from pain, but he didn’t bother telling her that. This was getting complicated. The sooner he got her home and got the hell away, the better. He needed his familiar safety net of isolation.

“No,” he said as he lifted the bruised hand and flexed it.

“Hank won’t sleep a wink until a trainer looks at it on Monday.”

“It’ll be fine by then. Don’t worry.”

The light turned green and Shane focused his attention back on the road. The only sounds in the car were the purr of the engine and John Legend’s piano. His plans for a quick getaway evaporated as they reached her town house. She hadn’t bothered to leave a light on. Silently, she sat staring at her front door. Shane would be a heel to let her go in alone after the night she’d had. Not to mention the coach would have his balls if he did. Getting out of the car, he walked around to help her out of the passenger side. She didn’t say a word as he reached in the back to take out a foam container. Gently, he guided her up the steps and stood as she unlocked the door. Her hand didn’t shake, which he supposed was a good sign. Turning on lights as he went, he guided her into the house. When he walked into the kitchen, he carefully placed the container on the counter. He turned to find Carly standing directly behind him, one hand still clutching the lapels of his jacket around her neck. She looked calmer, more like herself, here in the light of her kitchen. Definitely a good sign.

“What’s in there?” she asked, gesturing to the container.

“Ahh,” he said, pleased with himself. “Dessert to go.” He opened the container to reveal a perfect slice of chocolate mousse cheesecake, complete with whipped cream and a raspberry on top. Carly’s face lit up. A man can never go wrong giving a woman chocolate.

“Where did you get that?”

“I had the waiter box up your piece while I was getting the car. You seemed so excited about the dessert when you were talking with your nieces; I didn’t want you to miss it.” Shane also wanted to erase the look of vulnerability he’d seen on her face when he’d come upon Joel mauling her in the hallway. He was still coming to terms with the scene himself, and he could only imagine how Carly felt. No woman should ever have to go through what she’d endured earlier. Shane didn’t regret punching the little prick. He’d have done it for any woman. The fact that it had been Carly getting attacked hadn’t made his reaction any more intense. At least that was what he was telling himself.

“You didn’t bring yourself a piece?” she asked. “I suppose I could be persuaded to share. After all, you did beat up a guy for me earlier.” He absently rubbed at his chest in reaction to the pleasure flickering in her eyes. Despite everything that had happened this evening, the attraction between them still hummed. Common sense dictated that he leave her safely tucked away in her home with her dessert and get the hell out of Dodge.

“In that case, bring on the forks.” Apparently, he’d left his common sense out in the car. Taking a seat on the bar stool at the end of the counter, he watched as she bustled around the kitchen, transferring the cake to a plate and grabbing two forks. She pulled two mugs from a cabinet.

“Would you like some coffee? It’s decaf.”

Hell no!
He needed a stiff drink after the night he’d had. “Sure,” he said instead.

She filled the carafe and turned on the brewer, then reached into the freezer and pulled out an ice pack.

“Here, put this on your hand. I’m just going to clean up a little while the coffee brews.” She slipped out of his jacket and laid it carefully on the other bar stool. Shane’s breath hissed as he saw the mark Tompkins had left on her neck. She followed his gaze and reached up to rub the spot.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said. “Lisa must have put a whole tube of antibiotic cream on it.” She disappeared upstairs somewhere as Shane unclipped his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves. As he looked around for a TV remote, he put the ice pack on his battered hand. Although given the way his body was reacting to Carly, he’d be smart to put it somewhere else. Of course, if Shane were really smart, he wouldn’t be sitting in her kitchen.

* * *

Carly brushed her teeth for a full five minutes.
Lisa had cleaned and disinfected the bruise Joel left on her neck while they were waiting for the police. But now Carly needed to get the taste of him out of her mouth. She really should take a shower and crawl into bed, but Lisa had been right, Carly didn’t want to be alone. Shane Devlin was the last person she should be alone with, but her family was still at the gala. Certainly she could have a cup of coffee with the man without losing her head. Unclipping her hair, she brushed it out, removing the heavy sapphire dangle earrings as she went. She decided to leave the dress on. Shane was still in his tux, after all.

Shane had no trouble locating the remote to her TV and was watching
SportsCenter
when she came downstairs. When he saw her, he changed the channel to the cable company’s jazz station. Pouring them each a cup of coffee, she took a seat on the opposite bar stool.

“Well, at least he didn’t tear your dress,” Shane said out of nowhere.

“Ohmigod! Can you imagine?” Carly laughed as she stirred cream and sugar into her mug. “Julianne would hunt him down and castrate him if he had!”

Shane chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee.

“How’d you and Julianne meet anyway?” he asked.

“Boarding school,” she said wistfully. “Molly likes to think it was a scene out of
The Parent Trap
, but nothing could be further from the truth. The headmistress put us together because we had both lived mostly in Europe—Julianne’s father is an ambassador—and we’d both recently lost our mothers. Aside from that, though, we had nothing in common. She is artistic—which is a polite way of saying she’s a bit of a slob to share a room with. And she was the ultimate party girl in school. She knew everyone on campus and they all loved her. I, on the other hand, just wanted to bury my nose in a book and have everyone ignore me. I’d been homeschooled by my mom as we traveled around for her work, and boarding school was my first real exposure to the whole school experience.” Carly took a sip of her coffee, her mind drifting back through the years.

“Julianne is a force of nature,” she said with a grin. “She wasn’t going to let me hide out in our dorm room. The other girls weren’t as friendly, really cliquey. I was kind of the odd girl out with a very different life experience. The other girls weren’t quite sure what to do with me and I didn’t really have the social skills to stand up for myself. Julianne took me under her wing. I think I was her first pet project. She didn’t care about what the other girls said about it. That’s when I realized that Julianne was her own person and always would be. I’ve been devoted to her ever since.”

“Your friend was speaking Italian in Cabo. One of the bartenders at the resort claimed she was from a mob family. Was he telling the truth?” he asked, a little in awe.

“No.” She laughed. “Her brother is a U.S. senator! I think Julianne secretly wished she was a Mafia princess. Her way of dealing with her mother’s death was to create a whole fantasy life. It’s what makes her such a fabulous designer today.”

Carly looked up from her coffee at Shane. His eyes were dark and contemplative. She almost asked him how he had dealt with his own mother’s death, but given his track record of avoiding all conversations involving his family, she decided against it.

“It helped that we both bonded against our evil stepmothers. Her father remarried a twenty-seven-year-old flight attendant from Brazil. She’s only a year younger than Julianne’s brother. Can you imagine?” she asked.

“Is she hot?” Shane asked, a lopsided grin on his face. Carly rolled her eyes at him.

“Of course!” She laughed. “Why else would we hate her?”

“Hugh and your stepmother aren’t hard to hate, either,” he said. His face had hardened again.

“Yeah, well, you can’t really blame them.” It had become second nature to Carly to defend them. “They weren’t exactly looking for another kid. They’ve mostly let me be.”

Shane shook his head and huffed.

“What about your dad?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject. “Do you see him much?”

He stiffened in the chair. When he raised his eyes to her, they were black as night. Too late, she realized that her attempt to change the subject had only increased Shane’s ire.

“No,” he said. Draining his coffee, he set the mug down on the counter with a thump. “He’s not a part of my life and I’m not a part of his.”

“Why?” She regretted asking as soon as the word left her mouth. This wasn’t a safe topic. She could feel it.

Abruptly standing, he paced a circle around her small living room, running his hands through his hair as he walked. When he turned to her, his face was taut with strain. He seemed to be debating something with himself. But then he spoke, his voice soft but lethal.

“The other day, you asked me if I had a problem with my dad.”

It was a statement, but Carly heard the question implied within. She tried to swallow, her mouth becoming suddenly dry, not sure whether she should let this conversation continue. Her curiosity got the better of her, though, and she nodded.

Shane let out a brief snort. “The Bruce Devlin the media portrays is a fake. The real-life version is a rotten SOB who abandoned his family when they needed him the most.” He paused to run another hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his eyes looked everywhere but at her. “My dad tried to escape the only career option open to him. He didn’t want to spend his life as a coal miner. So he worked hard at the one thing he knew. He threw a ball.”

Carly’s body tensed as Shane spoke. She knew he and his father weren’t close, but the vehemence in his voice was a bit startling. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the reasons Shane obviously hated his father.

“I’m not sure how,” he continued. “Luck, I guess, but he got a scholarship at a small university. It was an hour away from where he grew up, but to him it may as well have been a continent away. He was the big man on campus from the day he arrived. The dean of the school worked the media like a Madison Avenue professional to get attention for my father and the school. If they only knew what he would turn into.”

Carly stifled a shiver at the force of his words. She was familiar with Bruce Devlin’s story, having read the synopsis of the elder Devlin’s best-selling biography when the team was considering signing Shane. Clasping her hands in her lap and waiting for rest of the story to unfold, she knew Shane’s version of events would differ from the book.

Shane’s voice was a flat monotone as he continued. “When my dad knocked up a local townie, the dean was the one holding the shotgun at the wedding. My dad had enough sense to do what was asked. He knew football was his only means of escaping the life of all the Devlins before him.”

As he began to pace again, Carly’s hands gripped the seat of the bar stool.