Hearts in Overtime: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (16 page)

The moment I step into the luxury box, the girls are all over me like a flock of starving vultures.

“Let’s see it!” Brandi Patterson exclaims.

“Show us that rock!” squeals Karen Jones.

I gladly thrust my arm out so they can take a look at the engagement ring Ryan gave me. They ooh and aah over it, and who can blame them? To be honest, I spend a lot of time oohing and aahing over it myself.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous,” Annette Washington says. “Is it three carats?”

“It sure is. Good eye, Annette!”

“Thanks, hon.” With a smile, she reaches over to squeeze my shoulder.

I love the teammates’ wives and girlfriends. When I first met them last September at the opening game, I was expecting them to be a bunch of cold, calculating material girls. That’s the impression I got of them from Ryan, so that’s what I expected to encounter. I’m happy to say that wasn’t the case at all. Sure, some of them are a little out of touch with the hard truths of reality at times, and the girls do love their designer duds (and who doesn’t?) but all in all, they’ve been super friendly and welcoming.

Ryan has acknowledged that he may be guilty of projecting his issues with his mother onto other women. I want him to talk to a therapist about it, and he’s said he’ll think about it. I’m fine with this. Even the fact that he acknowledged the problem is a step in the right direction.

Anyway…

What a year it’s been!

After that bastard Todd Weston exposed Ryan’s past, things were shaky for a while there. The public sympathy was overflowing, which was lovely, really, but it had Ryan worrying about his public image and rightfully so. Thankfully Johnny cleared it all up with a few strategically written press releases, and I like to think I had a hand in restoring my man’s public image with the way I handled his biography.

Johnny, who loves Ryan almost as much as I do, took great pleasure in creating a smear campaign, exposing Todd Weston as the conniving scumbag that he is. Needless to say, Todd was thrown out of the league, and last I heard, he was boozing his way around Europe on his family’s money.

After the book came out, I really think the image of Ryan that people had in mind shifted from, “poor, unfortunate victim” to “strong, determined survivor.” In any case, the pitying looks got less and less frequent—and they have since died out, thank goodness. And I might add that the book hit all the bestseller charts.
New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal
, Amazon, you name it. It may not have been my masterpiece, but it was still pretty freakin’ awesome to see my work way up there on those lists with the best of the best.

And speaking of my masterpiece…

Guess who got a publishing deal for her literary work? As it turns out, Bruce Maddox is good friends with one of the top guys at a Big Five publisher and the whole thing came as an unexpected surprise. I’d casually mentioned my book to Bruce at a holiday party and a week later, I got an email from his assistant, asking me to send the manuscript over to the publisher. Within hours, Gina was negotiating the contract for me.

This kind of thing is pretty much unheard of. It usually takes
years
to get a book into production. But it seems the rules are different when you’re Ryan Blake’s fiancé (actually, his girlfriend at the time.) It’s pure nepotism, of course, but I stand behind my work 100%. I think it’s going to be well received. Or at least I hope it will!

I’ve never been happier in my entire life. Ryan and I moved in together in February, a couple weeks after the Super Bowl, which they won again (go Vipers!). I said goodbye to my Brooklyn studio, and Bertie and I relocated to Manhattan. Bertie adjusted quickly. Within a few hours of the move, he was strutting around like he owned the place. No doubt he likes having more space, and I’m glad we can provide that for him. He was a little stand-offish at first when it came to Ryan, but they’ve since bonded, even to the point that Bertie sometimes chooses Ryan’s lap over mine as a place to nap!

I took Ryan home to Wisconsin for Easter. My family, of course, had been dying to meet him. It went well. It was a little rocky at first. The men in my family were a little intimidated by him at first. My brother especially seemed a little awkward around him, but this didn’t last. By the time we left, everyone was treating him just like one of the family, even my brother, who had beaten Ryan in a game of foosball the second night we were there, which seemed to have knocked my man down a few pegs. I have a sneaking suspicion that Ryan might have thrown the game to achieve this result, and if that’s the case, I love him all the more for it.  

After training season ended last month, Ryan surprised me with a first class ticket to Paris, and we spent two weeks at his apartment in Saint Germain-des-Prés. Or I guess I should say
our
apartment in Saint Germain-des-Prés. I’m having a hard time getting used to the fact that now that we’re going to be married, what’s his is also mine.

Anyway, the two weeks we spent in Paris were positively sensational. After a week, he asked me to marry him, and I, of course, accepted. I’m sure you can imagine the mind-blowing sex that followed! I don’t think we left the apartment in three whole days.

I think I’ve known for quite a while that the two of us were meant to be together, but I’m glad he didn’t want to rush into anything. Our first week together was so intense; it was nice to take things a little more slowly after that. He proposed just a little over a year from when we first met.

I feel a shiver run up my spine. It’s been almost a month now since we got engaged, but it’s still such a thrill to think about! I am head over heels with starting quarterback, Ryan Blake. Who’d have thought?

“When’s the wedding?” Karen asks.

“I’m not sure yet, but we’re thinking probably sometime next summer.”

“That sounds perfect,” she says. “Plenty of time to make all the arrangements.”

“Well…maybe,” says Jade Gregory who is engaged to marry the Vipers’ wide receiver. Their wedding is scheduled in February, two weeks following the Super Bowl. “These things are
so
involved. Every day, it seems like there are a million
new
details to sort out. I sometimes wonder if I’m actually going to manage to pull it off. I only have five months. I know it sounds like that’s ages away, but it’s really not.”

I take Jade’s hand and give her my best sympathetic smile. “Tell you what: I’ll pitch in and help you out whenever you feel overwhelmed. And when the summer rolls around, you can do the same for me.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she says, looking less stressed already. “You’re a sweetheart, Charlotte. Thank you!”

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be bridal buddies.” I make a goofy face at her.

She rolls her eyes. “You are such a dork.”

This is true. And I love that I feel comfortable being a dork around these glamorous gals.

My fellows WAGs and I chat about anything and everything, catching each other up on the latest news and gossip until we hear the announcer over the sound system.

This is it!

The air is heavy with the excitement of a new season. The energy of the crowd is invigorating, and I can feel it way down in my bones.

The Vipers run out onto the field in an order determined by their jersey numbers, and as the announcer introduces each one of them, my anticipation builds. I feel a surge of pride when he names Ryan, who comes barreling out onto the field, and the audience responds with thunderous applause.

The team waves to the crowd before they start warming up. I can’t take my eyes off of Ryan. Under those bright lights, he is truly luminous.

My man. My gorgeous man. Three-time winner of the Super Bowl MVP, two-time winner of the league MVP, amazing lover, total sweetheart, goofy jokester, awkward dancer, fierce protector, and the love of my life.

Even with the stadium lights illuminating him, still he manages to catch my eye. I blow him a kiss, and he sends up a smile in return. My heart is bursting with pride, love and gratitude. How did I ever get so lucky?

* * * *

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed
Hearts in Overtime
as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I would like to thank my lovely friend, Jessica Menius, for helping me with professional football terms, practices and various other sport-related details. Any technical mistakes in the book are my own.

Stay tuned for more bad boy football romances coming soon. In the meantime, here are six sizzling hot short stories to tide you over.

Daphne

xoxox  

Candace flipped open her compact and peered at her reflection. With her lips pursed into a pout, she touched the fine lines on her forehead.

“We should have scheduled this later in the week,” she said. “It would have been so nice to smooth out my face with a few shots of Botox before meeting him.”

“Don’t be silly. You look great,” I assured her.

This was part of my job, reassuring Candace. Like so many beautiful women, she was incredibly insecure.

“No, I don’t. I could really use some fillers, too,” she said, tilting the mirror for closer inspection, and running her finger along the barely there line running from the side of her nose to the side of her mouth. “Oh, you wouldn’t understand, Nicole. Your face is so full and plump. You won’t have to worry about lines and wrinkles until you hit your forties.”

And there it was. I knew there would be a backhanded compliment coming. Candace seemed to get a real kick out of finding unique ways to call me fat without actually calling me fat.

Although ensuring Candace of her beauty and desirability was nothing I hadn’t done on a daily basis for the past five years, today was different. Today she had an appointment with Steven Franklin, the genius who invented the new engine that, according to all the experts, was going to revolutionize the automotive industry. At only thirty-seven, Steven was hugely successful, not to mention the fact that he was ridiculously good looking. Tall and muscular with thick dark hair and electric blue eyes, he didn’t look much like your stereotypical egghead.

We couldn’t believe it when we got the call from his assistant to set up the appointment. Steven was based somewhere in Silicon Valley, but he’d just bought a condo in New York, and he needed help decorating it. That’s where we came in. Normally we assess our clients’ needs and expectations over a phone consultation, but Candace insisted we get Steven himself to come into the office. And so he was set to come in at 11:00, and that’s why Candace was in such a tizzy. She had a strict policy not to date clients, but apparently that rule didn’t apply to clients who were worth billions and looked like movie stars.

Snapping her compact closed, Candace turned to me. “Oh, I can’t stand this waiting! I need something to do.”

I managed to resist suggesting she could actually do some work. Even though I’d been with her for ages, and I knew the business inside and out, it was still her company. She was the boss.

“Do we have any kind of snack food?” she asked.

“There should be some microwave popcorn next to the teabags in the cupboard above the sink.”

“Great!” She hurried into the kitchen.

Happy to have her out of my hair, I turned back to my computer screen. I was in search of the perfect grand piano for a new client. There was a Seiler on eBay that might be right for him. Classy and understated, it would work with his overall design preferences. I copied the URL and pasted it in the Word doc I had open on the screen to take notes.

In the other room, the microwave pinged.

I closed eBay and brought up the Christie’s website. Flipping through the upcoming auctions, I clicked on the upcoming Chinese ceramics auction, skimmed the text and added it to the calendar.

And then, out of nowhere, a blood-curdling scream rang out from the kitchen.

“Ohmigod!” I jumped out of my chair and ran in there to see what was wrong.

Candace’s face was contorted in pain, and she had the most horrified expression in her eyes.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked.

“I roke a oof.”

“What?”

She gestured madly to the side of her face. I glanced at the bag of popcorn in her hands, and that’s when I got it.

“You broke a tooth?”

She managed to nod and roll her eyes at the same time.

“Oh no! That’s awful. I’ll call your dentist and see if he can fit you in, okay?”

She nodded again and followed me back to my desk. I quickly found the number I needed in the list of personal contacts and dialed.

“Good morning. Dr. Li’s office.”

“Hi, I’m calling for Candace Olsen. She’s a patient of Dr. Li’s, and I’m afraid she’s broken a tooth on a popcorn kernel. Could she come in to see him today?”

“Oh, that’s no fun. Let me see if I can squeeze her in…”

Luckily the receptionist rearranged things, and arranged for her to come in immediately. I gave Candace the thumbs up and shared the good news after I hung up the phone.

After she got her jacket and purse together and was just about to leave, Candace turned to me and said, “Ass Shehen Hranin who hun in whoharhow.”

“What?”

She gave me a nasty look and grabbed a pen and a Post-It pad off my desk. After quickly scribbling something down, she shoved it in my face. It read:

Ask Steven Franklin to come in tomorrow.

And under that:

You idiot.

I bit my tongue. I didn’t appreciate the way Candace spoke to me (or rather,
wrote
to me) but she was in great pain, so I decided to let it go. I nodded in understanding, and with that, she left the office.

I sat back down in my chair and glanced at the clock on my screen. Not good. It was 10:41—less than twenty minutes before Steven Franklin was due to arrive. And we didn’t even have his personal contact info since he wasn’t an official client yet. We only had his assistant’s number. I figured that was better than nothing, though.

After pulling up the initial email and locating the phone number, I quickly dialed. Maybe Mr. Franklin was close by and hadn’t left yet. It would be so great if I could catch him in time, save him from wasting time on a pointless journey. Even as the thought occupied my head, I knew that was wishful thinking.

Damn! My call went to voicemail.

“Hi, Mark. This is Nicole from Olsen Designs. I’m afraid Candace Olsen has had a medical emergency, and she won’t be able to meet with Mr. Franklin today. I’m very sorry for the short notice. We would love to reschedule for tomorrow, though, if that’s possible. Please let me know. Thanks.”

Oh well. There was nothing more I could do about it. I crossed my fingers, hoped Mr. Franklin was a reasonable person who wouldn’t throw a fit about something that was beyond everyone’s control, and I got back to work.

About twenty minutes later, I heard the door open and I looked up.

Oh. My. God.

I’d seen his picture on the Net, of course. After we got the meeting scheduled with him, I did some preliminary research like I would with any other potential client. So I already knew he was insanely good looking, and I was prepared for that. What I was not prepared for was the fact that he looked waaaaay hotter in person.

Standing two or three inches over six feet, Steven Franklin had broad, muscular shoulders and powerful arms. His physique was just so deliciously manly. He had a strong jaw, thick, expressive eyebrows and those eyes… Never in my life had I seen such a stunningly vivid shade of blue.

Doing my best to keep my cool, I got up and walked around my desk to offer the smoldering sex god my hand.

“Mr. Franklin, thank you so much for coming. I’m Nicole Baker, Candace Olsen’s assistant.”

“Nice to meet you, Nicole,” he said, wrapping his huge hand around mine. “And please. Call me Steven.”

It wasn’t often that a girl my size got a chance to feel dainty. On top of being 5’9, I was also what you might call Rubenesque. Let me put it this way: I was sometimes able to squeeze my junk into a size 16, but only sometimes.

And so it was a rare occasion to come into contact with a man so big he actually made me feel small. But Steven did just that. I marveled at how tiny my hand looked in his. And I loved the way I had to tilt my head up to gaze into his eyes. My heart started hammering like crazy, and suddenly I was very
aware
of my nipples. I quickly pulled my hand away and crossed my arms over my chest.

I did
not
want to look like I was mooning over a potential new client. How sad would that be? I needed to get a grip.

“Nice to meet you too, Steven. I take it you haven’t heard from your assistant?” I asked.

“No, I haven’t. Why? Did you leave a message?”

His smile was gentle, but those electric blue eyes were so intense. He seemed to be staring straight into me, and to say I felt uncomfortable under his gaze is to put it mildly. I figured he was just one of those people who thought it was really important to maintain eye contact or something. Maybe that was an essential element in his success in business. Who knew? All I knew was that I hated it—the way he hadn’t taken his eyes off me for a second. I didn’t know where to look.

“I did leave a message,” I said, scrambling to keep my cool. “Candace has had a dental emergency, I’m afraid, and she had to go get it taken care of. It was only twenty minutes ago that it happened. I called your assistant, hoping to catch you before you left, but I guess I didn’t. I’m really sorry about this. Is there any way you could come in tomorrow instead?”

“Couldn’t I meet with you instead of Ms. Olsen?”

“I wish I could say yes, but you’ll need to meet with Candace. I’m only her assistant.”

With that intense gaze not wavering from my face, he tilted his head and said, “I suppose I could come in tomorrow morning. Say around nine?”

“Great!” I hurried back behind my desk, plopped down into my chair and quickly entered the new meeting with Steven into Candace’s calendar. “We’ll see you tomorrow at nine. Thanks for being so understanding.”

“Nicole?”

“Hmm?” I looked up to find him walking around to the back of the desk.

What the hell?

When he was practically on top of me, he dropped to one knee and reached for me. Panic swept over me and I searched his eyes for some kind of explanation.

“You have a strand of hair caught in your earring,” he said.

“Oh.” I laughed, and reached up so I could start untangling it. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Let me,” he said, enveloping my hand again in his strong, thick fingers, and gently lowering it to my lap.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. Things like that just didn’t happen to girls like me. I sat, rigid and tense, as he freed the blonde strands from my complicated hoop earring. He was so close. I could see his chest slowly expanding and contracting with his breaths. I could see the dark stubble on his jaw, and it killed me not to be able to run my fingers over it. I inhaled deeply, and fought back a blissful sigh. He smelled like a wintry forest.

“There,” he said, softly.

“Thank you,” I managed to utter.

He smiled and brushed my hair back over my shoulder. “You’re so beautiful. Do you know that?”

And that was my brain short-circuiting. How was it even possible for a billionaire sex god to notice me, much less think I’m beautiful, much less tell me so? Was I hallucinating or what?

With a smile, he stroked my cheek, and then he stood up. Gazing down at me, he said, “Have dinner with me tonight.”

“Okay.”

Just like that. In a way, I couldn’t believe how impulsive I was, saying yes to his invitation without obsessing at all, but I couldn’t imagine saying no.

“Great.”

He reached down to stroke my cheek again, and then he combed his fingers through my hair. It was all I could do not to moan. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, and my pussy was positively pulsating.

He named the restaurant and the time, both of which I managed to jot down on a Post-It.

“I’m really looking forward to it, Nicole,” he said, reaching for my fingers and giving them a quick squeeze.

“Me too, Steven.” I smiled and waved him off. “I’ll see you tonight.”

After he left, I collapsed in my chair and let the wonder of what had just happened sink in. I was going out with the man of my dreams later that night! Granted, I hadn’t even begun to figure it all out. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to why on earth a gorgeous billionaire would be interested in little old me—or rather,
big
old me—but I wasn’t going to let the mystery of why dampen my excitement.

A couple of hours later, Candace was back, asking how Steven took the news of her absence.

“He was really nice about it,” I said. “I penciled him him for nine tomorrow morning.”

“Wonderful!” she gushed. “I won’t be able to get fillers or injections before then, but Helga did say she’d be able to get me in for a quick rejuvenation facial tomorrow at seven. I need you to call and set that up for me.”

“Sure thing, Candace,” I said.

As I dialed her facialist’s number, I felt a mischievous thrill shooting through my body, closely followed by nerves and fear. Candace would be livid if she knew I had plans that night with her dream man.

* * * *

“Wear your white floral dress with the purple sash, your tan strappy wedge heels, your small silver hoop earrings and your opal pendant,” said Marie, my most stylish friend.