Jaci Burton (5 page)

Cole cocked a brow. “You have a file on me?”

“The team provided media reports, analysis of your on-field behavior from prior teams, and altercations you’ve had in the past, all contributing to a profile I’ve put together on you.”

They waited while Mike put their lunch in front of them. Since Cole was hungry, he dug into his chicken Parmesan while Savannah ate her chicken salad. All the while, he stared at the folder she’d pushed off to the side.

“So what’s your conclusion?” he asked.

“This is just a preliminary analysis, but my belief is that you have anger management issues.”

He let out a snort. “I do not.”

She speared a leaf of lettuce, and didn’t argue with him.

“Seriously. I don’t have anger management issues. Or any other kind of issues. I told you last night, the media lies. They blow everything out of proportion.”

“What about your issues with the teams you’ve been on?”

He shrugged. “Personality clashes. I’ve just been on the wrong teams.”

“I see. And you think it’ll be different with the Traders.”

“Yeah. I’ve already connected with them. This is a good fit for me.”

“So assuming this team is, in fact, a good fit for you and you have no skirmishes with anyone on your team, from players to management, what about your personal life?”

“What about it? I told you it’s not me, it’s the media.”

She laid her fork down and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the napkin. “To some extent, you’re likely correct. The media has a tendency to overdramatize and exaggerate. But if you don’t give them anything to work with, they have nothing to report. You give them plenty, so even if what’s there is minor, they have the opportunity to blow it up.”

“That’s bullshit.” He pushed his empty plate to the side and
finished his glass of water. Mike was right there to refill it, then blended into the darkness of the restaurant again. “I don’t give them anything. They make shit up.”

“You also have an issue of not being able to accept blame for your actions.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll accept blame.”

She raised her fork, then paused, her lips lifting in a hint of a smile. “Let me guess. You’re never wrong?”

Irritation spiked. He pushed it down, refusing to get into an argument with her here. “I didn’t say that. And you’re baiting me.”

“I’m not baiting you, Cole. We’re having a conversation. Your anger is quick to spark. Once it does, you don’t back down. That’s why you get into trouble so easily. And so often.”

He sucked in a breath, trying to keep control. “So is this an exercise to see how fast you can piss me off?”

“No.” She looked down at her plate, then back up at him. “It’s lunch.”

“You think this is funny.”

“I wasn’t making a joke. I’m trying to get you to understand that you’re angry for no reason. We’re having a conversation. A conversation that you’ve turned into what you think is me attacking you.” She pushed her plate to the side and drew the file folder in front of her, opened it up and pulled out photos and articles. “If you’d like, you can explain these photos and altercations. Give me an understanding of you, of what was happening during these events.”

He took the photos. “This one was at a club. I was kicking back with some friends, and suddenly there are ten cameras in my face. Lights are popping, they’re pushing the woman I was with just to get closer to me. What the hell was I supposed to do? I shoved them out of the way so I could get my date out of there. She was freaked out.”

He pulled out an article, this one from some tabloid rag that said he’d been drunk and passed out in a club. He snorted. “Paparazzi
tripped me while I was trying to get away from them. So they take this photo of me lying facedown in a club and then print that I’m drunk and passed out.”

At her dubious look, he shot her a glare. “I don’t drink during the season. It affects my performance. Look at the date.” He handed the article back to her.

“October fifteenth.”

“Exactly. Deep in the middle of the season. No alcohol. You can go to the club owners and ask them.”

She filed the article away. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“This one, I was out with my parents. My parents. That’s news? It was their anniversary and I wanted to take them out to dinner. Someplace nice and quiet, and the goddamned media shows up. I’m not an actor. I’m not Hollywood. I’m just a jock. Taking my parents out to dinner isn’t newsworthy. Yet they stalked me and hounded my parents, blinding them with their cameras.”

“Did you bring a date that night?”

He frowned. “What?”

“When you took your parents out to dinner for their anniversary. Did you bring a date?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you had the media stalking you. You’re a hot commodity, Cole. You’ve had big endorsement deals, you’ve done commercials, and you’ve been known to date high-profile women. That makes you attractive to the media. Next time you want to take your parents out for a quiet dinner, don’t bring a date.”

“It shouldn’t matter whether I bring a date or not. The media should leave me alone.”

She smiled at him. “What you want and what you’re going to get are two different things. You’ve been in the NFL for six years now, and you were hot even when you played college ball. If you don’t want this life, then maybe you should consider retiring.”

He was about ready to let Peaches hoof it back to her car. “That’s a bullshit suggestion.”

“And you’re a whiner. You have a great career, you make more money than most of the people in this country will ever dream of. You have a ton of perks, you can retire before you’re forty and live a life of luxury—provided you’re financially astute and haven’t pissed it all away. Yet you’ve cornered yourself into a terrible reputation and your career is hanging by a thread. What? Fame, money, and success aren’t enough for you? Are you unhappy?”

He pushed his chair back, pulled a wad of bills out of his wallet, and threw them on the table, then tossed some extra at her. “You can take a cab back to your car, Peaches. We’re done here.”

He walked out.

NOW
THAT
WAS THE COLE RILEY SHE’D RESEARCHED.
Savannah took a deep breath and reached for her glass of iced tea to take a sip.

Carmen came over. “Are you all right, dear?”

She smiled up at the woman. “I’m just fine. Thank you for asking. I believe Cole left more than enough money to cover the bill.”

She clasped her hands together. “He always does. He’s very generous.”

Yeah, he was generous, all right. She left the money he’d thrown at her, figuring Mike could use it. She pushed back her chair and stood. “The meal was wonderful, Carmen. Thank you so much.”

“It’s so unlike Cole to be so, to be such a…”

Jerk? Asshole? Prick? Baby?
Seemed to her he’d acted just as she’d expected. Exactly as the profile had indicated. She laid her hand on Carmen’s arm. “It’s quite all right, Carmen.”

“Men. They’re difficult to understand sometimes. My Fred. Most of the time he’s so warm and loving. And then sometimes I’d
like to bash him upside the head with my cast-iron skillet. Of course they’d arrest me if I killed him, so I call him names instead.”

She couldn’t imagine a mean word coming out of the tiny woman, but Savannah laughed. “Well, yes, killing them is illegal.”

Carmen linked her arm with Savannah’s. “They’re all a pain in the ass every now and then and require a lot of patience. But the great sex is worth it.”

Savannah blinked. “I’m sure it is. Thank you again for lunch, Carmen. I’ll just call a taxi.”

“You wait in here, then. It’s hot outside.” Carmen wandered off and Savannah stared after her.

Clearly Savannah had a lot to learn about men and women and relationships. Right now she was happy to be single.

She pulled out her phone when she walked outside, surprised to see Cole parked at the front door. He was leaning against the passenger-side door, his arms crossed in front of him.

“So maybe I do have a temper.”

She slipped her phone in her purse and walked toward him.

“And maybe I can be an asshole.”

She put on her sunglasses and tilted her head back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But not everything in your super secret file there is true.”

“Then start proving me wrong instead of proving everything in it is right.”

He clenched his jaw, but then he gave her a quick nod. He moved away and opened the door for her, helped her up, then climbed in on his side.

“Where to now?” he asked.

“I’m yours to command. Take me wherever you’re going.”

He relaxed his shoulders, shot her a grin, and started the car.

At least he didn’t stay angry long. Point in his favor.

FOUR

COLE DROVE SAVANNAH BACK TO HER CAR FIRST AND
told her she’d need a change of clothes for later.

Since she intended to shadow him to determine his routine, she told him he might as well follow her to her place, then they could go in one car.

He’d expected her to live in a condo like he did, so he was surprised when she pulled into the driveway of a single-story home. The lawn was well maintained, with a huge tree in the front and a nice porch where two chairs and a table sat. Hanging pottery made it seem…homey.

“Wow. Nice digs. Team footing the bill for this?”

She didn’t answer and instead went to the door and opened it. He followed her inside, where it was also nice. It wasn’t a new home, but it was decorated nicely—all warm colors with overstuffed sofas and pillows and wood tables and flooring.

She laid her briefcase on the table. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Water is good.”

“Help yourself in the kitchen.” She headed toward her bedroom, then stopped at the doorway and turned to face him. “What kind of clothes will I need?”

“Got a party dress?”

“Define party dress.”

“Night club.”

“Yes.”

“Bring that. You can change at my place.”

“All right.” Savannah went to her closet and selected a black and white cocktail dress and a pair of shoes, bagged her makeup and some jewelry, and came back into the kitchen.

Cole had a bottled water in his hand and was standing at her back door, looking out at the lake.

She’d bought the house for the lake view. She liked having the unfenced property, didn’t want the obstruction to mar the beauty of the lake. She liked sitting out back and watching kids play and parents walking them along the path. Occasionally, ducks would frolic in the water. It gave her a sense of peace and allowed her mind to settle.

Her mind was definitely not settled now, not with a stunningly attractive man standing in her kitchen. He’d struck a casual pose and hadn’t yet noticed her, so he was relaxed and unguarded, just peering out at the water.

In profile, he was magnificent, his shoulders wide, his waist lean, and his face photogenic. No wonder the media ate him up. He had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man, and the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck made her itch to slide her fingers into the tendrils and see if it felt as soft and thick as it looked.

He finally spotted her, turned his head and smiled.

He took her breath away.

He was a client, not a date. Not a man she was going to sleep with, so everything on her body that was throbbing could just stop.

“I’m ready.”

“Let me take those.” He grabbed her garment bag and the small bag she’d placed her other things in. She opened the door and they went out and climbed into his SUV.

She watched his hands on the steering wheel as he drove. Strong, confident. He even drove the speed limit, though she wondered if he was on his best behavior because she was with him. She’d read his file—he’d gotten so many speeding tickets she was surprised he still had a driver’s license.

Which made her wonder just where one of those strong, confident hands would be if she were his date, not his image consultant.

Maybe she should have had two orgasms last night instead of just one. She’d been on the road a lot lately, and had nearly doubled her clientele in the past six months. Good for business, bad for her tension level. And none of those clients were of the sexy, fantasy-inducing quality like Cole Riley. He might have issues, but she wanted to devour him like her favorite homemade biscuits, all slathered in butter and honey.