To Win Her Love (5 page)

He cleared his throat and banished the image from his mind. “She claims to want custody, but how well is a trust fund party girl going to handle sudden motherhood?”

Tom cast a glance at the empty glass in front of Jake. “As well as you’re handling discovering you’re not an only child?”

“Fuck you.”

White teeth flashed when Tom laughed.

Jake shook his head. “My point is, the value of Pete’s estate is a heady incentive to meet his demands, but I imagine she’ll be singing a different tune when faced with the reality of day-to-day parenting. Women like her are used to a steady stream of admirers. Three months trapped on a rural farm in the middle of nowhere isn’t exactly a fertile dating field.”

The idea made him frown. Three months. Ninety days in the sticks would be hell on a person’s sex life. He shifted his shoulders against the sudden itch crawling up his spine. Yet another reason to stay the hell away from that farm.

“Are you worried about her or yourself?”

He scowled at the direct hit. “Both.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Hell, even if she isn’t the ideal guardian, at least the twins know her. But what if she bolts before the deadline? Then I
am
screwed.”

“What if she doesn’t? Don’t underestimate the maternal instinct. It’s a powerful thing. Ask Sharon. This woman, this Gracie, may surprise you. For that matter, you may surprise yourself.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Kids have a way of growing on you.”

Jake’s scornful laugh of dismissal brought the return of Tom’s annoying, knowing smile.

“Go to the farm, Jake. Give the press a nice human-interest story, and they’ll forgive you almost anything. As for the twins and Gracie Gable…” He shrugged. “You have ninety days to figure things out.”

* * * *

Jake sprawled on the soft leather couch, his bare feet propped beside his laptop on the granite coffee table. Elbows winged out with his hands cradling his head, he stared at the view of Central Park beyond the glass wall of his Upper West Side condo. Fashioning an apology to the Gridiron Girl that didn’t come off as groveling hadn’t been pleasant, but at least it had kept his mind off the cluster fuck his life had become.

He winced and crossed his feet at the ankles.

Tom was right…not that Jake would admit it out loud. He wasn’t getting any younger, but he’d rather not contemplate retirement until he had to, and he refused to do so in the middle of a record-breaking season. Despite his off the field reputation, he gave everything he had to the game. His resulting stats from ten years in the league were nothing to laugh at, but he was the first to admit, he’d gotten lucky when the Marauders picked up his contract. Two years later, they’d fielded what many considered the best offensive line in decades. Thanks to the talent surrounding him, the touchdown record was within his grasp and he was on track for the hall of fame. No way was he going to blow it.

Unfortunately, with the season at the halfway mark, anything could happen. In the blink of an eye, an injury, another controversial call, or a streak of bad luck like the one currently dogging him could snatch away everything he’d worked for. Taking his eye off the prize and uprooting his life to play nursemaid to a couple of orphaned six year olds was an added pressure he didn’t need or want.

Career concerns aside, he wouldn’t condemn two innocent kids to life with a man who didn’t have the first clue how to go about building a happy family. No kid deserved that. Shit, he wasn’t even sure he believed in the concept. The girls deserved someone whose experience wasn’t limited to a missing father and a mother who drowned her disappointments at the bottom of a vodka bottle.

Screw Pete and his from-the-grave manipulations. Fine. The twins were his half sisters. Occasional visits and gifts for birthdays and holidays he could handle, but considering his career and its grueling schedule, no one in their right mind would expect him to drop everything to raise a couple of kids.

Gracie Gable claimed she wanted the twins. As far as he was concerned, she was welcome to the job. V would be pissed, but she’d have to find some other way to repair his image because he wasn’t stepping foot on Pete’s farm anytime soon, much less spending the next twelve weeks there.

His gaze focused on the laptop screen. Wasn’t repairing his image what his public apology to the Gridiron Girl was all about? Sitting forward, he reread the words he’d typed earlier before tapping a fingertip to the keyboard and posting them. A new comment appeared below his almost immediately.

I appreciate the apology, Jake. Let me add mine. We get a bit rambunctious here from time to time, and I admit to having enjoyed baiting you. Sorry about that.

A smiley face icon accompanied her half-assed apology. Well, hell, what did he expect? Gracie Gable hadn’t achieved a slot on the top one hundred sports blogs list by taking anyone’s crap. Including his. Reluctant respect hummed in his throat, interrupted by a soft ding when a message box appeared at the bottom corner of his screen.

The Gridiron Girl has invited you to a private chat.

Shit. Not a good idea. Look what happened last time. He stared at the screen. The chat box taunted him.

“What the fuck? You face down three hundred fifty pound defensive linemen for a living. Don’t be such a pussy.” He flicked a finger over the mouse and clicked. A new window popped up immediately.

Jake?

In the flesh.

Like you, I was shocked this afternoon, or I would’ve taken the opportunity to say I’m truly sorry for any trouble I caused you. Creating a firestorm with the press wasn’t my intention.

He raised his brows in surprise. Considering his insults the other day, not to mention his inclusion in Pete’s will threatening her hopes for custody of the girls, her apology was completely unexpected. Then again, from the way he reacted at the reading of the will, she probably figured there was no chance he’d take Pete up on his posthumous offer. Why shouldn’t she be magnanimous?

Did she know she’d already won? Would she ask him what he intended to do? And would he tell her? Not a chance, but giving up the game before he’d even taken the field went against his competitive nature. A consolation prize was in order. He tapped at the keyboard.

I appreciate that. Are the press hounding you, too?

Like rabid wolves.

He grinned.
Welcome to my world, darlin’.

He imagined her incredible eyes going wary as she blinked at his endearment on her computer screen. The picture brought a wide smile.

Ugh. I don’t know how you stand it.

He grunted. Typical trust fund babe. Did she think she could ignore what didn’t meet her approval? His lips curved as he muttered, “Ignoring me won’t be easy, princess. Not when you’re raising two little girls who share my DNA.”

Comes with the territory, although my interaction with you and your minions caused a marked spike in the rabid wolves’ normal interest.

The screen remained blank and quiet for a long moment. He could practically hear the bristle in her tone when she finally replied.

You weren’t faultless in the exchange, pal.

His quiet chuckle echoed in the silent condo. Oh, yeah. The little blogger with the hoochie-baby body had some spark. His groin tightened as he imagined fanning that spark until it burst into a full-fledged wildfire and he shifted in his chair.
You’re right. I wasn’t.

Another pause.

I said I was sorry.

As did I.

His hand hovered over the keyboard. He’d done what he set out to do, made his apology, just as the Marauders’ owner insisted. Considering where Gracie would be residing starting tomorrow, he’d be wise to end the conversation and sign out, but he found himself willing her to continue, to see where things led. He smiled when another comment popped up on his screen.

They’re giving you a hard time?

A derisive scoff flared his nostrils.

Who? The press, the league, or the Marauders front office?

You’re not making me feel any better.

Was I supposed to?

Well, shoot. I heard about the fine. I’m sorry.

A wry snort blew from his nose.
Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly popular with league management, and that’s strictly my fault.

The screen remained black and silent long enough he thought she’d gone.

I never thought this would get you in trouble with the team. What happened?

He settled the laptop on his lap and slouched back on the couch.
They threatened to bench me.

Bench you? Are they crazy? You’re the most talented player in the league. What could they be thinking?

All things considered, her artless compliment surprised the hell out of him. Yet, other than her doubt over his assertion the hit on Tuttle was clean, until he’d insulted her, the rest of her comments had been more than fair the other day. Complimentary in fact. Apparently, the little darlin’ was a fan. He’d simply been too pissed off to notice. The least he could do was put her at ease.

They won’t be, since I’ve apologized.

They insisted you apologize?

Publicly.

Ah, I see.

Shit. He’d made it sound as if he’d been forced, which, in a way he had. Still, once he’d calmed down, he’d realized an apology was warranted. The team had made their demand before he’d had the chance to do so on his own.

I’d planned to contact you before they made the threat.

Is that so?

He frowned at her obvious doubt.
You don’t believe me?

Hmm. Did they really threaten to bench you?

He narrowed his gaze, noting she hadn’t answered either way.
The team’s owner made her millions online. She’s cyber sensitive.

A long hesitation.

Good!

A reluctant chuckled escaped
. That’s mean. Has anyone ever accused you of being a bloodthirsty blogger?

You’re the first, but I like it. Maybe I’ll put it in my bio.

He laughed. Fan or not, she didn’t pull any punches.
Funny. Are we good? And before you answer, my apology comes with two sideline tickets to the next home game.

The smiley face made another appearance.

Careful, Jake. You don’t want anyone accusing you of offering a bribe.

I’ll take my chances. The tickets will be at the will-call booth.

Several seconds passed
.

Thanks, and about the touchdown record, I’ll be celebrating right alongside everyone else when you achieve it.

He laughed aloud at her not-so-subtle good-bye and snapped the laptop closed. Celebrating, huh? Sounded good to him. Especially if the celebration was a private one. He dropped his head to the back of the couch, shut his eyes, and smiled.

Those occasional visits to spend time with the twins presented some undeniably inviting possibilities.

Silvery light from the full moon brightened the early evening landscape of Thompson Farm. The unseasonably early storm left sparkling icicles hanging from the eves of the house. Like a life-sized snow globe waiting for childish hands to shake the world and disperse the pristine image, the surrounding evergreens sagged beneath the weight of six inches of newly fallen snow. Gracie turned in a full circle, nearly falling when her ankles tangled with Murphy’s leash. The two-year-old border collie-Jack Russell mix danced in circles as she hopped on one foot and attempted to free herself.

“Murphy! Settle down before you knock me on my ass.”

Big, dark chocolate eyes gleamed at her above his doggy grin. She rolled her eyes and shrugged a shoulder to readjust the slipping strap of her laptop case. Lifting her gaze in time to catch the taillights of the cab disappearing at the end of the drive, she eyed the two sets of fresh tracks leading up to the house, then off again. Her lower lip stung beneath her chewing teeth. Jake’s SUV was nowhere in sight, but with three hours left to go until the terms of the will went into effect, she couldn’t relax.

He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the farm or the girls yesterday, but what about the money? Jake might never have to worry about where his next meal came from, but Pete’s estate was worth millions. Would a man walk away from that kind of money simply for spite? Or would V convince him to change his mind?

Why had he made no mention of the will and its bizarre stipulations during their online conversation following his surprising apology? The omission concerned her as much as his flirtatious tone. What was up with all those
darlin’s
he tossed around, and what the hell had happened to the angry giant who stomped out of the room yesterday, his hair standing on end? What did it mean?

God, if he showed up at the farm tonight…Ugh! The implications were terrifying to consider. Maintaining the secret of her paternity had never been a problem before, but then, she’d never been around anyone who might make the connection. A pro football star, for heaven’s sake. One lit by the glare of interest from the league’s front office. How the hell had this happened? Evil forces had converged to spin a chilling version of her worst nightmare. If the situation wasn’t so worrying, she’d have to laugh at the irony but, as things stood, laughing was the last thing she felt like doing.

God, what a mess! She dragged her suitcase up the walk, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world pressed down on them. With her other hand, she juggled a small duffle bag and Murphy’s leash. Her laptop banged against her hip as the dog danced at the end of the strap, tugging her up the porch steps.

The front door opened and the leash ripped from her fingers with his excited lunge. Her grip loosened on the duffle. She dropped the suitcase handle in a scramble to save her laptop, catching the leather satchel before it thudded to the porch’s wooden planks.

“Auntie Gracie!”

She grinned at the shrieked greeting and braced for impact as dark-headed munchkins charged into the cold night air. Two small bodies slammed into her legs. Four skinny arms wrapped around her thighs. Dual peals of excitement pierced the quiet night. Evil gremlins and nightmare scenarios temporarily flew from her mind as her sister’s eyes twinkled at her over her nieces’ identical smiles.