Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males (172 page)

“So I heard,” Alyssa said.
 
“Any idea when he’ll be back?”

The girl shrugged.
 
“Could
be a few minutes, could be tomorrow.”
 
She pointed to one of the gaudy white couches that was pushed up against
the floor to ceiling windows.
 
“You
can wait there, if you’d like.”

Alyssa felt her heart sink.
 
She was exhausted from the train ride from Boston, her feet were killing
her, and she needed a shower.
 
All she
could think about was how nice it would be to curl up back in her hotel
room.
 
She looked at the couch in
the corner.
 
It looked very
uncomfortable, like one of those couches where you had to sit ramrod straight
and even then sometimes ended up with a backache.

Before she could figure out what to do, she caught sight of Jay,
watching her from the corner, that same arrogant smile playing on his
lips.
 
She turned her back on him
and walked over to the couch in the corner, mentally preparing some headlines
in her head.
 
“Brooklyn Heat Playboy Just As Much Of A Jerk As Thought”
or
something like that.
 
Obviously, it
would have to be punchier, but –

Her Blackberry started ringing from the depths of her new bag, a
Tommy Hilfiger she’d gotten at TJ Maxx for thirty-nine ninety-nine.
 
She thought it would seem hip and
sophisticated, but one look around the city and she realized it was horribly
out of place.
 
The women here were
all carrying very expensive bags, like Louis Vuitton or some other designers
that Alyssa had never heard of.
 
The
ones that weren’t were carrying vintage bags that looked ugly but Alyssa was
sure were actually quite stylish.

Not only was her purse not NYC-worthy, it also wasn’t good for her
Blackberry, since the bag was so big that Alyssa had to root around for what
seemed like forever before she found her phone.

“Hello?” she said breathlessly, taking a few steps toward the
windows and away from the watchful eyes of Jay Havens.
 
What was his problem anyway?
 
Didn’t he have somewhere to be?
 
A baseball practice or a blackjack table
or a strip club or something?

“Alyssa,” her boss, Isobel, barked into the phone.
 
“Just checking in.
 
Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said.
 
“I’m
here.
 
And there’s been a little bit
of a – ”

“You in with Billingsley yet?”

“No,” Alyssa said.
 
She
was starting to get a headache.
 
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.
 
He’s not here.”

“What do you mean he’s not there?”
 
Isobel sounded shocked.

“I mean he’s not here.
 
He missed our meeting.
 
At
least, I think he did, he – ”

“Well, then get out of there!” Isobel said, now gleeful.
 
“He missed the meeting, end of
story.”
 
Isobel was an okay boss,
although she talked too much and was always interrupting.
 
She was also bullheaded and stubborn,
and she was hoping that this story was going to be something that painted the
Brooklyn Heat and their organization in a bad light.
 
Scandals equaled lots of web traffic,
and lots of web traffic equaled lots of money.
 

“Are you sure?”
 
Alyssa
asked.
 
“His secretary said he might
come back.
 
I could wait a few
minutes just to make sure.”

“Get out of there,” Isobel said.
 
She clicked off the phone.
 

Alyssa sighed and slid her phone back into her bag, ready to walk
by Jay Havens with her head held high on her way to the elevator.
 
Take
that,
she thought, you figured you could push me around, but I
’m
the one who’s leaving, and
I’m
the one who’s going to end up maybe
writing about your cocky little smile tomorrow.

But when she turned around, Jay was gone.

~Chapter Two~

Jay Havens was relieved.
 
Very relieved.
 
The so-called
reporter they’d sent to make sure the Heat was on the up and up was a complete
mess.
 
Definitely not used to
reporting, definitely wanted to prove herself, and definitely hadn’t lived in
Boston that long.
 
He could tell by
the way she stiffened up when he asked her.
 
Probably she was from some small town,
either New Jersey or upstate New York.
 
He was guessing upstate, since anyone from New Jersey would have at
least known their way around the city.

He chuckled to himself as he took the elevator down to the parking
garage that was below the sports complex.
 
He slid behind the wheel of his car, a new Aston Martin that was
completely inappropriate for city driving.
 
Jay didn’t care.
 
He was from
Texas, and he missed driving, spending his days exploring all the back roads in
the middle of nowhere with his dog, Track, and his high school friends.
 
He was getting ready to pull out of the
garage when his cell phone rang.
 

“What the fuck is going on?” the voice of his agent, Steve Concord,
came screeching through the line.

Jay sighed.
 
“Steve,” he
said.
 
“I can explain.”
 

“Explain?
 
You better
fucking explain!”

“He was being unrealistic,” Jay said.
 
“He was getting up in my business about
how I spend my time.”
 

When Jay had told Jensen the security guard that Cliff Billingsley
had stormed out the complex because of the ticket sales numbers, he wasn’t
lying.
 
But it had only been part of
the story.
 
The ticket sales numbers
were
pretty dismal, yeah.
 
But Old Man Billingsley had somehow
decided that Jay was to blame.
 
Which was completely ridiculous.
 
It wasn’t
Jay’s
fault that the
seats weren’t getting filled.
 
He
was doing his part.
 
His batting
average was over three hundred, and he was definitely going to be in the
running for a Golden Glove.

Besides, it wasn’t the stats that were keeping the fans away
– it was the team’s reputation.
 
It wasn’t exactly family friendly.

“Jay,” Steve said, “he’s paying you millions of fucking dollars, he
has the right to be unreasonable.”

“Fuck him,” Jay said.
 
“He’s trying to put a curfew on me!
 
Home by eleven!
 
That’s
bullshit, Steve, and I don’t need it.
 
I’m not Derek fucking Jeter.”

He was out of the car now, pacing up and down the garage, his
energy making him all jumpy.

“Look,” Steve said.
 
“You have to keep the peace.
 
Try a little harder.
 
If you
get let out of your contract, it’s going to be hard to find another team to
pick you up.
 
It won’t matter your numbers,
Jay, your reputation is going to bury you.
 
At least for a while.
 
You
ever heard of Lindsay Lohan?
 
Drugs
and partying and stealing that necklace and boom, done.”

“I’m not Lindsay Lohan,” Jay said, rolling his eyes.

“No, you’re not,” Steve said.
 
“You’re nowhere near as good looking.”

Jay laughed.
 

“Look,” Steve said.
 
“I
agree with you, Jay, I do.
 
But we
gotta do something to show him that you’re trying.
 
I’m not saying go crazy or anything, but
you gotta meet him at halfway.
 
At
least for a little while.”

Jay thought about it.
 
And then it came to him.
 
The
perfect idea.
 
That reporter.
 
Alyssa or whatever.
 
He’d befriend her.
 
Get her to write good things about him
in her little blog.
 
And then, once
that happened, he’d be back on Billingsley’s good side.

“Steve,” he said, “I gotta go.”

“What?” Steve said.
 
“Wait a minute, we have to go over the – ”

Jay ended the call, then immediately dialed upstairs.
 
“Hello, Cliff Billingsley’s office,” the
secretary said.

“Hey, Kylie,” Jay said.
 
“It’s Jay.”

“Hi, Jay,” Kylie said.
 
“What can I do for you?”

“You know that reporter that was just in there?”

“Alyssa?”

“Yeah.
 
Do you happen to
have her cell phone number?”

***

The hotel was right down the street from the Lerner Sports Complex,
a fact that Alyssa appreciated, as it meant she didn’t have too far to
walk.
 
And since all she wanted to
do was take a hot bath and curl up under the covers while ordering a
pay-per-view movie, the short walk was even more of a plus.

She’d order room service, she decided as she walked down the hall
to her room.
 
Pasta and bread, and
maybe even a dessert.
 
Usually she
watched her carbs, or at least tried to, but if anyone needed comfort food, it
was her.

She slid the card they’d given her at the front desk into the door
of her room, and then pushed it open.
 
She dropped her suitcase and bag on the floor, then flopped down on the
bed.

She closed her eyes for a moment, glad she was here and not in a
meeting with Cliff Billingsley. Then she got up, drew herself a nice warm bath,
and spent the next forty minutes soaking in the tub.
 

She got out and wrapped herself in a warm fluffy towel, then
dressed in a soft pink t-shirt and comfy pajama pants, and ordered a
cheeseburger and mac and cheese from room service.
 
She was flipping through the Lifetime
movies on the TV, and was just settling on one called HER FAVORITE MISTAKE,
which starred Jennie Garth and was about a woman who ended up having sex with a
guy who turned out to be a good mistake, when there was a knock on the door.

Thinking it was her room service, Alyssa answered it without
looking through the peephole, which was a very stupid move, since everyone knew
you were supposed to look through the peephole in case it was a serial
killer.
 
But it wasn’t a serial
killer.
 
It was Jay Havens.

Alyssa’s mouth dropped.
 
“What… what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.
 
Can
I come in?”
 
He pushed past her into
the room before Alyssa could answer.

“What are you talking about?
 
Is Mr. Billingsley back?
 
Does he want to see me?”
 
Alyssa was hoping not.
 
All
she wanted was her mac and cheese and a nap.

“No,” Jay said.
 
“I
wanted to see you.”
 
He sat down on her bed and glanced at
the TV.
 
“Lifetime?
 
Huh.
 
Weird, I didn’t peg you as a Lifetime
fan.”

Alyssa picked up the remote and switched off the screen.
 
“So what if I am?” she asked.
 
“Lifetime movies are nothing to be
embarrassed about.”

“No, I agree,” Jay said.
 
“Did you see the one where Henry Winkler dressed up as Santa?”

“I think so,” Alyssa said.
 
“Was that the one with – ” she broke off when she saw that same
arrogant smile playing on his lips.
 
He was messing with her.
 
“Get out,” she said.