For the Win (17 page)

17

How do I maintain my fitness in the face of temptation? Easy. I just do. Willpower is for losers. If you have to struggle to diet and eat healthy, then you don't want it badly enough. But, uh, also, I never really learned how to cook anything more complicated than salad.

—
Lainey Lukas, quoted in
Sports Nutrition Magazine

“OUCH, DID YOU SEE
that hit? It was practically a body check.” Lainey leaned forward to get a better view. The woman in front of her with the giant bouffant and tendency to shake her head side to side while
tsk
ing loudly kept blocking her view.

“Nah, just a little shoulder-to-shoulder contact,” Gabe said breezily, relaxing back in his seat.

“More like spatula-to-shoulder contact. That has to be illegal!”

“Shh!” The woman in the next row cast a sneering glare their way. “Have some respect for your elders. Some of us are trying to learn something here.”

As soon as she turned around, Lainey and Gabe snickered.

It was hard to take the first live taping of the “Marnie and Marika in the Kitchen” segment seriously when the two stars were bickering like an old married couple, flinging passive-aggressive jabs and the occasional physical ones at every turn. The segment focused on creating the perfect Sunday brunch. The disagreements started as soon as it came down to poaching eggs. Aunt Marnie preferred the clean presentation of an egg poached in a metal cup. Marika Havelak insisted that such modern shortcuts were the devil's handiwork. She advocated instead for a complex and, as far as Lainey was concerned, dangerous method that involved dropping the egg into a pot of swirling boiling water.

Lainey salivated watching Aunt Marnie whisk her famous homemade hollandaise sauce—both women agreed that hollandaise made any way other than from scratch was a cardinal sin. It had been more than ten years since Lainey had allowed herself to experience that tangy, buttery deliciousness. More than ten years since Lainey decided food served the singular purpose of fueling her body.

An elbow jabbing into her rib cage pulled her out of her food-porn fantasy. Jaime, sitting next to her with a scowl on her face, repeated the jab.

Instinctively Lainey tried to retract her hand from Gabe's, but he just squeezed tighter. She didn't even realize they were holding hands until that moment. Somehow, the gooey, happy sensation of his thumb rubbing circles against her skin had sucked her in unawares.

“Mmm, think Mama would let me have a taste of that?” Gabe whispered in Lainey's ear.

As if somehow reading his mind, Marika dipped a wooden spoon in Marnie's pot and waved to Gabe, encouraging him to come down to the set. With a faux-humble wave to the audience, he stood up and made his way down the aisle.

“My boy deserves the best, which means never holding back on the butter. Food made with love is key to any child's success. Even the grown ones,” Mama Havelak cooed as she stuffed the spoon in Gabe's mouth. He moaned exaggeratedly.

“It's also key to a heart attack,” Aunt Marnie chimed in.

“I'll gladly risk a heart attack if it means getting a taste of your delicious hollandaise sauce every Sunday, Mrs. Lukas.” And just like that, Aunt Marnie became one of the legions of women sucked in by Gabe's charm.

Another jab to her ribs pulled Lainey's attention away from the shenanigans happening on the set.

“What's with the public hand-holding?” Jaime whispered in Lainey's ear so none of their teammates could hear.

“You wanted me to get laid,” Lainey whispered back.

“Exactly. Get laid. Take the edge off so you can get your focus back. I didn't say fall hopelessly in love.”

“It's not like that. We're just . . .” Lainey didn't know how to finish the sentence.

“He's the kind of guy who will break your heart, and I don't want to see that happen to you. Don't forget he's still your opponent. You need to keep your guard up, okay?”

Lainey nodded. Jaime was only saying what she already knew. Spending time with Gabe made her feel on top of the world. Her life had become enriched in ways she never knew were possible. True to his word, her performance hadn't suffered one bit. But she couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how much chemistry there was between them, no matter how much fun they had together, she was still the gatekeeper to the one thing he wanted: escape from the stupid, nonexistent curse of Cricket Field. And while she didn't want to believe it, a man like Gabe was charming enough to play her like a fiddle until he got exactly what he wanted.

“How about another taste? My boy needs another taste,” Mama Havelak exclaimed, eliciting a gooey round of applause from the audience. The cameras followed her hovering over her son, spoon perched lovingly and insistently toward his mouth.

Gabe slurped the spoon and moaned. “I could eat that every day.”

“Looks like you already do!” Jaime called out impulsively. To Lainey's utter embarrassment, Jaime stood on her seat and mockingly slapped her belly, drawing the cameras' attention their way. “Getting a little soft around the middle, old man?”

Lainey's cheeks flushed, knowing there was nothing at all soft about Gabe's body. He clearly didn't mind the insult. His eyes twinkled with challenge.

“Perhaps this is the time to officially unveil our calendar and let the public make up their own mind about my belly.” He snapped his fingers and confetti rained from the ceiling. High-tempo music exploded from hidden speakers, and his teammates jumped up from their seats in the crowd. In unison, they tore away their clothing like professional strippers, leaving them only in their boxers. If the specially modified clothing didn't give it away, the elaborately choreographed salsa down the aisle made it clear that the whole thing was planned. The women in the crowd went nuts as Zazu led his teammates shimmying down to where Gabe was holding up a stack of calendars.

Damn those soccer players and their remarkable ability to make even the slightest swivel of their hips seem like the most erotic action.

“If I weren't so pissed off right now, I'd congratulate you, Lukas, 'cause hot damn is that man ever fine, even with the Will Smith ears,” Jaime said.

Twin flames of anger and jealousy seared through Lainey's body. Anger that the Falcons had just been upstaged, and jealousy that the man she was sleeping with was standing in front of a camera in nothing but underwear. At least the teddy bear print and loose cut of his boxers were relatively modest. If he'd been wearing the tight boxer briefs he usually preferred—the ones that outlined every detail of his package and made Lainey salivate—she would've lost it. He was her man. And she didn't share.

“Calendars are twenty bucks apiece,” Gabe announced while holding one up so the audience could get a better look. “If you buy five, the entire team will personally autograph the set. If you buy ten, we'll throw in a free ticket to our first match against Portland.”

“Hmm, and if I buy twenty? What special gift can I expect from you?” Grace asked, tone full of sexual innuendo. Jaime clapped a hand on Lainey's shoulder, holding her back from attacking the woman. Lainey's knuckles were white from the force with which she grabbed the skinny armrests of her seat.

“I'll treat you to a special prize. Brazilian style.” Lainey was grateful that Zazu grinded up on Grace's side, deflecting her attention from Gabe.

“This is bullshit!” Alyssa, who was sitting in the row behind Lainey, exclaimed. “If we were to strip down and dance in front of cameras to sell a couple of calendars, the media would call us sluts. These guys can get away with anything.”

“I'm not saying I'm not enjoying the show, but Alyssa's right. I've never wanted to win so badly in my life. We need to do something about this,” Lynn added. “Come on, Captain. Time to announce our fund-raiser plan.”

As much as she agreed with her teammates, Lainey kept quiet. She couldn't look into their supportive faces and admit that though she'd promised to come up with a plan, all she had was a big fat nothing. Her head pounded like a ticking time bomb with the commotion around her. She closed her eyes and forced herself into a calm mental headspace, zoning out all distractions.

It didn't last long. Her eyes popped open the moment she heard Grace Mallery's piercing voice.

“Now, Gabe, how about a sneak peek of the photos?” Grace asked. The audience hushed in anticipation.

“Sure thing. I'd especially like to thank a very special lady for giving me the inspiration for the March photograph.” Gabe winked in Lainey's general direction as he flipped open to the page. The cameraman zoomed in on the image, which was projected onto the two large screens at either side of the set.

There was a photograph of Gabe in the woods, naked but for a pair of work boots, standing sideways, which emphasized every hard muscle in his body and his beautiful ass. Knowing that millions of women would be looking at this image had Lainey's blood boiling, but what really threw her over the edge was the “modesty” item in his hand. He was holding a chainsaw in front of his waist like a giant erection.

She rose slowly, vision narrowing until Gabe's smiling face was the only thing in focus. She didn't even remember walking down the cramped aisle, but somehow she ended up right in front of him. Gabe quirked an eyebrow, egging her on for whatever she was about to do.

The audience hushed, as if sensing she was on the edge. And she was.

Without thinking, she snatched the microphone from Gabe's hand, pulled a stool from the side of the stage, and climbed on top of the counter until she was standing with her feet straddling the red ceramic bowls filled with various batters and sauces.

“Ahem,” she said unnecessarily. All attention was already on her. “The Surge are not the only ones with a kick-butt fund-raiser. The Falcons have something epic planned.”

“Yes, you mentioned that last time you were on the show. Care to provide any more details?” Grace intoned. “A specific date perhaps?”

She gulped, suddenly realizing she probably looked like an insane asylum escapee. Her hands trembled, amplifying her uneven, shaky breath in the mic. Not only were there a few hundred people in this room watching her make a fool of herself, but also thousands of people at home watching the broadcast. Dear god, she was going to go down in history as an Internet meme.

The paralyzing fear started to overwhelm her, but somewhere in the back of her mind a lightbulb flicked on. Gabe and his teammates might have had her beat when it came to money and fame, but there was one thing she had that they didn't. “Well, Grace, let's just say that on May 5, the Falcons are going to hammer home our next victory. We're going to nail the Surge to the wall. Quite literally.”

GABE DIDN'T GET TO
Lainey's apartment until late in the afternoon. The necessary publicity blitz that followed the unveiling of the calendars had kept him busy. The kind of attention the audience gave Gabe at
The Graham and Grace Morning Show
was ridiculous, but the older he got, the more his ego appreciated a boost. The best part, though, was the jealous rage that had burned in Lainey's eyes. She might be keeping him at a distance, but there was no way she could resist him after this stunt. And yet, he was standing outside of her door like a chump, afraid to knock. She'd made him swear not to take it easy on her in the competition. He'd obviously lit a fire under her ass with his photo, and was hoping that his gamble paid off. A determined Lainey equaled an unpredictable Lainey, and this morning's stunt was either going to pay off brilliantly or end in misery.

Only one way to find out. Time to man up, Havelak. He knocked lightly and hoped for the best.

A few seconds later Lainey stood at the threshold, holding the door half-open. Not sending him away but not exactly inviting him in, either. Her hair was pulled up in a high, loose ponytail. Adorable brunette wisps fell around her face. Her lean body was encased in tight yoga gear that was meant to be sporty but screamed sexy. The black Lycra hugged the curve of her hips in a way that made Gabe understand why men around the city were flocking to yoga classes.

“What's up?” she asked, grabbing her ankle and pulling her leg behind her for a quad stretch.

“You left before I had a chance to give you this.” He dangled a calendar in front of her. The image of him and his teammates standing in front of the goalposts with only soccer balls to protect their modesty adorned the cover.

“Thanks.” She plucked the calendar from his hands and tossed it on her kitchen counter. “I was just thinking I needed to replace my iPhone calendar with something more convenient. Like a hanging paper wall calendar.”

Gabe ignored the sarcasm and followed her inside. Lainey returned to the yoga mat she had splayed on the floor of her small apartment. She spread her legs and reached over to her side, stretching her obliques.