I'll Catch You (15 page)

Payton grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest, trying to swallow past the boulder-size lump lodged in her throat.

This was for the best.

Payton knew she’d done what she’d had to do. Maybe if she repeated it enough, she could convince her heart to believe it.

Chapter 10

“D
ude, would you pay attention?”

A wadded paper napkin bounced off the side of Cedric’s head.

“What?” he groused, scooping up the napkin and pitching it back at Torrian.

“It’s your play,” Torrian said. “Again.”

“Yeah, hurry it up, Ced,” Jared added. “With that extra morning practice coach ordered I only have another twenty minutes before I need to hit the sack.” He turned to Torrian. “You couldn’t talk the coach out of that?”

“I’m the one who suggested it,” Torrian replied. “The Bears always give us trouble, especially in their own stadium. The team needs the extra practice.”

“Maybe your wide receivers do,” Jared said. “The guys on Special Teams have been kicking ass lately. So has my man here. You lit up the field against San Diego, man. Cedric?”

“What?” Cedric asked again.

“What the hell is up with you?” Jared glared at him. “You’ve been acting as if someone ran over your dog or something.”

Cedric shrugged. “We’re nearing the end of the regular season. Everybody’s wound tight now that the playoffs are in our sights.”

“We’ve gone to the playoffs every year since you joined the team.” Torrian slapped the table they’d commandeered in one of the hotel’s meeting rooms, indicating he wanted another card. “I’ve never seen you this quiet.”

“I come up for contract renewal at the end of the season,” Cedric tried. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” He hoped Torrian would leave it alone. He should have known better.

“You know what I think?” Torrian asked.

“The question is do I
care
what you think. The answer is no.” Cedric took a pull on his beer, not even tasting the icy liquid.

“I think this has something to do with you leaving my engagement party last Saturday night with your agent. Don’t think no one noticed.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Jared’s brows peaked. “Man, did you hit that?”

“Shut the hell up,” Cedric shot at him.

“What?” Jared held his hands up, the innocent victim. “That would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? You know…woman…sex? That’s good, right?” he asked Torrian.

“Payton is my agent,” Cedric said, staring at the pair of queens in his hand. “Have you slept with your agent?”

“Besides the fact that he’s a dude,” Jared drawled, “he’s also married. I don’t break up happy families.”

Cedric doubted he’d ever wanted to murder someone more than he wanted to kill his teammate right now. “My relationship with my agent is no different than anyone else’s. It’s business, period.”

“I don’t get why you would sign with a woman agent if you’re not going to try to get with her,” Jared said.

God, did this guy not know when to let things drop?

“You can be such an idiot,” Torrian said.

“Thank you,” Cedric agreed.

“I was talking to you,” Torrian threw his way.

“Me?” His brows shot up. “How am I the idiot here? Weren’t you the one who told me I shouldn’t mix business with pleasure?”

“That’s when I thought you just wanted to get a little something on the side. It’s obviously more than that or your head wouldn’t be so messed up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

Jared pointed at him. “Actually—”

“Shut up.” He cut off whatever asinine nonsense Jared was about to spew. “Payton is my agent,” he stated again. “Nothing more.”

Despite the knot that formed in his stomach every time he thought about the morning he’d walked out of her apartment, Cedric was starting to accept that Payton had been right to send him away. She was his agent, a business partner he’d hired for the sole purpose of furthering his career. Even though he’d tried to tell himself that their sleeping together wouldn’t muddy the waters of their professional relationship, things had already changed. He hadn’t talked to her in days. How could they work together if they couldn’t even talk to each other?

He needed Payton as his agent more than he needed her in his bed. That point had been brought home with a call on Tuesday from the director of Marshall’s Place telling him that Derek had fallen and suffered a sprain during one of his physical therapy sessions. Even though Mrs. Bea had assured him that Derek was doing well, Cedric had still rushed to the facility, needing to see for himself that his brother was indeed okay.

If he were playing in Arizona or Los Angeles or Miami, getting to Derek so quickly wouldn’t have been possible. He had to remain in New York. Nothing could get in the way of his ultimate goal: securing a new long-term contract with the Sabers so he could remain close to his brother.

“I fold.” Jared tossed his cards down and pushed his chair away from the table. “It’s time for me to bail. I told Samantha I would call her before I hit the sack.”

“I’m done, too,” Torrian said, looking at his cell phone. “Paige is on her way up to the room, and I’d much rather look at her face than your ugly mugs.”

“Whatever.” Jared punched him playfully on the arm. “You heading up, Ced?”

“Soon,” Cedric replied. “I’ll catch you guys in the morning.”

As he watched his friends leave, Cedric couldn’t help the twinge of regret that hit his chest dead center. Jared and his girlfriend Samantha had been together since college. Torrian and Paige, who’d started out as enemies, were now the poster children for happy couples.

He wanted what his friends had. He wanted someone to call and wish good night. Someone waiting for him when he came back from road games like this one, or who would even join him on the road the way Paige had joined Torrian here in Chicago.

As they did so often, thoughts of Payton bombarded him. How easily he could envision her by his side, as so much more than just his agent. Images of her face as she came apart in his arms flooded his mind. Would he ever be able to erase that vision? He doubted it. Every moan she’d made was etched into his memory.

But that’s all he would ever have. Memories.

Payton had made her wishes loud and clear. There would be nothing more between them. He’d had years of being “just a client” to Gus. He knew the drill. If that’s how she wanted it, that’s what she would get.

Payton grazed her thumb over the smooth keys of her BlackBerry. She’d been staring at it for the past five minutes, debating whether to send an email or pull on her big girl panties and actually make a call. She hadn’t spoken to Cedric in nearly three weeks. The few exchanges they’d had had been conducted solely through email or text message.

It helped that the Sabers had a stretch of three road games. He was always harder to pin down when he was on the road. It was easier to just shoot him a message and await his response. At least that’s the excuse that sounded the best to her ears.

In truth, Payton couldn’t bear to hear his voice that first week after.
After
needed no qualification. She would always think of that morning when he’d left her sitting on her sofa as
after.

But text messages and email were out of the question today. Following the excited call from her mother last night and the special favor she’d requested, Payton knew an email to Cedric would not suffice. She needed to hear the inflection in his voice so she could try to gauge the meaning behind his answer, whatever the answer might be.

Her decision made, she took a sip of her chai latte—her second of the day—and glanced around her makeshift office. The first thing she would do with her commission from the Soft Touch Shaving Cream deal was invest in an office with more privacy than back tables at coffee shops. Making confidential calls surrounded by strangers was
so
not her thing.

Payton clicked through the electronic address book until she found Cedric’s number and hit send before she could stop herself. As the phone trilled in her ear, she sucked in a couple of fortifying breaths and reminded herself that she was a grown woman. There was no reason to feel anxious.

“Reeves,” he answered after five rings.

Some of the air from her balloon of confidence deflated at Cedric’s impersonal greeting. No doubt he’d recognized her number on his screen, yet he’d answered the phone as if speaking to a stranger.

Or a business partner.

“Hello, Cedric,” Payton answered. “Good game yesterday.”

Strict. Professional. Very agent-like.

“Thanks,” he said, clipped.

As silence stretched between them Payton wasn’t sure which she’d rather be doing right now, getting a root canal or banging her head against a brick wall. Either seemed more enjoyable than what could only be described as the most awkward conversation in the world. The best way to bring an end to this torture was to just say what she needed to say and be done with it.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” she continued. “My mother called last night. The school board has decided to rename the football stadium at my old high school in honor of my dad.” She paused. When there was no response, Payton soldiered on. “There’s a banquet this Thursday and a dedication ceremony at the game this Friday night. Since my dad really admired you as a player, my mother was hoping you could attend the ceremony. It would be a huge deal to have a real NFL player there.”

With each passing second her anxiety multiplied. Just as Payton was about to tell him to forget she’d asked, Cedric’s stoic voice broke through the silence.

“What time does our plane leave?”

That was it? Just like that he was on board?

“I…uh, I haven’t searched for flights yet. I’ll do so this afternoon and get back to you.”

“Just book me on whatever flight you’re on. I have to be back in New York Saturday afternoon to fly out with the team to Baltimore.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. After a pause, she added a heartfelt “Thank you, Cedric.”

“I’ll see you Thursday,” he said before disconnecting the call.

What had just happened there?

The better question was what
hadn’t
happened. No teasing. No banter. Not even a minute of the comfortable small talk she and Cedric had shared from the first moment they’d met. Payton understood the message he was trying to send. He was giving her what she’d asked for, a strictly professional relationship between agent and client. But his clipped words and icy tone were taking it to the extreme. They had to have some kind of rapport if they were going to continue working together.

The urge to rewind life’s clock struck her again, as it had way too many times over the past few weeks. If only they could go back to when she’d first signed him as a client, she would do things differently.

At least as far as their personal relationship was concerned.

On the professional front, Payton had surprised herself with all she’d accomplished in these two short months. She’d landed him a respectable endorsement deal and was very close to securing another with ES Gaming. Depending on his rushing yardage at the end of the season, which was already nearing a Sabers single-season record, Cedric might even land the coveted spot on the cover of the company’s latest football video game.

She had done a phenomenal job as his agent, and others were taking notice. She’d had two calls from Sabers players who were thinking of switching agents. Things were looking up for Mosely Sports Management.

So why did she have this hollowed-out feeling in her chest?

This was everything she’d wanted, wasn’t it? It was why she’d quit the law firm and stepped out on faith that sports agenting was what she was meant to do with her life.

Payton clicked on the “missed calls” icon on her cell phone and scrolled through the list. Daniel McNamara had called her on Sunday afternoon. Payton had deliberately let the call go to voice mail, but Daniel’s quick “just checking in on you” message had left much to interpretation. His offer from several weeks ago to make her a partner and the head of the law firm’s huge negotiations division had come back to taunt—or better yet, haunt—her often over the past month.

In the beginning it had been easy to brush the idea off without much afterthought, but as time passed, other thoughts began to take root. The peace of mind that came with a steady paycheck every month. The prestige of being named partner—the first African American woman to garner that distinction in the law firm’s nearly fifty-year history.

But there was another side to the coin. Even though she would technically supervise nearly a hundred associates, she would no longer be her own boss. She would still have to answer to the partners. And as one of the youngest, newest division heads, she would be viewed as the untested rookie among upper management.

One of the most alluring advantages to accepting Daniel’s offer was the one that made Payton inwardly cringe with the most shame. If she gave up being a sports agent and went back to practicing law, there would be no conflict of interest impeding a relationship with Cedric.

Payton bit back a curse.

The fact that a man was the strongest driving force behind her desire to give up on her dream collided with every ounce of self-righteous feminism she possessed. Granted, she had never burned a bra or anything, but how would she face herself in the mirror each day if she threw away this lifelong dream she’d worked so hard for because of a man who barely spoke ten words to her a few minutes ago?

Payton’s shoulders shrunk with shame, as if her fellow coffee lovers could read the thoughts going through her mind right now and were judging her for them.

She had never been one to cower and she sure as heck wasn’t going to start now. She would not accept the offer for partner. She was a sports agent. She lived and worked by her own set of rules, and there was nothing Daniel McNamara or Cedric Reeves could do to change that.

Chapter 11

C
edric locked up his SUV and headed for the elevators in Newark International Airport’s short-term parking garage. As the elevator doors closed, he sent up a silent
thank you
that it was empty. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind for dealing with fans today. Hell, he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind for dealing with just about anything for the past few weeks, not since the morning he’d spent turning Payton’s body inside out.