Know When to Hold Him (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Thanks for coming in.” Liam greeted Troy with a firm handshake. It was hearty and cool, and Troy reciprocated. “I know you have a busy schedule with the Pastor and all.”

Troy shrugged. “Whatever it takes, man. You gotta do whatever it takes.”

“You did great last night.” Liam offered Troy a bottle of his favorite soda. OPM kept a very well-stocked break room, filled with goodies from players’ sponsors. “The speech was on CNN this morning.”

Troy nodded, leaning back in a black leather and chrome chair. “Yeah, that was unreal. All those old dudes, giving me a standing O for just talking.” He flashed Liam a quick grin. “I could get used to it.”

Liam settled into the matching chair across from Troy and crossed his long legs, resting an ankle on his opposite knee. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think we should lay off the politics for a while.” Troy furrowed his brows in confusion. “We don’t want your political affiliations to be a barrier. Troy Duncan needs to be accessible to all of America. All of the world. Regardless of who a person votes for. We need to bring up your brand as a universal one, first. Companies won’t want to mess with someone who’s divisive. Later, after you’re a superstar, you can campaign for whoever you want. You’ll transcend politics.”

Troy nodded, sipping his lime green soda. “Yeah, I can see that. But I still think it would be good, you know? That Senator Hightower last night. He was talking about me coming on a campaign with him. Said I could bring in the crowds. That I could fill stadiums for him, like I did at State.”

Liam swore internally. All someone had to do to get Troy Duncan on board with a cause was to tell him he’d bring in the crowds. The guy’s ego was blowing up already, and he wasn’t even earning an NFL salary or endorsements.

“The thing is, what if you join a campaign like that? That’s cool, for a while. But here’s the deal about politics. Someone has to lose. And let me tell you, man, we do not want to have your name, your brand, associated with losing.” Liam winked. “And that includes on the field.”

Troy chuckled. Liam leaned back, smug. If anyone hated to lose more than a politician, it was an athlete. He knew from experience. It didn’t matter that it happened—sometimes a lot. Losing sucked, every single time.

Clapping his hands together, Liam directed Troy’s attention back to the subject of the meeting. The NFL Draft. Forty minutes later, Troy’s eyes had glazed over, but Liam knew that he had his client on board. They were in a great position. The best, thanks to the public relations successes of the past few days. But that all could come down in a second.

“We need to talk about Dalynn Kay,” Liam said.

Troy groaned. “I thought you took care of that.”

“They haven’t gotten the answer they want.”

“You said we don’t give in to every baby mama that comes off the street.”

Liam wished he hadn’t used exactly those words. “You said you dated her. They have proof of your relationship.”

“So?”

“And Dalynn’s pregnant…”

“So?” Troy interrupted again. “It’s not mine.”

“So, let’s prove it. They’re not going away. Let’s just take care of it. If it is yours…”

“It ain’t.”

To hell with it
. “Dalynn’s reps have given us an ultimatum. If we don’t agree to a paternity test by the Draft, they’re going to hold a press conference and name you as the father.”

Troy spread his arms wide—an arrogant come-and-get-it gesture. “Let them. Dude, did you see that crowd last night? Have you seen the people lining up to see me and Pastor Langston? No one will believe her. They love me. I’m Troy Fucking Duncan. I’m a good Christian man, and that baby is not mine.”

Liam nodded and bit his tongue. What would Spencer’s next move be? For a moment, he debated pushing harder, trying out a new argument, making Spencer’s case. Then he sat back.

His job was to represent Troy’s best interests, and, even with Spencer’s ultimatum, Troy had a point. In the PR game, he was winning. What would a press conference do to a squeaky clean reputation? Especially if that sparkly reputation had thrown for an average of four hundred yards a game his senior year? In the NFL, he wasn’t sure that Troy Duncan
wasn’t
bulletproof at this stage. Or as close as it came.

No. Spencer Hightower’s ultimatums be damned. From where he stood, they were still on their way to conquering the world.

Liam stood and clasped Troy’s hand again. “Okay, I’ll let you know if anything changes. Until then, I’ll see you at the airport.”

Troy’s face was all confidence, all showboat. “NYC, baby! Let’s go. I’m ready.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The flight to New York was about four hours long counting the time in a personal jet and from limo to limo. Spencer stretched out, luxuriating in the extra legroom that the private airplane allowed each of its five passengers. Flying like this was a rare indulgence, one that Spencer would never pay for herself. It was usually in her clients’ planes that she enjoyed the first class service that a Gulfstream provided. And today was no exception.

Spencer glanced over at Franklin Mahoney, eighty-year-old Texas oilman, billionaire Hightower political supporter, and, most importantly, the new owner of the San Antonio Renegades, the latest NFL expansion team.

Two years ago, she had assisted Franklin with a little situation in San Antonio during the construction of the state of the art football stadium. Renegade Stadium had universal support in the city. Everyone was excited about professional football getting a permanent home in San Antonio. Everyone except the two hundred displaced residents who had to move in order to make way for the new stadium.

It had been a tricky one, Spencer mused, taking a sip of mineral water. Issues of hometown pride versus neighborhood history had torn the city apart. There had been cultural concerns, language barriers, and a clash of class and cash. Solutions had been messy and expensive. Still, it was resolved, and the San Antonio Renegades were ready to participate in their first NFL Draft. Being the new team, they got first pick of the recruits and everyone in the football world was watching every move Franklin Mahoney made.

Spencer was ready to go. From her research and her calls to her sports industry insiders, she had learned a great deal about the politics behind the NFL Draft. She may not have started this case with a great deal of knowledge of football, but politics? She knew how to win at that game.

Out of habit, her phone was in her hand, even though she couldn’t use it at this altitude. That was one benefit to flying commercial these days. Wi-Fi. Her thumb stroked the buttons on the phone, her mind going to the man who had given it to her.

Liam hadn’t called her since he’d left her apartment following the Foundation dinner. Spencer wasn’t sure that was good or bad. They had a professional situation to settle before this
thing
between them went any further. But her heart told an entirely different story. It was a complication she’d never dealt with before.

He’d explained that he was afraid of them tearing each other apart. Maybe he was right. She’d given him the ultimatum; paternity test by the draft. And what man doesn’t love ultimatums?

Spencer’s stomach churned. She’d do what she had to and so would he. He wasn’t stupid, and, if he wasn’t calling her to line up the doctor’s visit, well, she’d go through with her plan. Rainey and Nora were in charge of everything in Dallas, involving a row of satellite trucks and news crews and a pregnant Dalynn in a sweet, pale pink dress. The press conference was guaranteed to top every news broadcast in Dallas, Texas, and beyond.

And Liam? He would be just another body in a long line of opponents who hadn’t taken her seriously. Who hadn’t realized just how far she would go to represent her client. To get her what she needed.

It was who she was. A winner. Funny, for the first time in her life, she wondered if winning was all it was cracked up to be.

…

The limo waiting at the airport held the Mahoney party easily. Franklin traveled with his assistant, a secretary, and his fourth wife. Including Spencer and excluding Franklin, all of Franklin’s party was blond and tall, a well-known preference of the affable billionaire. Spencer didn’t judge. She supposed if she were eighty years old with more money than God, she’d surround herself with Channing Tatum clones. Why not? You only live once.

“Thank you again for letting me travel with you,” Spencer said to Franklin when they were settled comfortably in the limo. “This is such a treat.”

Franklin beamed with satisfaction. “I have the room. Why not?” He held a finger up, in the way that old men do. “And I will always remember your help getting the stadium built. Without you, we might be starting our inaugural season on a high school field in Bulverde.”

Spencer ducked her head in modesty. “I’ve never really followed the Draft before,” she admitted. “You know, except for hearing Daddy talk about the Cowboys.”

Franklin made a coughing sound and waved at his assistant. “Kayla. Make sure Spencer gets a Renegades jersey. I don’t want to see her in one of those ugly blue star shirts.” Turning his attention back to Spencer, Franklin patted her knee. Spencer shot a quick glance at Jana, the fourth Mrs. Mahoney and a former runner-up for Miss Hawaiian Tropic. Jana had not noticed the knee pat, and Spencer wasn’t sure she’d find it unusual.

“So what do y’all do there?” Spencer asked. “Just draw straws or something? Pick a name out of a hat?”

Franklin chuckled. “I’ll tell you what. There’s a press conference this afternoon. Come help an old man out, and I’ll let you see what goes on behind the curtain.”

Spencer beamed back. Franklin had always had a soft spot for her. This was going to be just as easy as it ever was. “Of course. Whatever you need. Sounds like fun.”

…

Liam tossed his suitcase on the bed. His trip to New York had been a nightmare. First the cranky TSA agents had turned crankier when the guy right ahead of him in line had insisted on his second amendment rights to bring firecrackers on board. Then his plane was delayed because it needed new carpet. Liam was more than willing to fly on a plane with old carpet, but only the best for this airline. Finally, the taxi queue at JFK was a mile long and run by idiots who only spoke some version of ancient Swedish.

He needed an ice-cold beer, and out of his crumpled suit. And he desperately wanted to talk to Spencer.

Needed
to talk to her
.
It was an awfully strong word for a woman he’d known for such a short period of time. But it fit. He had been caught up in a whirlwind while leaving Dallas. Last minute negotiations with teams, and conferences with other agents had sucked up all his time. It was a crazy time of year for an agent, and he had a top prospect. Still, he couldn’t keep Spencer out of his mind. Personally. And professionally.

She’d given him the ultimatum, and he had tried with Troy. But short of holding the man down and shoving the swab in his mouth himself, there wasn’t much Liam could do about the player’s refusal to get tested.

If she followed through with the ultimatum, shit was going to get real. They needed to talk, face-to-face, but there hadn’t been time after Troy had made his feelings clear. Now he was in New York, trying to focus on the job at hand.

Liam checked his watch. He had an hour before he had a meeting scheduled with the other OPM agents. After slipping off his suit jacket and shoes, he headed to the minibar and cracked open an eight dollar beer. Settling down with the remote control, habit made him turn to ESPN.

The caption at the bottom of the screen identified Franklin Mahoney, owner of the newly minted San Antonio Renegades. Liam’s vision darkened around the edges. Franklin could have been speaking in ancient Swedish for all Liam could tell because, standing right behind Franklin, in the midst of all the NFL team owners, in fact, was Spencer Hightower, beautiful as hell.

Shit.

S
he’s twenty floors down.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Liam considered the available options. He could barge into a room filled with national sports journalists, live television crews, and the most influential team owners in the country and try to explain to his sort-of-girlfriend why his client, the top Draft pick, wasn’t taking a paternity test and why that shouldn’t stop them from being together. Or, plan B, he could find her later and try to talk to her in private. It was a sign, Liam figured, of how crazy Spencer had made him that he even contemplated Plan A.

Instead of making a fool of himself in front of the national media and the NFL owners, he went to his meeting. He went to Troy’s suite. He stopped by the Gatorade, Doritos, and Under Armour booths, shook hands, made friends, and left his business cards. And everywhere he went in the damn hotel, he kept his eye out for a tall, blond Texan with a smile as bright as a Dallas sunrise.

Of course, this being the NFL Draft, there were a lot of gorgeous women around. But he hadn’t seen Spencer. She hadn’t told him she was coming. So was it supposed to be a secret? A surprise? He could call her, but if she didn’t admit she was in New York, he’d seem like a stalker if he said, “You are, too.” No, he’d rather it happen naturally, them running into each other. Kind of like an ambush, but with less bloodshed.

After several hours of networking and negotiating while watching for Spencer, Liam needed a drink and headed to the hotel bar. And that’s where he saw her. Standing at the bar, surrounded by ESPN announcers, a current quarterback for the Dolphins, and a wide receiver for the Raiders.

Oh, hell no
.

…

Spencer noticed nothing but Liam as soon as he walked in the hotel bar. Testosterone filled every square inch in this hotel, and no other man had made her heart jump like that hot mess of a man coming towards her, with fire in his stride.

“Excuse me.” Liam’s voice was more command than request. “Hey, Tom, Dirk.” He greeted the ESPN announcers. “I don’t know you.” He stared down the tall, dark-skinned man on her left.

“That’s Paulo,” Spencer offered.

Liam shrugged like he couldn’t care less. He put a hand on her elbow, claiming her. “I have an appointment with Ms. Hightower.”

“Stay for a drink,” Tom offered, his TV-ready white teeth blinding in the dim light of the bar. “It’s on Dirk.”

Liam ignored the ESPN douchebag she’d been trying to ditch all night and instead, pulled on Spencer’s arm. “Later, guys.” She didn’t fight him. With the firm grip he had on her arm, it would have caused a scene and, with the amount of muscle in the room, she didn’t need to be in the middle of a fight. He led her outside the bar, then down a hallway near the bank of house phones, away from noise and the bustle of the lobby.

“Excellent caveman interpretation, by the way,” Spencer snapped when they were alone. “Next time, bring a club. The other cavemen will move aside quicker.”

Spencer was livid. How dare he yank her out of a public space? In front of colleagues and clients?

“We’re not talking here.” Her voice was curt even while giving him her room number. “You can come up if you think you’re going to embarrass me further.” Then she stalked off.

Spencer hadn’t had time to put her purse down before there was a banging at the door. Maybe Liam had found a club, after all.

She unlocked the door and he stormed in, not sparing her a glance. “What were you saying to them?” He demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“Were you talking to them about Troy?”

Spencer threw down her purse. “You have to be joking. Not everything is about your golden boy.”

Liam leveled her with a stare. “Why are you in New York?”

He had a point. Then she fought back.

“You can’t march into bars and drag me off. I have a professional reputation to consider.”

“So do I. Especially if you’re talking shit about my client.”

Spencer’s hands went to her hips. “Oh boo hoo. Whatever will happen when people talk shit about a famous football player? Somebody pass the smelling salts.” She drew her head back, a new idea occurring to her. “But this wasn’t about Troy, was it? This is about you. Being jealous.”

Liam threw his hands up and turned his back on her, stalking away. “Ha!”

“You were!”

He turned and flipped the script. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be in New York.”

“What, are we in a relationship? Where I have to tell you my schedule? Because last I checked, you wanted to wait.” The words still had a bite and Spencer immediately regretted the way she’d spit them out, bitter and sharp. She never showed her cards like that.

“What dumbass said that,” Liam growled before pulling her close. He hesitated for a moment, giving her a chance to back away, to tell him to go to hell. But she didn’t.

Her lips parted. He took advantage of the invitation and had his mouth on hers, claiming her, burning her to her core. It was quick and dirty and deep before he broke it off, taking a step back.

Spencer lifted her chin. “The dumbass I’m looking at.” Her heart was beating like a bass drum. She had to face the facts. Ever since she’d made her decision after the Foundation dinner, that her life was hers, her heart had been lost. To him.

Even when he’d walked away from her that night, her traitorous, floozy heart had wanted to chase after him. It didn’t care about things like winning, or staying professional, or its reputation.

Her heart wanted him. Simply and passionately. To hell with consequences.

Leave it on the field…

Could she do it?

Her heart said she could. The expression in his eyes was intense, possessive. Honest. To him, she was a badass. A force to be reckoned with. A goddess who could do anything, be anything. She was strong enough to bend, to fall for this man. Strong enough to leave it on the field.

“The other night,” Spencer began. “After the Foundation dinner.” Liam stilled and stiffened. “You said you wanted to wait. Until we weren’t…adversaries.”

“Competitors,” Liam corrected her. His face was guarded, but it seemed like he was waiting for her to say something. So she did.

“I don’t want to wait.”

He didn’t say anything. So she went on.

“I don’t know why I am the way I am. And if I were you, I don’t know that I would put up with me. But if you’re still interested in something…more…with me, I’m ready.”

Liam’s mouth twisted into a bitter version of a smile. “Put up with you?” He barked a harsh laugh. “God, Spencer, you really know how to talk a man out of shit.”

Spencer’s mouth dropped open. “Well, am I supposed to talk you into being with me?”

The smile abruptly vanished off Liam’s face, and he took her by the waist, putting scant inches between their bodies. “No one needs to do that. I’ve wanted you since you were about to bean me with a candlestick. I’ve wanted you every second of every crazy, competitive day since then.”

“You said no to me before…” She hated herself for reminding him of it. But female pride was a dangerous, slippery thing with a tendency to pop up unbidden.

Liam reached for her hands, gently rubbing his thumbs on the heel of her palms. “We keep having to go over this. I said that because I’m a dumbass.”

“And now?” Spencer’s voice shook as Liam moved his hands slowly up her forearm, his long fingers encircling her, skin and bone, warming her flesh and sending chills over her whole body.

“And now…” Liam caressed the inner part of her elbows and it made her weak at the knees. “Good question. What about Troy and Dalynn?”

Spencer shook her head. “We’ll deal with that tomorrow. We can separate the two. I know we can.”

He reached up and cupped her face. His lips were soft and gentle and accepting. Testing. Waiting for an answer to an unspoken question. So Spencer kissed him back, a yes that was both firm and sweet. Yes, she was ready. For him. For them. For this.

While wrapped in Liam’s arms, an intense fire spread throughout her body. It was more than sexual desire. More than lust. A once in a lifetime moment.

Until he pulled his lips from hers, leaving her dazed and dizzy. “What?” Spencer’s question was barely an exhale, frustrated as she was.

“You forgot something.”

Ah. That. She hadn’t forgotten. Spencer cupped his face back in her hands, in order to bring it back down, to kiss him again. “They’re in my purse,” she murmured.

Liam chuckled and pulled away again. Now
that
pissed her off. “What?”

He just lifted his eyebrows meaningfully. A long moment passed. He hadn’t removed his hands from her waist. But he wasn’t kissing her, either. Then Spencer remembered. She reached down to her bag on the ground, pulling out her phone. And a condom. Spencer made an obvious show of hitting the power button on her phone and handing it to Liam.

He took it from her, his eyes never leaving hers. Caught up in his adoring gaze, her chest clenched. What was this? Why was she acting like this? Impulsive, crazy. It shouldn’t be like this, she shouldn’t lose control…

And then he kissed her again. Fingers clenched into her sides, Liam ground himself into her. There was nothing else but him. No one else but him. And losing control. Distantly, the clunk of her phone dropping onto the hotel room carpet sounded. And she couldn’t care. Not while his hands were on her, making her come alive. Not while his tongue plunged into her mouth, stroking and claiming and taking her breath away.

Spencer used her hands to explore him, first running her fingers through his short, messy hair. Then, lacing behind his neck, trailing her hands over his shoulders, back and chest, finding nothing but hard muscle covered by his soft shirt. He moaned into her mouth when her fingertips traced over his nipples, and he returned the favor, moving his hands to cup her breasts. Spencer had always been somewhat self-conscious of her smaller breasts, but in Liam’s hands, she loved their size, because he covered all of her, claimed all of her, enflaming all of the sensitive skin.

Skin. It was all she could think of. She craved it. The thought of Liam’s skin made her mouth water and her toes tingle. Her fingers slipped under his shirt and found the hard crests and sharp ridges of a defined abdomen and chest.
Screw it
. Spencer grabbed the T-shirt and yanked it up. Liam broke away from her so that she could wrench it over his head. She gloried in the sight that had haunted her dreams since she’d first seen him in the pool at JT’s birthday party.

Spencer leaned into him, pressing her lips into the green shamrock tattoo over his left pectoral, loving his scent of lemon and cedar. He shivered at the first touch of her lips to his bare skin. Smiling, she did it again, loving the way he tasted. Loving the way he responded. Her fingers crept downward, down the trail of light brown hair into the top button of his jeans.

Liam’s face darkened with passion and tenderness as he grabbed her wrists to still them, then reached down and picked her up around the waist. Soon, she was sitting on the edge of the king sized bed, Liam settled between her legs.

Confidently, Spencer wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs, locking her ankles. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon.

She watched his face as he deftly unbuttoned her shirt, adoring the desire she found there. As the cool air struck her skin, it was hard to breathe. This was the point of no return. Once she was bare under his hands, there would be no going back. For either of them.

As he had moments before, Spencer shrugged her shirt off. Liam knelt before her. His lips traced a line down her neck, over her collarbone, and to her breast. He licked and nibbled through the thin fabric of her bra and then, impatient, went to unclasp it. Another moment, and then she was naked under his mouth. She moaned as his tongue flicked her nipple, caught up in the all-consuming sensation.

She mirrored his exploration with her hands. Her mouth on his neck. Her tongue tracing the line of a tattoo, then around a tight nipple. “Spencer…” Liam moaned her name as she did it again. She searched with fevered hands for his jeans. His hands reached the same location on her body. Frantic and intent, zippers and buttons and snaps were unzipped, unbuttoned, and torn aside. Then her hands were around him, stroking. He was rock hard. His gasp made her feel powerful. Alive.

Spencer spread her legs as Liam’s hand dipped into her pants. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he growled. She responded with another stroke on him, loving the strangled chuckle he made. They were making each other crazy. Hot. Eager. “Lean back.” Now here was an order she could obey.

Spencer leaned back on the bed and Liam quickly dispensed with her jeans and panties.

He reached for her right hand. “You’re beautiful. All of you.” And then to prove it, his mouth went to the exact perfect spot. And her hands weren’t at her sides anymore. They were in his hair.

It was too perfect, too good. Just when she almost died from want, he slid one finger inside her, then another, intimately stroking her, causing her to need more. She pulled on his hair and arched her back and shouted his name as she came apart in his hands.

Dimly, through the roar in her ears, she heard the jingle of her purse and the rip of foil.
Good boy
. His warm skin, his hot body pressed over her. She kissed his neck, and he met her lips as his cock gently probed her wet entrance. “Don’t you dare stop now,” she whispered, her voice husky.

The humor she loved so well crossed Liam’s face. “Finally, you’re not trying to talk me out of something.” He slowly pressed into her. He was huge, stretching and filling her so tight. So good.

She wrapped her legs around his waist to better accommodate his size. When he entered her completely, she loved how his eyes closed and clenched, his jaw tightened as if he was trying to control his reaction. To her. He had driven her crazy, made her insane and come to pieces. Her turn.

She lifted her hips and thrust once, then again, and was rewarded with a groan and a hiss. “Spencer, don’t… I don’t want to…” Liam’s eyes opened and found hers telegraphing emotions too powerful to name. He started to move, slow and deliberate. It was the most erotic, powerful thing she’d ever experienced. She could control him. He could control her. Together, they were
more
.