Playing for Keeps (14 page)

When Johnny scrambled to his feet, laughing, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, especially Erica.

“Now what?” she asked the bartender.

“This is why they have Decker,” he said, never moving his gaze from the TV.

The announcer echoed that thought. “A forty-six-yard kick. In this weather, that would be a challenge for most guys. But with Sean Decker? It’s in the bank.”

Erica motioned to her new best friend to give her a second glass of wine. This was going to be a beautiful sight, and she wanted to enjoy it.

The kicking team came onto the field and lined up, confident as only the Lancers could be in this situation. As always, Bannerman would hold the ball for his best friend, Decker. Three points were truly in the bank.

Then the unthinkable happened as Decker’s powerful right foot kicked out. The ball didn’t go sailing toward the uprights. Instead, it rolled onto the field. And worse, the opposing team smothered it with three giant bodies.

“What the fuck?” someone in the bar murmured.

The bartender seemed shocked, begging the TV to “show the replay, damn it.”

Erica grimaced. “What happened? They lost the ball?”

The bartender looked like he was going to cry. “I think he kicked the Bam man.”

“Who?”

The sports announcer’s voice explained it. “We can’t be sure, but it looked like Decker kicked Bannerman in the hand. Bannerman’s being hustled off the field. And Decker looks like he just lost his best friend. Which, let’s face it, if we’re right, he did.”

Chapter 7

The fact that they would now lose the game seemed inconsequential. If Bannerman was hurt—and apparently he was—the Triple Threat was also hurt. Every player on the Lancer sideline seemed shell-shocked, most of all Johnny. And Sean Decker was clearly experiencing his own worst nightmare. Then he proved it by muffing an extra point when Johnny finally managed to complete a touchdown pass to his other, also green wideout.

Missing an extra point? Even Erica knew
that
was bad. No kicker did that. And Sean Decker? The guy who had been breaking records?

When the game ended, she knew she shouldn’t call Johnny. But her flight was being announced, and she couldn’t leave the country without talking to him, so she punched him on speed dial.

“Hey, babe.”

“Oh, Johnny. Is everyone okay? Are
you
okay?”

“Me?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “
I’m
fine. But Bannerman’s in surgery. We’re fucked, Erica.”

“No, you aren’t. This is just one game.”

“Right.” He audibly adjusted his attitude. “You’re right. We’re still in it. But it’s a whole new game. Coach said Bam’s hand looked like a catcher’s mitt. Hugely swollen, in other words. I haven’t seen it. Haven’t seen
him
. But it sounds bad. For him and for us.”

“How’s Sean?”

“Who?” He seemed confused, then gave a sharp laugh. “You mean Decker? The guy’s a wreck. He just broke his best friend’s hand. It’s a fucking nightmare.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “Are you still in the country?”

“Only for a few more minutes. They called my flight. But I was so worried about you. About all of you.”

He morphed into confident Johnny. “We’re still on for Aspen, so don’t worry about that. It’s amazing that you called.”

“I just wish I could be there.”

“Hey, Erica? The doctor’s talking to Coach. I need this update—”

“Of course. Just give Bannerman a kiss for me. Decker too.”

“Right, that’s gonna happen.” He chuckled, but she could tell he needed to go, so she told him, “I’ll be rooting for you,” then hung up.

What she really wanted to tell him was that she loved him. Because that was more and more the truth. But he was in crisis, she was outbound, and their affair was just a fling.

All in all, it was probably good she was getting the hell out of Dodge before she said something that ruined everything.

• • •

If she had doubted being in love, Rome cleared things up for her. She was in heaven and would have killed to have Johnny by her side in so romantic a setting. Especially the Colosseum. He could easily throw a football—or maybe a javelin—from one end to another with Erica in the stands screaming him on. He would get a thumbs-up from the emperor, would grab Erica, and they would ride off into the sunset together.

Or something like that.

Plus, the shopping was great, especially when she found a pair of butter-soft gloves to replace the sturdy woolen ones she had purchased back in the States. Just the thought of Johnny wearing the new ones in Aspen, during a long romantic walk in the snow, and then reaching under her sweater to touch her with them, was already worth the price of her international flight.

While her mother and aunt continued shopping, she and her dad took a train to Florence to visit their favorite gallery, the Uffizi, where she made a few sketches while her father shared newly discovered details on Botticelli, their favorite artist and the focal point of his new art history book.

Then the group flew to Athens to meet Connor at the airport and make a whirlwind tour of the city before boarding another small plane for the island of Mykonos. It was her first time there, and she was instantly seduced by the palette of blue and white she would use to paint it. Connor had talked about sailing by day and hitting the bars at night, and she wished him well. But for her, sitting on the veranda of their hillside rental, protected from the wind by a vine-covered trellis, and capturing the water, the boats, and the neighboring estates with their whitewashed walls and blue roofs would be more than enough to occupy her. She would take a break for Lancers games, and to respond to emergency requests from Steve Adler, but otherwise, her vacation schedule was set.

• • •

As it turned out, she wasn’t able to watch the Lancers, not even by delayed broadcast, since the rental’s Internet connection was a makeshift mess. But she read enough to know they lost. Worse, Vince Bannerman had missed the entire game and would reportedly be out for the rest of the regular season.

And Sean Decker? He missed another extra point. Two such misses in a row were unprecedented, not just for him but for almost
any
NFL kicker. He also muffed his only field goal attempt. To Erica’s disgust, the sportswriters were gleeful in their description of the loss, probably because the Triple Threat had made prognosticating so boring.

Now the conference was wide open.

If only she could rescue Johnny from all that.

Noticing the look on Connor’s face as he watched the bikini-clad women on the beaches, she eventually bought a skimpy blue bikini of her own and allowed her aunt to snap some pictures on a sailboat with the wind whipping through her long hair. They turned out better than she’d hoped so she sent one to Johnny, thinking it might cheer him up. Or make him fall in love.

Hopefully both.

• • •

They finally connected by phone on the tenth day of her trip, and Johnny was sufficiently love-struck, describing in intimate detail how much he was enjoying the photo. She pretended to be shocked, but knew he knew the truth, because she could barely keep her voice steady when she scolded him.

“Come home,” he told her mournfully. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Only fourteen more days,” she assured him.

“Two more games,” he translated.

“You only need to win one. Right?”

“The good news is, if we don’t make the playoffs, you and me can stay in Aspen for a month. Of course, you’ll lose your job, but otherwise, it’s all good.”

She felt his pain. “Don’t be silly. Everyone says Bannerman will be back sooner than expected. It’s true, isn’t it?”

Johnny exhaled in a low, long growl. “I’m more worried about Deck. He’s so spooked, he can’t kick a door open, much less a football.”

Erica winced. “I’ve been hearing a lot about kickers. Like they’re insanely superstitious. Is that what’s going on with him?”

“Yeah. Bannerman started holding it for him the day he joined the team. So that’s part of it, trying to get used to someone else. Plus, he feels lousy about hurting the guy. They’re good friends, or at least they used to be.”

“They still are. It was an accident. And they’re adults. They’ll get past it.”

Johnny laughed. “I wish you could talk to them. Just that way, with that bossy, dominatrix voice. They’ll do anything you want.” His tone grew mournful again. “Aren’t you tanned enough yet? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re just the right shade of hot.”

“I miss you too. It’s so sunny and warm here, but all I think about is cuddling in front of a blazing fire with you.”

“We won’t be going to Aspen. Or at least, not until we lose a playoff game.”

“Don’t they have fireplaces in Portland?” she teased him. “I thought your agent had one in his suite. When I get back, we’ll send him away and cuddle naked in front of it.”

“You always know what to say,” he said, cheerful again. “And don’t pay attention to my doom and gloom. Having Bannerman back will jump-start things.”

“Will he hold the ball for Decker again?”

“Probably not. There’s bad blood there, like I said. I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean . . .” He almost growled. “Yeah, the guy broke his hand, but he needs to get over it, for fuck’s sake. This is the NFL. Bones break, life goes on.”

“Maybe that’s a sign it still hurts a lot. Give it a week. They’ll be best friends again.”

“Thanks, Erica. Go back to the beach. We’ll be okay for fourteen more days. If you’re not back then, I’m coming after you.”

“Since it’s three a.m. here, I’m going to bed, not the beach. And you should get some rest too. Stay away from pretty girls.”

“Yeah, and you stay away from Greek Romeos. I’ll call you after the next game.” His voice grew husky. “Thanks again for the picture. It’s the best gift I ever got.”

Erica sighed when she lost the connection. She had always appreciated his sexy voice, but now it seemed like a true phenomenon. Something she should record and play back whenever she was lonely. Especially in bed.

“Erica?”

“Oh.” She turned to wince at her mother. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“Who was that? Your football player?”

“Remind me to kill Connor.”

Her mother laughed. “It sounds romantic.” Taking Erica by the arm, she led her to the dining table. “Tell me about him.”

“He has a girlfriend, but luckily he hasn’t met her yet,” she quipped, but when her mother seemed hurt, she backtracked quickly. “He’s ready for marriage and children. And obviously I’m not. So we’re just having fun for a while.”

Her mom eyed her intently. “If he’s the right man for you, why let your career stand in the way?”

Erica’s gut clenched. How many times had she heard this?

Squaring her shoulders, she insisted, “I’m doing well at the agency. They made me lead on an account. That usually doesn’t happen until you’ve spent three years there, but I did it in sixteen months.” Her gut clenched again, dreading her mother’s radar, and wishing she had just kept quiet.

But it was too late.

“How did
that
happen? You’re talented, of course. But advancing in half the time? There’s usually a quid pro quo, Erica. Especially for pretty girls like you.”

“Well, guess what, Mom. The client came to my hotel room with champagne, drunk as a skunk, and I handled it. So maybe I’m not such a loser after all.”

“Erica!”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Wait!” Her mother grabbed her hand, then waited until she sat back down before assuring her, “I never doubted whether you could handle such situations. If I implied otherwise, I’m sorry. I just knew it would be hard on you. You have such an artistic soul.”

Erica’s eyes swam with tears. “That’s only part of who I am.”

“The best part.” Her mother leaned closer, crying just as softly. “Anyone can be a bean counter. But art? That’s your calling.”

“What’s
your
calling? Being an advocate, right? Standing up against injustice. I guess you don’t think I can do that. I’m so weak, right?”

“I never said you were weak.” Her mother sat back, clearly frustrated.

So many conversations had ended this way. And while Erica had hoped for more, she had to admit, she was simply glad this one was over.

Then her mother surprised her by saying, “It usually takes three years? To get your own account, I mean? That’s impressive, Erica.”

She laughed through her tears. “The worst part is, it’s a beer commercial.
You
go to the Supreme Court, I go to a bar.”

“Well, after the Supreme Court, we
all
went to a bar.” The mother eyed the daughter lovingly. “Now that that’s resolved, tell me how he can have a girlfriend but he hasn’t met her yet.”

• • •

It was still rocky after that, and she didn’t exactly tell her mother about Johnny’s blind date, nor did she mention the incident with Frank or the three-way with the door in Murf’s suite. But things went better than expected.

Unfortunately, life on the NFL front didn’t go as well. The Lancers lost another game and seem poised to lose the last one as well, thus losing their hopes for a playoff berth.

“I’m not worried about that,” Johnny assured her when they finally managed to connect again. “We’ll win if I have to carry it myself every effing time. I’m more worried about Deck. The coach—have I mentioned what an a-hole he is?—is threatening to bring someone else in.”

“Oh, no! That will destroy his confidence forever.”

“Exactly. I keep saying I’d rather miss the playoffs entirely. And yeah, it’s not really true, but it’s logical. We can kick ass next season if we have Deck. If not, who knows? Plus, he’s a great guy, Erica. I should have introduced you to him. Bannerman too. If the coach replaces Deck, I’m not sure any of us will recover.”

She felt a chill of foreboding, but tried to sound positive. “We met some guys here who have satellite, so I’ll get to watch the next game in real time. In the middle of the night, obviously, but still, you’ll know I’m there.”