Playing for Keeps (29 page)

Ignoring her, Erica turned to May. “What about you? Any words of wisdom?”

Her friend nodded. “My advice is: be honest with yourself. If you really think the best solution is to break up, do it now. Every time you see him—every time
he
sees
you
—it hurts. What’s the point? I mean . . .” She arched a delicate eyebrow. “If you don’t want to break his heart until after the Super Bowl because of Lager Storm, that’s one thing. Then it’s just business. But otherwise, what’s the point?”

“It’s got nothing to do with Lager Storm,” Erica assured her haughtily.

Jenna surprised her by jumping in on the nonromantic side. “May’s got a point. If you break up with him now, he might get depressed and lose the game. Or games. Or whatever.”

Erica shook her head. “He’s such a disciplined player, he wouldn’t let this affect the outcome. Or at least, I don’t think so. But I don’t really know him that well. Which is the point, right? We’ve been dating for three months, and I was out of the country for a third of it. We’re virtual strangers except for the sex and fighting.”

“Then break up with him tomorrow. Call him and tell him it’s over,” May said coolly.

Erica turned to Jenna. “Was she always this mean?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Well, I can’t do it. I gave him a choice, and he chose to keep seeing me until the day after the Super Bowl.”

“He chose to keep seeing you because he’s hoping you’ll change your mind,” May explained. “And that’s why you offered him the choice in the first place. You
want
him to change your mind.”

“Why can’t we use my original idea?” Jenna demanded. “You break up on schedule. Then when he shows up at the blind date, all sad and missing you, there you’ll be. Looking gorgeous and inevitable.”

Erica loved that scenario. She also knew it could never happen. “The only thing inevitable about me and Johnny is our breakup.”

“Then for God’s sake, get the diamonds back first.”

Erica grinned. “This is what I love best about you.” Jumping off her bar stool, she pushed her Cosmopolitan toward Jenna. “Enjoy. I’m going home.”

“Yum.”

May scowled. “And once again, I’m stuck getting the drunk girl home safely?”

“It’s your destiny,” Erica assured her. “Thanks for the advice. Both of you. I know I’m hopeless, but hang in there. The next guy will work out better, right?”

“If you can get over this one,” May agreed grimly. “That’s the challenge, and you aren’t making it easier by having sex with him for three more weekends.”

“
Two
more weekends,” Erica corrected her, trying for a light tone but crumbling under the reality of it all. Then as she started to sob, her friends took over, proving why she loved them by insisting she was too good for some egomaniacal football player. She would find someone better. And men sucked, both individually and collectively.

And as she wallowed gratefully in their support and polished off the Cosmo after all, she decided it was true.

Men sucked. So did love. The only thing she could count on was her friends, and thank God she had the best.

• • •

Sitting alone in his agent’s suite, Johnny took the diamond bracelet from his pocket and held it up to the light, wondering again why it had offended her so much. It was beautiful, like her. Sparkling like her. And she was an artist—someone who appreciated beauty. Why hadn’t she loved it? Instead, it had insulted her. Disappointed her. Hurt her feelings.

She would deny that last allegation, of course, because to her it sounded dismissive. Like hurt feelings were a sign of weakness, reflecting badly on her, when really it was the jerk who hurt them who should feel like shit.

In this case, Johnny “the Player” Spurling.

Nice work,
he complimented himself wryly. And just to add salt to the wound, he reminded himself of the message she had sent him after he tried to pimp her out to Decker. Basically telling him to go screw himself. She had sounded so angry—so unglued and righteous and empowered—it had taken him a while to understand that once again, he had hurt her. Not because she was sensitive, but because
he
was
in
sensitive.

It was actually a miracle she hadn’t dumped him already.

He could still remember the feeling of helplessness when he couldn’t reach her. And then when he couldn’t even reach Decker? He had gone crazy, bringing Murf and Bannerman into the search. Shouting orders again, probably. But there was so much at stake. And not just the Super Bowl, although she was right, he had consistently put that first as a way of advancing everyone. His team, especially Deck and Bannerman; himself; and more and more, Erica herself. And so when Deck had broken Bam’s hand, it hadn’t just seemed like football careers were in jeopardy. Lager Storm could get pulled from her and re-tooled completely. She might not lose her job, but sending her back to a pool of anonymous laborers with a target on her back seemed worse.

And she would always associate it with him, the guy who had made such bold promises in that bar after her pitch. So what had he done to fix it?

Pimped her out to Deck.

Un-fucking-believable
.

When the door to the suite bust open and his agent scrambled into view dragging two wheeled suitcases behind him, Johnny grinned. Leave it to Murf to arrive in time to save him from himself.

“Hey!” Murf’s face lit up. “I didn’t expect to see you. Erica’s in New York, right?”

“Yep, I just came by to return your binoculars.”

“Amazing, right? But you should’ve kept them. I don’t actually
want
to see critters in the woods at night, so the heat-vision is wasted on me.” He glanced at the bracelet on the counter and chuckled. “I’ll say one thing for her. She’s consistent.”

Johnny eyed him curiously. “What does that mean?”

“Diamonds? She’s high-maintenance, dude. But worth it, obviously.”

He watched in annoyance as his agent shed his topcoat and poured himself a drink. Then he told him quietly, “You’ve got that wrong. I tried to give this to her and she wouldn’t accept it.”

“Like I said, high-maintenance. It’s not enough for you to buy her jewels. You have to
beg
her to accept them.” Murf laughed, then seemed to catch the expression on his client’s face and added hastily, “Like I said, she’s worth it. You wanted one last fling before you started changing diapers, and she’s sure as hell giving it to you.”

He stuffed the diamonds into his pocket, completely frustrated. “It started out that way, but it’s gotten more serious.”

Murf actually seemed stunned. “What about baby Aaron? And your dad? I thought you wanted that. But hey, if you two are still going strong, far be it from me to criticize. Are you saying she’s on board with it?”

“On board with
what
?”

Murf held up his palms to signal surrender. “Sorry I said anything. She’s great. You guys are great together. I’m the first to admit that.” He flashed his trademark grin. “In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been the matchmaker in this thing. Bringing her here for that meeting in the first place, providing private jet service and my own suite.”

“But you don’t think it can last?” he demanded, momentarily furious. “Neither does she.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah. She still wants it to end with the Super Bowl.”

“That’s rough,” Murf said diplomatically. “But I can see her point. She lives far away. She’s just starting out. And let’s face it, she’s ambitious. But you’re already a success, so you’re ready for something more solid.”

“Meaning what?”

This time, Murf didn’t back down. “Meaning a girl who puts you first. And let’s face it, Erica doesn’t. If she did, she’d be
here
, not there.”

“She’s working. Since when is that a crime?”

Murf shrugged. “She gets time off whenever she wants. And we both know why. You’re the best thing that ever happened to the Caldwell Agency. An effing feather in their cap. She could sit out here and hold your hand twenty-four seven—stark naked—and they’d be thrilled.” His tone grew confident. “You
are
her job, John. And she’s lucky to have you. So forgive me if I notice some game playing on her part. She could be here, but she stays away to make you miss her. You buy her diamonds, she refuses them because she wants—what? Something bigger? More expensive? Shinier?”

Johnny stared at the guy who in some ways was his best friend. Certainly his most trusted one, and his most valued adviser. “Here’s the deal. I want to be with her, so get on board. Forget what you think you know. Especially the crap you heard from your friend Frank.”

Murf didn’t hesitate. “How can I help?”

“I have no idea. She really wants to let it die a natural death next month. She has this theory—well, never mind. Just take my word for it, she’s not playing games.”

“Got it.”

“And you’re wrong about the diamonds too. I actually think she would have preferred something that didn’t cost any money at all. She made a drawing for me, but it’s not like I can do that.”

“Score a touchdown for her.”

“Yeah, something like that,” he said, nodding in approval. “Except she’s too smart. She’d know I scored it to help the team—and myself—win the game.”

“She’s smart,” Murf agreed, his tone sincere but also firm. “So don’t forget to listen to her. You want her—and trust me, I’m on board now. But it’s not just about what
you
want. If there’s anything I’ve learned in eight years of marriage, it’s that they’re usually right. In this case, I hope she’s wrong, but still . . .” He shrugged, then picked up his coat again. “Those are my final words of wisdom. Now let’s go hunt down some steaks.”

• • •

Erica had told him she’d land in Philly at four p.m. on Saturday and meet him in the room he had booked for her, so he decided to set up camp in the hotel lobby at four fifteen so he could grab her there, avoiding the bed completely—or in Erica’s mind, the door—until they had another, better talk. Not that he wasn’t rabid for the feel of her, but first he’d take her to a dark corner of the hotel bar and settle this thing, once and for all.

But he weakened the moment he caught sight of her, mostly because she was wearing the infamous raincoat.

So smart
. . .

Then he realized what she
wasn’t
wearing. Namely, clothes. In a complete reenactment of that first time, her coat draped over her shoulders, clinging to her curves, with no other garments to get in the way. High-heeled shoes—maybe even higher this time. And her long black hair piled on top of her head. Just like before.

Unapologetically gaping, he tried to move toward her, but his feet were blocks of concrete. Then she noticed him and smiled, but not with her usual warmth and sincerity. This was full-on erotic Erica, and to make things even hotter, she pulled a pin from her hair and let the long locks spill, dark and wavy, around her shoulders and down her back.

Then for good measure, she gave her head a sexy shake, redistributing it all again.

Finally, she crooked her index finger, beckoning him to follow.

He didn’t need more incentive, and by the time she reached the elevator, he was right there beside her. But her subtle message—no touching—was clear, and he was fine with that. She needed to do her thing first. So he just stood close in the elevator as it whisked them to the sixth floor.

• • •

One hour later, as he held her in his arms, her beautiful body naked except for garter belt and stockings, he asked her, “Where did you learn to strip like that?”

“Five minutes of Internet research,” she said with a laugh. “It wasn’t very good, but I figured you’d be easy to impress.”

“You’ve got talent, believe me.”

She gave him a delighted kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner. It was fun.”

“All part of the fling, right?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he drawled. “You’re bringing me back to that first day, when we were just in it for the sex.”

“Did it work?”

“You and your mind games.” He nodded ruefully. “Yeah, it worked. And it’s still working.”

“Ooo . . .” She caressed his erection with long, sure strokes. “Maybe you were right after all. It does keep getting better and better.”

• • •

Naked and waiting for room service, Erica snuggled against her quarterback and chatted about the game. “You’ll let Sean kick a field goal this time, won’t you? Please? He’s had a week of practice.”

“We’ll see.”

She rolled her eyes in playful frustration. “Who put
you
in charge anyway? I should talk to Coach Cosner directly.”

“I don’t advise that.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “Plus,
you’re
the big dog, not him. Have you let Bannerman hold the ball in practice at least?”

“Nope. And speaking of the two stooges, they had an idea. And they want
me
to run it by you. So don’t blame the messenger.”

“I love them,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “What’s the idea?”

“First the bad news. Jayce is here for the game. So is Pop.”

“Oh, no!” She pulled the sheets up to her neck, illogically feeling exposed. “You didn’t tell them about me, did you?”

“I wouldn’t do that without your permission. The point is, I’ll be spending time with them after the game. Especially if we win, because I want to watch the Surgeon’s game as soon as possible. Before I fly home. And I want Pop’s input, because he can deconstruct a play better than anyone.”

“So you wouldn’t have been able to spend time with me anyway?” She nodded, appreciating his honesty. “I felt a little guilty, but now I can just take off with Connor as soon as the game’s over.”

“You could,” he agreed. “But this is where the crackpot idea comes in. Deck and Bam will stay for the ceremony, but still, they’ll fly out sooner than me. Because they’re okay with catching the Surgeon’s game later if they can’t get reception on the plane.”

“They’re just hot to get back to Portland?”