Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (11 page)

“A few days?” She rolled her eyes again, this
time for the benefit of the universe. “I’ve gotta go, Sean. Feel
free to reach me through Erica. Or better still, through Mr.
Murphy. Good-bye.”

The wave of righteous indignation as she
ended the call felt good but faded quickly. Shouldn’t she be more
understanding? This was classic post-breakup behavior. With any
other guy, she would let him down gently.

But she hadn’t had Tantric sex with other
guys. So this one
really
had to find another rebound
date.

When the phone vibrated again, she checked
the display, intent on blowing him off, then groaned when it
showed:
PMurphy
. Had the kicker actually taken her
suggestion seriously and called his freaking agent?

Mortified, she answered quickly. “Hello?”

“Hey, Tess. It’s Murf. Do you have a
minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about your situation with
the hotel suite—”

“Oh! Do you need it back? I can be out in
twenty minutes. You wouldn’t believe how light I travel.”

“It’s just the opposite,” he assured her.
“Because here’s the deal. I send lots of business to the Ashton
Hotel. I book their most expensive suite year-round, my agency
holds catered meetings there, and my Portland clients use it for
visitors and parties. So in return, the hotel comps me a junior
suite for eight weeks a year. Free of charge. I’d like you to use
it while you write your article.”

“Pardon?” She hated sounding dense, but her
brain was still fixated on the kicker, so it took a few seconds to
catch up. Then she told him, “I’m wrapping up my Portland-based
interviews this afternoon, so that’s really not necessary. But
thanks. You’ve been amazing about all this.”

“So what’s the plan? Write your article above
Ed’s garage?” he drawled. “I’ve visited his house. The cats alone
are a deal breaker.”

She laughed as she started the engine of her
RAV4. “We have an agreement. I set out saucers of milk, they leave
me alone.”

He chuckled. “All kidding aside, you’ve got a
big project ahead of you. And Ed tells me you’re still working at
the bar two days a week. And if you’re in Seattle, they’ll call
more often to cover last-minute shifts. So Portland makes sense.
The hotel will do your cleaning and stock the mini-bar—all for
free. Just concentrate on being creative. Isn’t that better?”

Before she could object, he said smoothly,
“It doesn’t cost me a dime, kid. And if you have follow-up
questions for John and Erica, you’re right there. But the big
advantage is, you have a private retreat where you can write all
day, all night, without the distractions of your old life. If you
really want to change careers, that makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“It sounds amazing,” she told him softly.
“Are you sure it doesn’t cost you anything?”

“You’re doing me a favor actually. I didn’t
use the free weeks last year, and it killed me. I’m all about
getting my deal.”

She sighed, wishing she had the nerve to ask
him what the “deal” was with this article. He was supplying the
talent and the accommodations, and had made it clear he would fly
her to Dallas to interview Alexi and Noah. And in return? She was
an inexperienced writer with a modest track record. And she had no
idea what his end game was, especially for Noah Cunningham.

“Just say yes,” he told her, chuckling
again.

“Okay, yes. And thanks so much.”

“The front desk is on notice, so just tell
them when it’s convenient and they’ll move you. The junior suites
aren’t as spacious as mine, but they’re damned comfortable. And if
you need anything else—”

“I don’t. I just want to thank you so much.
And to meet you someday so I can thank you in person.”

“We’ll set up the Dallas interviews in a
couple of weeks, so we’ll meet then. In the meantime, you can
concentrate on the McSpurlings. And I hear you’re interviewing Sean
Decker too. I should have thought of him myself.”

“Did you just call them the McSpurlings?” she
demanded, laughing.

“A Bam Bannerman special. But we all use it
now.”

“I love it. And you’re right about Sean
Decker, he’s a great addition. But Erica’s going to act as
intermediary for him. Because he’s so private and he’s apparently
caught up in some personal stuff.”

“Understood. And use me as a source of
information anytime. For
all
my players.”

“I will, thanks.”

“Good. They’re announcing my flight so I’ve
gotta run. Good luck, Tess. I can’t wait to see what you
write.”

Ending the call, she tried to imagine what
this meant for her new career. A cozy writing sanctuary? Away from
the bar? Away from the cats?

Maybe she really could put bartending behind
her. Find a new direction, assuming she was doing it for the right
reasons, not just because her family disapproved of her
lifestyle.

“They probably won’t approve of sports
journalism either,” she reminded herself as she drove toward the
McSpurlings’ private road. “Can’t you just hear Dad railing against
the violence? The greed? All the things you
like
about
it?”

That last part wasn’t true, but she still
wouldn’t apologize for her love affair with professional sports.
The ancient Greeks started it, didn’t they? The Romans glorified
it. And in the last century it had been resurrected because it
filled a need in the modern human experience.

And if Tess had her way, it would flourish
for another millennium if only because it brought out the best in
human nature. Without it they were literally no different than the
animals, were they?

It sounded like the basis for a third
article, but Johnny Spurling was buzzing her through the gate so
she put it aside, reminding herself they had had some fun on Friday
night, but this was business and she needed to establish herself as
a professional.

At least you’re not flashing your boobs
this time,
she teased herself as she reached the circular drive
and saw the Super Bowl QB waiting there in all his muscular
glory.

He was as awesome as she remembered. Thick
dark hair, blazing blue eyes, and a commanding posture that
emphasized every inch of his tall, broad-shouldered body.

And the smile wasn’t bad either.

Striding up to the RAV4, he opened her door
and greeted her. And then, as soon as her feet hit the driveway, he
asked, “Did Decker call you?”

Startled, she answered right away. “Do you
mean to apologize for ditching us Friday night? Yes, he came by,
apologized, and left. No big deal.”

He eyed her skeptically. “He didn’t hit on
you?”

“I don’t date guys who have girlfriends.
Especially married girlfriends.”

“Good policy. And even if he
does
break up with her . . .” He winced and backtracked quickly.
“Deck’s a great guy. A great friend, so don’t get me wrong.”

“But he’s a mess?” Tess smiled. “Trust me, I
see it all the time. Guys come into the bar, fresh from a breakup,
determined to get back in the saddle. But it never goes smoothly.
So that’s my
other
policy. No rebound dates. Not even if the
guy’s amazing.”

“That makes sense. Plus,” he added teasingly,
“
I
saw you first. So come on.” He gestured toward the house.
“Let’s get started.”

Chapter
Three

As soon as they settled at the dining table,
Tess pulled out the recorder and said sincerely, “I
love
this gift. If the article’s a hit, I’ll owe you big time.”

“Glad you like it. But . . .” He reached
to cover her hand with his own so she wouldn’t activate the device.
“Before we get started, I want to hear more about your issues with
your father.”

“Oh, Lord, why do I open my mouth?” She
rolled her eyes. “Dad and I are fine. I just blame things on him
because he’s so convenient.”

The QB’s gaze didn’t waver. “You said he’s an
overachiever. And he pushed you too hard because of it. And since
you call
me
an overachiever too—and you’re right about
that—I don’t want to make the same mistakes with
my
kids. So
talk to me.”

She eyed him intently. “You want to be the
perfect dad?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, there’s your first mistake,” she said
with a sigh. “Don’t get so invested in it. I mean, the odds are
your kids will be fine. And a lot like you. My brother and sister
were practically clones of my parents. Honor students,
valedictorians, Harvard, Yale—the works. The trouble is, Dad was so
sure his formula was the
only
winning formula, he couldn’t
see I was happy with my decent grades, science fiction books and
doodling.” She smiled sheepishly. “Want to hear a story?”

“Definitely.”

“My mom
loves
to tell this one. About
the time Dad took the whole family to see a magician on a Saturday
afternoon. Illusions, jokes, hypnosis—the works. Then over dinner,
Dad did his usual drill. Made each of us describe our favorite part
of the performance. So my big brother, Brett, goes first and raves
about how the magician levitated his assistant. And since Brett was
a brainiac even at age nine, he already had two possible
explanations for the trick. Then my sister talked about this cool
illusion where the guy cut up a scarf with scissors, then mushed it
all up in a hat, and
presto
—the scarf was back together
again. Standard stuff, right? And since
she’s
a serious
overachiever, too, she had it
completely
figured out.”

Johnny’s eyes twinkled. “So which act did you
pick?”

“Well, keep in mind I was four years
old.”

“Got it.”

She smiled fondly. “Apparently I said I liked
the part where the magician told us to make our minds a complete
blank.”

Johnny waited.

“That’s it,” she said with a laugh. “And
that’s
exactly
how my dad reacted. Mom says he stared at me,
waiting for me to go on, because obviously, that was only step one
in the trick. Then he realized I just liked having an empty head,
so his face turned to ash and he dragged his fingernails through
his hair like he could barely keep himself together.”

Johnny chuckled. “Sounds like you were pretty
cute.”

“You bet I was. But poor Dad took it as a
sign of abject failure. So,” she finished teasingly, “don’t do
that
and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. It sounds like something I’d do if I
wasn’t careful. Something my pop did sometimes.” He seemed
preoccupied, then instructed her briskly, “Go ahead and start the
recorder.”

• • •

For the next twenty minutes, Johnny covered
everything. His parents. His two brothers—one older, one younger.
Cousin Sophie, who came to live with them as a teenager. The
nonstop inspiration of having a famous coach for a father. Then
tragedy struck when his mom and his older brother Aaron were killed
in a horrific automobile conflagration. Nothing was the same, but
Coach Aaron Spurling insisted on dragging his two remaining sons
out of mourning and back into football.

Johnny had been required to step up. The heir
apparent. And with the help of his “Pop” he succeeded, eventually
being named starting QB for Cal in his freshman year. During this
time, Coach Spurling was solicited to do a razor blade commercial
and made a scathing public announcement—Spurlings were all about
football.
That
was how they made their living. No amount of
money could turn them into salesmen or movie stars. If it wasn’t
coated in mud and glory, it wasn’t football, and the Spurlings
weren’t interested.

There had been glitches along the way,
especially when Pop’s heart faltered, but the old guy bounced back.
Baby brother Jason got married and gave Johnny four rambunctious
nephews while becoming a successful NFL cornerback. Last but not
least, Johnny made three unbelievable friends—Murf, Bannerman, and
Decker. And then?

Erica.

Or as he explained: He had been reborn.
Fallen off a cliff. Found the perfect mate. Not the domesticated
female he had imagined he’d end up with. And not the opposite
either. This woman challenged everything he thought he knew about
himself, then taught him what really mattered.

Complete with laughing eyes, a talent for
persuasion, and an artistic flair, which, again, he hadn’t even
known he wanted.

Totally gobsmacked.

If Tess needed any more proof of that, she
got it when the QB glanced at the recorder and asked, “You
interviewed her?”

Tess nodded.

“Mind if I listen?” His eyes twinkled. “I’d
like to hear how she tells it.”

“She tells it just like you do. Except
you’re
the star, not her.”

“Good.”

Tess sighed. “I’ll be out on the deck.
Re-living my ninety-second blind date with the kicker. Come and get
me when you’re ready.”

• • •

She wanted to daydream about Tantric sex but
was sidetracked by the beauty of the spot. Deep green wilderness,
rushing waters, a heady breeze. No wonder she had been seduced. Who
wouldn’t be?

And even though it seemed crazy, she wished
Sean Decker was there with her now. Not for anything sexual. Not
even a kiss. But to talk.

Really
talk.

For one thing she was worried about him. He
had sounded so cavalier about the breakup, ignoring the odds that
he was probably missing his married girlfriend. Pining for her.
Ready to backslide.

And if he rushed into something else? That
could be even worse. He was so good-looking, so charismatic, he
could find another girl in a nano-second. Convince himself he was
over Kerrie. At some point, it would surely catch up with him. They
had been
engaged.
Unofficially, yes, but this wasn’t a
casual breakup even if Kerrie and her sister seemed unusually
fixated on sex. Seducing each other’s boyfriend? Having their
virginity restored? Definitely not normal.