Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (2 page)

But first she had to examine those big,
strong muscles, didn’t she? Just to ensure it wasn’t too much of a
mismatch?

And you’re giving all this up? You must be
crazy . . .

Chapter
One

Just be yourself. Meaning
don’t
be
Colbee.

The thought made Tess smile as she waited for
her first interview as a professional journalist. As much as she
enjoyed her bartending persona, it was a bit over-the-top for a
girl raised by well-behaved academics. Not that she hadn’t mouthed
as a kid, but at least she had known how to act in public,
especially around overachievers like Erica McCall-Spurling.

According to Tess’s research, Erica was a
successful ad exec at the age of twenty-eight. And since the
results were apparent—a halftime Super Bowl commercial for Lager
Storm beer starring Erica’s then-future husband, Johnny
Spurling—Tess was already a fan of the wife as well as the hunky
quarterback.

“Ms. Colby? Ms. McCall will see you now.”

“Great.” Tess took a moment to let the McCall
name register. Having always planned on keeping Colby as her last
name when she married, she also knew she’d make an exception for a
gorgeous guy like Johnny Spurling.

Tess Spurling.

It had a nice ring to it.

Apparently Erica McCall was made of
steel.

Before Tess could reach the doorway, the new
bride stepped into view, confirming in an instant why the Super
Bowl winner had fallen so hard for her. Not just gorgeous and
sophisticated in her charcoal gray suit, but wild, too, thanks to
waves of dark hair cascading to her waist.

In the next life, Tess wanted to be
this
babe.

“Tess?” Erica offered her hand in welcome.
“I’ve been dying to meet you. A philosophy major working in a
sports bar? I can’t
wait
to hear that story. And please,”
she added as they entered a huge window office, “ignore the mess.
It’s been crazy around here lately.”

Tess eyed the stacks of folders
sympathetically. “For a high-tech company, you still do it
old-school?”

Erica settled behind the desk and motioned
for her guest to sit. “I’m tactile, especially when I’m stressed.
But they let me play with the new technology whenever I want.
Remind me to show you later.” Her tone grew conspiratorial. “My
West Coast office is here at Rorsch Enterprises. But Rorsch is just
one of my clients. My biggest for sure, but I have a few others.
Including Lager Storm—the beer Johnny made the ad for.”

“It’s so cool you can work in Portland to be
near him.”

Erica smiled. “I’m supposed to spend every
other week in New York but we’ve only been married for a few
months, so it’s almost impossible to tear myself away.”

“Trust me, I’d never even get out of bed,”
Tess joked. Then she winced and insisted, “I mean if I had this
much work to do.”

Erica’s laugh told her she knew
exactly
what Tess really meant: if
she
were married
to a stud like Johnny Spurling, it would be clothing-optional all
day long.

Thanks a lot, Colbee.

“So, Tess,” Erica said brightly. “Tell me how
you ended up at the University of Hawaii. You grew up in
Connecticut according to Johnny’s agent.”

Tess hesitated, then smoothed her ruffled
black skirt to buy some time.

If only she had worn something less
ridiculous, but she had assumed these creative types—not just Erica
but the geeky brainiacs at Rorsch—would wear expressive, eclectic
outfits. Instead it was either business suits or stone-washed jeans
and corny T-shirts with Einstein slogans. Not only were Tess’s
ruffles out of place, her red huarache sandals seemed more tacky
than kitschy.

Time to redeem herself, so she answered Erica
with a non-answer. “It’s a long story and you’re so busy. So
shouldn’t I ask you about
your
career?” Laughing, she
admitted, “Can you tell I’m new at this interviewing deal?”

“You’re a natural. So tell me how you ended
up in journalism. With bartending books, right? But
tongue-in-cheek? I’m dying to read one.”

“Oh, Lord.” Tess arched an eyebrow in
warning. “They’re fine, but mostly for other bartenders. And lucky
for me, some of the big bartending schools have included them on
their reading lists, so ka-
ching.
But please don’t buy them.
Save it for the sports article, although I’ll send you a
complimentary copy, obviously.”

Erica’s gray eyes danced. “Johnny’s agent
told us you want to write about sports celebrities and product
endorsement. A subject dear to my heart. What’s your angle?”

Tess sighed. Erica’s interviewing skills were
clearly better than hers, so why not give her the lead? So she
explained, “Working in a sports bar, I watch so many commercials.
And I always wonder if the celebrities actually
use
the
products they endorse. Does John Spurling drink Lager Storm beer?
Does Alexi Romanov drive a Porsche? That sort of thing.” She took a
deep breath. “So I mentioned it to my editor—whose name is Ed,
believe it or not—and he told me his roommate from college was a
sports agent and might be able to help. And the rest is history,
because Mr. Murphy offered to hook me up with you and Johnny.
Basically the Holy Grail. And he represents Alexi Romanov too, so
I’ll be interviewing
him
in a few weeks. Hopefully in the
backseat of a Porsche.”

Mortified, she added quickly, “That was a
joke. Oh,
Lord
. . .”

Luckily, Erica was laughing. “You’re so
funny. And you’re right, Alexi will totally hit on you. And there’s
someone else you should meet. He’s
perfect
for you because
he’s in the process of deciding whether to endorse a product for
the first time. So he’s wrestling with the same issues you’ll be
exploring.”

Tess felt her confidence returning. “That
would be amazing. Does Mr. Murphy represent him, too?”

Erica nodded. “It’s Sean Decker. Our team’s
kicker, and one of Johnny’s best friends. Mine too.”

“Oh, my God, he’s so good,” Tess gushed,
remembering Decker’s stellar performance in the Super Bowl.

“He’s the best. Not just as a player but as a
great guy.”

“Is he as superstitious as they say?” Tess
wondered aloud. “Or is that just PR stuff? Pancakes before every
game is the rumor.”

Erica grinned. “He claims it isn’t
superstition. Just ritual. But he’s pretty superstitious about that
ritual.”

“Wow.” Tess had been so hot to write the
product-promo article. Now the superstition angle owned her heart.
“Maybe I could write about that too at some point. Thanks, Erica.
You’re a gold mine.”

To her surprise, the ad exec measured her
next words carefully. “Sean’s a very private person, so I’ll need
his permission before I tell you more. About the pancakes
or
the possible endorsement. But I’m sure he’ll agree.”

“Be sure to tell him I won’t print a word if
he’s opposed to it. I mean . . .” She flashed a hopeful smile.
“I love the superstition angle so I might pursue that anyway, but I
can find other players. Especially in baseball, because I already
know a few squirrels. So no worries either way.”

“Don’t give up on Sean,” Erica protested, but
the harsh ringing of her desk phone distracted her. “Ugh, do you
mind?”

“Are you kidding? I’m just grateful you
worked me in at all.”

Glad for the break, Tess tried to get her
thoughts together while Erica took the call. For one thing, she
needed to come up with better questions. And the prospect of
interviewing Sean Decker was intriguing too. Most of all, she was
hot to write an article about superstitious athletes, and Decker’s
pancakes were the perfect lead-in.

Unfortunately, she was nosy by nature, and
even though Erica had spun away in her chair, her frustrated tone
couldn’t be missed. She was upset about something—business, not
personal—so Tess assumed the interview was over.

Too bad you didn’t ask whether Johnny
drinks Lager Storm beer in real life,
she scolded herself.
Wasn’t that the whole point?

Just as she was about to kick herself out the
door, Erica ended the call, then grimaced in apology. “Sorry, Tess.
We just hit a roadblock with a client.”

“No problem, I’ll see myself out. And thanks
again, Erica.”

“Wait! We’re not done. I just need to—well,
regroup.” Tilting her head to the side, she asked, “Mind if I show
you something?”

“I’m all eyes.”

With an appreciative smile, Erica picked up a
remote control, then gestured toward a large monitor in the corner.
“So here’s the set-up. The client is a national jewelry chain and
they want a Christmas advertisement. The traditional stuff—a tree,
a pretty girl sitting on a stool, a handsome guy in a tux kneeling
in front of her, and an engagement ring in a fancy box. All they
wanted from
us
was a tag line. You know what that is, don’t
you? They suggested ‘Diamonds are for Christmas’—pardon me while I
puke—but they were supposedly open to better ideas. So here’s what
we
came up with.”

As she activated the recording, a wonderland
sprang to life. Snow falling amidst leafless white branches, and
from those branches hung dozens of slender, sparkly bracelets, some
with diamonds, some emeralds, some rubies. Just like icicles but a
million times more breathtaking.

And apparently the attractive couple
wandering among the gems agreed. The man’s face shone with love.
The woman seemed mesmerized. Enchanted. Completely smitten.

And the tag line?

Dazzle her.

Tess stared in delight. “It’s awesome. Are
you saying the client had issues? Because to me it’s perfect.”

The ad exec arched a frustrated eyebrow.
“He’s willing to tolerate the icicles if we put a chair in the
middle of them, and if the woman sits while the man kneels and
proposes to her. And the tag line is—wait for it—
Marriage is for
Christmas
. He sees that as proof he’s being flexible. Ugh.”

“Poor you,” Tess murmured. “But you know how
guys are. They like results. So what if you combine the two
concepts? They’re wandering among the icicles, then the dude turns
to the girl and pulls out a ring. And she’s sold. Then the tag
line—hmmm, instead of
Dazzle Her,
it could be
Merry
Her
. M-
E
-R-R-Y, right? Or . . .” She retreated into
her seat, hoping to seem invisible. “Don’t mind me. I just like the
shiny stuff.”

In a hushed tone, Erica insisted, “I
love
it. Love, love, love it. And you’re right. He wants
results. How did you know that?”

“It’s a gift,” Tess said with a nervous
laugh. “Plus I work with drunk men, so there’s that.”

“
Merry
her? It’s so transformative.
Wow.”

Tess smiled in relief. “We both know
Dazzle Her
is better. But men gotta be men, right?”

Erica’s euphoria evaporated into
determination. “We’ll see if it flies. If it does, we’ll pay you a
consult fee.”

“Be serious! Your job is so much fun I’d do
it for free.”

“Really? Because . . .” She eyed Tess
intently. “I have some clout at my agency these days. So if you’d
like to try your hand at it. As an intern, I mean. The money’s not
good to start, but my instincts tell me you’ll blow the doors off
the place.”

“Me? I was just kidding. It’s in an office,
right? I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to that. But thanks,” she added
sincerely as she scooped up her purse and briefcase. “You’ve been
great, Erica.”

“Where are you going? Don’t you have
questions? My afternoon just opened up,” she insisted, leaning back
in her chair with a broad smile. “Ask me anything.”

Exhaling in relief at the second chance, Tess
went for it. “Did you design the Lager Storm ad first, then
brainstorm athletes to play the role of the stand-up guy? Or did
you design it for Johnny from the start? Because that’s how it
seems. Like it was made to order. Oh, and how did his dad react? He
always said Spurlings don’t do product endorsement, so shit meets
fan, right? And does Johnny actually
drink
Lager Storm? For
pleasure?”

“Whoa,” Erica said, laughing. “Let’s start
with the most important thing. He insisted on tasting the product
before he would endorse it. And he liked it so much, we stock it at
our house. He would
never
endorse something he didn’t
believe in.”

Tess’s pulse raced. “And that’s the point,
right? He’s the ultimate stand-up guy. Pure integrity.
That’s
the guy in your commercial. And you designed it for
him, right?”

“Even though I hadn’t met him yet,” Erica
agreed. “I was a huge fan of his since college. And you’re right,
when Lager Storm came calling, I knew Johnny was the one, so I
built the campaign around him, then prayed I could talk him past
his father’s objections. And I did.”

“Okay.” Tess nodded slowly. “I won’t ask
about the romantic parts, even though I’m dying to. But I
would
like to hear about the process. For my own
edification. Do you film it like a movie? Was that his real voice?
Were the other guys in the commercial his friends? That sort of
thing.”

Erica hesitated, then said, “Come to our
house for dinner this Friday. Johnny’s at a clinic in Astoria for
incoming college players, so he’s out of town until then. You can
interview us both at the same time. And I’ll ask him to bring Sean
Decker too, since they drove up together. Three interviews for the
price of one. You can’t beat
that,
can you?”

Stunned, Tess forced herself to respond
without gushing. “Just tell me where and when. Mr. Murphy’s letting
me use his suite at the Ashton Hotel this week, so I’ll still be in
town. As long as I wrap things up by Sunday morning, because I’m
working a shift in Seattle that afternoon.”