Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (24 page)

“Not well,” she admitted.

“Romanov hit on you? I
warned
Murf—”

“No, no. Alexi was on a short leash thanks to
Darcie.” Tess felt some of the tension leave her body at the sound
of his voice. “I met her, by the way. She’s
definitely
in
the harem.”

“But it didn’t go well? Why?”

Before she could answer, he interrupted
himself to say, “Let’s talk in person. Name the place and I’ll meet
you there.”

“It might be better over the phone, Sean. I’m
bad company, trust me.”

“How about the comic book store? I hear
you’re a regular these days.”

She laughed. “How did you know?”

He laughed too. “I stopped by last week to
pick up a scone and they said you keep cleaning them out.” Lowering
his voice, he coaxed her, saying, “Come on, Tess. I missed
you.”

“I missed you too,” she admitted. “But I need
a friend. A sounding board. Not the usual you, even though it’s
fun.”

“I can be a sounding board, no problem. It’s
about Cunningham, right? So let’s do this.
With
scones. I’ll
head over there now if that works.”

“Thanks, Sean.”

“And you’re going to drive, right? Not walk?
Because that clerk agrees with me it isn’t safe.”

“I’ll drive,” she promised. “Thanks,
Romeo.”

“No problem, babe. We’ll figure this out,
guaranteed.”

• • •

He greeted her at the back door to the shop,
his attitude surprisingly businesslike. “I got us a table at the
back. Did you want food? They’re out of scones, unfortunately.”

She hesitated, then pecked him on the cheek.
“Just decaf for me.”

“Your secret admirer says he’ll give us table
service, so come on.” He steered her to a corner table, and when
they were seated, he said simply, “Tell me what you need.”

“Just a sympathetic ear, I guess.” She
sighed. “Poor Noah. He makes one little mistake and then pays for
it over and over. Including this morning when I harangued him for
details. I still feel awful about that.”

Sean eyed her intently. “He didn’t make a
little
mistake, Tess. He made a whopper. But yeah, it sucks
if he’s still paying for it. They disciplined him at the time, so
why dwell on it? That’s the issue, right?”

She paused to order decaf from her secret
admirer, then turned back to Sean. “He was barely twenty years old.
Yet they threw the book at him. Went public with the gory details
and suspended him for four games. He was lucky they let him play in
their bowl game that year.”

To her surprise, Sean scowled. “They didn’t
do that for
him,
babe. For the school, maybe. Or to make
things more competitive. Shorten the odds in Vegas.”

“
What?”

“He was NFL caliber, even back then. So he
was a difference-maker. And they knew it.”

She felt a surge of frustration. “Why didn’t
Noah tell me that himself? I could wring his neck! He just kept
saying the same thing, over and over. That he broke a rule, he was
disciplined, and he won’t let anyone—not Murf and definitely not
me—make excuses for him.”

“I admire that,” Sean admitted.

“But it’s so unfair. He was a
kid
. And
now you’re telling me they might have manipulated his punishment to
their own advantage? Why aren’t we outraged? Especially
you.”
Calming herself, she murmured, “Okay, so he still
broke a rule. And that’s the point, right?”

“Yeah,” he told her gently. “We were
all
kids, you know. And every coach gave every incoming
player the big speech. That we should assume
everything
is
against the rules and act accordingly. We should do what the coach
told us to do. Do what the professors told us to do. And not talk
to anyone else. It’s crazy but it works.”

“So you weren’t even supposed to party? Or
date?”

“They couldn’t talk us out of
that,”
he said with a sheepish grin. “But we still had to be smart. Pay
attention to who was throwing the party. Who the girls were. Why
they were so willing to jump into bed. Common-sense stuff. And I
hate to say it, but taking a free car? He
had
to know that
was wrong.”

“I guess,” she murmured, pausing to thank her
fan for bringing the coffee. “But the car dealership knew it was
wrong too, right?”

“No doubt,” Sean agreed. “But the NCAA
doesn’t have jurisdiction over them. They can discipline schools,
coaches, athletes, agents. Even boosters. But not outsiders.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“Does he even
want
an advertising
gig?”

She almost laughed at the suggestion. “He
just wants to play football, so no. But it’s contract time, and
Murf thinks he’s undervalued because of the car thing. So he wants
me to put a positive spin on it somehow. The problem is, Murf
doesn’t have any idea how to do that.”

“How do his teammates feel?”

“Murf says they respect him. So does the
coaching staff. He just needs to get past this stupid car
thing.”

“How is that
your
responsibility?
Especially if Cunningham won’t talk to you.”

“You’re right,” she said with a wry laugh.
“I’m
the real victim here.”

“Damn straight.” He cleared his throat.
“Maybe you should flip this. Think about all the guys who
don’t
try to game the system. The rules are there for a
reason, Tess. We can argue about the validity of some of them, and
the complexity is a bitch, but not in this case.”

“He screwed up and paid the price,” she
agreed with a sigh. “The problem is . . .”

“Say it.”

“You’d have to meet him, Sean. He’s so solid.
Obsessed with doing the right thing and taking responsibility. The
kind of integrity that starts at birth. So my gut tells me there’s
more to it. I’m just such a piss-poor interviewer I couldn’t get
him to open up. Whereas I heard the story of Alexi Romanov’s life
in all its glory because
he’s
naturally chatty.” Her
shoulders slumped. “Noah was my first challenge and I blew it.”

Sean paused for a moment before asking her,
“Did you record the interview? Should I listen to it?”

“It’s almost two hours long. A hundred and
nineteen minutes of
me
—blabbing. One minute of Noah begging
me to let it go.”

“So maybe you should.”

She exhaled then nodded. “Maybe so. I just
wanted to be sure. So this really helped. Thanks.”

“Can I ask you something?” When she nodded,
he said gently, “How did you act with him?”

“Pardon? Oh . . .” She grimaced. “You’re
asking if I flirted? No, not at all.”

“Did you joke around?”

“With Noah?” She sighed. “He’s not really the
type. And I was trying to be professional. You think I should have
flirted with him?”

“Hell, no. I’m just trying to figure out how
he resisted you for two whole hours.” His smile warmed. “You’re
easy to talk to. That’s a fact. So don’t take this as a sign you’re
a bad interviewer. More like Cunningham’s determined to shut people
out. For good reason, maybe, but it’s not on you.”

“Thanks.”

He eyed her hopefully. “Can I buy you
dinner?”

She wanted to tell him she wasn’t feeling
“zero pressure” at the moment, but he probably knew it already. He
just expected her to bounce back, and she would. But first she had
her little rituals to conduct.

So she said, “I’ll tell you a secret about
me. When I get confused. Or overwhelmed. Or even when something
goes unexpectedly
great,
I need to process it. Curl up alone
with a pad and pencils and make notes. Which are usually just
doodles, but it clears my head.”

“Like pancakes on game day?”

She laughed. “Are you calling me a
loser?”

He laughed too. “I’m saying I respect your
ritual.”

“I should have done it on the plane, but I
needed to talk it through first. So thanks again.”

He stood when she did, then they walked to
the parking lot together. When they reached the RAV4, he said in a
casual tone, “Can I ask you something?”

She bit back a smile, expecting him to ask to
kiss her. But instead he said, “I haven’t seen much of Bannerman
lately, but he’s gonna be at John’s house Friday afternoon. Any
chance you’d hang with us? It’ll be fun. He’s an animal but
hilarious as hell. And he always makes sure there’s tons of food.”
Moving closer, he murmured, “John’s been bragging about you, so Bam
wants to meet you.”

“Okay,” she said without hesitation.

His eyes widened. “I thought you’d say
‘no.’”

“Does he know we’re just friends?”

“Yeah.” He flashed a sexy smile. “The first
thing he’ll say is you’re too hot for me. Then he’ll pretend to hit
on you, but he’s all about Rachel so it’s just for show. He’s a
good friend,” he added quietly. “But he might overdo it, in which
case I’ll make him stop. And John won’t put up with it either.”

“It sounds like fun. So sure, I’ll be
there.”

“Cool.” He cleared his throat. “Am I not
supposed to kiss you?”

Charmed, she braced her hand behind his head
and pulled his mouth down to hers for a scorching kiss, so he
backed her against her vehicle and worked her over with his tongue
and
his body.

Before it went too far, she wriggled free and
said breathlessly, “Thanks for the help with Noah.”

“Any time,” he assured her, looking dazed and
adorable.

Still reeling, she got into the RAV4 and
drove away. Then she started to laugh, almost euphoric at the
bizarre development. Because that kiss had nothing to do with Noah
Cunningham. Instead, it was all about Darcie’s comment, which had
been sitting in the back of her brain waiting to be processed.

Your relationship—whatever it is.

Darcie had been correct to phrase it that
way. Because
that
was the crux of the matter.

• • •

Tess turned in early on Wednesday night, but
not before listening to her interview with Noah just in case there
was more there than she had realized.

Instead it was almost worse, not because Noah
was difficult, but because Tess’s efforts to elicit information had
started off stiff and formal and ended desperate. Almost a how-to
guide on how
not
to conduct an interview.

“You overcompensated,” she decided ruefully.
“Trying so hard
not
to be yourself. To sound older. More
serious. And look where it got you.”

And in her defense, Noah hadn’t exactly been
charming. More like a vault.

She managed to get some sleep but only by
promising herself she’d call Murf first thing in the morning and
give him the bad news. And this time, she wouldn’t be open to
discussion. Instead, she’d just tell him point-blank she couldn’t
possibly help Noah and might actually hurt him.

The theory helped her fall asleep, but by
morning it seemed easier just to write something bland and hope
Murf would be so underwhelmed he’d pull the plug himself. So she
penned a few paragraphs that basically blamed society for asking
kids to grow up too soon. And since “society” in this instance was
the National Collegiate Athletic Association, she did some research
on its history and rules, which made her wonder again if Noah’s
punishment had been tailored to ensure he still appeared in their
precious bowl game so they could wring every possible advertising
dollar from its broadcast.

It was a better angle for the story, assuming
she could prove it, but she had promised Noah not to paint him as a
whiner or a victim. So she did more research—this time about famous
men who made mistakes in their youth, learned from them, and went
on to become heroes. The trouble was that those men had
personalities, whereas Noah had less charm than a block of
granite.

That’s not fair,
she scolded herself.
He’s just tired of being defined by a single mistake. The guy
who took the free car . . .

There had been glimpses of another man,
hadn’t there? Or at least the sense that a nice guy lurked under
the stoic silence.

Sean had said, “How is this
your
problem?”

She needed to focus on that. Let herself off
the hook.

The very thought of the kicker made her reach
for her sketchbook and drool over the Sir Kiss-a-Lot drawing. The
goofy knight in shining armor complete with phallic X-Caliber
sword.

She had pretended they were just friends. But
friends didn’t kiss the way
they
kissed. So there was
something more to it. Not serious, because Darcie was right about
that. It only worked because there was zero pressure for it to be
more.

It’s a buffer. Something to help him
transition between his failed affair with married twins and his
next big thing. And to have fun doing it.

And maybe it was a buffer for Tess too. Not
between serious love affairs, but between two careers. Bartending
was so much fun. So good for her ego. It would have been easy to
run back to it—just forget about journalism—after this failure with
Noah. But instead, she had talked to Sean. Flirted with Sean.
Kissed
Sean. And her confidence had rushed back.

It sounded pretty good in her head. Now she
would figure it out on paper. If it held up, she’d try out the
theory on Sean after the big intro to Vince “Bam” Bannerman.

Chapter
Eight

As much as Tess wanted to meet Bam Bannerman,
she wished she could talk to Sean in private first. If he agreed
that their no-pressure friendship could be converted to no-pressure
dating, then he could introduce her as his girlfriend.

Or rather, as his buffer girlfriend.

Laughing at herself as she climbed the front
steps of the McSpurling home, she decided to relax and have fun
with this, since it was just a gathering of friends, not a sports
interview. And even if it were, she already knew a lot about
Bannerman. As the third member of the Triple Threat, he was a
powerfully built, versatile athlete with an uncanny ability to read
his QB’s mind and make impossible things happen.