Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (5 page)

"I was thinking that I really didn't like you in high school," she said, deciding to go for honesty.

"I know it bothered you that I beat you, but didn't you have any respect for me at all?"

"It's possible that I admired you a little," she conceded. "But that was probably five percent of the time."

"Ouch," he said lightly.

"Sorry. It must be strange to be out with someone who doesn't adore you."

"Actually, it feels like a challenge."

"To change my mind?"

"You don't think I could?"

She shook her head. "Definitely not."

"We're not teenagers anymore, Lizzie. You've changed. So have I. Maybe we should get to know each other as we are now."

He had a point. She waited for their waiter to pour them two glasses of wine, then said, "So who is Michael Stafford now?"

He didn't answer right away. In fact, there was a somber note in his gaze as he took a sip of wine.

"Is it that difficult of a question?" she asked.

"A year ago, I could have answered that question without hesitation, but I'm still figuring things out since my injury derailed my career."

"You seem to move pretty well. I haven't noticed a limp. Is there any way you could go back to playing football?"

"No, I can live a normal life, but I'm done playing professional football."

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

"So now you're going to take over the PR world?"

"That's the plan, starting with Playworld."

She sighed. "We're not talking about Playworld tonight, remember?"

"You're the one who brought it up."

"And I'm shutting it down. No business talk."

"Okay." He rested his arms on the table as he leaned forward. "Do you still paint, Lizzie?"

She stared back at him, wishing now she hadn't banned the business discussion. It had been over a year, maybe two, since she'd pulled out her paints, and she did miss that part of herself. "I haven't in a while."

"Why not?"

"Just busy with other things. Let's get back to you."

"My favorite subject," he joked.

She couldn't help smiling at his easy grin. "At least you admit it. Most guys pretend they're interested in listening to my stories when all they're really doing is trying to find a way to get the focus of the conversation back to them."

"Sounds like you've had some bad dates."

"Too many to count. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm as single as they come."

"When was the last serious relationship?"

"I don't know that I would have called it serious, but it was a few years ago."

"So you're still living up to your three weeks and you're out rule?"

His gaze narrowed. "Where did you hear that?"

"I think it was after one of the football games. Dana Hamilton, the cheerleader was crying in the corner that you'd dumped her, and one of your friends—I think his name was Robbie—said you had a three week rule, and she should be happy she lasted the whole three weeks."

"Robbie was a douche, and I never had that rule."

She shrugged. "Maybe it wasn't a rule, but you did get around."

"Everyone got around in high school—except maybe you."

She frowned at that pointed comment. "Well, I had more important things to do."

"Always so serious. Do you ever lighten up?"

"All the time. I can be fun."

He laughed. "Yeah, you're going to have to show me that if you want me to believe you."

"I don't care what you believe, and we were talking about you. I know pro athletes don't have trouble finding women, so what's the story? Why are you still single?"

"Finding women is easy, finding the right woman—much more difficult."

"Maybe you just don't want to commit."

"I have to admit that commitment to a woman has not been at the top of my list the last few years. Or at least I never met anyone that made me want to make it a priority." He lifted his glass to his lips and took another sip. "What about you? When was your last relationship?"

"Senior year of college. I dated a guy for almost two years. But after we graduated, we ended up in different cities and found long distance didn't work. He didn't want to move and neither did I, which pretty much meant we weren't that in love with each other, so eventually we broke up. Since then I've been single in the city."

"Living it up."

She tipped her head at his dry note. "I've enjoyed my life the last few years. And I have a lot of single girlfriends, although they're starting to fall one by one."

"Same with my friends. And once they fall, they want everyone else to fall."

"Exactly," she said. "I had the bad luck to catch the wedding bouquet at my friend Laurel's wedding six weeks ago, and since then everyone has been eager to tell me that I'm going to be the next bride, which is crazy, since I would need at least a boyfriend to make that a possibility."

"I'm sure you could find one. You're a beautiful woman."

Her cheeks warmed at his words. "You're good with compliments, Michael."

"Certainly better than you. You should just say thank you."

"Thank you."

"And you're even prettier when you smile," he added. "I can only imagine what you'd look like if you ever let go of your iron control."

Her nerves tingled as his intense gaze made her wonder exactly what he was imagining.

Thankfully, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their entrees.

For the next fifteen minutes they concentrated on their meals and general conversation. Liz asked Michael to tell her a little more about his days as a football player, and his stories about coaches, players, friends and locker room pranks were entertaining. As the minutes passed, Liz found herself falling under the spell of his charm, which alarmed her on a lot of levels. If she could start to like him, even after their past together, how on earth would Charlie Hayward not be just as charmed? She was going to have her work cut out for her to beat Michael on a personal level.

But the pitch wouldn't be personal, it would be about what their firms could do to promote Playworld and she should be able to beat Michael there. He might have been a star football player, but he was a novice when it came to PR. Although it wasn't just him at the company, and she had no idea how good his sister or any of the other employees were. Maybe she should find out.

"Tell me about your sister Erica," Liz said. "She's a couple of years older than you, right?"

"Three years," he said. "She's great. She's very smart and also a sweetheart. She has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I've ever met."

"Is she married?"

"She was engaged to a man she worked with a couple of years ago, but it fell through. She was devastated."

"Did she call it off?"

"He did. He got cold feet. I wanted to kick his ass, but Erica wouldn't let me. She said if he felt that way she'd rather know now than later. It was still a rough year for her. But she bounced back. She threw herself into her work and two years ago, she decided to go out on her own with a guy she met at her previous agency Kent Holcombe. They used their initials to form EK Promotions and they've done really well."

"I've heard of them. They're a small boutique firm."

"Well, that will change when we get Playworld."

She didn't bother to address that comment. "How did you get involved in the agency?"

"Erica felt sorry for me after my injury. I didn't know what to do next, and she said she could use my help at the agency, so I said yes."

"I'm surprised Erica or Kent didn't do the pitch. They have more experience than you."

"Charlie is a football fan."

Her stomach tightened. "Oh, now I get it."

"We divide up the work in the way that makes the most sense," he said. "Don't worry, we know what we're doing."

"I'm sure you do," she said, sitting back in her seat. "I was just curious."

"I'm curious about something, too. Ed made some comments about your firm earlier that I found interesting. Why would your partner tell him you were thinking of leaving?"

"He misunderstood. I'm not going anywhere."

"Have things changed there since your dad left?"

"Definitely. But I can hold my own."

"I have no doubt about that." He paused as the busboy cleared their plates. "Do you want dessert?"

"No, I think I'd like to get back to the hotel. I want to write up some notes before I go to bed." Mostly, she just wanted to end this evening before she started to like Michael even more.

The waiter brought over their bill and several minutes later, they were getting back into Michael's car.

"I really thought you'd drive a Porsche or a Corvette," she said, sliding into the front seat of a dark gray pickup truck.

"Not my style." He'd barely finished speaking when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen. "Damn. This guy has been calling me all day. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," she said.

"What's up, Hank?" Michael paused, as the other man took off on what appeared to be a fairly loud rant.

Liz couldn't hear the exact words but the tone sounded a little agitated.

"It's not my problem. I can't help you," Michael said. "I already told you—" He fell silent again as the caller obviously cut him off. "I have a new life now. And it's not football. Fine, I'll think about it. But don't hold your breath."

He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket.

"Who was that?" Liz asked, knowing it was absolutely none of her business, but she was quite curious.

"The offensive coordinator for the Arizona Blackhawks," he said.

"Your former team?"

"That's the one."

"What did he want? It sounded like he wanted you to come back. I thought you said you couldn't play anymore."

"I can't play. He wants me to come back as his assistant. Their record is 2-3 and they're trying to turn things around before the season is over," he explained.

"And you don't want the job?"

"No, I'm done with football," he said forcefully. "I need to leave it alone. I have a new career now, and that's where I'm going to put my energy."

"Well, if you're sure…"

He flung her a hard look. "I'm sure."

But as he started the truck and sped out of the parking lot, she wondered if that was really true. Michael had definitely been bothered by the phone call. Even now, he seemed a million miles away. And despite his words, she doubted he was thinking about Playworld or his sister's company; he was thinking about the game that he'd once loved more than anything.

Would he really be able to stay away from it?

She couldn't help thinking that if Michael left his sister's agency, then Charlie Hayward would lose his favorite football player. That could only help her.

But that was a selfish thought, and as she glanced over at Michael and saw the bleakness in his gaze, she knew that he was hurting, and while she wanted to beat him, she didn't really like seeing him in pain. "You can always think about it," she ventured, breaking the silence.

"I already have and I made my decision. This doesn't really involve you, Lizzie. And if you're thinking I might bail and let you have a clear shot at Playworld, you're dead wrong."

"I don't need a clear shot. I know I can give Charlie what he wants."

"So can I."

"But despite your words just now, your reaction to that phone call tells me that while you might know what Charlie Hayward wants in a PR campaign, you don't know what you want to do. You just know what you're
supposed
to do."

"Same thing," he said.

"Is it?"

"Damn you, Lizzie. Why do you always have to challenge me?"

"Maybe because you need the challenge," she retorted.

"Maybe you do, too. We always got better when we had to beat each other. But let's not forget one important fact. I always won. This time is not going to be any different."

"We'll see about that."

Chapter Five

Sunday morning Liz grabbed an early breakfast, then took the shuttle to the amusement park, arriving just as the gates opened. She enjoyed roaming around the park without a lot of people around. Her first stop took her onto a boat that traveled through the rainforest. She was amazed by the incredible scenery, the sounds of the birds, even the streaming rain that they passed through without actually getting wet. She was impressed with how much thought Charlie had put into every detail, mixing reality with fantasy, technology fueling everything in the hidden background.

As she got off the ride, she took a moment to sit down on a nearby bench and jot down her thoughts. While she had her phone for quick notes, she found herself pulling out a spiral notebook and quickly sketching some of her impressions of the ride. She wouldn't necessarily use the art in her pitch, but it would help her remember the scenes and even the feelings those scenes had evoked.

"Look who's here," Michael said.

She raised her gaze to his, a little tingle of excitement running down her spine at the same time.

He gave her a wary smile. "So last night didn't end on the greatest note. I feel like I should apologize."

"Is that an actual apology?"

"Yes," he said sitting down next to her. "I shouldn't have taken that call while you were in the car. I thought I'd gotten rid of most of my football baggage, but apparently I'm still carrying a few bags around."

She appreciated his candor. "I shouldn't have needled you when you were upset."

"I wasn't upset. I was annoyed."

She had a feeling he'd experienced many more emotions than just annoyance, but she didn't want to get into it with him now.

"You got an early start," he continued.

"So did you."

He looked down at her notebook. "Wow, that's good. Did you just draw that?"

"Yes," she said, quickly turning the page.

"What? Are you afraid I'm going to steal your idea?"

She shrugged. It wasn't so much that she was afraid he would steal something but that she never liked to show her art until it was done. Not that she was creating anything special at the moment. "It's just random doodling," she said. "What have you done today?"