The Play Maker (The Sideline Series Book 1)

by L. M. Carr

  After plugging in my phone, I jump into the shower to wash the sweat from my body. I remain beneath the hot water as my mind tries to process how life has led me back to Julian. I haven’t figured out yet whether this interview is a blessing or a curse. Because, despite having a list of questions and topics to discuss, I wonder if those will uncover buried feelings or expose the truth. Perhaps I will finally get the answers I have sought for years.

  After stepping out of the shower and drying off, I click on the television and walk to my closet, deciding what to wear. When the news anchor reports on the early morning traffic, I glance at the time and send a message to Wes.

  Running late.

  No problem.

  I smile, already anticipating his answer to my next question.

  Coffee?

  Always :)

  Once dressed for work, I sit on the couch and apply sliced cucumbers to my eyes for a few minutes, hoping to reduce the obvious signs of my distress. I check social media, email and text messages. Justin asks about my weekend, Rence apologizes for his behavior and Wes wants to talk about the interview. The final message is from an unfamiliar number. I tap the screen.

  We need to talk. Call me. J.

  Chapter Seven

  I reread the message several times, making sure it says what I think it does. Questions swirl in my brain, the first being how Julian acquired my phone number and what he wants to talk about. I consider deleting and blocking the number, but a small part of me is grateful to have his contact information. After he left for college and obliterated my heart, I tried to get in touch with him for years. Rence couldn’t even say his name without a string of profanities that would have embarrassed a sailor. While my brother offered me empathy, my father scolded me with harsh words, telling me to grow up and get over my silly high school crush.

  He didn’t understand that Julian MacIntyre was not simply a crush. At seventeen, I knew he was the love of my life. There would never be another like it.

  §

  Even with stopping at my favorite coffee shop, I arrive at work only fifteen minutes late. After giving Wes his coffee, I sit at my desk and reply to my brother’s text, cringing when I realize the time difference. The message alert will likely wake him. I’m usually much more cognizant, but I’m feeling slightly off this morning.

  “You didn’t text me back.”

  I look up to see Justin standing in the doorway.

  I smile and clear my throat. “Hey. Sorry. I got in really late and forgot to charge my phone.”

  He saunters in and sits in the lone chair, a blank expression on his face. “How was your weekend?”

  Opening the top drawer of my desk, I place my phone inside it, then fire up my computer. “It was good. Rence had a good time. Ate good food. Good flight home.”

  “That’s good,” he says, mocking my overuse of the word.

  “How was the rest of your weekend?” I ask.

  “Good.” He laughs quietly. “Great, actually. Went out with the guys Saturday, then met this really nice girl and took her home. We fucked all night. It was crazy.”

  My fingers still on the keyboard as my heart skips a beat. I frown at him. “What?”

  Justin nods. “Yeah. She was pretty wild in bed.”

  Disgust contorts my face. I hiss, “Why the hell are you telling me this?”

  He shrugs. “Well, we’re friends. Isn’t that what friends do? Friends tell each other stuff, right?”

  I refrain from spitting hurtful words because it is obvious my rebuff from Friday has hit a nerve, despite my misconception that our conversation Saturday morning soothed his hurt ego. I thought things were okay between us.

  “You know what?” I shake my head. “Don’t be an asshole, Justin. I can’t do this today.” I glance away for a moment, then return my attention to him. “Look, I like you. I like spending time with you and enjoy having sex with you, but that’s as far as my feelings go.”

  His eyes narrow as he swallows hard. “So you’re saying it doesn’t bother you hearing about me with another woman? You aren’t jealous that I took some other woman to bed?”

  My gaze falls and I blink, looking back at him with conviction. “If that’s what you want, Justin, go for it. You’re free to fuck whomever you want.”

  He flinches at the vulgarity of my words. “I guess you are, too, in that case,” he quips.

  My eyes widen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  “Who?” I ask, honestly having no idea what he’s talking about.

  “Don’t play games, AJ. The picture of you and MacIntyre is all over social media.”

  Angered, I jump to my feet and slam my flattened palms on my desk. “What picture?”

  Justin stands, pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen. He turns the phone toward me.

  A grainy image depicts the private moment Julian and I shared, exploiting it for the world to see. Fury surges within me as I ponder who could have captured our interaction. I close my eyes and drop my head as a million questions infiltrate my mind.

  Who? Why?

  “So, did you?”

  My head snaps up as I begin to shake my head, then stop. I swallow thickly as I look into his eyes.

  “That’s why you really went out there, isn’t it?”

  I sigh.

  “Answer me, AJ. Did you fuck him?”

  I flinch at his accusatory tone, confused about why he thinks he has the right to ask me these questions.

  “What I did or didn’t do with Julian really isn’t any of your business,” I retort sharply, “but because we’re friends, I will be honest with you. No, I didn’t. He and I talked for a minute, then I left.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

  “That’s your problem, Justin. I told you the truth.”

  A look of sadness washes over his face. “That’s too bad. We could’ve been really good together.”

  I have no response. I simply watch Justin walk out of the door and, most likely, out of my life.

  I bury my face in my palms and sigh. Inhaling slowly, I force Justin out of my mind and focus on the tasks that await my attention.

  After reviewing my tentative schedule for upcoming assignments, I check my email and jot down a note, reminding me to pick up a dress for the charity event next month. I harbored no hard feelings when the coordinators told me someone else had been asked to be the master of ceremonies this year. I was happy to pass the torch. After all, I’ve done it three years in a row. Now I can relax and enjoy the evening without the added pressure.

  I hear my phone ring in the drawer and open it, look at the display, then send my mother to voicemail once again. The woman is relentless. Conversations with her usually last over twenty-five minutes and end up with one of us yelling.

  “Team meeting in five!” Wes calls through the hall.

  Perfect excuse. I send her a text and tell her I’m in a meeting, then stand and walk into Wes’ office before the others arrive, sitting at the conference table.

  “Seems you made a splash on social media this weekend,” he teases with a grin.

  I lean my elbow on the table and run my fingers through my hair in exasperation. “You saw the picture?”

  Wes’ brows furrow. “What picture?” he asks, sipping his coffee before setting it down on the table.

  “The picture of me and Julian.”

  Wes drops down into his leather chair, an eager expression on his face. “Tell me about this picture.”

  I explain the unexpected, brief encounter I had with Julian and how someone captured the fleeting moment.

  He claps his hands, the sound echoing in the room. “Holy Mother of God! This interview is going to be all over the news.” He reaches for the cup again, taking a sip.

  My colleagues enter the room and sit, looking between the two of us.

  “Can’t someone else do it?” I plead.

  “And risk the ratings? Not a chan
ce in hell!” he shoots back.

  I blow out a breath, crossing my arms. This would never happen to a guy, I think.

  The huge monitor on the wall comes to life with a digital calendar. Each segment is color-coded with the name of the reporter covering the event. Holding a small remote, Wes moves the cursor across the screen. Appearing in big block letters, “MacIntyre Interview” is now highlighted, my name next to it.

  I reach for a pen and tap it against my palm, trying to appear unaffected, to no avail.

  “All right, guys. This is the deal. I’m clearing AJ’s schedule for the next week, so you’ll all have to pick up the slack. I want her focus and complete attention to be on MacIntyre this week.”

  Everyone looks at me, and Wes offers an encouraging smile. “I have all the confidence in her. She’s gonna nail this.”

  “Or nail him,” somebody mumbles.

  I glance around the room. The men fight back laughter, and the women look outraged and mortified. I see Justin standing by the door and hurl a scathing look in his direction.

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “What about my dick?” he counters with a sly grin.

  I push away from the mahogany table and stand. “Well, actually, rumor has it your dick is rather small and you don’t really know how to use it.”

  Grown men snicker like prepubescent boys, women gasping as I stride past Justin and out of the room.

  I can hear hurried steps behind me. I don’t have to look to know who it is.

  Justin reaches for my elbow, gripping tightly, pulling me into an alcove. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Why would you say that?” he demands with a pained expression on his face.

  “Because you are acting like an asshole,” I hiss. “Why would you say that about me? Or Julian for that matter?”

  “Jesus Christ, AJ! I was just messing around with you. I would never intentionally hurt you.”

  I laugh humorlessly. “Really? Because that back there…” I flick my thumb over my shoulder, “was a pretty shitty thing to do.”

  “A guy leaving the girl he supposedly loves is a shitty thing to do, too.”

  A gasp escapes as moisture fills my eyes. “What…”

  A low rumble of amusement escapes his lips. “You’re not the only one with a journalism degree.”

  Shock soon turns to anger. “You stay the hell out of my business!”

  I spin on my heels and stomp down the hall into my office, slamming the door, then march over to look out the window. I mumble, cursing my stupidity for getting involved with him in the first place. Despite his previous inquiries about the history between Rence and Julian, I never provided any additional details, other than what had already been reported in the media.

  “I’m guessing now isn’t such a good time to talk?”

  I jump and spin at the familiar voice, freezing when I see Julian standing in the doorway.

  “Fuck, Julian. You scared me!”

  He laughs quietly. “Sorry.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask harshly, my eyes drifting shut as I inhale the light scent of cologne. The combination of citrus and sage isn’t what I remember him wearing, but he still smells magnificent.

  When Julian clears his throat, I open my eyes and return my gaze out the window, unable to will my body to move.

  “I need to talk to you,” he admits, his voice even and smooth.

  I press my lips together and shake my head subtly, wanting to scream, to tell him the time to talk came and went years ago when he left with no explanation.

  I hear him walk closer, can feel his presence behind me.

  “Addison…”, he whispers, gently touching my shoulder.

  “Don’t.” The single word falls from my lips, despite relishing the feeling of his hand on me. Shaking my head, I continue. “You don’t have the right to touch me.”

  “Then turn around and look at me.”

  I hate my evident weakness. Hate that my body responds to his touch, let alone his voice. What’s even worse is he knows it.

  “I already told you I’m not going anywhere until I talk to you.”

  Julian steps closer so I can almost feel his chest against my back. I begin to wonder if this is all a dream. I know when I wake up, I will no longer be sharing this level of intimacy with him.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” I lie, my voice shaking.

  “Well, I’ve got a lot to say.” His warm breath tickles my ear.

  I release a shuttering breath. “It’s been so long.”

  A hand slides around my waist and encourages me to turn. I finally oblige and look at the man I have loved for more than half my life.

  Intense blue eyes stare at me. “I’m coming back…”

  The full lips, the square jaw, the dimple I love so much are all hidden beneath a thin layer of light brown facial hair. I search his face, which looks more mature than the last time I stood this close to him. My fingers curl, itching to glide through his hair. While its color is the same, it’s buzzed close to the scalp in back with a deep part on the side. Julian has aged well. He is as gorgeous as he was almost twenty years ago.

  “AJ!” Wes calls as he quickly knocks and opens the door. “Justin’s a jackass—”

  I jump away from Julian and rush to my desk, immediately creating distance between us.

  Behind his frameless glasses, my boss’ eyes widen in surprise as Julian turns his head toward him. “Oh, Mr. MacIntyre… Uh… I’m sorry to interrupt. I didn’t know you were in here.”

  “It’s fine, Wes. He was just leaving,” I interject, silently sending up a prayer of thanks for the interruption.

  Julian swings his attention back to me, his eyes narrowing. “Not until we talk.”

  We stare at each other as my heart pounds in my chest. My eyes drift to his clenched jaw before his voice deepens to an ominous tone. With his eyes still fixed on mine, he states firmly, “Close the door on your way out.”

  Wes looks at me, and I nod subtly, giving him permission to leave.

  Left alone with Julian, my body ignites as he edges toward me with slow, unhurried steps, rounding the corner of my desk. I stand motionless when his gaze travels down the length of my body, his blue eyes assessing every inch. He finally stops when he is mere inches from me. His warm breath feathers against my skin, the cologne radiating from him forcing my eyes to flutter closed, shivering at his proximity.

  I release a slow breath. While my intention is to appear unaffected, Julian knows me too well. My resolve fades.

  “What do you want from me, Julian?”

  Large, strong hands skim across my jaw and cup it as he leans in slowly. Tilting his head slightly, Julian murmurs, “This.” He places a soft kiss on my lips. When I don’t fight him off, he reaches around to my neck and draws me in, his tongue slipping into my mouth. Warmth courses through me, igniting a spark in my belly.

  “Julian,” I sigh against his lips, but he silences me by deepening the kiss.

  Feeling dizzy, I slide my hand to his wrist, my fingers gripping tightly as I try to stabilize myself. My other hand snakes around to the back of his neck and I pull him closer. I have dreamt of this moment for the past ten years.

  Julian’s hands roam over my body and down to my ass, then untuck my shirt from my pants. His hand skims over the bare skin of my back as he lifts me up, his erection pressing into my stomach, and places me onto my desk. My nipples pebble and my core aches. My legs open, allowing him to step between them, my name falling from his lips like a fervent prayer. Our kiss continues for several minutes, until Julian pulls away and dots a trail of delicate pecks across my neck.

  Avoiding eye contact, he pushes himself up and straightens his clothes, despite still standing between my thighs. His erection is plainly visible through his jeans.

  Mortified by my reaction to this man, my face reddens as my conscience screams angrily, begging to know what the hell just happened.

  Julian looks up and stares at me wi
th a smug grin.

  Bastard!

  Involuntarily, my hand rises and slaps him clear across the face. His head moves with the motion, almost as though he were expecting my strike.

  “What the fuck was that?” I demand.

  His hand rises to his cheek, rubbing away the sting. “You shouldn’t hit people.”

  “And you shouldn’t waltz into my office after all these years and do...” I wave my hand around, “that.”

  He leans in for another kiss.

  Julian!” I shout, pushing him away and standing. “Don’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “What is wrong with you?” I stammer. “You can’t just kiss me like that!”

  “But you liked it, didn’t you? You’ve thought about that for years, haven’t you?”

  I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes. If I weren’t wearing lipstick that would smudge, I would wipe my lips with the back of my hand and spit onto the floor for dramatic effect. “That’s not the point.”

  His eyes drop to my nipples, which are still taut, and he smirks. “Just like the old days.”

  The reminder causes an ache in my heart. Hopping off the desk and striding to the window, I look out at the gray clouds rolling in. It’s ominous, a sign of troubling times.

  I spin around with a gasp. “Are you sick? Are you dying? Is that why you’re here?”

  Julian chuckles, then reaches for his cell phone in his pocket when it vibrates. His face falls as he sighs. He taps out a quick response, then slides it back into his jeans.

  “Is that your girlfriend? Maybe you should tell her you just came here and kissed me.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  I snort. “That’s a lie. Everyone knows you’re dating Gigi Asher.”

  Julian shakes his head. “I ended things with her last night.”

  “Why?” I demand skeptically. “What changed so much since you saw me a few nights ago at the restaurant?”

  “You. saw you...and everything changed for me.”

  “Oh, my god! What a crock of bullshit. You haven’t seen me since…” My words fade as I choke back the emotion, remembering the last time I saw him.