by V. K. Sykes
With a sigh, Martha propped her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands. After a few moments she spread her fingers wide to look at Nate. “He wouldn’t have wanted me to suffer. But I guarantee he’d think I failed him yet again,” she said morosely.
Nate made a scoffing noise. “That’s crap. You can’t know that, much less guarantee it. Look, you didn’t fail him—you just couldn’t quite meet the expectations he loaded onto you. Unrealistic expectations, by the way. Actually downright nuts if we cut right down to the heart if it.”
Deep inside, she knew he was right. But making that admission felt a little like losing her father all over again. As long as she owned the team, Daddy was somehow still with her.
“If I have to wind up selling, I don’t want it to be to Steam Train and its slimy, ratbag CEO,” she finally said. “I just hope I have a choice in the end.”
“It’s no contest as far as I’m concerned,” Nate said. “You know your dad would want you to sell to a football man, not a frigging brewery. Besides, Tony Branch is a smart man, and a good guy, too.”
Martha bolted upright in her chair. “Huh? You know Branch?”
Nate had just stuffed more fries into his mouth, so she had to wait impatiently until he chewed and swallowed.
He nodded. “I’ve met him a couple of times at hospital charity events. The guy’s a big gun fundraiser for the Evelina Children’s Hospital in London. A while ago—I guess it was about three years now—we both spoke at their annual dinner. We got on great, so the year after that I arranged to have him come over to Philly to help out with our big PCH fundraiser.”
Right. Martha had missed the charity sports dinner that year as she was away covering a tennis tour event. But she vaguely remembered seeing Tony’s name on the list of celebrities that had attended the fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital. “Of course. I didn’t realize until now that you two had that in common.”
Nate arched a brow. “You said you’re meeting with Tony today, right?”
“Oh, yeah. It should certainly be interesting,” she said in the blandest voice she could manage.
“Maybe I can catch up with him sometime later tonight. It would a shame to miss him when we’re passing through the same town. Do you mind giving him my cell number?”
Martha thought Tony might have other plans—plans involving her and a lot of sweaty, naked skin—but she wasn’t about to share that sweet prospect with Nate, best friend or not. “Sure. No problem.”
“I decided to spend the night down here anyway,” Nate said. “Maybe we could all get together later.” He nodded. “Yeah, why not? Give you more of a chance to check him out.”
Crap.
“There’s something I need to tell you about Tony Branch, hon,” she said with a sigh.
Nate stared at her for several long seconds, then slowly raised his eyebrows.
Double crap.
“Ah, I was in London last weekend,” she said, “to do an interview for an article Martin James asked me to write. And, well...Tony and I kind of got together.”
What a lame euphemism that was for the best sex of her life.
Nate clearly didn’t buy it for a second. “Kind of got together, huh?” His mouth curved into a teasing grin. “Well, I think I like the sound of that, but it complicates things a little, doesn’t it? Fun is fun, but you can’t let it mess with business, right? In fact, I’d say you could probably use a good agent to negotiate this deal for you, especially if you’re feeling conflicted about it.”
Was she conflicted? Without a doubt, Martha would have preferred to sell to Tony even if she’d never slept with him. But was her head on straight enough that she could negotiate the best possible contract, particularly when it came to saving jobs? Could her heart stand up to a full frontal assault from Tony Branch?
Nate was right to ask the question, and Martha knew she’d better be able to answer it very soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Martha got off the Hyatt Regency elevator on the seventeenth floor and quickly found the corner suite where she knew Ginny Cross had settled in a short time ago. Tony had called Martha from the airport as soon as his plane landed, insisting she make the interview with Ginny a priority. That had surprised Martha, since she’d figured Tony would want to deal with the sale of the Thunder as soon as he got boots on the ground.
Though it scared her half to death, she couldn’t wait to see Tony again. That simple fact begged the question of how she was supposed to negotiate the sale of her team when a good part of her brain and all of her hormones were focused on getting him into her bed. Like Nate had said, their personal relationship did complicate things. Martha understood that she was going to have the very devil of a time ensuring that business and pleasure didn’t combine into a destructive fireball that might well burn them both to a crisp.
Despite all the stress she was under regarding the team, she was totally pumped to meet Colton’s ex-wife and hopefully sign her on for the article. Her excitement was a weird mix of determination and nervous energy as she thought through all the obstacles that stood between her and bringing Colton down. In order for her to succeed, Martha needed to gain Ginny’s trust, and that was a tall order.
When she heard movement behind the hotel room door, Martha fixed a friendly smile on her face and hoped she didn’t look as anxious as she felt. It wouldn’t be an easy interview for either of them, and she needed to make it as comfortable as possible for Ginny. Appearing confident was essential.
The door swung open and a stunningly beautiful, auburn-haired woman stood before Martha.
“Hello, Martha. I’m Ginny Cross,” the woman said in a subdued, cultured voice. She didn’t exactly frown, but her dark eyes were narrow and guarded and her full lips held no hint of a smile.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Ginny,” Martha said warmly. “Thank you so much for seeing me.” She almost said Tony’s told me a lot about you, but managed to bite her tongue just in time.
Ginny wore a simple, white linen shirt and tight, ankle-hugging black pants. She looked casually put together but also weary, even drained. As Martha followed her down the short hall into the spacious suite that overlooked the downtown area, she noticed Ginny’s shoulders were hunched up around her ears and her arms were tightly crossed over her chest.
With a nod, Ginny pointed Martha to a comfortable-looking armchair placed at a right angle to the sofa, then sat down in the counterpart armchair directly across. A sturdy wooden coffee table separated the chairs, leaving the women eight feet or so apart. Clearly, Ginny wanted to maintain her distance.
“I can order room service, Martha,” she said. “Coffee or tea? Or bottled water, if you prefer.”
“Coffee would be great, thanks.” What Martha really wanted was a drink, and she suspected Ginny could use one, too. But asking for a stiff shot of bourbon wouldn’t exactly leave the best impression.
As Ginny ordered coffee, Martha covertly studied Tony’s former lover. She was about Martha’s age, and average height and weight. But that was all that was average about Ginny Cross. Aside from her model perfect face, God and genetics had blessed her with a figure that would have guys howling at the moon. While Martha was long, lean, and blonde, brunette Ginny was all about generous, sexy curves, even as she managed to convey an aura of fragility that men would likely find very appealing. It was obvious why Tony had fallen for her all those years ago, and Martha was honest enough to acknowledge a sudden flash of insecurity.
As they waited for the coffee to arrive, she marshaled the techniques she’d learned over years of interviewing reluctant subjects. She started by explaining her background as a sports reporter, but refrained from mentioning that Colton had specifically asked her to write the article in question. That piece of information certainly wouldn’t inspire trust on Ginny’s part, even though Martha clearly was not on Colton’s side.
“Tony filled me in on some of your background,” Ginny said after a few minutes of small talk a
bout London. “He spoke extremely highly of your qualifications as a journalist.”
“That’s gratifying to know,” Martha replied, keeping it simple.
For the first time, Ginny gave a hint of a smile. “He also said you’ve known Colton for some time, and that you’re not exactly a fan.”
Martha gave a little snort. “I admire his golfing ability, of course, but that’s about all. I think Colton’s a vile, despicable ass, especially for what he did to you.”
Ginny’s eyes widened, but a knock startled her as she was about to speak. She got up quickly and went to the door, leaving Martha to ponder the cutting remark that had just emerged from her mouth.
Once the room service waiter had taken care of business and departed, Ginny poured coffee for them both and then sat back, taking a deep breath as she looked Martha straight in the eyes.
Game on, Martha thought.
Ginny’s gaze dropped to the coffee cup perched on her lap. “Did he try to sleep with you, Martha?” she asked in a crisp voice.
Jesus. That was the last damn thing she wanted to have to answer. But, hell, Ginny deserved to know and Martha had to be honest. “I’m afraid the answer is yes, Ginny.”
Pain briefly flickered across Ginny’s features, distorting them, before her perfect mask reasserted itself. Martha had a hunch the woman spent a good deal of her life behind that particular expression.
“Of course he did,” Ginny said in a biting voice that was at odds with her placid face. “The bastard would shag a lamppost if it had a skirt on. But with someone who looks like you do, Martha….well, he’d never be able to resist having a go.”
“Colton did try his luck with me,” Martha returned gently, “but he certainly didn’t succeed. There was no chance of such a thing ever happening, I promise you. That’s just not me.”
A genuine smile lifted Ginny’s lips. “Good for you, Martha. Not many women can resist Colton. Or so it seems, anyway.”
Martha gave a quiet laugh. “Trust me, hon. I had Colton’s number the first time he slithered up to me.”
Some of the tension seemed to bleed away from Ginny’s body as she relaxed deeper into her chair. “That’s good to know, because I made it clear to Tony that I would not get involved in some jilted woman’s vendetta against Colton, no matter how much I loathe him. I couldn’t allow myself to be used that way.” She flashed an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry to have thought about you like that for even a moment, Martha, but I’m sure you can understand where I was coming from.”
Martha nodded. “I want to seriously skewer Colton Butler, but it’s got nothing to do with me personally. He needs to be called to account for what he’s done—and what he’s probably continuing to do despite his self-proclaimed spiritual rebirth.”
“Spiritual rebirth?” Ginny scoffed. “What a sick, pathetic joke. Colton has always been a master of manipulation, whether it’s with the media, his fans, or friends and family. Given all the bad press he’s had, he obviously decided a reboot was in order. Your article is clearly supposed to be part of the sales job for his coming-out party.”
No kidding. “Yes, but with your help, Ginny, it’ll be no such thing. I guarantee you that.”
Ginny didn’t respond to the clear invitation to get on board. Instead, she ducked her head and looked off to the side, biting her lower lip. Martha patiently waited her out.
“I’m sure you must wonder why I stayed with a man like Colton for such a long time. It’s the first question I’d be asking if I were in your shoes.” Ginny’s voice had tightened.
Martha had already decided not to press for those details—not in this meeting. She just wanted to establish some level of trust between them so the process could get off the ground. But Ginny seemed to be waiting for her to answer.
“It’ll be something my readers will want to know,” Martha said, “though I suspect many of them have a pretty good idea of the dynamics of abusive households.”
“Have you ever been married, Martha? I know you aren’t now.”
Martha smiled. “Not even close.”
Ginny nodded. “I don’t think someone who hasn’t been married could ever truly understand why a woman like me would suffer such abuse in silence.”
“By that I assume you mean a smart, educated woman. Like you.”
“I suppose that’s part of it, yes,” Ginny said, her delicate brows pulling unhappily together. “I’m talking about a woman with options, not someone stuck in a totally dependent situation. Oh, I enjoyed the lavish lifestyle Colton gave me—I’d never deny that. But I had a career, too. I didn’t need his money to survive.”
“Relationships are complicated,” Martha said thoughtfully. “It’s all too easy to get…sucked in. Then it’s damn difficult to break away even when it becomes a nightmare.”
An awkward silence fell. Martha tried to relax as she sipped her coffee, giving Ginny all the time and space she needed.
“I’m sorry I’m so bloody inarticulate,” Ginny said with a grimace. “I thought that meeting you like this could be something of a …” She shrugged.
“A test run?” Martha ventured.
“Yes, I suppose so. Though I seem to have stumbled at the starting gate, haven’t I?”
Martha gave her a warm smile. “Whatever you decide you’d like to say to me, Ginny, you can do it in your own way and in your own time. I’ll never put any pressure on you.”
“Thank you, Martha. Honestly, though, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get the words out, to you or to anyone. I hope you can understand that.”
Martha just about choked with dismay, but she couldn’t ignore the poor woman’s blatant unhappiness. “Ginny, this is downright nosy on my part, but you do have a therapist to talk to, don’t you?”
Ginny nodded vigorously. “Oh, my God, yes. Tony had to drag me to her, practically kicking and screaming, but God bless him for his persistence. I owe him so much for never, ever giving up on me—not even though I was a stupid, stubborn pain in the ass for much of the time. Going to therapy was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. I’d never have had the guts to leave Colton otherwise.”
Every time Ginny uttered Tony’s name, her eyes lit up with something that bordered on reverence. Martha doubted that any woman could be closer to a platonic male friend than she was to Nate Carter, but she didn’t worship at her pal’s feet. Ginny, on the other hand, gave every indication of doing exactly that when it came to Tony.
Envy crackled through Martha like brittle ice—cold and stabbing. How screwed up was it that she found herself getting a little jealous of Ginny’s relationship with Tony? Good Lord, the man was messing with her mind and her heart, and that was beginning to piss her off.
“What does Tony want you to do?” Martha asked, kicking the green-eyed monster out of her head.
“Well, he’d love nothing better than to see me help you cut off Colton’s bollocks.” Ginny exhaled a sigh. “And I know he wants me to do it for myself, too. He thinks I need to do it if I’m going to fully heal, and he may well be right. He says I still have so much rage and hate bottled up inside me that he worries that I may never be able to properly love another man.”
Martha figured Ginny must be paraphrasing, since she couldn’t imagine Tony saying anything quite that touchy-feely. But she just gave a sympathetic nod. “And what do you think?”
Ginny lifted a shoulder in a delicate shrug. “Let’s just say my therapist thinks we’ve still got some work to do, and I can’t disagree with her.” She fidgeted with her coffee cup for a moment before blurting out what sounded like a plea. “Here’s my worry, Martha. Telling my story in public, like you and Tony want, could either be part of the solution or part of the problem. Do you know what I mean?”
She stared at Martha, her big round eyes welling with tears and her beautiful features tragic and haunted. Martha wanted to kick herself right then and there for feeling even a moment of jealousy, or begrudging Ginny one iota of Tony’s attention. Or for putt
ing her needs as a journalist before this woman’s pain.
Putting her cup down, she moved to the sofa, right next to Ginny’s chair. She took the woman’s small, slender hand and held it in a warm clasp. “Of course I do. Look, hon, it really doesn’t matter a damn about what I want, or even what Tony wants. You need to do what your heart says is right for you. Not your brain, but your heart. And I’ll bet your heart knows the answer, even if your head hasn’t quite figured it out.”
Ginny gave her a tearful smile and squeezed back. “I think like you, Martha Winston. Just like Tony said I would.”
* * *
“That’ll be her,” Tony said when he heard the knock on the door of his suite. He rose from the dining table where he and Rex had yet again been going over the hard figures involved in making the best possible bid for the Thunder. “Time for you to get lost, mate.”
Rex shot him a sly grin as he unfolded his long body from his chair and grabbed his briefcase. “Indeed.”
When Tony opened the door, Martha strolled past him, as if she owned the hotel.
“Hey, fellas. Y’all got a nice little arrangement here,” she drawled, letting her gaze wander about the room. “You boys sure do live like tycoons, with your private jets and your fancy hotel suites. And is that bourbon I see on that little table in there?” She put her hand on her hip and vamped for him. “My, my. You two are men after my own heart. How about giving a thirsty lady a drink?”
Tony had to repress a laugh. God, he loved her southern belle routine. And she looked fantastic in a cool, creamy white outfit that accentuated her perfect tan and long golden hair. The professional looking clothes said hands off, but the way she cocked her hip and smiled at him conveyed the exact opposite.