Bigger Than Beckham

by V. K. Sykes

  “What?” Holly asked as Martha started to roll her eyes, knowing what was coming.

  “They’re practically delirious because we promised we’d sell decent beer at the stadium next year instead of that disgusting Steam Train swill,” Tony said. “I figure that promise sold more season tickets than anything the squad did down on the pitch.”

  Nate and Holly both laughed, but Holly quickly changed to subject. “On a more serious note, is it true what Nate’s been telling me, Martha? That you’re selling your condo because you’re not coming back to Philadelphia?”

  That was indeed true, although Martha hadn’t told many people yet since the decision was so new. But she and Tony had finally reached the point in their relationship that called for plans—solid, long-term plans. Only last week they’d agreed to divide their time for the foreseeable future between his London home and her father’s house in Jacksonville. Her house, now, she’d reminded herself. Hers and Tony’s. She already had ideas rattling around in her head for a major renovation and redecoration project, one that would turn the cool, formal house into a welcoming home.

  Their plan meant they would rarely have to be parted for any length of time, and that suited her to a tee. Living arrangements would have to be fluid for a while until the Thunder situation was fully stabilized, and until Martha figured out exactly how she was going to focus her career moving forward. They’d spent the past three months jetting back and forth between Florida and London in a whirlwind of excitement that had seen their relationship grow into a full and loving commitment. And while it continued to be a work in progress, she and Tony had agreed that whatever happened and wherever her career took her, they would never let themselves be separated for long. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was done with covering a full-time sports beat for the Post. So, as much as she loved both the apartment and the city, it no longer made sense for her to keep the condo.

  Tony put his arm around her waist and gave her a little squeeze. “Before you answer Holly’s question, love, let me say something. Because since we got here, I’ve been doing some more thinking about the move.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?” Martha gave him an imperious stare.

  Tony’s arm tightened around her. “Yes, I have. Just because you’re not going back to the paper, it doesn’t mean you have to abandon Philadelphia. After all, most of your friends live here, so it doesn’t make sense not to be in the city for part of the year.” He bent his knees slightly, looking straight into her eyes. “So, why don’t you keep the condo, love? Hell, it’s not like we can’t afford it. I enjoy baseball, and it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun taking in some Patriots’ games, watching Nate mow down batters. Who knows, maybe you could even write some freelance features on the Patriots.”

  “Oh, God, no. Just when I thought we got rid of her,” Nate muttered, clutching at his chest.

  Martha laughed at her friend’s fake heart attack, but she quickly turned her full attention back to Tony. “I have to say that you appear to have come up with yet another brilliant idea, Mr. Branch. One that makes perfect sense to me.”

  She leaned up and kissed him on his slightly stubbled cheek, wondering if life could possibly be any sweeter for her than it was at this very moment. She had her team, her career, and, most importantly, a wonderful man who loved and accepted her.

  Her father would have indeed been proud.

  Thank you for reading our book; we hope you enjoyed it. Please help other readers find Bigger Than Beckham by posting a review on Barnes & Noble, goodreads, or Amazon. For more information on our books and upcoming releases, please visit our website at http://www.vksykes.com or “like” us on facebook at VKSykesBooks.

  And for a taste of the other books in our Philadelphia Patriots Series, please check out the following excerpts from Fastball and Hardball.

  Happy reading!

  Fastball

  Book One in the Philadelphia Patriots Series

  Baseball reporter Maddie Leclair has spent years chasing her dream job—covering the major league team, the Philadelphia Patriots. Now that she’s landed the assignment she intends to make it big, with feature articles on the front page of every sports section in the country. But to do that, she needs to score an interview with the most private and elusive athlete in baseball, Patriots’ superstar Jake Miller.

  On the rebound from a devastating injury that knocked him out of play for a season, Jake has a lot to prove to the suits in the head office. He’s sure he still has what it takes to win, and he’ll be damned if he lets anything get in the way of his climb back to the top of the charts.

  The last thing Jake needs is a pushy female reporter distracting him. But one look at Maddie and he knows he’s in trouble. He finds himself trying for a different kind of play, one that involves bedrooms and not baseball stats. Sleeping together could damage both their careers, and Maddie is all about saying no. But when it comes to the game of love, Jake is playing to win.

  After what seemed like an interminable and altogether tense cab ride, Maddie arrived at the restaurant shortly after eight. She spotted Jake immediately, already seated and looking astoundingly handsome in a navy sports jacket that framed his broad shoulders, a crisp white shirt, and a gold silk tie. The tie alone would likely have cost her at least a week’s salary and, for a moment, she couldn’t hold back a flash of anxiety. Jake Miller was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny, and she had to fight the urge to back slowly out of the room before he even saw her. Impossible, of course, since the maitre’d was conducting her to the table with as much ceremony as a drum major led the band before a college bowl game.

  Suck it up and act like a pro, girl.

  She plastered a smile on her face as Jake stood to greet her, his sexy mouth parting in a slow grin, his gaze flicking appreciatively over her body. For a few seconds, she actually felt faint with pleasure and nerves, and she had to clamp down hard on the dizzy sensations rocking her body. Despite the effort, she could still feel the blush spreading over her cheeks, and the butterflies in her stomach went into full flap as Jake gallantly brushed the maitre’d aside and pulled out a chair to seat her.

  As a sportswriter, Maddie was used to being around hot guys. She’d had her share of locker room encounters, and had seen enough naked chests and towel-wrapped asses to make such sights routine. But no player had affected her quite like Jake Miller, and she’d only seen him fully dressed. All he’d done so far was smile and pull out her chair for her, but she could already feel her hormones sparking in reaction.

  And she couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had pulled out a chair for her, waiting until she was settled before taking his own seat. She had to get a grip on her all-too-eager libido or she might be offering to have his babies before they finished the first course.

  “Thanks, Jake. Sorry if I’m a bit late. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” She tried for casual, even though she felt anything but.

  He shook his head, sending a lock of thick, wheat-colored hair sliding onto his forehead. He quickly raked a hand back to put it in place. “Maddie, would you mind if I say that you look absolutely spectacular tonight?”

  She accepted the compliment with a smile and fussed with her purse for a moment before meeting his gaze. Casual wasn’t working, so maybe a little honesty was called for. “I’m not exactly sure how to do this, Jake. I’m obviously not used to conducting an interview under these circumstances. Maybe the best thing would be to eat, and then I’ll get out my recorder and we’ll talk business over coffee. Would that be okay?”

  Jake shrugged, and Maddie found herself mesmerized by the slide of his brawny shoulders under the smooth, expensive fabric of his jacket. She blinked and gave her head a mental shake. Man, she truly needed to get a grip.

  “Sounds good,” he said. “But why don’t we make a start on it now, after we get you a drink?”

  “Even better,” she said, relieved to focus on work. Right now, it felt just a bit too personal
for her comfort.

  Jake motioned to the waiter. Since it was supposed to be a business meeting, she thought about ordering a coke or mineral water. But she opted instead for a glass of Sauvignon blanc, secretly acknowledging she could use a drink to settle her nerves. Jake ordered a bottle and Maddie retrieved her digital recorder, placing it on the table between them.

  “Okay to start?” she said.

  He leaned back, elbows resting on the arms of his chair, fingers laced in an easy grip. “Fire when ready,” he replied, looking totally relaxed. Maddie had never met a man who seemed more comfortable in his own skin, and it had the effect of easing her own nervous tension.

  You can do this. Just stick to the prepared questions and you’ll be fine.

  A deep breath and she launched into her questions. “Jake, I’m sure you must be expecting that I’ll want you to talk about the progress of your recovery from the ankle surgery,” she said rather formally for the benefit of the recorder. “About your expectations for this season and so on. I do want to talk about all that, but we can get to those things later, if that’s all right.”

  He arched his brows slightly. Good. She had surprised him.

  “I say that,” she continued, “because that stuff isn’t really what I’m interested in for a feature piece.”

  He unleashed one of those sexy smiles. “Whatever you like, Maddie. I’m in your capable hands.”

  It finally dawned on her just how much that devastating smile contributed to his charm. His was an open and honest face with chiseled features, and his easy, masculine grin conveyed both mature intelligence and good humor. Maddie found it disarmingly inviting.

  She blinked, losing her bearings for just a second before pulling it back together.

  “Um, what I want to write about is what it’s been like to be Jake Miller, ballplayer and man. What was it like for you growing up? What were your hopes and dreams, and have you fulfilled them yet? What your life is like now, both on and off the field—who you’re close to, what inspires you, that sort of thing.”

  His sharp gaze narrowed on her, as if assessing her intent. That irked her a bit, since she’d been straight with him from the beginning. If someone at this table had an ulterior motive for the evening, it sure as hell wasn’t her.

  “You said you’d tell me what I wanted to know. Well, that’s what I want to write about,” she said, defiantly meeting his gaze. “I want my readers to know something about who Jake Miller really is. I don’t want to simply feed them the usual babble and athlete-speak that players and reporters always trot out. That’s incredibly boring and we all know it.”

  When she stopped talking, a short silence fell over the table. Maddie reached over and clicked off the recorder before lifting her eyes back to his face. “Look, Jake, I’m even willing to let you see a draft of the article and talk about it before I submit the final version to the paper. I don’t want you to hold back because you think I’ll sandbag you somehow. That’s not my style, and I think you know it. When this piece is ready to go, my hope is that you’ll be as happy with it as I am.”

  She held his gaze, praying she hadn’t made a huge blunder by coming here. She couldn’t afford to offend him, but she had a job to do and he needed to be clear on that. Whatever else might be going on she could address later, after she got her interview.

  If she got her interview.

  Jake took a drink, his eyes narrowed in concentration. She had to repress the temptation to fiddle with something—always a dead giveaway whenever her insecurities rose to the surface—but she vowed not to back down. She’d be willing to bet that no other reporter had ever stated the matter so bluntly, or under such unusual circumstances. He’d always made it clear to the world that he was a very private person, rebuffing any attempt to get him to talk about anything other than baseball. And although he had a well-deserved reputation for being a gentleman, she knew Jake had told more than one pushy reporter to mind his own damn business. His personal life had always been out of bounds to the press and the public.

  As the silence between them lengthened, and Jake’s inscrutable expression revealed nothing, the butterflies in Maddie’s stomach took a synchronized nosedive. It looked like her exclusive, ground-breaking interview would be over before it started.

  BUY FASTBALL AT SMASHWORDS

  Hardball

  Book Two in the Philadelphia Patriots Series

  After years of hard work and keeping her nose firmly to the grindstone, Dr. Holly Bell has finally achieved her dream: a position as a pediatric surgeon at a prestigious teaching hospital. Children’s lives rest in her skilled hands. That means total dedication to her work and her patients without letting anything or anyone get in the way. And a hot affair with a superstar athlete is most definitely getting in Holly’s way.

  Nate Carter, star pitcher for the Philadelphia Patriots, has the world in the palm of his baseball glove. He’s at the height of his game, a west coast team is about to lure him with even greater riches, and the most gorgeous women in town are in full pursuit. Nate has everything he wants, or at least he thinks he does, until he meets the beautiful and brainy Dr. Holly Bell. He’s totally up for a hot affair, and Holly turns out to be the hottest.

  But will Holly be willing to play his game? When the lovely doctor starts changing the rules, Nate realizes he just might be playing for keeps.

  Nate entered the room. Two steps inside, he stopped short, brushing up against a woman in a white lab coat. She must have been standing at the foot of the bed, fully hidden by the door.

  The woman took a small step backward, clearly startled by the brief physical contact. As their eyes met, Nate felt all the air sucked from his lungs in one whoosh.

  Sweet Mother of God.

  He had to pull in a deep breath. What a babe.

  The woman’s brow creased. “I’m Dr. Bell. Can I help you?”

  He couldn’t stop his gaze from quickly traveling the full length of her body, from her face to her ankles and all the way back again. Though not nearly as tall as he was, this doctor was one seriously long drink of a woman. Close to six feet, he reckoned. Her unbuttoned lab coat revealed a lean but curvy figure, and long, elegant legs. She had a naturally beautiful face, too, with big, hazel eyes, a full, sexy mouth, and a peaches and cream complexion. Still, he suspected she tended to hide her light under a bushel. She wore no makeup that he could see, and her auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Glasses were perched on the end of her nose, secured by a fine gold chain around her neck. They added to her unadorned, resolutely professional look.

  The doctor extended a slender hand. Her fine eyebrows arched as she waited for him to find his voice.

  Her outstretched hand finally registered in his brain and jolted him into action. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I was a little surprised for a moment. You were hidden by the door.”

  He took her hand and held it a few seconds. It was long and fine-boned, but her firm grip told him it was strong, too. The kind of hand he’d like to have doing surgery on him. In fact, he mused, he wouldn’t mind that hand doing all sorts of things to his body.

  He introduced himself. “I’m Nate Carter. I come around whenever I can to visit with the kids.”

  She still looked puzzled. It dawned on him that she had absolutely no idea who he was. It didn’t bother him, though. Actually, it felt like a nice change of pace from the constant fan recognition.

  “I’m a pitcher with the Patriots,” he said. “You know. Baseball.”

  Her mouth relaxed into a half-smile. “Oh, I see,” she replied. “You’re one of our celebrity visitors.” Her crisp tone told him she was far from awed by his presence. Looking down at the little girl, she said, “Mr. Carter, this is Morgan McDaniel.”

  Morgan shyly put her little hand in his big one.

  “Dr. Holly, I know who Nate Carter is,” she said in a whispery voice. “He’s the Patriots’ best pitcher. Everybody knows that.”

  Dr. Bell seemed to hold back a
smile as Morgan skewered her. “I don’t think I’ve told you yet how new I am to the city, Morgan,” she said, her serious voice at odds with the amusement in her eyes. “If I’d been here for more than just a few weeks, I’m sure I would have recognized a man as famous as Mr. Carter.”

  Nate smothered a chuckle. What a perfect response. She validated what the little girl had said, and made him feel good at the same time.

  “That’s why I didn’t recognize you, either,” he said. “I’ve met most of the doctors here over the past few years, and I know I would have remembered if I’d ever seen you before.” He made no attempt to keep the appreciation out of his voice.

  “Well, then, I suppose we might run into each other again.” Her smile was hesitant but intriguing. “Since you’re a regular visitor here.”

  “You bet,” he said.

  As if he didn’t already have enough motivation to keep doing this. “Dr. Bell,” he continued, wanting to keep the conversation going, “do you mind my asking where you’re from? I detect a bit of a southern accent.”

  She sighed, her expression conveying rueful resignation. “You’re probably hearing the north Florida in my voice. I grew up in Jacksonville. But for the last nine years I’ve been studying and working at the University of Virginia.”

  “You’re from Jacksonville? No kidding? I’ve got a condo in Ponte Vedra Beach, and I’m in Jax all the time when I’m down there.” He looked over at Morgan, staring at the adults with big, round eyes, and winked. The little girl giggled.

  Nate glanced back at the doctor. “That’s got to be some kind of karma, right?”

  Dr. Bell registered his flirtation, and her eyes widened in surprise. A slight blush colored her smooth cheeks. He could feel his smile broaden as she somewhat defiantly returned his look, and it occurred to him that perhaps the good doctor was issuing a challenge.