A 2 STEP GAME: An Older Man Younger Woman Pregnancy Menage Romance (The Happily Ever After Series (Book 1))

by Amy Brent

  Payton was looking out the window of the airport and seeing that the woman that was carrying his child had now found a way to slip his grasp. He watched the plane disappear, but that was not going to be enough to stop him. He knew that she was on her way to a friend’s place in Tahoe. He thought that if he could corner her at the airport that he could confront her about the baby. Unfortunately, fate had a funny way of playing with his mind and now he had no choice, but to follow her. He had already contacted a private jet and they were already fueled and ready to go on the tarmac.

  He felt like his friend had set him up and by telling him that she was pregnant made it impossible for him to let her go without him having his say. Over the last couple of weeks, he couldn’t think of anybody else and it had made him look at the other girls more critically. There were those that were falling all over themselves to be with him, but he denied them that request. He had been celibate for the past two weeks and he had no idea how a girl like Josie could get underneath his skin like that. Her curves and her beautifully big body were permanently on his mind.

  He was escorted onto the plane and given the VIP treatment of a celebrity. They were going to meet again and by hell or high water, he was going to make sure that she knew exactly how he felt.

  It was a matter of being in the right place at the right time and it seemed that the universe had other ideas of making them like ships in the night. She arrived at the Airport first and went through the customs, before finding a rent a car in her name waiting for her arrival. She drove away from the curb, not realizing that Payton had come out at precisely that time.

  Payton called his friend and gave him an ultimatum that he couldn’t refuse. He would get him tickets to the playoffs behind the players box, but he had to find a way to squeeze the information out of the person that he had over heard talking about Payton and the pregnancy. He waited by packing back and forth in front of the Airport doors.

  “I got the information that you want and you better not be fucking with me, Payton. I want those playoff tickets and you have no idea what I had to do to get that information. Let’s just say that I’m taking one for the team and leave it at that.” Payton’s friend was one of the other teammates. He wasn’t exactly attracted to the supplier of that information. She wouldn’t give in, until he agreed to one night. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, as this girl was different than the others. She had this certain quality and maybe it was a good thing that they found each other.

  “I promised you the tickets and I am not a man that goes back on my word. I don’t know how to thank you.” He hung up. He hailed a taxi and gave them the address to where he wanted to go. It would take about 15 minutes to get there. He had no idea why Josie would keep this from him, but she had to have a good reason. It was possible that his claim that this was supposed to be a one night stand had made her wonder if maybe their night together was only supposed to be that one night. If that were the case, then he wouldn’t blame her one bit for trying to keep this to herself.

  Josie had arrived at the cabin, swung open the door and closed it behind her. She had stopped for a few supplies, but there was a full pantry at her disposal. She had just begun to cook a very hearty meal of pasta, when she saw the headlights of some car coming up the drive. She thought that maybe it was one of her friend’s friends, but then she shockingly put her hand up to her mouth. Payton emerged like a ghost from the past.

  Payton saw her through the window and he rushed to the stairs. He looked at her through the only obstacle in the way. She was shaking her head. He smiled and saw that her worry that he was angry had now diminished. He motioned for the door to open and she knew exactly what he wanted. They stood there staring at each other a few inches away.

  Payton placed his hand on her stomach and even though it was still too early, he was aware that his prodigy was lying within. “I’m sorry that I made you think that I didn’t want any of this. I think that I was scared that you were getting a little too close for comfort. I thought that I was going soft, but I think I realize now that love has a way of striking at a moment’s notice.”

  His hand on her stomach made her see his desire for family had come from a night that they could never talk about openly with anyone. It was wild and untamed and then he was sweeping her off her feet. “I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting to see you and there’s a small part of me that thinks that I’m going to pinch myself and find out that I’m dreaming.” He carried her across the threshold and over to the dining room table. There were no plates to get in the way, as he placed her on top of it. They frantically went after each other’s clothing with him dropping his pants and her lifting her skirt like she had done in the club.

  He spit into his hand and made sure that she was ready, before taking her breath way with the first stroke of his mighty weapon. This was a performance that was one that had to be seen. They hammered into each other, forcing each other to look into each other’s eyes and knowing that this was only the beginning.

  “Fuck me…fuck me like you didn’t do that night.” She was forcing him to think outside the box and not just do the same thing over again. “I mean it…show me that I’m not just a number or a notch on your belt. Show me with your body that things can always be spicy between us.”

  Payton lifted her and she found her legs dangling around his waist with her body now suspended in the air. They’d never done this before and she knew that she must’ve been special for him to put up with the strain of her weight wrapped around him like a boa constrictor.

  “I need this more than you can ever know. I’ve been without, since the moment that you left me that morning. I’m not just saying that and I think that you know what I’m referring to…your body…your eyes and the way that you move is like no other. You are a rare gem that needs to be appreciated… Fuck… Fuck…my god; you are just, as wild as I remember. He pushed her up against the wall, not even bothering to care that the pot of vegetables were boiling over. He did manage to reach out and turn the knob to prevent any kind of fire. The only fire that needed to burn out of control was the one between them.

  Josie bit his neck and made him cry out, as his cock bucked to the sensation of not only her constricting pussy, but the feel of her mouth making him shiver. He pushed her up against that wall and made her feel him deep inside. She could feel him even deeper, as he planted his feet and lifted her off the floor with the thrust of his knees. They kissed with their mouths scorching and their minds now remembering that night in vivid clarity.

  “Oh my god….I think that we are going to…”

  “Cum together.” They had said it at exactly the same time, as their union came to an end. They kissed lightly and knew that there was nothing and no one that was going to tear them apart again. He found her by having his friend arrange for him to go to the exact same place that she had tried to hide from him.

  He reached for the inside of his jacket. He took out the annulment papers and tore them up in front of her eyes. Their marriage would stay intact and the family that he had always longed for was right there at his fingertips and he was never going to let them go.

  CARRYING HIS BABY

  “This story isn't right for me,” I told my editor, propping a hand on my hip. “I'm not a sports writer!”

  “This isn't a sports story,” Jim said. He sat behind his desk, looking rumpled, his tie half-undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “It's finance.”

  “The guy's a football player!” I threw up my hands, frustrated at being stuck with this crap assignment. I reported on the events taking place on Wall Street, on the financial heights and pitfalls that shook our very economy. I had no interest in interviewing some smug sports player who probably thought he was the best thing ever to grace the face of the earth. Sports players acted like they were gifted, as if God would take the time to make sure they scored the big points at the end of a playoff game and lead them to victory, instead of worrying about the pain and suffering going on i
n the world. I couldn't see the point of sports, and I didn't want to waste my time, or my column with The Dawson Post, with a story about some athlete I'd never even heard of before today.

  “He's also a billionaire,” Jim said. He picked up a page from the open file folder in front of him and skimmed the notes on it. “Not only is he one of the highest paid players out there, he's apparently also a genius when it comes to investing. Played football for Columbia University while studying financial economics. His bio says he was originally going to go into banking, but he was good enough at the game to get drafted. He makes millions per year now as a quarterback and he's invested a bunch of that in risky startup companies that became huge hits on Wall Street. And he just got traded, got a huge signing bonus, put the bonus into the market, and the payoff raised his net worth to over one billion.”

  He put down the paper and looked up at me. “I want you to interview him for the finance page. Find out his secrets. Ask him what tips he can offer our readers on investing strategies. That sort of thing.”

  I folded my arms under my generous breasts, frowning at Jim. “I don't need to ask him a bunch of fluff questions about winning the Superbowl?”

  “Jane, I told you,” Jim said, rising from behind his desk and walking around it to face me. “This isn't a sports story. Hal Masterson has been interviewed a thousand times over the course of his career by every sports page in the industry. But no one,” he shook a finger in my face, “has ever done a story on him for finance. It'll be a hit. Trust me on this one.”

  I sighed and lowered my arms to my sides. Jim had his heels dug in on this one, and it seemed like I didn't have much choice in the matter. Though at least, I figured, I could make an interesting story out of it, as long as Hal didn't spend the entire time talking about football.

  Jim handed me the folder and I left, heading down the hall to my office. I wasn't happy about being stuck with the Hal Masterson story, but I figured I might as well get it over with as soon as possible. Then I could get back to reporting the real financial news, writing stories about the changing shape of the American economy and making predictions about upcoming shifts in employment trends. The types of stories I'd studied and worked hard at for years to make a name for myself with this paper.

  I spent the next few hours in my office, doing research and making phone calls. I always believe in being thorough in my work, so I researched all the major news on Masterson, going back ten years to the day he was first draft pick out of college, on through his rise as a major sports star, and up to the more recent news about his financial windfalls. Jim had been right about one thing: there was really no financial news on Masterson. There were some reports listing him among the top ten highest paid athletes in the NFL, with a few mentions here and there about his investments and the money he'd made on Wall Street. But all the reports were written by sports page reporters, who focused on his skills at the game, and only mentioned his wealth as a side note.

  Once I had enough information to begin building a foundation for my story, I picked up the phone and called the PR office for Masterson's team. When someone answered I put on my most professional tone and said, “Hello, this is Jane Edison with The Dawson Post's Finance and Economics page. I'd like to set up an interview with one of your players, Hal Masterson.”

  “Did you say finance and economics?” the woman asked me. Her tone sounded like she was as doubtful about this story as I was.

  “That's right,” I said. “We'd like to do a profile on Mr. Masterson, in light of his recent financial success. Talk to him about his investment strategies, how he managed so much success, that sort of thing.”

  “Hold on a moment.” The woman set the phone down, though I could hear muted voices coming through the line, as if she were whispering with someone nearby. After a minute she picked up the phone again and said, “I'm sorry, Ms. Edison, but I'm afraid the finance pages aren't really the sort of publicity we're looking for.”

  “But—”

  “I'm sorry,” she said again, cutting me off. “Thank you for your interest. Have a nice day.”

  She hung up on me and I sat there, staring at my phone, a scowl forming on my lips. I didn't want to do this stupid story anyway, but I wasn't about to let this woman just dismiss me like that. I was going to find a way to talk to Masterson, no matter what it took.

  I thought about how to proceed. I had some colleagues who had done crazy things to get interviews with sports stars, from stalking them at their homes to sneaking into the locker room after a game, pretending to be a towel boy. That sort of thing wasn't quite my style, however. I needed to approach this from the same angle I was approaching my story: the finance angle.

  I smirked as the idea came to me. I looked through my notes until I found the name of one of the companies Masterson had invested in. He had a large number of shares in a company called Jonas General Merchandise Suppliers. GMS had started as a small, family-owned business before their smart online practices and their innovative marketing campaign, which blended social media, video advertising, and traditional marketing strategies, had launched them into a nationwide powerhouse. According to my research, Masterson had first invested in them because he had gone to school with one of the Jonas kids, who now, ten years later, sat on the executive board of their company. There was a connection that I could exploit in order to get my interview.

  I located a phone number for Jonas GMS and told their PR representative that I wanted to do a story on their company's rise from a family business to a major corporation. They were only too eager to agree. I jotted down all of the details in my notebook and made the arrangements, then thanked them and hung up the phone.

  I looked at the appointment notes and grinned. I'd be able to get a real financial story for my pages by interviewing someone from GMS, and at the same time I'd have the chance to milk them for a connection to Masterson. It was like getting two stories for the price of one.

  * * *

  My interview with Brett Jonas went smooth as can be. I got all kinds of information about their business, how they got started, and what they had done to grow into such a successful corporation. Masterson's investment had been a big part of their growth; he had dumped millions into the company with the money he'd made playing football, and they had used that money to expand the company and grow to new heights. It hadn't been tough to get Brett talking about Masterson and his role as an investor. Towards the end of the interview, I subtly slipped in the question that had been my real reason for coming here.

  “So I know Hal Masterson is a big football star and all, but you say he's still involved with the company?”

  “Yes,” Brett said. She was a pleasant woman, with long brown hair and a bit of baby fat still showing around her cheeks. “He's one of our primary shareholders. He doesn't get directly involved in things, of course. But he still has votes at shareholder meetings.”

  “Do you think he'd be interested in speaking with me?” I asked, trying to keep myself from smiling too much and giving away my little game. “What with his sports fame and all, a few quotes from him about your company could be a nice way to draw in more readers. Make sure the story gets the attention it deserves.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a great idea!” Brett said.

  We chatted a bit longer, and Brett promised to contact Masterson personally and ask him to do the interview. I gave her my card and she told me she'd give Hal my number.

  Now all I had to do was wait.

  A few days later, Hal called me. As soon as I answered the phone, I could tell this guy was too full of himself.

  “So,” he said after we made our greetings, “Brett tells me you'd like to do a story about me?”

  “Actually,” I said, “the story is about Jonas GMS. But I think your input would be invaluable, considering your history of involvement with the company.” That was a lie, of course. I needed the interview with Hal himself in order to satisfy my editor. But I figured it would be easier to get the informati
on I needed if I played it cool and pretended that Hal wasn't my real goal.

  “Ahh,” he said. “Well, that's nice. Brett's a good friend. We were almost a little more than friends, if you know what I mean.”

  I rolled my eyes, glad he couldn't see the disgusted look on my face. He was probably the sort of man who always had women fawning all over him. He no doubt thought he was God's gift and that he could get any woman he wanted. Not that I expected him to be interested in a girl like me. He probably dated supermodels. I was a big girl, and while I was comfortable with my weight and confident that I could be both big and sexy at the same time, I knew that some superficial types of men couldn't see past a girl's waistline and realize what a catch she was. My ex certainly hadn't been able to.

  “Is this something we can do over the phone?” Hal asked.

  “Actually, I'd prefer to meet in person.” Meeting in person meant I could corner Hal into answering whatever questions I needed without him being able to simply hang up on me. And I wasn't planning on being nice in my interview or catering to his stardom.

  “Maybe we can do it over dinner?” he offered. “I know a quiet place where we can meet. Nice and private.”

  I rolled my eyes. Was this guy really trying to turn our interview into a date?

  “I'd prefer a more professional setting,” I told him.

  “All right,” he said. “We're playing in Philly next week. We can meet at the hotel, in one of the conference rooms. How's that sound?”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  We ironed out the details and arranged a time to meet. I'd have the next week to keep digging up whatever I could on Hal Masterson. If there had ever been any dirty dealings or insider trading going on in his past, I planned to find out about it. I doubted that a football player could have become a billionaire without breaking some kind of rules, and if there was any kind of scandal to be uncovered, it would make this story more worthwhile. I just had to do my homework and dig up whatever dirt I could find.