Lexington and 42nd (The Off Field Series #1)

by Kim Carmody

  I straightened to face him, my ankle giving way in the process and he grabbed my upper arm to steady me. “Careful there, Bambi.”

  Oh my God, get it together woman.

  Forcing a casual smile I said, “No, not watching the clock…I’m having a great night.” I cocked my head. “Why, are you not enjoying yourself?” He blinked a few times in rapid succession, the movement small yet noticeable, and with a tiny sense of satisfaction I realized it was now him caught off guard by my accent.

  His smile spread slowly. “It started out a little dull, but it’s certainly beginning to look up.” I felt the full impact of his dark eyes bearing down on me, as if he were searching for something. “You sound like you might be a long way from home?”

  I smiled, relieved he was driving the conversation on behalf of my dysfunctional brain. “Yes, I’m from Sydney, definitely a long way from home.”

  He cocked his head to one side and his brow creased. “How does a pretty little thing from Sydney find herself at an NFL draft party?”

  “I’m actually working for the Warriors on a twelve-month exchange, but I’ve only been here a week.” Judging by his physique, I hoped my guess was correct and continued, “Which team do you play for?”

  Again, I felt his eyes bore into mine for a second too long before he replied. “I’m just here for the free food, actually.”

  Oh, well so much for that guess.

  “Do you have a name pretty-little-thing or should I just stick with Bambi?”

  I laughed, offering my hand. “I’m Emma. Bambi really isn’t necessary.” I watched as his large hand engulfed my own, all but making it disappear.

  “I’m Will. It’s nice to meet you, Emma.” He kept hold of my hand as he signalled to the bartender and nodded to my empty drink. Our eyes met again and he asked, “What are you doing with the Warriors?”

  “I’m looking after a lot of the team’s off-field team commitments. You know, media interviews, events. That sort of thing.” I nodded to the stage. “I’ve been told I’ll be working quite closely with Jensen, and I’ve heard he’s being interviewed shortly.” I smiled, holding up my phone. “Hence, I was checking the time.” Will raised his eyebrows at this and I couldn’t tell if he was amused or just genuinely interested.

  I opened my mouth to ask what he did for a living, but the bar lights dimmed and we both turned to the stage as the host made his way on.

  It was difficult to concentrate on the stage when I was ultra-aware of how close I stood to the beautiful man beside me, could feel his eyes every so often shift to glance at me, the heat of his arm resting against mine.

  We both had our backs to the bar, and when his warm hand slid up the bare skin of my spine, I couldn’t help the way my breath caught. His other arm came around to my front and offered up the champagne he held. I accepted it with a mouthed “thanks,” trying to ignore the way his lip twitched as I willed my breathing back to normal.

  My attention was drawn back to the stage as the host started reading off a list of stats in an impressive introduction of Jensen, the man I’d heard so much about over the past few days. Not only had he gone number one in the 2004 draft, he was currently at the peak of his game and a frequent topic of conversation around the office. I was keen to finally put a face to the man I had heard so much about and would be working closely with for the year.

  “So ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the New York Warriors quarterback, Will Jensen.”

  I clapped as best I could with my full glass of bubbles, turning to look at my new friend when I felt him shift to face me. He was staring at me with a broad grin on his face and when he leaned in close, I felt his warm breath across my neck as he spoke. “I look forward to seeing you round the club, Bambi.” And with that, he walked away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Oh my God.

  Oh my God.

  My hands froze mid-clap as realization dawned.

  Jensen wasn’t a first name, it was a surname. Which belonged to a man by the name of Will.

  Will Jensen.

  The same man I’d just spent the last ten minutes trying not to drool all over. The man I had actually referenced Jensen too, as if he were a different person!

  I felt the redness rising to my cheeks. How could I not know that? Not knowing your team’s quarterback was almost as offensive to Americans as not being able to name the president. Why hadn’t I Googled him?

  I thought back to the couple of times he had stared at me oddly and it clicked into place—he was waiting for me to realize who I was talking to. Idiot! I was likely the only person in the room who didn’t know who he was. Possibly the only person in New York.

  My mind began reasoning, going into damage control mode. No one knew of the mortifying blunder I’d just made, except for the man himself. But that was manageable. Humiliating, yes, but not as disastrous as it would have been if it had happened in front of my new team.

  He was no less attractive from across the room, his voice warm and smooth as he spoke about his experience going number one in the 2004 draft. He had the crowd mesmerized, not only by his looks—although I’m sure more than a few women in the room were probably wiping their drool away with a napkin—but most people were hanging on his every word. In spite of what had just happened, I had to admit he was impressive. He held himself with an air of confidence, yet spoke with a calm openness that made him relatable and warm. I could easily see why sponsors liked him. He was a natural.

  “Going number one in the draft is a big deal. There’s a lot of pressure on you from a young age and as you improve as a player, you’re frequently in the spotlight. What advice would you give to this year’s draftees on handling everything that comes with entering the NFL system?”

  Will’s shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and it was hard not to notice the natural flex of his forearms when he raised the microphone to respond to the host. “It can be tough, I won’t lie, but especially in those early years, it’s just really important to focus on improving your game and listening to the coaches. Everyone will have an opinion about you, but the only thing that really matters is how you’re playing…how you’re contributing to the team.”

  He looked out across the crowd, his gaze lingering as he studied the bar area. If you looked up mortification in the dictionary, you would have seen a picture of my face when his eyes found mine and stayed there. “As for the fame, you need to manage it and you need to surround yourself with people who don’t get caught up in the hype of it all.”

  He extended his free hand toward the bar, nodding in my direction. To anyone else, it would have looked like a vague gesture into the crowd, but it sent my heart rate skyrocketing. My head chanted out a FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck in time with the frantic thud of my heartbeat. “Just tonight I’ve met someone who wasn’t fazed by the whole NFL circus at all.”

  His lip twitched and in that moment I sent a prayer to whoever was listening that I wasn’t about to get called out and humiliated. As if seeing my panic from across the room his arm dropped and he shrugged. “When you find those people, it can be quite refreshing.”

  I started breathing again. And just in time too—I felt like I was about to pass out. Will continued to stare at me and I tried my best to hold his gaze, to act like what had just happened was a slight misunderstanding instead of totally inexcusable ignorance on my behalf. In the end it was no good and I gave up, staring down into my drink like it held the cure for cancer.

  Not game to lift my head again for fear of finding him still watching me, I continued the stare-off with my drink until the crowd erupted in applause and, with relief, I looked up to see Will making his way off the stage. I made a beeline for Carrie and Dana, desperate to put as much distance between me and the bar as possible. Mark caught my eye as I weaved through the crowd and signalled for me to join him.

  “Emma, good timing. I’d like you to meet our club president, John Hayes.” He turned to John. “This is Emma Lexington. She’s the repre
sentative who’s joined us from Sydney on the exchange program.”

  I straightened as I realized who I was being introduced to—the infamous John Hayes, or just Hayes as my colleagues referred to him—best known for his shrewd business sense and short temper. I accepted his extended hand, mimicking the brisk nod he gave me. “I trust you’ve settled in well?”

  “Yes, thank you. Mark and the team have brought me up to speed on everything now.” I smiled, but he only glanced from me to Mark and back again.

  “Well I should hope so. We’ve got an important week ahead of us.”

  Wow, they weren’t exaggerating—this guy was all business. Clearly, niceties weren’t necessary if you were the President of the New York Warriors.

  “Of course,” Mark jumped in. “I’ve got Emma joining me at the opening of the SportsPro store this Saturday with Jensen.”

  At the sound of his name I stiffened, the humiliation still so fresh. And now the idea of attending the store opening—which until a few minutes ago I had been looking forward to—filled me with dread.

  “Good. Good.” He nodded, stepping away from us both. “You’ll have to excuse me, I need to keep moving.”

  We both released a long breath, the tension noticeably dissipating the farther away he got. Mark looked back at me. “We should actually get Jensen over here and introduce you.” Standing on his toes, Mark searched the crowd for Will.

  “No!”

  Not happening.

  “I mean, it’s fine…I actually introduced myself to him at the bar,” I said. Not a total lie. “Don’t bother him. I’m sure he’s got plenty of people wanting to speak to him.”

  “Perfect,” Mark said with a raise of his beer. “You’ll be all set for Saturday then.”

  With that bullet dodged, I made my excuses and went in search of Carrie and Dana.

  I was ready to get the hell out of there.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  So it turns out the draft is a big deal. A huge deal. Not that it wasn’t back home, but this was something else entirely. It was a spectacle, a production. What should be part of a process to deliver on-field entertainment was entertainment in itself.

  The next two days were absolutely manic as literally every area of the business was heavily involved in pulling off a successful campaign, as everyone referred to it. We spent long days at Radio City and even longer nights back at the office managing media and planning for the following day.

  Thankfully, this meant I had little time to worry about the SportsPro store opening and seeing a certain quarterback again. I didn’t need to get there until midday so on Saturday morning, Julia took me to a delightful little café in the West Village for brunch. We were halfway through ordering when Mark called.

  “Hey Mark, everything all right?”

  “Hi Emma, yeah, everything’s fine but unfortunately I’m not going to make it today. It turns out they need me at Radio City for the last day after all. Do you think you can handle this one on your own?”

  Absolutely not.

  “Absolutely! I’ll be fine. Do you need me to come help out afterward?”

  “Thanks, but we’re all good. You should enjoy the rest of your Saturday. I’ll have the car come by your place at 11:30, Jensen’s not too far from you so there’ll be plenty of time to collect him and get to the store on time. He’s usually pretty good, but just run through things one more time on the drive.”

  “Easy, no problems.”

  Mark paused on the other end of the line before going on. “Are you sure? I don’t have much choice but to trust you on this, but it needs to run smoothly. Jensen’s your number-one priority, get him in and out in under an hour and make sure you keep a tight leash on the media—make sure they stay on point.”

  I found myself nodding into the phone, even though he couldn’t see me. Clearly this was a test. “That all sounds fine. I’ll let you know how it goes, but don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”

  I so did not have this under control.

  So much for my plan of staying out of the way and avoiding Will at all costs.

  The car arrived right on time at 11:30 a.m. just as I was contemplating changing outfits for the third time. Really, what do you wear to a work commitment at a sports store opening on a Saturday afternoon?

  Racing through the lounge, I stopped in front of Julia. “Do I look all right?”

  “You look great—I love your top.” Julia tugged at the silk shirt I had on. “What size are you?”

  “An eight.”

  “An eight? There’s literally no way you’re an eight.”

  I frowned at her before realizing. “Oh! We have different sizing charts.” I thought for a second. “I think that means I’m a two…or maybe a four.”

  Julia let out a breath. “That sounds about right.” She glanced over my shoulder toward my bedroom. “And just my size, I can’t wait to see what else you’ve brought.”

  Grabbing my keys I yelled over my shoulder, “See you later, I’ll give you a call but a drink tonight would be great!”

  “Sounds good! Something tells me by then you’ll need it.” She winked, grinning at me as I pulled the door shut. After Mark’s call I’d spilled the beans on my embarrassing introduction to Will. Julia was fast becoming a great friend and as such, she found my predicament suitably hilarious and couldn’t wait to laugh some more at my expense after round two with Will.

  As the car made its way through the Saturday traffic, I forced myself to think about how to handle seeing him again. I had no idea how he would react following our humiliating first meeting, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t do the gentlemanly thing and pretend the whole incident never happened. That would be too easy.

  I decided I would follow his lead. If he ignored my blunder then so would I, but if he wanted make light of the situation, I could too…at least that’s what I told myself.

  The car came to a stop outside an apartment block. “This is Mr. Jensen’s building, miss.”

  I was just about to call Will when the car door opened and the man himself stepped in. He looked over at me and his face registered surprise before he broke into a lopsided grin. “Well if it isn’t my favourite Aussie, what a nice surprise.”

  His sheer size in the confines of the car was overwhelming and once again I was rendered somewhat speechless. When I didn’t immediately say anything, he leaned over to me and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jensen, I hear you’ve been looking forward to meeting me.”

  Right, so he definitely hadn’t forgotten our first encounter.

  Choosing to ignore the dig, I accepted his hand and smiled politely. “Will, it’s nice to see you again.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine, you make for much nicer company than Mark.”

  “He said to apologize for not being here. He had to go back to Radio City.”

  “I guess his loss is my gain.” He winked at me and finally released my hand from his grip. Carrie wasn’t wrong about his ease with women. His self-assuredness should have been a turn-off, but for some reason it sent a thrill through me.

  Will turned to face me. “So you had a good time at the party the other night?”

  “I did, thank you, and I presume you were satisfied with the free food?”

  He laughed and nodded. “The food was pretty good, as was the company.”

  I raised one eyebrow at him. “I guess being a quarterback and all you’d need to keep your energy up, so the free food thing makes sense.”

  He actually managed to look somewhat contrite at being called out. “Yeah, about that, sorry I was a little misleading. It was just so refreshing to come across someone in the room who had no idea who I was.”

  I looked up into his eyes to see he was being sincere. “Apology accepted, as long as you promise to keep it our little secret—I’m pretty sure I broke about a hundred club rules by not knowing who you were.”

  Will chuckled and gave me a little salute. “Deal, scouts honor. Now, remind me again exactly what I’m do
ing this afternoon?”

  Relieved that the initial awkwardness was dealt with, I immediately relaxed and switched into work mode, giving him the basics of the next sixty minutes.

  The car pulled up outside the store and Will jumped out, extending a hand back in to me. Ignoring it, I stepped out, coming to stand almost flush against his body when he didn’t move away. Unintentionally, I inhaled the scent of his skin. He wasn’t wearing cologne, maybe some body wash mixed with his natural scent, but whatever it was made me want to get even closer to him. For an awkward second he didn’t move, but when I looked up and met his eyes he seemed to snap out of it, remembering himself. With a gesture of his arm, he stepped back and made way for me to pass.

  Away from him my brain felt less fuzzy, and I made a beeline to the store entrance, wanting to take back some control of the situation.

  Inside I was met by a voluptuous women with slick black hair, ample make-up and a dress, which, in all honesty, looked like it was about two sizes too small for her. In her towering heels, I was in danger of taking a giant boob to the face if I wasn’t careful. She narrowed her eyes at me, clearly trying to piece together who I was.

  “Hi,” I extended a hand. “I’m Emma, I’m here with Wi—”

  “Jensen!” Boobalicious’s eyes lit up as Will followed me in, coming to stand beside me.

  She leaned forward, crushing her chest against his as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “It’s so good to see you again. I missed you on Wednesday night.”

  Judging by what she considered appropriate daytime attire, I guessed she had been one of the women wearing minimal clothing at the draft party.

  “Nice to see you again Candice.” I noticed the way his eyes stayed firmly planted on her face, not dipping to take in the impressive show she displayed across her chest.

  Clutching unnecessarily at his bicep, she inclined her head. “Follow me, we’ll get you set up.”