by Lex Martin
I can’t help the shock in my voice when I ask, “Didn’t you just have a ten hour practice?”
He tilts his head, unsure of where this is headed. “We watched film and had meetings in between the scrimmages and workouts, but yeah, it lasted about ten hours. Why?”
Who knew Daren Sloan was such a sweetheart? My heart melts a little, and I resist the urge to stroke his handsome face.
That’s when this sinks in. How this is a bad idea. The worst. I may want to experience some casual fun, and sure, “hanging out” with Daren might help me be more relaxed when I interview him, but this man is all kinds of sexy and he’s thoughtful.
When my phone buzzes again, I know I don’t have time to think about this any longer. I decline Daren’s offer because I’ll need my car to get home later. He makes me promise not to walk out in the middle of the night alone, and my heart thuds a little faster.
“I’ll get security to escort me.”
He grabs his phone and looks up at me as though he’s waiting. “Well, are you gonna give me your number or do I have to wait on your doorstep like a lost puppy whenever I want to see you?”
“I don’t know.” I look him over, unable to resist messing with him. “Are you housebroken?”
“Hmm. I’m not gonna pee on your leg if that’s what you’re worried about, but I can’t guarantee I won’t bite.”
And then he gives me that look, the one that makes me want to incinerate. Would it be strange to hand him my panties right now and beg him to find hidden places on me to leave his mark?
I give him a weak smile because it’s all I can do to focus. Reaching for a pad of paper, I scribble down my number, jamming it in his outstretched hand a little too hard. But then those bear paws grab my elbow as I head for the door, and he leans down to whisper, “Let me walk you to your car.”
Of course he wants to walk me to my car. He isn’t the cad that Jacob was. Why did I even date Jacob? The reasons, which I could rattle off a few weeks ago, seem fuzzy all of a sudden.
Daren soothes back a stray hair behind my ear and says, “By the way, I’ll be thinking of you later.” I glance up at him and he gives me a devilish grin. “In the shower.” And then he nips my earlobe.
What was I doing? It takes me a long moment of shuddering breaths to remember I have somewhere to go. Something to do. Even though I can barely stand upright.
I close my eyes, struggling to focus.
Work.
Right. Because I put work first.
I run my thumbnail back and forth across my bottom lip as the sports producer edits the footage. Admittedly, my life is easier when I don’t have to shoot, edit and write my own segment, but it’s also nerve-racking to have other people obsess over my video. I’ve always been pretty thick-skinned when it comes to criticism, but covering something so high profile has been harder than I thought.
Hearing my voice in the otherwise silent room makes me cringe. “Today, Daren is going to show me how to throw the perfect pass. He says it starts with lining up your fingers in just the right spot.”
Even as those words left my mouth, I could see the look in Daren’s eyes, and I knew he was fighting the urge to turn that into a dirty joke. What I didn’t expect was for him to wrap his arms around me to show me how to reach back and throw it.
“Nice job, McDermott,” Spencer says behind me, making me flinch.
“Uh, thanks.” I feel tempted to look outside to see if hell has frozen over.
Spencer stands by me, and I get one step closer to biting my nail. Please tell me I only imagined blushing when Daren got up in my space.
“He obviously likes you more than Nicole.”
“Maybe he was just enthralled with those ridiculous shorts you had me wear.”
At least you can’t see the shorts from this angle. Wait. Now you can see my short shorts with the team’s name emblazoned on my ass. Thank you, Douchebag Spencer, for making me wear them.
He clicks his tongue at me, and I fight the urge to knee him in the groin. “Those shorts were genius. I’m glad I have a pair in three other colors.”
“Good thing.” Asshole.
Deciding I’d better get away from him before I commit a homicide, I try to duck out of the editing suite, but Spencer calls my name.
When I turn around, he doesn’t bother looking up from his tablet. “Don’t get too busy with news. I’m going to need you to do a few sports promos.”
At this rate, I’m never going to cover real news. I fight to keep a scowl off my face.
“What about the bachelor contest? Doesn’t she need to do that voice over too?” the other producer asks.
“What bachelor contest?” And while we’re at it, why don’t we do a cute puppy contest? Or a most adorable baby contest? When the hell am I ever going to do real news? Since starting this job, I’ve barely done anything of substance. Although my golden-winged warbler story finally aired, producers made me trim it down so much that if you blinked, you would have missed it. The Rebels are already breaking ground on the new parking facility, and no one seems to care about the endangered birds but me. Typical.
On the inside, I’m stomping my feet, but outwardly, I haven’t budged a muscle.
Spencer waves me off. “Something we’re reviving. I’m still working out the details. I’ll call you if I need you. I might use Nicole.”
A bachelor contest? Please, God, let Nicole cover that.
Once I’m safely back in my cubicle, the sweet solitude doesn’t last long. Nicole strides in looking as snarky as ever. The thin thread of friendship we developed Friday night died the moment she found out I was back on the football segment.
After forty-five minutes of total silence from my cubicle mate, I brave the waters.
“Do you know anything about a bachelor contest?”
She laughs, but the look in her eyes when she turns around is anything but humorous. “Don’t you know anything?” She blows her hair out of her face. “It’s Boston’s Number One Bachelor Contest, featuring four of the top local athletes. The money raised at the November gala goes to charity, and everyone pats themselves on the back at Thanksgiving when a few more turkeys get handed out.”
I don’t have time to be insulted. I’m too worried about what this contest means.
“And those bachelors would be…”
Rolling her eyes, she counts on her fingers. “Daren, of course. That hottie on the Bruins, the new Red Sox Pitcher, and some boxer.”
Letting out a breath, I thank God she didn’t name my ex. Not that he’s as widely known as the athletes she just named, but it would be my dumb luck he’d get picked.
She spins back to her desk, and I can’t take this unspoken standoff we’ve been having any longer. “Listen, Nicole, I’m sorry about all of this. Please know I didn’t mean to steal your segment or step on your toes. It has to suck that I got reassigned to something that should have been yours. I’m sure I’d be livid if the roles were reversed.”
Her shoulders relax a bit, and she nods. She’s silent for so long I think she’s tuned me out, but then she sighs. “I would have done the same thing, put you back on. My vibe with Daren just didn’t happen.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I feel like an ass every time I have to do it. Especially in those stupid outfits Spencer is always forcing me to wear.”
When she faces me this time, her smile is genuine. “Okay, that actually does make me feel better.” She nods, and it seems like we’ve called some kind of truce. For now, at least.
Nineteen
- Maddie -
Maybe it’s the stress of this morning’s interview or the fact I just worked fourteen hours, but by the time I trudge up the stairs to Sheri’s condo, I’m so tired I can barely put one foot in front of the other. So when Daren texts, asking if I want to come over for a late-night snack, I can barely manage the strength to operate my thumbs.
Too tired. Sorry. Raincheck?
My cell rings a minute later. “Hey, Wi
ldcat.”
As exhausted as I am, his voice—raspy and low—sends a wave of adrenaline through me.
“Is this a booty call? Because if so, unless you want to have sex with a dead person, I’m pretty useless right now.” Nice, Maddie. Way to talk sexy.
He laughs, and the sound makes me melt a little. “No, not a booty call. Just wanted to ask what you were doing tomorrow night.”
Part of me wants to be insulted that he’s asking me to do something at the last minute, but then I have to remind myself that we’re not dating, that we’re just an arrangement of convenience, and a pang of disappointment hits me.
“McDermott, did you hang up on me for making you blush during our interview?”
“Oh, God.” How embarrassing. I drop my head onto my pile of pillows. When I regain my composure, I sigh. “I can’t even deny it because I saw it on film. What’s worse is that my producers loved it. Ate it up. Did Spencer put you up to the whole ‘let me wrap my arms around Maddie to show her how to pass’ nonsense?”
Daren chuckles, and his amusement irritates me more. “No, that was my own stroke of genius. What? You didn’t like when I touched you?”
“No, not at all.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
“Hmm. I call bullshit, but that’s okay. I’m fine with needing to convince you that you like when I touch you. Love it, even.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit conceited?”
“Not at all. I’m very in tune with my talents, and making you come, hard, is one of them.”
My mouth drops open, and the only thing I hear through the phone is the sound of my own breath, which comes out in short puffs.
He laughs. “And Maddie? I plan to make you come again, all over my face, the next time I see you.”
A small squeak leaves my lips, and even though he renders me speechless, I can’t deny the throb between my legs. No one has ever talked dirty to me before, and I like it. No, like is too weak a word. Part of me wants to claw through our common wall to get an up-close-and-personal demonstration, but the other part of me, the sensible part, says I need to get to bed so I can prepare for an early start in the morning.
And this? Messing around with Daren, someone who suddenly seems like the focal point of my career, can’t be smart, and I’ve always done the smart thing.
Taking a deep breath to clear my head of dirty delusions, I know what I have to do. “As much as I’m sure I’d enjoy taking you up on the offer, I’m really busy right now, and—”
“You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing tomorrow?”
My shoulders sag. “I have plans with Sheri, and we haven’t hung out in a while. She’s coming in from New York, so I’m not going to blow her off just to—”
“Just to blow me.”
A laugh escapes me even though I’m trying to be serious. “Right.” I want to dredge up the willpower I had thirty seconds ago to be sensible, to get some distance, but there’s something so disarming about this guy that makes me a little insane and out of control.
“Isn’t Friday night her book thing?”
How in the world does he know this? “Yes. Should I be concerned that you know when her dirty book club meets?”
“Maybe I’ve been invited. Is that so difficult for you to believe?”
I snort at his assertion. “Yeah, right. So anyway, I have plans with Sheri, and I’m working the rest of the weekend.”
“So I’m shit out of luck is what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying maybe some other time.” Is that what I’m saying? Ugh, I don’t know anymore. But if I can get some time away from Daren invading my thoughts, maybe I can make some better decisions before I get myself fired.
“Damn. I was thinking you’d give great blow jobs in the shower.”
Um. Yeah. Clearing my head? Not so easy with that visual in mind. Because honestly? I’d love to give that a try.
Twenty
- Maddie -
The Bottom of the Ninth is loud and packed with people. The baseball-inspired bar has a few Red Sox banners and memorabilia hanging from its dark, wood-paneled walls, but it isn't over-the-top. Like most places in Boston, an eclectic mix of people fill the restaurant, spilling out from around the shiny metallic tables.
I’m not sure how the girls expect to hear themselves talk about the book they’re reading, but I’m just glad to not be working tonight. Tension radiates from my shoulder blades, and I arch my back and drop my head, trying to work out the knot that’s been intensifying all week.
We’re sitting at a large, rounded corner booth with several of Sheri’s friends. I snagged the end seat because I get claustrophobic when I’m blocked in.
“Diet Coke?” Sheri asks with a judgmental eyebrow as she taps on my glass.
“I have to work tomorrow. I can’t function with a hangover.” As last weekend clearly illustrated.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did Daren’s party go?”
Sheri and I have been playing phone tag all week, which worked for me since I really didn’t want to talk about what happened with Daren. Our friends-with-benefits arrangement feels like a big dirty secret, one I don’t want to discuss with anyone. Even though I consider Sheri a good friend, it only takes one slip-up for a rumor to start that can get me fired.
“Fine. It was fine. Nicole wasn’t a total B for once, which was a surprise. Well, until I got reassigned to the sports segment. She gave me the silent treatment all week, but I guess that’s to be expected. I feel bad about it, but there’s nothing I can do.”
Sheri drops an arm around my shoulder. “That sucks, but this is your career, and it’s not as though you can turn down this opportunity.”
Guilt twinges in my stomach for not telling her what happened with Daren last weekend. I know she’d be supportive. She’s the one who planted the idea of getting together with Daren in the first place. But I can’t tell her at a packed restaurant.
One of Sheri’s friends sitting across from me starts freaking out across the table. I follow her line of sight.
Speak of the devil.
Daren and two of his friends stroll in, and my heart kicks into overdrive.
At first I wonder if Sheri somehow tipped him off, but she looks just as surprised as everyone else.
Of course, this is one of the closest restaurants to our condo, so it’s not a shock that he’d come here. A waitress scrambles to seat them, and a sea of people part for the guys to pass.
Clearing my throat, I return my attention to the girls at my table, and with the exception of Sheri, they all look lovestruck. But Sheri hobnobs with the rich and famous on a daily basis, and I know she has her heart set on a musician she met on the set of her dad’s last movie.
Two seconds later, the girls all turn to me and start talking at once.
“Maddie! Oh my God, he’s gorgeous!”
“What’s it like to interview him?”
“Do you think he’ll take a photo with me?”
Laughter spills from my lips, and I tell them a little bit about shooting our segment. As I listen to myself talk, I realize this is the most attention I’ve ever gotten for a story. I’ve been so frantic trying to get a good news assignment that I haven’t enjoyed the one that’s fallen into my lap. Even if Nicole is still slightly miffed or Spencer wants me there because I have long legs. My job is to get girls interested in football, and right now, I’d bet money every girl in front of me plans to watch this weekend’s game.
Confidence wells up inside me, and I surprise myself when I say, “Do you want me to get Daren to come over and say hi?” Their squeals give me the answer.
Standing up, I smooth my skirt. I wasn’t planning to see him tonight. I lean over to Sheri and whisper in her ear, “Do I look okay?”
She gives me an enthusiastic nod. “You look hot, Mads,” she says, low enough so no one else hears her.
I know she’d tell me to run to the bathroom to touch up if she thought I needed it. I’m glad I wore my hair down and kep
t on my high-heeled Mary Janes. Hopefully, that sophisticates my simple knee-length pleated black skirt and white collared shirt, which has a schoolgirl vibe.
I’m almost to his table when a guy comes over and taps on Daren’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but my son would die if I could get him your autograph.”
I stop mid-stride, hoping to hell Daren isn’t a jerk.
Daren puts down his drink and wipes his palm on his jeans. “Hey, man. No problem.” He shakes the guy’s hand before reaching into his back pocket. “I can sign the team’s schedule. Sound good?”
“Oh, yeah. That would be awesome. Thank you so much!”
When the man gets his personalized autograph, he looks like he wants to hug Daren. As he starts to walk away, he adds, “I’m sure my wife wants me to tell you she loves you.” He rolls his eyes, and Daren laughs.
“Well, tell her I said hi, and I appreciate her watching my games with her awesome husband.”
The guy nods, a huge grin on his face.
Too sweet.
“Maddie?”
I turn back to the table to find Daren and his friends staring at me.
“Hey, stalker. I knew you wanted to crash the book club.”
He beams a smile, and I swear my knees want to give out from under me. Wow, that’s powerful. Someone should harness the strength of those dimples.
I smile at his two friends. “Sorry to interrupt your evening, fellas. Daren, can I call in a favor? The book club girls really want to meet you.”
“Ah, his adoring crowd awaits,” Quentin jokes before Daren socks him playfully in the arm.
Daren gets up, and I start to back up, but then he reaches out and pulls me into a hug. “Good to see you, Madeline.”
I swallow, hoping I still have the strength to stay upright when he releases me. God, even the way he says my name is sexy. A shiver runs through me.