Changing the Play

by Julia Blake

  “What is it?” she asked while she cinched the belt on her robe shut.

  “I was hoping you’d stay naked until I left.”

  She swept his shirt off the floor and held it out for him. “Maybe next time.”

  He stopped, a grin widening on his handsome face. “You said next time.”

  She swallowed. “I did. I’m flying to LA soon, but before I go maybe you can take me out. On a date. Like you said.”

  Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Did you just ask me to ask you out?”

  She hesitated. “I think I did.”

  He took his shirt from her, slid his arms into the sleeves, and began to button it. “I’m scheduled to work the day shift on Friday. What are you doing Friday night?”

  It was one of her rare Fridays off where none of her in-town clients had a game or an event. She’d planned to sit in a piping hot bath with a book, but it looked like her plans were changing. “I’m not doing anything.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, enveloping her in a hug. “Come over to my place. It’s tiny compared to this, but I’ll cook.”

  “You cook?”

  He leaned in to whisper, “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “So I’m learning.”

  He kissed her. Her sex ached, wanting him again. Which is exactly why she pushed back, putting some distance between them. “I’m supposed to be kicking you out of my apartment, remember?”

  Nick let go, his reluctance palpable. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

  “But you do.”

  If he didn’t, she might not be strong enough to let him go when he finally decided it was time to move on.

  “But I do. Remember,” he said, “dinner Friday.”

  The door closed with a click and he was gone. Everything was silent. Slowly she bent to retrieve her purse and gather up her clothes before returning to her bedroom to try to get some sleep.

  Chapter 15

  I’ve never seen Kevin in better shape,” Rachel said into the phone cradled against her shoulder as she turned in her office chair to stare out the window at the skyscrapers rising up around her.

  “That’s what all you agents say,” grumbled Herb Halverson, an Atlanta scout.

  “Yeah, but how many of us really mean it? Kevin’s put on ten pounds of muscle and shaved off a couple hundredths of a second from his forty-yard dash. You saw him at the Combine.”

  Herb couldn’t grumble, grouch, or groan his way out of the truth. She knew it. He knew it. The man had watched as Kevin went through multiple tests and drills along with other invited draft picks. They measured everything from his speed to his vertical leap to his ability to cut down the field. And then there were the intangibles. The scouts sat down and talked with the players—felt out their personalities and tried to find the right fits for their organizations. Kevin’s Combine couldn’t have gone better.

  “You know that Kevin’s got the work ethic and the character,” she pressed. “He keeps his head down and puts in the time. Always has.”

  Herb grunted. “I can respect that.”

  Gotcha.

  “He’s old-school, Herb. He just wants to play football.”

  That got a laugh out of the tough-as-leather scout. “Ninety-five percent of players play for three reasons: cash, women, and glory.”

  “Not him,” she said. “He’s the real deal.”

  The call only lasted a few more minutes as they talked about a few of Image’s later projected draft picks. After hanging up, Rachel leaned an elbow on the arm of her chair and rested her chin in her hand as she looked out over 52nd Street. With so little time until draft day, her mind should be focused exclusively on Kevin, but Nick had stirred things up, and now all of the questions she only dared ask herself in the quiet moments were muscling their way to the forefront. Why didn’t she have her own agency yet? Why was she letting someone else put their name on her success? One day she wanted to open her own company, but when did “one day” become “today”?

  And then there was Nick himself, the man who’d barreled into her life, charming her completely despite her better judgment. They’d seen each other a few times since their first date. The dates weren’t anything quite as big as renting out Citi Field on the strength of a favor, but that didn’t matter. On their fourth date, when they’d sat watching a movie on her couch, her head in his lap and his fingers combing through her hair, Rachel realized she’d started to look forward to the comfort of seeing him in simple moments like that one.

  A knock sounded at her office door, and Nathan poked his head in. “The car is downstairs.”

  She sighed and set about working her heels back on. “Tell him I’ll be down in a moment.”

  “No problem,” said her assistant. “And a couple more interview requests came in this morning. Two for Kevin and three for Brock.”

  Her eyebrows knit together. “Are these just late requests, or has Brock done something I should know about?”

  “I think it’s just Brock being Brock.”

  “No to all of them. Call if you need anything,” she said.

  She gathered her things up and headed to the elevators. All the way down she tried not to think about the fact that she’d be meeting Nick the reporter today when just yesterday she’d gone to bed with Nick the . . .

  Guy she was sleeping with?

  Hooking up with?

  Dating?

  Her frown deepened as she climbed into the car headed to the Bronx. Things weren’t clear enough yet to name what they were doing. Besides, they were walking an ethical line as it was. If he was thought to have changed or altered a story because he was seeing her, Nick could lose his job, layoffs or not.

  When the car stopped in front of the Loders’ house, the NYSN truck was already there. She stepped out onto the curb right as the truck’s door slid open, and out spilled Nick, Mindy, and Chris. Rachel adjusted her purse and tried not to blush when he locked eyes with her. What she couldn’t stop was the low-swooping sensation in her belly at the sight of him.

  He wore a dark gray suit with a white shirt and a bold, red tie that he adjusted before shooting his cuffs. It all looked fantastic on him, but that wasn’t what made her breath catch. It was the fact that she’d watched him pull out the clothes from his closet last night, right before she’d headed home to her place. It hadn’t struck her how intimate it was to watch a man select his armor until she saw him actually wearing it.

  “You made it early,” she said when Nick walked straight up to her, stopping close enough to touch even if she didn’t dare. Not in public.

  “We waited for you before going inside,” he said with a nod.

  Nick was playing by the rules, making sure she was present before speaking to her client. He wasn’t pushing and taking advantage of the shift in their private lives. She appreciated that.

  Mindy walked up with what looked like a lighting kit strapped to her back. “Hi, Rachel. Chris wants to get set up as soon as possible. He thinks the front room will have some good light for b-roll. Maybe Catherine’s interview too.”

  “I’m ready if you are,” she said.

  “I’m always ready for you,” Nick said with a grin. Mindy’s gaze snapped to him and then Rachel. But instead of saying something, the producer shook her head, turned, and walked up the short path to the front door. Nick didn’t even seem to notice.

  “Stop it,” Rachel whispered.

  He cocked his head. “Stop what?”

  “The innuendo. You’re always ready for me?”

  “That? I didn’t even realize I’d said that,” he said.

  “Well, Mindy definitely did.”

  He studied her for a moment before giving a sharp nod. “Message received.”

  But he didn’t specify what the message was, and Rachel’s worry deepened as she mounted the steps
to the Loders’ modest front porch. She’d done something wrong when all she was trying to do was protect Nick, whose job, by his own admission, was very much on the line. Reporters weren’t supposed to live in the gray area, and their relationship definitely didn’t fall into the black-and-white of professionalism.

  The Loders’ front door flew open, and Catherine rushed out. “Come in! Come in! We’re so happy to have you in our home.”

  “Catherine, this is Nick’s producer, Mindy Choi. Chris Miller will be handling everything technical today,” Rachel said by way of introduction.

  “You’ll have to excuse the mess,” the woman said with a smile as she gestured to the pristine room that smelled faintly of lemon furniture polish. “Things have been so busy between work and Kevin’s training schedule.”

  “Where do you work?” Rachel heard Mindy ask as she watched Chris set down his gear, then peered around the room.

  “This is a good spot for interviews,” Rachel said to Chris. “Or the kitchen. There’s a little table in there.”

  The man rocked back on his heels, nodding. “Nah, this’ll work well. We’ve got to move those chairs, though.”

  “Catherine,” she called, “Chris is going to set things up in here if that’s okay with you? I’m just going to go confirm a training schedule detail with Kevin.”

  Actually, she wanted to check in with Kevin one last time, but the TV crew didn’t need to know that.

  “He’s in the kitchen,” said Catherine before turning to Mindy. “You wouldn’t believe how much that boy can eat after working out.”

  Kevin was sitting at the tiny breakfast table, fiddling with his phone. He looked up, pulled off his headphones, and grinned. “Ms. Pollard.”

  “Ready for this?” she asked.

  He pursed his lips, and for a second she thought he was about to say no. But instead he stood. “Sure.”

  It’s just nerves, she told herself. Even she was a little edgy that afternoon.

  She followed Kevin down the hall and into the living room, game face on. It was time to get to work.

  “Hey, man,” Kevin said, shaking Nick’s hand.

  “How’s it been going?”

  “Nothing to complain about. I’m just ready for draft day to be here.”

  “It’ll be sooner than you think,” said Nick. “Okay, why don’t we get started. We were thinking—”

  “I want to do the interview.”

  The way Kevin said it made it crystal clear that he wasn’t talking about the sit-down in the living room. He meant the walk-and-talk—the very thing she’d been dreading since she’d called Nick and begrudgingly agreed to the profile.

  Rachel stepped in front of her client as though putting herself between Kevin and the journalists could stop what was about to happen. “Great. I think Nick and Mindy wanted to do your mother’s interview first—”

  “No,” Kevin said with a shake of his head. “I want to do the interview in Mott Haven. Where it happened.”

  No one spoke. They were wondering, with bated breath, what she’d do. Great. She started slow. “Kevin, we discussed this.”

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking, and this is my decision. I don’t want to hide from what happened. It’s part of who I am. Besides, it’s going to come up at some point. I don’t want some asshole asking me about it after practice or a game.”

  Or when you’re not prepared. She could read the implication behind his words clear as day, and she didn’t want to admit that he had a point. Not a good one, but a point all the same.

  “I can’t let you do that,” she said.

  There was a flicker of rebellion in Kevin’s eyes she’d never seen before. “You’re my agent, and you work for me. I’m sorry, Ms. Pollard, I respect your advice, but I’m doing the interview.”

  Rachel’s fists clenched by her sides. She wouldn’t get angry. Not here. Not with Nick, Mindy, and Chris all watching her. She would be a pro, even if she was a pissed-off one.

  “That’s settled, then,” said Nick, his tone conciliatory but unable to hide his excitement.

  She narrowed her eyes. Nothing was settled. There was no way that he was winning this fight. Not even if all of her advantage was slipping.

  “Kevin,” she said, trying her best not to grind her teeth, “would you mind giving me a moment?”

  The young man glanced at his mother, who just cocked her eyebrow. The choice was his. Do the interview or not. It was one of the many decisions he’d have to make throughout his career—one of the ones that would characterize who he was as a player and a man. But it was the wrong one, and it was Rachel’s job to make him see that.

  He followed her silently out the front door and around the sliver of side yard to the concrete-covered back. A few pots filled with scraggly perennials waiting patiently for the summer months sat on either side of the back door leading off the kitchen.

  Rachel’s heels scraped to a stop on the paving and she turned to face Kevin. His expression was solemn, but there was determination in his eyes. She wasn’t going to change his mind, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try.

  “Kevin,” she started.

  “I know what you’re going to say, Ms. Pollard, so I’m going to go first.” He lifted his chin and met her eyes. “You’re trying to protect me, but at some point I’m going to have to talk about this. I want to. I’ve spent too long being afraid of what happened and what it did to me. I’ve got to man up and deal with it.”

  Rachel crossed her arms, trying to hold all of the warring emotions in. He was right. She was protecting him. But he wasn’t the only one who was scared.

  “Kevin, I want what’s best for you. I care about you, your family, and your future. I’ve been watching you since you were in high school, and you’re so close to the NFL.”

  “I know that,” he said quietly.

  “Then please trust me when I say you don’t want to do this interview. I can’t control the situation. Once it gets going, I won’t be able to stop it if things go badly. The camera will keep rolling.”

  “I know that,” he repeated. “But it’s my life and my career. I’m making the decision to do it, and it’d mean a lot to me if you’d support me.”

  Her shoulders slumped, but when it really came down to it, Kevin was right. It was his decision.

  “I’ll talk with Nick and Mindy about setting it up,” she said.

  Then the six-foot-three-inch wide receiver did something rare among her athletes. He pulled her into a one-armed hug before striding through the back door and into the kitchen, leaving her alone in the backyard.

  Rachel put her hands on her hips and looked around, trying to regain her composure. All of the things she’d tried to control had blown up in her face. Kevin would talk to a reporter about the one thing she truly dreaded him speaking about and potentially put his draft status at risk. She’d lost control of her client. And then there was Nick.

  Nick had clouded her judgment. Letting him in and allowing him to get close to her had been a mistake—one she’d walked into more than willingly. Now, despite her best effort, she couldn’t separate Work Nick from Play Nick. She knew this to be true because a twisted little part of her was actually happy for him that he’d get the interview no one else would.

  There was the scrape of hard-soled shoes on the concrete behind her, and Rachel looked up. Nick stopped and, leaning against the side of the house, studied her.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she said.

  He made like he was going to step forward but stopped himself. “I want to hug you and tell you that it’ll be better, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to do that,” he said quietly. “Especially when I’m part of the problem.”

  There was sweetness in his words, and even if he was the source of this entire mess, she couldn’t be angry with him. He w
as doing his job, just like she was. Only she wished hers would stop making her feel like crap.

  “It’s not you,” she said. “I’m just having that moment when a client grows up and you realize you can’t control him any longer. He’s going to fall down from time to time. I’ve got to be okay with that.”

  “It’d take a lot of Bubble Wrap to wrap up that kid.”

  She half laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it a couple times, along with locking him in Rapunzel’s tower until the draft.”

  “I don’t know if there are any impenetrable towers in New York City.”

  “Manhattan has everything.”

  “Except good Mexican food,” he said with an easy smile that spread slow as molasses through her.

  “Spoken like a true Southwesterner.”

  “Rachel?” Nick asked.

  “Yes?”

  His eyes deepened, turning on a bit of the smolder that sent the best kinds of shivers down her spine. “Come here.”

  Without hesitation, she walked into his arms and let his body encircle her. Nick held her while the fear slowly ebbed away. Everything would be fine. Kevin was ready for this.

  Everything will be fine, she chanted to herself. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

  NICK PRESSED his lips to Rachel’s temple and kept his mouth shut. His mind raced with questions, but he knew not to ask them. There was time to be the reporter and there was time to be Rachel’s boyfriend.

  Because that’s how he thought of himself even if she didn’t. They hadn’t had any conversations about it. It was early, and he knew she wasn’t ready for that. But he noticed the way she lit up whenever she saw him, making desire curl low and heavy in his core. Anyone around them had to feel the strain and pull of attraction between them. It was too visceral to ignore. Still, Rachel wasn’t a woman to be pushed. Not yet.

  “Are you okay?” he asked into her hair before edging back slightly to study her face.