Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1)

by Megan Ryder

  “Stacia, it’s Mike. What the hell happened with Glazier? Senator Kendall called last night, said you had been replaced. By Donna, an intern, of all people. Call me. Immediately.”

  The fantasy bubble popped, all thought of Jason, sex, and fun evaporated leaving a familiar gnawing ache in her belly that had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with why she had to buy stock in antacids.

  She shrugged out of her business jacket and tossed it over the chair. She sat and wiped the dust off the phone, fixed the sparse items on the top of the desk, and fiddled with a pencil and paper. Finally, she dialed her boss before she lost her nerve.

  “Stacia. About time. I expected a call from you last night, not your father, not Glazier, and certainly not Donna. What the hell happened?”

  She succinctly recited the events of the past week or so, when everything went to hell, and then paused. The silence at the other end of the phone dragged on, a low buzzing of background noise and heavy breathing the only indication Mike was still there. Her stomach twisting further, she crossed the small kitchen, opened the antacids and tossed a couple into her mouth, drowning them with the water.

  “Your father wants you replaced on the campaign.”

  “I thought that had already been decided.”

  “I’m your boss, not Senator Kendall or Glazier. You work for me, as does Donna. I thought you and Glazier were an item. Is it true—she slept with him?” His words were clipped and short, revealing the pressure he was under.

  Stacia paused. Mike was fanatical about ethics with his consultants. They fixed images, not destroyed them. She could tell Mike the truth, but would it really matter? It wouldn’t get her job back; that much had been made clear by both her father and Glazier. Or she could move past it. “There was no relationship between the representative and myself beyond business. What he does on his own time is his business.”

  “Bullshit.” His words shot through the phone like a speeding bullet. “He’s a politician and knows better than to be caught. Donna is finished with me. If he wants her, he can have her.”

  “That’s fine, Mike. What about me? I can’t return to the campaign, even if he continues with an independent bid.”

  “He’s declared an independent bid, assured that he could overcome this. But no, you aren’t requested back. Apparently, they don’t believe you can handle the finesse required to whitewash this campaign.” Mike paused, letting his words sink in. “I don’t believe you screwed up. We can only work with what the candidate gives us.”

  There was something off in his tone. While he sounded like he supported her one hundred percent, he was dancing around something else.

  “But?”

  He sighed. “But. Your father is very powerful. He’s decided that he doesn’t want you near this or any campaign. I have to listen. He’s thrown me a lot of work in the past few years. I can’t afford to alienate him.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears and she slumped in the chair. Her own father was throwing her under the bus. She should have expected it. Family and blood meant nothing when it came to politics but the reality was like a knife to her gut.

  “It’s fine. Maybe it’s time for a change.” She took a deep breath to quell the panic deep inside, impressed that her tone was even. “Do you have anything else?”

  He paused again, much longer this time. When he finally spoke, his words were tentative. “I have one situation that just crossed my desk. I was about to tell them no, but…”

  “Mike, what is it? I need a job!” She clutched the phone as if it were a lifeline and gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to scream.

  “Are you sure? You’ve been on the roads for weeks, barely home long enough to sleep. Maybe a vacation wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  She glanced around the sparsely furnished and barely lived-in condo. If she had to sit and stare at those four walls for the foreseeable future, she would need a straitjacket or medication. Her father would find some discreet facility for her breakdown, avoiding any embarrassment for the Kendall name. No, a vacation was not an option. Work was her only chance to get back on top, back in the game, back in her father’s good graces, the actions of a desperate little girl trying to gain her father’s attention. When would she outgrow that clawing, desperate need?

  “I want it.” She hoped Mike couldn’t hear the quiver in her tone, tried to infuse it with decisiveness.

  “Okay, I’ll email you the 4-1-1, not that there is much. It’s with the Georgia Knights. Their owner, Seamus Callahan, asked for you specifically. They’re expecting your call. In fact, they asked for you by name. How could they know you were available?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it. I know Miranda. She’ll look out for me.” She resisted the urge to dance across the small kitchen, relief pushing away the initial panic. She was on her way back to the big leagues.

  Even if it was a different league than she expected.

  *

  Stacia drove into the almost empty parking garage to the lower level, as directed by the security guard, to the employee’s parking level. She walked into the entrance and gave her name to the security guard behind the desk. He gestured to a couple of chairs and made a phone call.

  Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened and a tall blonde woman stepped out. When she saw Stacia, her face broke out in a wide grin.

  “Stacia! It’s been so long, since your father’s last inauguration, isn’t it? I was so delighted when my father told me your firm was going to be handling our little issue. I was hoping to see you but never really thought you would be assigned. I thought you were working with Representative Glazier?”

  Stacia blinked rapidly and tried to keep up with the whirlwind that was Miranda Callahan. She had forgotten how energetic and bubbly Miranda was. They may have run in different circles in school but their social circles overlapped enough for them to be well acquainted with each other. Still, Stacia was hesitant to share the news of her recent failure with the other woman. Not that she had much choice. The media made sure of that.

  “Well, as I’m sure you are aware, since the representative lost his primary bid, he cleaned house, including my services. As a result, I was free to assist in this matter.”

  Miranda blinked once. “His loss, our gain. Personally, I think the man is a fool and a laughingstock right now. He tried to ask my father for a campaign donation. As if he would donate to one of Senator Kendall’s mouthpieces.” She paused, her face reddening as she remembered that she was speaking to the senator’s biggest mouthpiece, his own daughter.

  Stacia smiled, what she hoped was a brilliant smile but felt brittle, hard, and forced. “No worries, Miranda. The representative felt a change in staff would be important for an independent bid. For my part, it worked out. I was ready for a change. So you’re working with your father now?”

  They stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind them. “Yes, he wants me to learn the team and how it works. I’m technically the president although you know how that goes, with a controlling man like my father in charge. I’ll be your main liaison for this, except for Cole Hammonds, our general manager.”

  “You’ve done an excellent job with the charity work. The fan base has grown and your team is known for many groups in the area. Your father should be proud.”

  “Like yours?” Miranda asked, one perfectly sculpted brow arched. Then she laughed. “Ignore me. I’m feeling a little…insignificant at the moment.”

  “Am I taking your job from you? I had no idea.”

  “Oh no, Stacia. I don’t want this position. I’m truly very busy with day to day operations, even if I don’t have significant impact on the team or the bottom line.” Her face brightened. “Never mind me and my poor mood. Let’s talk about your job. It’s for the next few months, until the end of the season.”

  “Thanks. That’s perfect. Now is it for the team? Michael was a little vague on the details.”

  “No, the team is fine. We need you for one pl
ayer, a new player who comes with a lot of baggage – bad press, a huge chip on his shoulder, and a lot of negativity. We need you to keep him clean and babysit him until the end of the season.”

  Stacia frowned. “You want a babysitter? Why not hire an assistant? I usually clean up the image.”

  The elevator doors started to open but Miranda pressed the Door Closed button and then Stop. “My father wants a babysitter. I think we need more. Our reputation was damaged significantly by Eduardo’s indiscretions. My father doesn’t think that matters but I’ve had a lot of groups express concern about the family side of our business. They’re rethinking sponsorships and events here. My father doesn’t think that’s important but you and I know the power of the media and image. This can be devastating. Now we’re bringing in a player with a tarnished past. We can’t be too obvious but he could use some image cleaning.”

  She pressed the Start button and the doors opened, while Stacia processed the information. Not an auspicious start to a new job. Conflicting goals. Management not on the same page. Who knew what the job really entailed? It certainly seemed to be a lose-lose for her, not that she had much choice in the matter. It was this job or nothing.

  She followed Miranda down the cement hallway, past several small offices. Miranda turned down a small hallway and gestured to an office. “We wanted you close to the players so you could manage any media concerns right away. This is the best office I have right now. It’s not much but it’ll have to do.”

  Miranda paused before opening the door. “Stacia, you’ll answer mainly to Cole but you and I can work together on the clean image okay?”

  “Miranda, I’m a little uncomfortable with side agendas. It always spells trouble, in my experience.”

  Miranda smiled. “It’s not a side agenda. Just an additional element. It won’t cause any issues, trust me. Now check out your office while I grab the player. He’s getting fitted for a uniform.”

  Stacia walked into the small office. Miranda was right. It wasn’t much but she didn’t need anything more than the desk, a chair, computer connections. Anything more was really superfluous, especially since the job was only two months, three at the outside. She sat in the metal desk chair and heard the creak of the springs in the old chair. She rocked back and forth, testing the strength. Yeah she’d need a new chair before her back went out. She searched through the drawers and only heard the empty metal rattle, with a spare pen rolling around.

  Down the hall, voices echoed, two men and Miranda. Must be her client. She strained to listen.

  Her mind went blank and her blood ran cold.

  The door opened in that moment and in walked a man in a three-piece suit, clearly a businessman or an agent. Behind him, she saw her worst nightmare.

  Jason Friar, her one-night-stand from less than twenty-four hours ago.

  Chapter Four

  Two other people crowded into the small office, but Stacia only had eyes for Jason. He watched her through hooded eyes, expression unreadable, closed and, to someone who didn’t know him, bored. His lips tightened, creases appeared between his eyes, and his jaw clenched.

  Jason was far from removed from the situation.

  Her stomach fluttered, replaced immediate by a sharp pain. What if they found out about their association? Could she lose this job too? Would Jason say anything? Where were her antacids when she needed them?

  The businessman stretched out his hand and shook hers. “Scott Thomas, Jason’s agent. Thanks for coming on short notice.”

  “I see you have everything in hand.” Miranda smiled tightly. “Stacia, my assistant, Maggie, will be at your disposal. Let her know if you need anything. I’ll talk with you later.” She slipped out the door, with one final glance at the odd grouping in the office.

  Stacia looked over to see Jason’s gaze fixed on her. The oxygen seemed to escape the room with Miranda, leaving Stacia struggling for breath. His gaze narrowed, but before he could speak, she stretched out her hand. “You must be my client. Hi, I’m Stacia Kendall.”

  She couldn’t fault him for being slow. Taking her cue, he shook her hand and quickly dropped it, probably feeling the same spark of electricity she felt as they touched. Last night was no fluke. There was something here. Definitely.

  She couldn’t work with him. Absolutely not.

  She walked around the desk and sat in the chair. Scott and Jason took the two facing ones. She folded her hands in front of her and said, “I think it’s only fair to let you know I am only consulting initially on this case. I think it would be best to hand this off to another one of my colleagues.”

  Scott looked confused. “I’m not sure I understand, Ms. Kendall. Your boss led us to believe you have no prior engagements and accepted this role. Is there another—?” A look of horror crossed his face and he turned to Jason, his face turning red. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

  “No, no. Nothing like you’re thinking.” She crossed her fingers under the desk and prayed she could hide the lie on her face. “I just finished a grueling campaign with a representative, crisscrossing the state and I’m worn out. I don’t think it would be right for me to take this job on when I’m running on fumes.”

  Scott look mollified while Jason stared at the wall, his expression unreadable. “Actually, I think you might be perfect. As Ms. Callahan probably explained, we’re not looking for a lot of publicity, quite the opposite in fact. A few well-placed stories, a few interviews, some coaching guidance. You’d hardly have to travel at all.”

  Her smile froze but she persevered. “I can’t take your money for such an easy job. I’m sure Mr. Friar can handle himself.”

  “Mr. Friar is the reason we’re in this predicament and an image consultant is a condition of his contract, so he actually has no choice in the matter.” Another man spoke from the doorway and, judging by the sudden burst of anger crossing Jason’s face then quickly masked, not a welcome addition to the discussion. “I know Ms. Callahan spoke with you, Ms. Kendall, but I would like to be very clear on the contract and what we need you to do with Mr. Friar. I’m Cole Hammonds, the team general manager and responsible for this contract.”

  Stacia struggled to hide her surprise. Contract terms? Image issues? “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hammonds. I confess you have me at a disadvantage. The details of the contract were not relayed to me prior to this appointment. I’ll need to assess the situation and determine if I am the best fit.”

  Jason leaned forward and looked intently at her, eyes willing her to back down. “Ms. Kendall, I’m not happy about this either, but you were recommended to me by a highly reputable person and I feel obligated to use his suggestion.”

  She froze in her seat, her mind scanning through her mental list of people who may have recommended her. The only explanation that fit was last night and that was a connection of a totally different ballgame. Not willing to let Jason get the better of her, she pursed her lips and nodded. “As I said, I would need to review the situation before I make any suggestions on how we proceed.”

  “Fair enough, Ms. Kendall. Let me review the expectations of you and Mr. Friar.”

  Hammonds sneered Jason’s name and Stacia fought the urge to slap him. The deliberate slight could only inspire Jason to rebel against the control, not be willing to work with her on his image. She’d seen it before and this only made her job more difficult.

  Jason clearly felt the insult. His lips tightened further, almost disappearing in a flat, tense line. What could have happened to make him put up with this treatment?

  *

  Jason barely listened as Cole outlined the terms of his contract with his one-night stand. Thank God this contract wasn’t in place yesterday or he would already be in violation. He hadn’t expected his sudden physical reaction to her presence, the tightening of his cock and ferocious need to taste her again. If he couldn’t get his body under control, it might not be long before he broke the terms again. And again. Her tongue peeked out and wet her lips, a nervous gest
ure that only reminded him even more of that evening and those same lips on his lips, his stomach, his cock. He shifted to hide his rising attention.

  Definitely not the time, although his cock never really cared about time or place.

  His agent eyed him nervously. Scott had been a good friend, the only one who stood by him in this trouble. He must be wondering what the hell was going on and when Jason would blow it. He didn’t have a great track record at resisting women and, if Scott knew what transpired just last night, Jason would be without an agent and a job.

  Jason listened to the pompous GM drone on and on, stressing the importance of keeping Jason’s cock in his pants and looking like a sweet angel on Sunday morning. Stacia kept darting him nervous glances, as if she was as afraid as he was of someone blowing their cover. That was interesting. Maybe this could work to his advantage.

  Either he could blackmail his babysitter into leaving him alone, or, better yet, blackmail her into being closer with him. He hadn’t gotten her out of his system, not even after last night. Now he had a chance. But how to play it?

  This situation needed a more careful hand than a hot shot down the baseline. He handled hot shots easily and instinctually, and he knew women almost as well. Something told him to play this one cool and calm, wait on it until he could read the bounce. He could do that.

  A smile spread across his face and he caught her eye. He knew how the smile looked. Predatory and confident. Her eyes widened as she correctly read his intent. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.

  Scott nudged him and he noticed Cole staring at him. The man clearly didn’t trust him. He’d have to watch himself with that one, definitely.

  “You were saying?” he replied casually.

  The GM’s eyes narrowed and he said, “Ms. Kendall is in charge. Ms. Kendall, if you need anything, any time, contact me.”

  “She’ll be busy, Cole. I’ll take good care of her,” he drawled, secretly enjoying the way the other man’s face twisted as if he’d smelled something particularly nasty.