Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1)

by Megan Ryder

  She struggled briefly, attempting to break his grip, trying to orient herself. He held her tightly, leaning in her, burying his nose in her hair.

  “Relax,” he whispered into her ear. Her perfume wafted over him and he inhaled deeply.

  “Are you sniffing me?” Her outraged voice broke through his sensual haze and he released her.

  She jumped up and took a few steps away, smoothing her skirt and jacket. The blouse remained open at the throat, revealing a wildly beating pulse and the hint of cleavage from a heaving chest. He sighed. Mission accomplished.

  She looked more like his Stacia—tousled, sexy, alive. Much better than the prissy dictator that he was stuck with for the next few months. He grinned, enjoying the sight. Her hand flew to her throat and she took a few more steps back.

  “We agreed this couldn’t happen again.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but got stronger towards the end of the sentence.

  “You agreed. I never did. I just said no one could know. Besides, there’s something here, something between us still.” Something that could complicate his life. Damn. Maybe he should have let them pick his jailer instead of the one woman he wanted.

  “It’s just sex,” she retorted. “Nothing more.”

  If only it were that easy.

  She pulled out her phone and scrolled down a screen. “Okay. We have a lot to do before you join the team. First, we have the press conference in a couple of days, announcing your signing with the Georgia Knights. Then, I convinced some local stations to give you an interview.”

  “Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

  He jumped up from his chair and stormed into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and studied the almost-bare shelves. She peered over his shoulder and sniffed. He jumped, banging his head against the freezer.

  He rubbed his head and glared at her. “Damn it, woman. How can you sneak up on anyone with those spikes on your feet?”

  She glanced down at her stilettos and shrugged. “Practice. Now, I wouldn’t recommend the beer, not while we’re working. I’ll take a bottle of water. We can order out for food since you have the typical bachelor fridge.”

  He grabbed two bottles of water and closed the door. “What’s in your fridge? A gourmet meal?”

  She looked away, consulting her list. Again. “Actually, I’ve been a little busy and haven’t had time to shop.” She perched on a bar stool at the small counter, crossed one long leg over the other and took a deep swallow of her water.

  Jason was mesmerized by the muscles in her throat, the long white column, leading down to the still unbuttoned blouse. His cock, which had settled to a dormant state, was definitely aware and perked up. He shifted position and leaned against the counter, downing a quarter of the water, hoping to quench his sudden heat.

  “First, the schedule. You have your physical and some team things, so that gives us time to practice your interview skills. In two days, you have the press conference, announcing your signing. That’s at noon, sharp. We’re planning a decent turnout, considering.”

  “Considering I’m a washed-up, has-been? A train wreck?” Bitterness burned his throat, choking his words but couldn’t seem to stop.

  She froze before clearing her throat and looking at him, sympathy, or maybe pity, in her eyes. “I’m sorry the past year has been awful for you. But it’s time to grow up, get over it. Change your attitude. Change their perceptions. Change your life.”

  He tossed the empty water bottle in the sink and pushed off the counter, anger a dull throb at his temples. He advanced on her, then caged her in his arms, hands clenching the edges of the counter. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, hearing lies, rumors, bullshit about your personal life? Having your name dragged through the mud to sell papers? Then, having someone you trusted with your livelihood, your entire financial life, steal from you and disappear? To have the one thing in your life that meant something, ripped away? Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  Her hazel eyes calmly looked into his, holding his attention, not backing down. When she spoke, it was quiet, barely above a whisper, but the words cracked across him, sharper than a whip. “I grew up the daughter of a senator. Everything I did, said, wore, was reported on.”

  She straightened her shoulders and her words grew stronger. “I would come home from school and our maid would tell me my father was expecting my call to berate me about some report that was probably not even true. Of course, most of the time he couldn’t be bothered to take my call, even when he demanded it.”

  Her voice quieted and she looked away. “Then I had to live with my mother’s cancer treatments and her physical reactions plastered across the papers daily, alongside pictures of my father and his latest mistress, or aide, as he called them. I wasn’t even allowed to grieve without it being a photo op. And dating? Well, that was completely off the table, unless it was with someone my father hand-picked.” A deep breath and she finished. “So yes, I know exactly how you’re feeling. And I’m not sitting here whining about it. So get the fuck over it.”

  Her words hit him like a splash of cold water, dousing his anger and his ardor in an avalanche of ice. He stepped away, hands falling uselessly to his side. “Shit, Stacia. I’m sorry.”

  “Now, if we’re done with that, we have work to do.” She turned back to her phone but not before he could see a glint of tears in her eyes.

  You’re a fucking idiot, Friar.

  *

  Stacia nervously chewed her lower lip until she tasted blood. Only a few days between her introduction to Jason and today, when they would announce his signing and open him and the team up to media questions. In the intervening days, he had ducked her calls and avoided any conversation except to say, “I know how to be a nice guy. Really. Lay off.”

  He’d better show. She should have escorted him personally from his house. She should have insisted. Damnit, if he screwed up this job for her, she’d kill him.

  The door to the players’ area opened and Jason pushed through the security guards.

  “You could have left my name at the desk,” he grumbled.

  “It’s about time you got here. It’s almost time to start and I need to prep you on your answers.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hallway, resisting the urge to hug him and smack him at the same time.

  “Well, good morning, Miss Stacia. I wasn’t born yesterday and I am reasonably sure I know how to speak, so I can answer my own damn questions, thank you very much.”

  She yanked him to a stop and scanned him. “What the hell are you wearing? I laid you out a perfectly nice outfit and you put on this?”

  Unbelievable. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt, definitely not the ironed shirt and pants she had specifically taken home and pressed herself two nights ago. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed. If she wasn’t so outraged, she’d jump him and take him back to the bed immediately. “Where’s your tie? Did you sleep in those clothes?”

  He glanced down at the rumpled clothes. “Of course not. I didn’t have time to iron. Actually,” he rubbed his jaw. “I don’t own an iron.”

  “Well, I do and I ironed your clothes. They were hanging in your closet.”

  He stared at her, comprehension dawning. “But I have nothing in the closet. Why would I go in there?”

  She threw up her hands, irritation buzzing in her ears. “I told you yesterday when I dropped them off along with food for your fridge. You were too busy watching television.”

  He pulled her into the small room off the hallway and slammed the door. “Lady, I was working on my swing, studying pitchers, and getting ready to do my fucking job. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

  “Well, you’d better make time because it’s not going away. Fortunately, I took the liberty of grabbing a second outfit. It’s in my office. Follow me.”

  She yanked open the door and stalked down the narrow corridor, not checking to see if he was following. How could he be so cavalier about this? It wasn�
��t just his job, but hers too. She’d better make him aware of that before he got them both fired. At least she was prepared this time. Men. Honestly, sometimes they were just like children.

  Once they were in her office, she slammed the door and gestured to the clothes hanging on the hook. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door, blocking any escape. “Change.”

  He scowled at her. “I can do this on my own.”

  She snorted. “Not likely. I’m not letting you out of my sight until the interview is over. Change.”

  He folded his arms and sat on the desk.

  She sighed. “Seriously? Are you shy? You walk around naked in locker rooms all the time. And believe me buddy, I’ve seen you naked. I’m not going anywhere. Move it.”

  Someone knocked on the door. “Ms. Kendall? We’re waiting on you.”

  She opened the door a crack and peered out. “We’re finishing our prep. Be right there.”

  Jason heaved a sigh and started unbuttoning his shirt. Stacia’s mouth dried as he slowly revealed the muscular chest that she had thoroughly explored only a few night before. Her face burned and she closed her eyes, mentally counting to ten, trying to calm her racing pulse. She opened them and Jason was slipping the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the smooth tanned skin of his torso. She hadn’t fully appreciated him in the dim lighting of the hotel room, too eager for the main attraction. She had really missed out.

  Her hands itched to trace the ridges of muscle, to feel the warmth of his skin, to taste…

  She shook her head, clearing the images from her mind. Now wasn’t the time for sexual fantasies. She looked up and saw Jason staring at her, a smirk on his face, as if he could read her mind. His hand moved to his pants and her face flamed further.

  She fumbled for the doorknob and turned it. “I, uh, think you have it. I’ll be outside.”

  His laughter followed her out the door. “Coward.”

  A few moments later, she had her breathing under control. Jason opened the door and slipped outside. “Better, boss?”

  She ran her eyes over his body, looking for any flaws. Her eyes widened when she saw a telltale bulge in his pants. He grabbed her arm and stalked down the hall. “Stop looking at me like that or we’ll never make the press conference.”

  She grinned, the day looking a little brighter than it had a few minutes ago. He was as affected as she was. Maybe she had a future as a femme fatale after all.

  She stumbled along after him, trying not to trip in her heels. “Grouchy today, aren’t we? Okay, we’re not going to allow many questions. We certainly want to avoid any discussion of your personal life. So, don’t say anything for those questions, got it? If you’re asked, just grin and deflect it, or change the subject. Don’t give in to their baiting.”

  “Relax, Stacia.” He stopped the headlong rush and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her words. “I’ve done hundreds, if not thousands, of interviews. I can handle this.”

  A subtle whiff of expensive perfume and the sudden stiffening in Jason’s shoulders indicated that Miranda Callahan had just walked up. Stacia turned. The owner’s daughter was dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit and followed closely by Cole Hammonds.

  Jason stepped past her and held out his hand. “Ms. Callahan. Nice to see you again.” He nodded curtly. “Hammonds.”

  Cole humpfed and shot Stacia a look. “Manners have improved. Slightly. Are you ready for the dog and pony show?”

  She turned on the politician’s daughter’s smile, the one she used at all political events. “We sure are.”

  Miranda and Jason walked out onto the stage, Cole leading the way to the podium. Flashbulbs began flashing and Stacia blinked rapidly, praying Jason wouldn’t blow it. After the brief announcement, Cole stepped to the side, leaving Jason at the microphone.

  “Mr. Friar, can you shed any light on the allegations about your illegitimate daughter? Where is she now? Are you finally supporting her financially?” Flash

  Stacia winced and Cole scowled.

  “Mr. Friar, you’re as well-known for your off-field antics as for your sparkling plays at first. Do you feel those activities contributed to your injury and decline in your career?” Flash

  She glanced at her watch and then out at Cole. She gestured to end it but he stood there glowering. God, it was worse than a reality housewives television show.

  “Mr. Friar, is there any truth to the rumors that you’re flat broke from years of drug use and partying?” Flash

  Shit, not the drug use. Jason, shut up. She prayed to a God she barely knew, but she would have sacrificed all of her unborn children if he would stop the bloodbath in front of her. Jason’s face had gotten progressively harder, as if carved from granite, and his eyes promised retribution. But he held his tongue. Almost.

  “Mr. Friar, is there any truth to the rumor that the Knights are the only team willing to take you on? How does that make you feel?” Flash Flash Flash

  And then it went south. Straight to the bowels of hell. All before Stacia could step in, not that she knew what to say.

  “How the hell do you think it makes me feel?” With that statement, he ripped the mic off his team jersey and stormed off the stage. “Fucking vultures.”

  At least she could finally say she knew what it meant when people said something was like a train wreck but they couldn’t stop watching. The horror.

  Cole snarled. “Fix this now!” Then he stepped to the podium to appease the stunned media.

  Stacia bolted after Jason as fast as three-inch Manolos would let her and caught up with him in the parking lot. She grabbed his arm, trying to wheel him around. Instead, she was almost yanked off her heels. He whirled to face her and grabbed her just as she teetered over.

  “Why the hell would you wear shoes like that and try to run in them? Are you just plain stupid?”

  “No, I’m trying to save your ass.”

  His face was contorted into a feral mask, anger and rage twisting him. “My ass is safe, thank you very much. I don’t need a glorified babysitter to help me.”

  “Well, based on that stupid display of temper in there, it sure looks like you need lessons in being human, or at least civility. And you wonder why no one wanted you.”

  She could feel her career flushing right alongside his, straight down the crapper. How the hell could she recover from this? It would have been easier if he had slept with an intern like her last client. But insulting the media? Walking out on an interview? There was almost no turning back.

  He dropped her arm and began pacing, short angry strides back and forth in the empty parking space next to the SUV. “That shit shouldn’t have happened. It should only matter what I do on the field. As long as I don’t fuck that up, nothing else should matter.”

  “Well, you haven’t been on the field in over a year and the last time you were it wasn’t so stellar was it? So, what else do they have to talk about?” she pointed out quietly.

  He glanced away as if the statement had hit too close to the mark. He heaved a shuddering sigh, and his shoulders slumped. “It shouldn’t matter.” This time, it was said more quietly, more subdued.

  “No, it shouldn’t, but everything matters. So, now that you flubbed big time, we need to fix it.” Options began flashing through her mind, interviews she could schedule, events to play up, ways to deal with this as if it were an aberration. God help her, it’d better be an aberration or they were both doomed.

  He sighed. “Not today. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Yes, today.” She stepped in front of him and forced him to look her in the face. “You can’t keep running from your mistakes. It’s time for you to grow up and take responsibility. Besides, this could very well be your last chance. Do you want it or not?”

  He avoided her eyes. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “Were you not in the same room I was? I saw a childish display of temper, not the mature adult who professes to be able to handle the press
ure.”

  “Whatever, darling. Leave me alone, at least for now. I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me how I screwed up. Don’t you think I know that? That I think about it all the time?” He drew a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. When he spoke, his tone was softer, calmer. “Look, I have to catch up with the team in Detroit. When I come back, we’ll deal with this, okay?”

  She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and hug him, comfort him. She stood firm, her arms crossed, posture stiff. “Not good enough.”

  “Well, it’s going to have to be, unless you want to come and live with me in my hotel on the road. I promise to be in bed early every night, focus on baseball and do nothing stupid. Besides, I have a lot to catch up on – batting, fielding, getting to know the rhythm of my teammates on the field. Just leave me be.”

  She unbent a little, softened. She had to remember that he had a job to do, over and above what she had. And it wouldn’t be easy joining a new group of players with his reputation. “You promise to behave and to listen to me when you get back?”

  “I’m not a child.”

  She grinned at him, the tension leaving the area. He glared, then smiled and nodded begrudgingly. “Yes.”

  She walked him to his Lexus SUV. “Fine. But don’t make me come up there.”

  He snorted, got in his car then peeled out of the parking lot.

  Stacia watched him go. She turned to the stadium with a heavy sigh. He wouldn’t change. None of them ever did. They only wanted someone to make it look like they did, clean their image. Reality didn’t matter one bit. She didn’t matter. For once, though, she had a client she thought she could believe in. A man who was a good person underneath, and not just good in bed. How to show that to everyone else, including him? Before she could tackle that job, she had some clean up to do and interviews to reschedule.

  Time to duel with the devil.

  *