Getting the DOWN (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)

by Daphne Loveling

  “Have they been together long?” I ask Jake as we move away from them to mingle.

  He laughs. “Hell no. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

  I take Jake around the room, introducing him to different benefactors of the foundation. Just as I thought he would be, he’s a natural, making everyone he talks to feel like they’re the most interesting person in the room. He’s so damn charming that I find myself wishing he was a little less so. Because watching person after person fall under his spell makes me realize how much I’ve fallen under it, as well. And he could be playing me just as easily as he’s doing it with all of these complete strangers.

  It’s not a pleasant thought.

  From the reception, the guests move upstairs into the large hall that the foundation has reserved for the dinner, a three course meal with wine pairings and dessert. I sit up at the long main table with Jake, Rose, and a selection of the biggest donors and supporters of the foundation. At one of the tables toward the front, I spy Knute Amundson, with a woman next to him who must be his wife. She’s dressed in a light-blue sequined gown, her dyed-brown hair cut short in a style that’s not very flattering to her round face. Compared to Rose, she’s plain and dowdy, even in her formal attire, and I find myself feeling sorry for her, and wondering again what the nature of Rose’s relationship to Knute is.

  When most people are done eating their main courses and the servers walk around to begin offering dessert and coffee, Rose nods at me and I stand up to begin the program. “Welcome, everyone, to the eleventh annual Give A Wish Foundation charity gala. My name is Marinda Blake, and I’m the interim director of the foundation.”

  I spend a few minutes telling them a short history of the foundation, even though most of these well-heeled donors have been Rose’s friends or fellow socialites for years. Then I introduce Rose, to great applause, who gives a practiced and gracious speech thanking everyone for being there and talking about how close the cause of Give A Wish is to her heart. A couple of times during her talk, I glance over toward Knute Amundson and his wife to find him staring at Rose like she’s a vision of perfection, and her wrinkling her nose slightly, as though she’s smelling something bad.

  When Rose finally concludes her speech and sit down, I stand up again to introduce Jake.

  “And now, I’d like to introduce to all of you our master of ceremonies. As most of you know, Jake Ryland is one of the hottest quarterbacks in the NFL, and Springville is lucky enough to be able to call him our own. Recently, Jake has started making headlines for his work with the Give A Wish Foundation. He’s generously agreed to be our host for this evening. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Mr. Jake Ryland!”

  The applause is thunderous, and Jake takes the podium with the easy, self-assured charm that never seems to fail him. Hell, I was nervous just introducing him, but he looks completely comfortable up there, like he’s talking to a good friend instead of several hundred people.

  Jake practiced the speech that my colleague Harriet wrote for him a couple of times with me, so I figured he’d be fine, but in the moment it’s even better than I expected. He talks about how important the foundation’s work is, and how honored he is to be part of it. Listening to him now, no one would ever suspect that he had to be dragged into it practically kicking and screaming.

  “The children I’ve met are some of the toughest, most inspirational kids you could ever hope to meet,” he’s saying now. “Every day, they fight harder than you can imagine. They’re tougher than any football player on any pro team.” For a moment, he stops talking and stands back from the microphone. I realize with a start that he’s going off script. “These kids,” he says with a hitch in his voice, “deserve every possible bit of normalcy we can give them. And that’s what Give A Wish is about. Because ultimately,” he rasps, “that’s what their biggest wish is: to be normal. To have a shot at a normal life.”

  I hear a couple of people start to sniff in the audience. And I can’t blame them. A large lump is forming in my throat. And as worried as I suddenly am that Jake will say something that will undo all the work we’ve done to repair his image, as he continues to talk, I realize that he’s got the audience in the palm of his hand. There’s something so genuine, so real, about what he’s saying that it’s clear he’s speaking from the heart, and not from a script.

  “We have a great program for you tonight,” Jake concludes. “I think you’re going to really enjoy it. But please, remember that for every minute we spend here enjoying each other’s company, there are kids out there fighting for their lives. And whatever we can do to make that fight easier, and better, we shouldn’t hesitate to do it.”

  It’s not what he’s supposed to do. These events are about making our donors feel great about themselves, to puff up their egos so they’ll donate more. But suddenly, it doesn’t matter. One by one, people start to stand up as they clap, and pretty soon the whole room is standing. Women are dabbing at their eyes, and men are calling out his name. Jake nods at them all, then looks over at me. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, but in his eyes there’s a seriousness that’s unmistakable. Unfake-able.

  Jake really cares about these kids, I realize. He may be doing all this because he was forced to, but it’s become more than that for him. The more I get to know him, the more I realize he’s a lot less shallow and self-centered than I’ve been giving him credit for. And part of me really wishes that wasn’t the case.

  Chapter 20

  Jake

  I’ve never seen anything as fucking beautiful as Rinn when she first opened her door in that hot as hell dress she’s wearing.

  It took everything I had in me not to just blow off the charity thing and spend the evening peeling that thing off her, taking the pins out of her hair, and fucking her senseless in every room of her house. Hell, if she’d given me the slightest indication she’d go along with it, we never would have made it here. But at least my consolation prize is that I get to spend the evening stealing glimpses of how the heels she’s wearing lift up her perfect ass.

  The emcee gig goes pretty well, and we end up raising a boatload of money through the silent auction that happens after the dinner and program. The team’s publicists sent over a bunch of signed memorabilia and season tickets for the auction that ended up being a big hit.

  As the evening winds down, I can tell Rinn’s really happy with how everything went. I’m standing with her back down in the atrium when Knute Amundson comes up with Rose Fowler to congratulate us. Knute’s wife is nowhere to be seen, and I catch Rinn raising a questioning brow at me. I give a slight shrug in response.

  “A triumph!” Rose crows as she places a manicured hand on my shoulder. “You were wonderful, Mr. Ryland.”

  “Please, call me Jake,” I grin back at her, putting a wink in my voice that I know from experience makes older women lose their shit. She fucking giggles, and it’s all I can to not to look at Rinn to see whether she’s trying not to crack up.

  “Good man, Jake,” Knute grunts, and shakes my hand. Apparently, I’m out of the doghouse for now.

  “Your publicist — Jill, I believe her name is?” Rose continues. “She’d like to have you do one more round of pictures with the photographer. I believe they’re upstairs in the ballroom.”

  Rinn and I take the elevators back up and I pose some more in my monkey suit so the photographer can get better lighting as I pretend to give my speech at the podium. Jill goes over to introduce herself to Rinn while he gets his shots. Jill gets this look on her face as they talk — it’s one I’ve seen before, where her mouth tightens into this sort of frozen smile. It’s the same look she’d give other women while we were hooking up, even though I always made it clear it was just sex, nothing more.

  Jill eventually walks away just as the photographer is finishing up, and Rinn comes over to see how we’re doing. “Well, she seems nice,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  I grin. “Yeah, Jill can be a little, uh, high
maintenance.” The truth is, Jill’s a stone cold bitch.

  Great rack, though.

  Rinn is peering at me. “She seems a little… possessive of you,” she points out. “Is there something I should know?”

  “We’re not together, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Were you, though?”

  “No,” I reassure her. “But I’m not sure she knows that.”

  Rinn doesn’t answer. I try to distract her.

  “Hey,” I say. “There’s one more photo I want.”

  “What’s that?” she frowns.

  “A selfie.” Before she can respond, I take out my phone and pull her to me. It’s my promise to Caitlynn. I know she’s gonna ask me whether Rinn’s my girlfriend yet next time I see her, but I’ll figure that out later. Right now, I lean close to Rinn and whisper in her ear. “Say ‘Jake Ryland’s a stud.’”

  She laughs, and I take the picture.

  “That was cheating,” she says.

  I tap the photo and it comes up on the screen. Rinn’s head is tilted back slightly, her eyes twinkling.

  She’s fucking gorgeous.

  Something clenches in my stomach as I look at the two of us together. We look… natural. Like a couple. It feels like Rinn sees it, too, because her laughter dies in her throat.

  This is when I should talk to her about it. This is when I should ask her whether we could give this a shot.

  But I wuss out. Like a fucking coward.

  “So,” I say instead, nuzzling her ear. “How about I have Jasper take us back to your place and I can help you get out of that dress?”

  I take Rinn’s arm in mine and walk with her back to the elevator. It’s probably dumb to do a PDA display right here in the hotel, but I figure most people are gone anyway. And besides, don’t men take women’s arms at formal things like this, to be, like, gallant or some shit? At any rate, she doesn’t pull away. We get into one of the elevator cars, alone, and I curse whoever designed these things to have glass windows overlooking the atrium. If that guy hadn’t been such an idiot, I could have copped a feel on the way down.

  Downstairs, we step out and move toward the hotel lobby. Suddenly, Rinn reaches over and grips my forearm.

  “Look,” she hisses, nodding her head slightly.

  I follow her gaze and catch a glimpse of Knute and Rose retreating down a corridor. Knute’s hand is on her back, and drops down to cup her ass. Just before they turn and disappear, Knute turns his head and glances our way to see us looking at them.

  “What is going on with those two?” Rinn whispers when they’re gone.

  I chuckle. “If you can’t figure it out, I’m not gonna tell you.”

  “I feel so bad for his wife.” Rinn’s face darkens, and her mood shifts, just like that.

  I try to distract her. “Well, look at it this way,” I shrug. “Maybe his wife knows and doesn’t care. It’s hard to say what goes on inside a marriage.”

  But it’s clear what we just saw has hit a nerve. “God, I can’t imagine.” Rinn’s voice is soft, sad. “Being cheated on is so… humiliating.”

  Oh. Shit, of course. Suddenly, I remember running into Rinn’s cheating ex with her that day a few weeks ago. Seeing obvious evidence of some guy cheating on his wife is probably bringing that memory back. A wave of anger surges through me. Fuck that guy Collin. Anyone who would cheat on Rinn is obviously a goddamn idiot.

  “Rinn,” I say, lifting her chin toward mine. We’re still in the lobby, and people can see us, but I don’t care. “Don’t think about them. We’ve had a good night. Let’s not let this spoil it, okay?” I lean down and graze her lips with mine.

  Her eyes flutter at my kiss. “I guess so,” she breathes, her face flushing slightly.

  “Good.” I put my hand on the small of her back and take my phone out to call Jasper. “Now let’s go back to your place and try as hard as we can to wear out your mattress.”

  Chapter 21

  Marinda

  We go back to my place after the gala. We don’t wear out my mattress, but we do manage to make enough noise that my next-door neighbor Mrs. Brzezinski pounds on the wall at one in the morning, which completely mortifies me.

  As I fall asleep in Jake’s arms, my thoughts slide back to Rose and Knute and what we saw at the hotel. I try to do what Jake asks and put them out of my mind, but the more I try to think of something else, the more my head keeps turning around and around. I should be happy about what a success tonight was, but instead I keep thinking about how casual Jake acted about Knute cheating on his wife. It’s probably something Jake sees all the time, I tell myself. Hell, given the way that women throw themselves at pro football players, maybe it seems like no big deal to him.

  Suddenly, Jill the publicist’s face pops up in my mind. Even though she didn’t say anything about it, there was something in the way she talked about Jake — something so familiar — that told me that they were more than friends at some point. Jake said they hadn’t been together, but he hadn’t exactly denied that anything had ever happened between them. I know it isn’t really any of my business what Jake has or hasn’t done with other women before me, but I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy when I think about how flawless Jill’s body is. Then there’s his teammate — Zach? — who showed up tonight with a literal model on his arm. The fact is, I can’t begin to compete with these women. I wouldn’t even know how to try.

  Not that Jake and I are even together, I remind myself crossly. Even though he’s lying in my bed next to me right now, his breathing slow and even as he sleeps, there’s no reason to think this is anything other than a fling, albeit a fling that’s gone on for over a month. But I may as well admit to myself, as much as I hate to, that I actually want this to mean more.

  And I want Jake to want it, too.

  The photo he took of the two of us tonight — looking at it with him afterwards, it felt… good. Anyone who looked at the picture without knowing us would just assume we were a couple. On the way home in the limo, I even let myself fantasize for a brief, stolen moment about what it would be like to be with Jake. About other selfies we’d take: on a picnic, or on vacation, or just hanging around doing nothing. It made me feel warm inside to think about it.

  But even if Jake did want to be with me, I scold myself, the fantasy relationship in your head is just that: a fantasy. Do I really want to be involved with a guy who attracts beautiful, willing women like a magnet? Could I really handle knowing that Jake spends months out of the year on the road, with football groupies practically camped outside the team’s locker room waiting for their chance to sleep with a famous player? After all, the whole reason he got stuck doing charity work with Give A Wish in the first place is that he needed to change his image as a wild party boy. Even if the public is starting to see a different side of him, that doesn’t mean that the wild child Jake Ryland isn’t still in there somewhere. He’s been different lately because he’s trying to be on his best behavior, I remind myself, but that doesn’t mean he’s changed.

  I go back and forth for hours, telling myself that someone like Jake can’t be trusted, and then berating myself for even thinking about any of this in the first place. Finally, I fall asleep, completely exhausted and no closer to understanding anything at all about Jake Ryland.

  The next morning, Jake seems to know something’s off with me. I catch him looking at me curiously more than once, but he doesn’t press it, and I don’t explain.

  I’m feeling pretty grumpy from lack of sleep, and instead of lazing in bed, I get up and go to the bathroom to take a shower without inviting him to join me. When I emerge, toweling off my wet hair, Jake’s up and moving around in my kitchen. He’s wearing a pair of gray boxer briefs and nothing else, and in spite of myself, I marvel at the way the muscles in his back and arms ripple as he moves.

  “Hey,” he says, and holds out a mug. “I made you some coffee.”

  I take it from him silently and sip, half wishing he hadn’t done somethin
g nice when I’m trying to talk myself out of liking him so much.

  “Hey yourself,” I say. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a baby,” he grins. “You?”

  I shrug. “My double bed’s a little small for the two of us.”

  I’m determined to be in a pissy mood, but if he notices he doesn’t show it. “What do you have going on for today?”

  It’s Sunday, and for the last week most of my focus has been on the gala, so I have to think for a minute. “”Oh, shit!” I say suddenly. “I’m supposed to go up to Holcomb today to see my parents.” I literally smack my forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot!”

  “Special occasion?” Jake asks.

  “No, no, just going up for the day. I try to get up there every month or so.”

  “That’s too bad,” he murmurs, taking a step forward and pulling me toward him. “I was kinda hoping to spend the day with you.”

  “Careful, you’ll spill my coffee,” I frown, but I’m secretly pleased in spite of myself.

  “Put the cup down,” he orders, and takes it from me before I can respond. He leans me against the counter, the hard heat of his arousal pressing against me. I stifle a moan.

  “I should probably be leaving soon,” I pant. “They’ll be expecting me for lunch.”

  He pushes a hand under the tank top I threw on after my shower. I’m not wearing a bra, and he drags the pad of his thumb across my nipple, making me gasp. “Holcomb’s only an hour away,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need. “You told me so yourself.”

  I wish I had more will power where Jake is concerned. But God, he feels so good, and plus I know what he can do to my body. So my brain takes a hiatus and before I know it, he’s pulled my tank top over my head and my yoga pants are in a puddle on the floor.

  “Fuck,” he hisses as he dips first one finger, then two, into my soaking channel. “Jesus, you’re so wet for me.” He pushes down the waistband of his boxer briefs and they fall to his feet. Then he’s sliding the molten tip of his head against the slickness of my lips.