To Win Her Back

by Mackenzie Crowne

  “I’ll take that as a yes. When do they want you?” Her stomach growled and she bit off an enormous bite of spicy beef. An appreciative moan rumbled deep in her throat.

  “From the sound of it, I’ll be expected in Manhattan as soon as possible. I’ll know more once I’ve met with Caroline Wainwright. She owns the franchise. The team is flying me out for Sunday’s home game.”

  TJ’s gaze cut to the hallway. “What about Lucy? Do you need me to pack a bag and stay with her?”

  “I’m taking her with me, but I was going to call and ask if you’d take Daisy for a few days.”

  “You know you don’t have to ask.” TJ nodded, and they ate in silence for several moments. He glanced up when she cleared her throat.

  “Will you have to work with her?”

  He should have known she wasn’t finished grilling him on the subject of V. “Damn it, TJ.”

  “What?” Eyes wide with feigned innocence, she spoke around the bite of cole slaw she shoved into her mouth. “I’m just curious about your new job.”

  He sighed and picked up his beer. “She works in the front office. I’ll be on the field for the most part but, yeah. Some, I guess.”

  “Ugh.” Her eyes glittered with heat. “Maybe you should make it a stipulation of your hiring that they can her ass.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not sure requesting they fire their PR consultant is the first impression I want to make.” An image of V tearing out of the parking lot like her hair was on fire filled him with satisfaction, and his smile was keen. “But, don’t worry. I can handle Victoria Price.”

  Chapter 4

  “When I said Sam Fitzpatrick and I weren’t exactly friends, I should have added he hates me.”

  Caroline frowned. “Hate’s a pretty strong word.”

  “Yeah, well. He has his reasons.”

  V turned away to stare through the window overlooking the stadium at the Marauders’ Sports Complex. Six levels below, two men walked from the field. Sam, with his dark hair and broad shoulders, moved at Coach Duggan’s side toward the tunnel and private elevator leading to the administrative offices.

  “Do I want to hear them?”

  V glanced over her shoulder. “They’re of a personal nature.”

  “Are there any other kind?” Caroline studied her face as if dissecting her brain. “He’s here, V. Obviously, he’s not letting the past affect his future. You shouldn’t, either.”

  V turned and leaned against the credenza fronting the window. A lump of anxiety solidified in her belly. She’d purposefully missed yesterday’s game, which she never did, but avoiding Sam as she’d intended would be impossible if she were forced to follow Caroline’s latest directive. “I don’t intend to, but there has got to be someone else who can do this. What about Tom Walden? He’s the players’ liaison and part of the good-old-boy network.”

  Caroline shook her head. “Tom is in the middle of several key negotiations and doesn’t have the time. We’re in a bind with Bob leaving. With Christmas next week and the playoffs the week after that, we need Sam on the field, not bogged down with details someone else can handle. The best hope of achieving a smooth transition is to send someone to Barlow to help him with the logistics of resettling here in the city.”

  “You’ve already signed him?” V’s lungs constricted as her last hope Sam would turn down the job writhed in a death roll.

  “No, but I will. He had no issues with the generous package we offered. The only hurdle left is his finding satisfactory living arrangements, which the team will provide.” Caroline eased back in her chair. “Look, V, you’re my friend and I value your contribution to the team, but if you can’t work with the man, tell me now.”

  She didn’t add, “so I can find your replacement.” She didn’t have to. V knew the drill. When it came to her team, Caroline didn’t screw around, and their friendship made no difference. The people Caroline hired either pulled their weight or they were gone. End of story. Normally, V appreciated her boss’ straightforward style, but these circumstances were anything but normal.

  She met Caroline’s watchful gaze and hoped she wasn’t telling a whopper. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  As if she’d expected no less, Caroline nodded briskly and slid open a drawer. She held out a binder. “My real estate broker put together a list of six homes that meet the specifications Sam gave us yesterday. You should be able to view all of them before heading to Barlow Wednesday morning. The broker will meet you at the first house on the list in an hour. In the meantime, Sam’s daughter is waiting in the lounge. Why don’t you go introduce yourself?”

  The breath caught in V’s throat. “His daughter?”

  Sam was a father? He was married? She mentally shook herself. Of course, he was married, or had been at some point. Why wouldn’t he be? Even as screwed up as she was, she had been tempted by his sense of humor and kindness. Granted, she’d seen no evidence of either last Friday, but wouldn’t expect to. Not with their history. Still, women had always flocked to Sam, and a wife and kids had been a big part of his master plan. He’d have had no problem finding a healthy, normal woman to share his life with.

  And the painful spear of jealousy had no freaking business jabbing her in the heart.

  “Her name is Lucy.”

  V blinked free of her musing to squeak, “Excuse me?”

  Calculation gleamed in Caroline’s eyes and a shrewd smile tugged at her lips. “Fitzpatrick’s daughter. Cute kid. You’ll get a kick out of her.”

  V swallowed. “Why is that?”

  Subtle laughter hummed in Caroline’s throat. “You’ll see.”

  She’d see? What the hell did that mean? The smile V offered was pained, but it was the best she could manage. She took the file and left the office suite.

  On leaden feet, she walked toward the lounge at the end of the hall. Sam had a daughter. How she was supposed to feel about that, she wasn’t sure. After all, if she hadn’t screwed things up between them, the little girl she was about to meet might have been hers.

  The idea of a daughter of her own brought a familiar pang to her heart. She quickly shoved it away. A child, children, weren’t in the cards. Not for her. She’d accepted that reality long ago and hadn’t looked back. She wasn’t about to start now. Besides, Jake and Gracie’s brood, not to mention Tuck and CC’s little guy, provided all the outlet she needed for her latent maternal urgings.

  With conscious effort, V stiffened her spine. Keeping her job was her only concern and, at the moment, she needed all the concentration she could muster. House hunting, for God’s sake. For Sam and his family. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment. Apparently, karma had caught up with her, and it was definitely a bitch.

  Her steps slowed as she neared the lounge and spotted a thin girl curled on one of the couches with her nose in a book. As if she sensed V’s approach, she lifted her head. Heavy black liner enhanced the dark chocolate eyes dominating her narrow face, but it was the two-inch thread of bright purple running through her dark hair that caught V’s eye.

  She blinked and her heartbeat quickened. She’d been expecting a small child, not a half-grown girl in her teens. If this was Sam’s daughter, he certainly hadn’t wasted any time finding that normal woman to fill V’s shoes. A tendril of contempt curled in her belly and bumped up against the guilt she’d carried for years.

  Caught in her own thoughts, she jumped as a muscled arm dropped across her shoulders.

  “Hiya, beautiful.”

  She dragged her gaze from the teenager and turned her head. Wyatt Hunter wore his usual lazy smile.

  He swirled his fingertips over the ball of her shoulder. “I’ve got twenty-four hours free and a bottle of white chilling at my place with your name on it.”

  She rolled her eyes. It had been almost a year to the day since he’d asked her out the first time—and she’d turned him down flat. He’d gone on to have the best game of his
career that evening, throwing for four touchdowns and running in another. Notoriously superstitious, he’d attributed his record-breaking game to her refusal. In the twelve months since, including the off-season, he’d either stopped by her office or called her once a week to repeat his request. The one time he hadn’t, the Marauders had suffered their only loss of this year.

  She bared her teeth in a bland smile. “Damn. If only I didn’t have to wash my hair.”

  “I’ve got plenty of shampoo.” He waggled his brows and dropped his voice into the realm of pure wickedness. “Especially if we share.”

  She couldn’t help her snicker. The team’s sinfully handsome quarterback was five years her junior and completely fickle where women were concerned. Wealthy, talented, and a confirmed bachelor, he scored as often off the field as on. The only son of Oklahoma’s popular governor, he seemed to revel in shocking his parents’ political sensibilities with his infamous playboy lifestyle and, for some reason, he’d included V in the pool of females he saw as potential bed-mates. He was harmless, however, and considering her lack of a sex life, his half-assed pursuit was a pleasant stroke to her ego.

  She patted his cheek. “I don’t think so.”

  His smile slipped into a practiced look of disappointment. “You always say that.”

  She grinned. “And I always mean it, too.”

  Several feet away, the elevator doors whooshed open and Coach Duggan and Sam stepped from the car. Sam glanced between her and Wyatt. His eyes narrowed, and the grin died on her lips. As if she’d been caught fraternizing with the enemy, she jerked from beneath Wyatt’s arm, then gritted her teeth at the unconscious reaction. Coach Duggan simply shook his head.

  Sam looked away, shaking the hand Bob offered. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Coach.”

  The older man smiled. “You’re the right man for the job. I’ll see you when you get back next week?”

  Sam nodded, and Bob turned down the hall in the opposite direction. V tensed and braced herself as Sam faced her and Wyatt. Caroline was right. Sam would sign, and any hope V had had that he wouldn’t had been nothing more than a foolish pipe dream.

  He looked past her as if she wasn’t there, his gaze flicking to the girl on the couch before sliding back to Wyatt.

  “Hunter.” Sam dipped his head in greeting.

  Wyatt grinned. “Sounds like congratulations are in order.”

  The smile curving Sam’s lips didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s the way it looks.”

  Wyatt winked at her and she opened her mouth to cut him off before he could make introductions. She wasn’t quick enough.

  “This is the team’s PR genius, Victoria Price. V, this is—”

  “We’ve met.”

  At Sam’s snarled interruption, Wyatt shot her a questioning glance. Warning bells clanged in her head, and she forced a smile. She’d promised Caroline she could work with Sam, but hadn’t considered the fallout if he refused to work with her.

  Oh, hell. Not good. Not good at all.

  Somehow, they were going to have to find a way to work together, at least on the surface. If they couldn’t, she’d be out of a job.

  She held up the binder in her hand. “Yes, we have and we’ve got a lot on our schedule today.” She offered Sam a tight smile. “Are you ready to go?”

  His gaze skidded back and forth between her and Wyatt. “If the two of you have plans, I can meet the realtor on my own.”

  Wyatt laughed before she could respond. “If it were up to me we would have plans, but the lady keeps turning me down.” He shot her a leering smile. “I’ll convince her to change her mind, eventually.”

  He touched two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute and walked away. She rolled her eyes, but when she shifted her gaze to Sam, the chill in his nearly made her shiver. She sighed and tucked the binder to her chest. With the future of her job front-and-center in her mind, she offered an olive branch.

  “I know I’m not your first choice to work with on your move, but—”

  “Nor my second.”

  Well, damn. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy, but if he expected her to cave beneath his steely gaze, he was mistaken. Though their situation was more than a bit awkward, he wasn’t the first angry male she’d had to handle.

  She cocked her head in a nod of acceptance. “Understood, but I have a job to do, and so do you. Since it appears you’ll be a part of the Marauders’ family, you need to understand something. Caroline Wainwright doesn’t tolerate contention in the ranks. Not between members of her staff, and especially not between coaches and players.”

  He crossed his arms. “Well now, Red. I don’t recall seeing your name on the roster.”

  She bared her teeth in a patently false smile and ignored both his use of the pet name and her short-circuiting heart. He could toss out all the personal barbs he wanted. She wasn’t about to rise to the bait. Dealing with the larger-than-life egos prevalent in the world of pro sports required patience, cunning, and a thick skin. She’d developed all three over the past fifteen years.

  She also understood the game, and it was about time Sam knew it. “Funny.”

  Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes and his lips twisted in a humorless smile.

  She lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye. “You can hate me all you want.” She spoke over his derisive snort. “But here’s the deal. With the exception of the next week, week and-a-half at the most, we won’t be working together. In fact, you’ll barely know I’m here. In the end, how we feel about each other isn’t important. If you take this position, the only thing that matters is your relationship with the players. And the most important relationship you’ll have will be with the man you just snarled at.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, then turned his head and glanced down the hall where Wyatt had disappeared. A scowl darkened his eyes when he looked back. “I don’t snarl.”

  She raised a brow at his growling tone, and his lips thinned in annoyance. With a sigh, she softened her voice. “I know what this opportunity means to you, Sam. Please don’t let my presence here ruin it for you.”

  Surprise lit his eyes before they hardened once more. “I don’t plan to.”

  Relief loosened the muscles of her neck and shoulders. “Good.” She stuck out her hand. “Then I suggest we call a truce.”

  He hesitated as if he meant to refuse. Finally, he wrapped his fingers around hers.

  Mistake!

  She knew it the second his palm met hers. Deeply buried memories swirled to life and caught her off guard. His fingers entwined with hers as they licked ice cream from a shared cone. The happy laughter in his eyes as he yanked her from her beat-up Chevy the day she’d arrived in Florida. The irresistible mixture of safety, love, and lust she’d found in his arms, and the intoxicating pleasure his wide-palmed hands had coaxed from her body each time they’d made love.

  The satisfaction and possessiveness in his eyes the night she’d promised to become his wife.

  Slapped by the harsh hand of reality, she jolted and tugged her hand free of his. She stepped back and his arm dropped to his side, but his gaze held her pinned in place. Short-circuit, hell. She couldn’t catch her breath. He dropped his gaze to the ragged rise and fall of her chest, and his Adam’s apple jumped with his swallow. Something hot and dark flashed in his eyes before he looked away.

  He cleared his throat and held out his hand to his daughter. “Lucy. You ready?”

  V dragged in a stealthy breath as the girl unfolded from the couch. Yeah, touching him in any way was definitely a mistake. She pressed her thighs together against the unexpected and completely unacceptable pressure humming between them. Good Lord. He was like kryptonite, and she was a masochist. That was the only explanation. The man detested her and, yet, with a single touch, he’d made her wet.

  That wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all.

  Suck it up, V. Like you said. How you feel about e
ach other doesn’t matter. A week. Two at the most and you’re in the clear.

  If only her racing heart believed that.

  Rolling her shoulders, she focused on Lucy. Though she searched, she found little resemblance to Sam, other than the girl’s black hair. Thin and nearly as tall as V, she moved with a subtle grace as she crossed the room toward them. Her cheekbones were high and delicate in a face that held the promise of beauty in years to come but at the moment, she appeared more child than adult, despite the heavy eye makeup.

  Lips puckered in a stubborn bow, she stopped beside her father. “I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry.” He turned and his intent gaze met V’s. “My daughter, Lucy.” The girl opened her mouth, but he spoke over whatever she’d been about to say. “Lucy, this is Victoria Price. She’s going to show us some houses this afternoon.”

  “Price?” Lucy’s wide-eyed gaze ping-ponged to Sam, then back again. “You’re Miss Anita’s daughter?”

  Nerves fluttered in V’s stomach, and she nodded.

  “Oh, wow.” A dimple formed along with the smile that softened Lucy’s mouth. “That’s so cool.”

  V swallowed and avoided Sam’s watchful gaze. “You know my mother?”

  “Well, yeah. She’s my dance instructor.” Lucy cocked her head. “Do you dance?”

  “God, no.” V’s laugh was self-deprecating. “I was born with two left feet, much to my mother’s dismay. I take it you do? What style?”

  “Ballet.” Lucy’s smile dimmed, then disappeared. “My mom danced, but she didn’t do ballet like me. She was in a whole bunch of music videos.”

  Danced? As in past tense? Curiosity curled like a fist in V’s belly, but she wasn’t about to ask. She offered Sam’s daughter a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I love your hair.”

  Sam grunted. V ignored him, intrigued by the impish smirk twisting Lucy’s lips.

  “Sam doesn’t like it. He says it makes me look like a punk.”

  V might have laughed at Sam’s immediate scowl if she wasn’t stuck on Lucy’s use of his given name. “You call your father Sam?”