“Uh-oh,” Jonas said.
Parker regained his feet, laughing, and waved his hand at the room. The women with him stayed on either side and the three of them began making the rounds of the tables.
“Geez, did Jamieson drink everything at the Jim Beam Distillery before he came here tonight?” Ramos and his wife returned, plates piled high with barbecue and baked beans.
“That or he’s on something.”
Ramos watched the other player for a long moment. “They never learn, do they?”
“Not as rookies, but Jamieson’s been around long enough to know better.”
“Always did think it was odd his old team let him go so easily. He’s had a great couple of seasons.” Ramos shrugged and then forked up some barbecue. “We’ll get him straightened out over the next few weeks.”
“Yeah,” Jonas said, but he didn’t sound confident.
Anna leaned across the table. “While our guys are busy pretending to maim each other during training camp, we should have lunch,” she said.
Lunch sounded like fun, and it was the first time she’d been invited out by another player’s significant other. It felt good to have made a friend within the team ranks. “Sounds like fun. I’ll check our shooting schedule.”
Earl clinked his spoon against this cup, and it made a low, hollow sound. When only a few players quieted, he put his fingers between his lips, sending a sharp, loud whistle through the room.
“Before the season truly gets underway, I want you all to know I’m honored to be a Kentuckian,” he began, and a round of hoots sounded in the room as players clapped one another on the back. “Tomorrow we take our first step toward the post-season, as a team, at training camp. It’s going to be a tough three weeks.” He raised his glass. “So enjoy tonight, stay out late and have some fun. Tomorrow morning, the work starts.”
Players lifted their glasses.
“To a new season,” Ramos said.
“To a winning season,” Parker added.
Jonas waited for the room to quiet and then he stood. “To new coaches and old teammates and a bright future,” he said. The other players downed their drinks and began talking again.
Brooks knew it was selfish, but she didn’t want to stay at the party. Not on their last night together for a few weeks.
“I was thinking...” She leaned in close as she spoke, breathing in the masculine scent of him. “I’m not very hungry. What if we skip out on the party and you can make me one of your famous grilled cheese sandwiches for breakfast?”
Jonas turned his attention to her, and it was as if the crowded restaurant disappeared. It was only him and her. “I think I’m not going to be a very good host.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HALFWAY THROUGH THE first day of training camp Brooks was wilting. She pulled the damp, silk shell away from her body hoping for the tiniest bit of a breeze. Nada. Should have worn cotton and capris like any other day. But it was the first day, and she knew she would have several live shots throughout the day, along with cut-ins during a couple of the afternoon round-table discussions. The network was going all out to hype the upcoming season, and to get their money’s worth from the reporters and photographers they’d stationed with each team.
Jonas called out a play from behind center. The players all moved in unison, defenders trying to break down offensive linemen, receivers trying to outrun safeties. Jonas dropped back in the pocket, scanned the field and saw Parker open in the flat. He zinged the pass over the line before him, hitting the tight end in the numbers. It was a perfect pass, but the tip of the ball hit Parker in the chest and he dropped it. Jonas put his hands on his hips and shook his head.
“He’s going to need more help than that if this season’s going to be worth anything,” her father said from behind her. Brooks whirled around.
“What are you doing here?”
“Earl asked me to stop by for the afternoon sessions. Talk about teamwork, same stuff these guys have heard a million times.” Jimmy shrugged. “But you know I love to talk football. Your boy looks good out there.”
“I know.” Brooks couldn’t hold back the smile. She knew it was silly to be so over-the-top infatuated with Jonas, but she was. “Hey, I have a live segment coming up. Want to grab a sandwich together in the cafeteria before your big talk?”
“You’re not eating with the quarterback?”
“They have all of us reporters and photographers at a couple of tables in the back. We’re here to shoot, for now, no interviews. No bugging the guys.”
“Then I’d like that.” Jimmy waved and then trotted to midfield where Earl watched a group of rookies running through stamina drills.
Brooks found Kent, took position with the players in the background and put her earwig in so she could hear the anchor at the newsdesk. Smiling brightly, she began her introduction into the piece she and Kent had finished earlier that morning. Once she heard the package audio she dropped her mic and rolled her shoulders. The producer spoke through the earwig.
“Scott has a couple of questions after the package. You good with ad lib?”
Because her mic was turned off, she signaled a yes through the camera. As the package wound down, she pasted the smile back on her face, lifted the stick mic and waited for her cue.
“So it’s all systems go now,” she said. “Jonas Nash has been cleared to play. Many of the team members have been in Louisville for the off-season. They should be fun to watch as we move on toward the first game of the season.”
“Brooks, we’re hearing rumors that a couple of the players were picked up on suspicion of drunken driving last night after a team party. What have you heard about that?”
It took Brooks a second to gather her thoughts; Scott had to mean Parker because no one else at the party had been even a little loopy, at least not before she and Jonas cut out. This was the first she was hearing about an arrest, though. “We haven’t had any comment from the team just yet, Scott, but I’ll start looking into those rumors and report back later on.”
“Brooks Smith, everyone,” the anchor said, and then the volume in her earwig went down and the live shot was over.
Crap, crap, crap. What arrest? Public intoxication or drunken driving? “You’ve been on the actual field, did you hear any grumblings about an arrest last night?” she asked Kent.
The cameraman frowned and shook his head. “A couple of the O-line guys were giving Parker a hard time earlier, but it seemed like normal new guy hazing kind of stuff.”
Brooks surveyed the players on the field. She crossed her arms over her chest. Parker had been drunk when he walked in, and when she and Jonas left a little while later he had still been at the party. The hardest drink Lionel served was his sweet tea, but that didn’t mean Parker didn’t travel with his own flask.
Or stash.
She needed to make a few calls.
Two hours later, she was no closer to what had happened. Her sources at the police department weren’t talking, and neither was the team. The loud silence didn’t have to mean anything, but she had the feeling it did mean something. Kent set the camera and Brooks picked up her microphone for the next live shot.
“It’s the first day of training camp here in Louisville and I think we’re all ready for a little air conditioning,” she joked. “Not just from the sweltering heat, but let me tell you ninety degrees on field turf might be exactly what Hell feels like. But the weather isn’t the only culprit for the humidity.” The clip they’d worked on most of the morning began rolling and Brooks focused on her notes. “The Kentuckians, themselves, are looking hot. Matt Ramos, their All League safety, has been all over the field. Newcomer Parker Jamieson has had more drops than catches, but he and QB Jonas Nash have plenty of time to work through that timing. Nash is the big story here today, though, as he was cleared to
play just yesterday after suffering a near-career-ending injury during the final game of the season last year.” The video clip ended and Brooks looked direct to camera once more. “Whatever the future holds, my money is on these players heating up television screens all over America come September.”
“Brooks, what about those arrest rumors?” the anchor asked again.
“We haven’t been able to confirm anything just yet, Scott, but I can tell you there was a team party last night at a local barbecue place the players frequent.”
“So the drinking was at a team-sponsored event.”
“No.” Brooks blinked. “No, it was an informal get-together. Coaches, players, family members. We will keep looking into those rumors, but you know what they say about rumors—they’re a good way to find things out about yourself that you didn’t know.”
“Brooks Smith, beat reporter for the Louisville Kentuckians, ladies and gentlemen,” the anchor said, releasing her from the shot.
She watched the field for a long moment. The rumors weren’t going away. Her sources were being strangely silent. Brooks twisted her mouth to the side, wondering who was bringing more scandal to the team.
* * *
“YOU’RE ALL ON LOCKDOWN,” Earl said and a chorus of groans sounded in the locker room. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at each player for a long moment before moving on to the next. Jonas shifted uncomfortably in his seat even though he knew he’d done nothing wrong. “Last night there was an incident after the party at Lionel’s. Public intoxication, and chances are the drug test is going to come back positive. You’re grown men. I can’t tell you not to party. I can tell you I won’t tolerate arrests during the season, let this be a warning to all of you.”
A few players shifted their feet. Parker sat off to the side and stared straight ahead.
“We have a chance, gentlemen, a chance to be great. What was it that Lombardi said?”
“Winning isn’t a sometime thing,” Ramos called out from the back of the room.
“And unfortunately so is losing. We prepare on the field. We prepare in the film rooms. You can screw around all you want after February, but until then you’ll be preparing for the win, not your next party. Good first day, gentlemen,” the coach said and left the room.
“Who’s the party boy?” Jonas asked when Ramos made his way to the lockers.
“Jamieson. Don’t know how much, but I know it was drugs as well as alcohol.”
“Crap.”
“Could be a fluke.”
“And maybe the surgery I had in February was completely unnecessary.”
“We talk to him?”
“We are the captains.” But he didn’t want to talk to the player. It wasn’t as if Jonas were completely innocent in the partying game. Sure, he was on the straight-and-narrow now, but a year ago he’d have been right there with Jamieson and enjoying every minute.
“God, I hate this part.” Ramos put his towel around his neck and shuffled off to the showers. Parker still sat at the front of the room, not talking to the other guys.
Ramos could be right. A one-time thing. Last party before three weeks of brutal training camp. Parker had dropped four passes today, but that could be a timing issue. He’d run slowly, but who didn’t on the first day of camp? Finally, the other player grabbed his team binder and left the locker room.
Jonas’s phone bleeped. It was a text from Brooks.
You tied up?
No, wrapping up for the night. You home?
No, sitting outside in my car. Kind of hoping for some company.
We’re on lockdown. No leaving.
Who says we have to go anywhere? We could just talk.
Yeah, because just talking had happened so often between them.
I’ll be downstairs in five.
* * *
BROOKS FELT SILLY waiting under the red maple tree for Jonas to make it down from the locker room. She also felt guilty. She wanted to see him, but she also wanted to ask him about the rumors, which went against her rule of never asking friends to be her source. She’d been shut down everywhere else, though.
The door opened and Jonas came out, dressed in athletic shorts, those old ratty sandals and a white Kentuckians tee. He looked delicious. Forget the story, just for a little while, she decided, and threw her arms around his neck.
He tasted like his favorite sports drink, and in a heartbeat the kiss went from sweet to sultry. Jonas put his hands on her waist, playing with the silky fabric there. Then he was touching her, his hands playing with her soft skin, teasing at the undersides of her breasts.
Brooks moaned deep in her throat. She wanted to be closer to him, wanted to be pressed shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip and toe to toe with this big, strong man.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the welcome, but what’s this all about?” he asked, his mouth still against hers.
“It’s been a long, long day,” she said.
Jonas kissed his way across her cheek and then bit down gently on her earlobe. Brooks drew in her breath with a hiss. He knew all her favorite things. She knew a few of his, too.
Brooks pushed his shirt up, exposing his muscled abdomen and bent her head to taste his skin. Jonas hissed, and then he was gone. Out of her arms, making her feel completely alone.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, and pointed his thumb to the tri-level building behind them. “We could have an audience at any moment. No need to give the guys a show.”
“You want to walk and talk?”
He nodded and took her hand. They started down one of the paths leading around the training camp campus. It was lined with red maple trees, offering seclusion. Brooks could almost believe they were out for a casual walk, enjoying an August evening. During training camp.
With rumors of drug and alcohol abuse swirling around the team she was assigned to cover.
“I need to ask you something,” Brooks said before she lost her nerve. Jonas stopped short on the sidewalk, watched her for a second, and then continued on. “There are rumors circulating about a possible incident with a player and drugs or alcohol last night. I haven’t been able to confirm or deny and I was hoping...” She twisted her mouth to the side, trying to find the right words. They didn’t come. “Have you heard anything?”
“I thought you didn’t ask your friends to be your sources. Ethical dilemma or something, isn’t that what you called it?” He didn’t meet her eyes, and Brooks’s heart sank. Something had happened. It couldn’t be a traffic accident or an actual arrest or she would have been able to get at some records.
With the team not talking, with her sources not talking... Brooks sighed. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need to know.”
Jonas led her farther under the tree and then sat with his back to the trunk, pulling her down to sit beside him in the cool grass. “I’d like to tell you that if I knew anything I would tell you, but I can’t. I don’t know anything, not really, but I have my suspicions. And that is Jonas the boyfriend talking, not Jonas the informant.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything.” His voice was quiet in the evening air, and she hated the fact that she was relieved it couldn’t have been Jonas. He’d been with her. If not, she would have to suspect him, purely based on the past. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure, if that were the case, she would be so certain of his innocence.
Brooks leaned her head against the trunk, hating the next question before she even asked it. “Was it—” No, she wasn’t doing this. She was not, repeat not, asking her boyfriend to be her source on a story. She’d never crossed that line in the past, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Never mind.”
He avoided her gaze. “I don’t know. Even if I did, I can’t be your source. There are things that go
on in the locker room you can’t know. Not as my girlfriend. Definitely not as a reporter.”
“Jonas?” she said, keeping her voice quiet. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t like asking you questions about your teammates.”
“I know.”
She reached for his hand with hers, but met only bark from the tree. “Do you want to walk some more?”
“I should get back. Lockdown technically means don’t leave the premises, but it also means no clandestine tree meetings.” He offered her a wicked smile. “And definitely no hot kisses with your girlfriend.”
His attempt at lightening the mood would have worked if it had been a little darker, she thought. He had the right inflection, but the glint in his eye was superficial. His shoulders too tense, and even in the twilight with only a couple of feet between them, she could see the distance.
“I’ll see you on the field tomorrow,” she said, and reached across the distance to kiss him. His lips were stiff for a long moment, but then softened. His arms slipped around her waist and he pulled her closer to him.
“I wish I could take you home,” he said against her mouth, and some of the tension left Brooks’s body.
“Me, too,” she said, relieved that he was willing to move on. Then he was gone, trotting back down the sidewalk. Brooks moved to her car, watching him.
He waved when he reached the door and Brooks got behind the wheel. He hadn’t lied, she told herself, but it was hollow comfort. She’d asked him to be a source, had gone against her ethics because she wanted this story.
This wasn’t the person she wanted to be. She would not use Jonas for a story. He was too important.
Two weeks later, Brooks still didn’t have the full story. She had pieced together bits and pieces, but no one mentioned names. Sometime around midnight someone at Lionel’s had called the police about a group who wouldn’t leave the premises. When police arrived one of the patrons became belligerent and abusive to the officer, who reported the man smelled of alcohol. And that was as far as she could get the story to go.
Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set Page 98