by S. J. Bishop
"Get in," Emma said, opening the door to a conference room and closing it behind us. A rectangular conference table sat in the middle of the room, large enough to seat twenty people besides us. There was an odd echo in the room that was almost unsettling. Or maybe it was the way Emma kept glaring at me.
We were on the second level of the stadium in an area I seldom ever went. Emma's father had called me up here once, when Emma first came to the stadium, and he told me that she would be handling my renegotiation. At the time, I'd thought it was a slap in the face. If the Tomcats had really wanted to keep me, they would never have sent someone as inexperienced as she was. Now I knew better. Emma was tenacious. She didn't give up. If I didn't meet with her now, she'd just keep stalking me until I did.
"I had fun last night," I said, pulling out a chair for her. She walked right past it and pulled out her own chair at the head of the table.
"Not so much this morning, though," she said.
The smile left my lips. Fuck. She was pissed. I could tell by the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes shined. Her cleavage was maximized in a tight, black, spaghetti-strap tank top with white capris. I looked down at her shoes: four-inch heels glared back at me. Emma caught where I was looking.
"Don't worry," she said. "These are only the three inch. They don't do as much damage."
"Is there a six-inch heel I should be aware of?" I joked.
"Yes. You'll see them tomorrow if you don't start taking these negotiations more seriously."
I dropped into a chair near hers and let out a long sigh. This wasn't going to be easy. "Emma," I began. "I'm sorry."
She stared blankly at me.
"Really. I was an asshole this morning."
"Yeah, you were."
"I swear, I didn't mean to insult you. That thing with the money... I was just trying to be nice."
"By paying for our night together?" she snapped.
"By being nice," I said. "Yeah, it came out all wrong, I'm not good at that sort of thing. I had to get to the stadium. We play Seattle tomorrow. I didn't want to leave you hanging. I just... I'm just a dumb jock who knows shit about women outside of the bedroom."
Emma's face softened. "Well, at least you know your way around in the bedroom. Now, to get back to things, why don't you tell me what it will take to make you stay with the Tomcats?"
I sighed. "You've got a real one-track mind, you know that?"
"So your answer is...?"
"Three years, seventy million. Fifty guaranteed."
Emma held her gaze steady. "We can't match it. Not with Bryant's salary eating away at the budget."
"Fucker," I murmured.
"Bryant's been in the game longer. He had his contract before you even started with the Tomcats. That's why he commands the highest salary." She screwed her face up, thinking, then brightened like a kid in a candy store. "What if we came close?" she asked.
"If you can come close, you can match it," I told her. She was getting excited now, and it was turning me on. I reached out to stroke her hand, and she pushed it away.
"Bryant's contract is up in a year. What if we gave you something short term? Ten million for one year with a clause that said we'd renegotiate once Bryant's contract is up, too? Then you can make your play against him. Force the Tomcats to choose."
"I don't know," I said, though it wasn't a bad idea. "What if the Tomcats went with Bryant? I'd blow my chance with Florida."
"Oh Christ, Jackson, they're not gonna pick Bryant over you. You're the best quarterback in the NFL."
My heart thumped hard in my chest. My cock stiffened under the table. Why did it turn me on so much when she talked football? "So you've been paying attention," I said.
"Of course I have. I love football. That's why I'm in this business. I know how good you are." She blushed when she realized the hidden meaning in her words. "I mean... you know what I mean."
"Sure I do," I said. "I'll tell you what. I'll think about it." I tried to take her hand again.
She brushed it away, but not as quickly this time.
"You were really amazing last night," I said. My hard-on was itching to get out and climb inside her.
She rose from her chair. "I think we're done here, for now. I'll call my father later and see if I can get another day to let you think it all over," she paused, shifting her eyes away from me. "I just hope he doesn't kill me," she mumbled. She rose her eyes to meet mine again, and the itch I had doubled. Especially when she smiled. "Dead or alive, I'll follow up with you tomorrow," she said, then turned to go.
"Emma," I said, chasing after her before she could open the door. "Wait. I meant it when I said I was sorry about this morning."
"I know," she said. Her liquid blue eyes swam toward me. We were inches from each other. I could hear her heart pounding and knew she was feeling what I was feeling.
I hadn't gotten Emma out of my system yet. "I admit, I thought it was gonna be a nice little fling last night. But it turns out one night with you isn't enough."
"Well, one night is all you're gonna get," she said, but she had inched that much closer to me while we were talking. Her breath dazzled me, like a fucking love potion, poisoning my mind with ideas and fantasies I'd never had about any woman before. Maybe if I fucked her again I could knock her loose. Get her out of my head for good. Or maybe she'd only get stuck in your head that much more.
"Jackson," Emma said. Her hand reached out and traced the muscles up my arm with one long, red fingernail. "I have to go."
"Me too," I said. But neither of us moved. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I kissed her. Her lips were soft and wet and tasted like butterscotch. I put my hand in her hair. It was silky smooth and soft as cotton. She pressed her lips back against mine, panting as our tongues swirled around each other.
The door to the conference room opened.
"Well," Bryant said, grinning. "There you two are."
17
Emma
"Bryant!" I jumped away from Jackson, pissed that Bryant had just caught me in his arms. Or was it embarrassment?
"Are you following me?" Jackson screamed, glaring at Bryant as he stepped into the room with us. My dad's secretary streaked past the open door, hurrying to some meeting. Bryant shot a look at her and shut the door.
"Of course I'm not following you," Bryant said. "I was looking for Emma." His blue eyes turned to me, smiling.
"For me? Why?" I wasn't happy to see Bryant right now, but he might have actually done me a favor by walking in when he did. I just couldn't control myself when I was alone with Jackson.
"He's full of shit, Emma," Jackson said, his temper rising. "You can't believe anything he says." He stepped toward Bryant so that they were toe to toe. If Jackson wasn't careful, he was gonna deck Bryant and get himself fined again. The Tomcats and Florida were both willing to overlook his previous outbursts because Jackson was just that good, but another fight right at negotiation time would make him look like a wildcard. I wasn't sure any team would be willing to put up with that level of unpredictability.
"Jackson, just go," I told him. He looked at me like I was crazy. The anger in his eyes turned to hurt. I was shocked to see it there. Up until now, I'd pictured Jackson as having a cast iron shield around him, but his expression clearly indicated that I'd been wrong about that.
"Fine," he snapped. "Good luck with your fuck buddy."
My jaw dropped open as Jackson stormed out of the room.
"What an asshole," Bryant said, and I had to agree with him.
"What do you want, Bryant?" I asked, suddenly very tired. I still had to track down my father and talk to him about my new plan for Jackson's contract. Better to talk to him now than wait until morning when he was expecting things to be signed and wrapped up with a bow.
"Whoa, relax. I'm not the enemy here."
In truth, Bryant hadn't really done anything wrong other than blow me off the last time I’d talked to him. I wondered if I should tell him about the baby now. We were a
lone, after all. And I finally seemed to have his attention.
"Look, I felt bad about blowing you off the other day. I thought I could make it up to you," he said, trying to sound sincere.
Bryant looked good, but there was something all wrong about the way he was standing. It was like he was posing for me. Like a model or an actor reciting his lines. He batted his long lashes and tried to melt my panties right off, but it wasn't working. I was past the panty-melting stage with Bryant.
"Thanks. Not interested," I said, taking a deep breath. There was no time like the present. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you."
"Sure. Tell me tomorrow at the party."
"Party?" I asked.
"Yeah. At Zach Ryan's place. He throws one every year after we play Seattle. It's kind of a tradition. Everyone will be there. Carter and his sister Hannah are going. She's flying in from L.A. for this thing."
"I don't know." I didn't think going to a party with Bryant was the best idea, but at least there'd be people around. If things went south after I told him I was pregnant, he couldn't just stand there and yell at me. Not without an audience, which I doubted he would want.
"Jackson will be there, too," he said.
"He will?"
"Of course. I told you, everyone's going."
There was a quick knock on the door before the knob turned and my dad's secretary stuck her head in. "Oh, hi, Emma," she said, smiling at me. "We need this room in a bit."
"Hi, Betty. Sure, no problem," I said, tensing, hoping she didn't see how uncomfortable I suddenly was. There was no way I was telling Bryant I was pregnant in front of my dad's secretary. I turned quickly back to Bryant. "I'll meet you there at seven."
18
Jackson
Seattle was kicking our ass. I sat on the bench, pissed. Fuck, the whole team was pissed right now. Bryant had missed an easy pass in the first quarter, and I hadn't played much better, though it killed me to say so.
Bryant glared at me from the opposite side of the bench while we waited for half-time to wrap up. Coach had yelled his head off until steam came out of his ears; then he sent us back up to the field to watch the show. The cheerleaders were just heading off the field, and we all stood up, ready for the second half. Most of the guys headed to position, but Bryant and Carter held back. Bryant was up before me in the lineup, so I wasn't going anywhere just yet. I'd come in later and clean things up if I had to.
"I'm not worried," Bryant said loudly to Carter. "Whatever happens, at least I know I'm getting laid tonight. Emma's pussy gets so wet just from a fucking finger. Can you imagine how slick she feels when I actually fuck her?"
"Bryant," Carter said, looking in my direction. "Maybe you should keep it down." Carter tried to pull him to starting position while the crowd cheered, excited for the game to start back up. Coach was talking to one of the refs, and despite the thousands of people in the stadium right now, it felt like Bryant, Carter, and I were the only ones here.
"Come on," Carter said, but Bryant just ignored him.
I didn't know why Bryant's idiocy should bother me so much. Why should I care what bullshit he wanted to spew forth now? So what if he'd fucked Emma? She was hot as hell. She'd probably been with lots of guys. It wasn't like I'd never fucked another girl before her. And anyway, there was nothing serious between us. We'd screwed once. I had no ties with her.
So I ask again, why does it matter what Bryant says?
I held my breath, trying to rein my temper back. The bandage was off Bryant's nose, but it still looked puffy and crooked. At least I got some gratification from knowing I'd spoiled his looks for a while.
"Hey, Carter!" Bryant yelled, turning to him. "Wanna fuck Emma later?"
Carter blanched. "What?"
"I've got dibs, but you've got seconds now." He turned toward me. "Jackson, you can have thirds. Assuming you don't mind dipping your dick into my leftover juice." He smiled broadly at me.
"Bryant," Carter said, more urgently. He'd caught the look in my eyes and knew I was about to blow my top.
"Then again," Bryant said, yanking his arm out of Carter's grasp. "Maybe you should just take her, Jackson. Her pussy was as dry as a fucking bone last time I fucked her. I think she might be all used up."
That was it. Logically, I knew I shouldn't give a shit what he said. But there was nothing logical about testosterone when it was pushed to its limits. I ran at Bryant, fists flying through the air. My right hook landed squarely on his nose, breaking it all over again. I felt the bones crackle under my knuckles with a satisfying crunch. He fell back, and together we rolled into the middle of Tomcats Stadium.
I heard Coach yelling in the background. I could hear the fans cheering, some of them screaming. Someone grabbed me from behind as I rammed my fist into Bryant's chest. I turned around and popped the sonofabitch who'd tried to pull me off. It was a fucking ref. My stomach sank as he fell back, landing on his ass with a thump and a bloody nose. Whistles blew as more refs rushed us. Stadium security was even running onto the field.
The ref I'd punched stood up. He glared at me. "You're out of here!" he yelled, ejecting me from the game. This was the second time I'd punched a ref this season. The first fine had cost me about thirty grand. This second one was gonna double that, with possible suspension.
I turned and saw Bryant being helped off the field; his was nose bloody, but his eyes were bright. They looked right at me. I'd just given that asshole exactly what he'd wanted.
19
Emma
"Jackson!" I shouted, running after him. "Wait!" He turned and looked at me.
"I've got nothing to say to you," he said. His face was a bloody mess. His eyes were sad and angry. He walked off in a huff.
"Let him go," a female voice said. I turned and saw a woman standing behind me. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, with long blonde hair and movie star looks. Her eyes looked after Jackson, and for a second, I was jealous.
"I've seen it before," she said. "My brother's the same way. Something goes wrong, and they choke."
"Who's your brother?" I asked.
"Carter Stone. I'm his sister, Hannah." She offered me a smile, and I took it. She seemed nice, but I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. I'd just watched Jackson effectively piss away his contract with both the Tomcats and Florida.
"See you around," I said, leaving the stadium. I turned the radio on at home and listened to the rest of the game. The Tomcats ended up pulling it back together and winning 21-20. I knew they would all be celebrating their victory tonight at Zach's, but I didn't feel like there was anything worth celebrating.
I looked at my stomach in the mirror. It looked the same as always, but I knew it wouldn't last. "Shit," I mumbled. I had to go to the party tonight. If I didn't talk to Bryant soon, I was afraid I wouldn't until after the baby was already born.
Zach's house was jumping when I showed up at a quarter past seven. It was another mansion with statues on the lawn and a swimming pool in the back. Chinese lanterns were strung up everywhere, emitting a soft glow. The team was there, and I recognized Carter's sister over by the punch bowl. She was gorgeous in a tight leather skirt and a white midriff. A circle of men clamored around her. She waved as I walked past, and I waved back.
"Hey, Emma."
I spun around at the sound of my name. Bryant stood in dark jeans that hugged his tight ass and a light blue shirt that opened at the collar. His nose was red and blue. It looked fat and out of place on the rest of him. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."
"No. I just had to do a few things before I could get here." Those things included making a list of all of Jackson's positives and negatives, like some stupid, adolescent girl. I'd gone through several drafts and found that if I counted Jackson's arm muscles twice—his right and his left—then he had more positives than negatives.
"Here you go," Bryant said, handing me a cup of punch. I took a sip and spit it back out. "Is this spiked?" I asked.
&
nbsp; "Of course it is," he said as if that should have been obvious. I'd decided on the way over here that if there was even a chance that I was planning to keep this baby, then I had better stop drinking now before I fucked the kid up for life.
"I don't drink," I said. Jackson's eyes tightened, and I saw little lines run out of the corners of his eyes. "I mean, I'm not drinking tonight."
For a minute, he looked angry. Then the flash of ire passed, and he was smiling again. There were hundreds of people around us, but I knew that none of them could hear us talking. The music was too loud and there were too many distractions. Bryant was only a few inches from me, and I could hardly hear him.
"No hard stuff," he said. "Got it. I'll just get you a beer." He started walking off, and I pulled him back.
"No, really. I'm not drinking."
"But it's a party," he said. "It's kind of a law that you have to drink." He illustrated his point by downing several large shots of whiskey off the table behind us.
"No," I said, more sternly. "Listen, is there somewhere we can go and talk? Privately?"
Bryant got the wrong idea. His hand reached out and started massaging my shoulder. "Sure, baby. Anything you say. How about we grab a bottle of wine and find a bedroom somewhere?"
Shit, this was not going well. Bryant was a fucking horn dog.
"Get some wine if you want, but I'm not having any. I'll just have a soda." What was with him anyway? Was he trying to get me drunk?
"Okay," he said. "Sure, be right back." He ran off and returned a minute later with a glass of pop fizzing and crackling in a cup of ice.
"Thanks," I said, taking a sip. I spit it back out. Bryant ducked out of the way just in time to miss it. "What the fuck?" I said. "This is Jack and Coke."