“Sounds like fun,” I murmur.
“I suppose so,” she agrees. “It will be pretty dry, of course, listening to all his colleagues and their clients talking about their investments. Still, it’s good to be seen around town. Besides, this is my Year of Yes.”
“Your Year of Yes?” I repeat, cocking my head.
She nods. “You’ve heard of the book, haven’t you? By Shonda Rhimes?” When I shake my head, she laughs and takes another sip of her lemon drop. “I’m saying yes to everything this year. Every invitation, every request. You never know what you’ll learn or what opportunities you’ll have, just by being in the room. After all,” she continues pointedly, looking at me, “no one ever got anywhere in life by sitting around at home on the couch.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I’m stunned into silence. I can’t decide whether to be angry or defensive or nothing at all. Did she really mean to take a jab at me just now? Or am I just feeling inadequate, next to her glamorous weekend plans with her rich boyfriend and his rich friends?
Mackenzie continues talking as though nothing’s happened, and after a minute I start to question whether I’m just imagining things. “Nathan says one of his clients is interested in talking to me about a potential story involving his charity organization. If I can get Ethan interested in running it during Sunrise Springville,” she says with a coy little simper.
“That’s great.” I drain my cosmo, and almost signal to the waitress for another one. But that would mean spending another hour here with Mackenzie. And right now, I’m not in the mood. “Whoops,” I say, glancing at my watch, “I’m so sorry, Mack, but I almost forgot, I told my roommate I’d help her with… something tonight.”
“That’s fine,” Mackenzie says evenly, giving me another flash of her perfect smile. “I need to get home anyway. Nathan’s stopping by later to take me out, and I want to freshen up before he gets there.”
Relieved, I catch the waitress’s eye and asks for the bill. As I slip my credit card into the little pocket of the holder, I’m already imagining how good it’s going to feel to get out of these clothes and into a pair of yoga pants. As much as I might be just a little bit jealous of Mackenzie’s success, I don’t envy her weekend plans of nonstop seeing and being seen.
The two of us walk out of the bar together, say our goodbyes, and head in opposite directions. Just as I’m breathing a sigh of relief, I hear the ring of my cell phone in my bag. I don’t break my stride as I fish it out blindly and hold it up to look at the screen.
It’s a number I don’t recognize. In my line of work it doesn’t pay to blow off a call that might be a lead on a good story. But right now, I’m not in the mood, so I let it go to voicemail. Whoever it is doesn’t leave a message, so I toss it back in my bag.
On the drive home, I unwind by turning up the stereo and singing loudly to a few of my favorite songs, which I’ve put in a special playlist for days like this when I need to let off some steam. I’m feeling much better by the time I turn onto my street — so much so that at first I don’t think anything of the dark SUV that’s parked in my usual spot on in front of my place. I pull in behind it and shut off the car, the silence almost deafening after the loud music I’ve been listening to for the past twenty minutes.
As I’m walking up the front steps toward the house, I hear a car door open and close behind me.
“Anna!” a voice calls.
It’s a familiar voice — male — but I can’t quite place it.
I turn around to see the source.
“Hi, there,” says Mason Robichaud, a familiar, sexy grin on his face. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”
9
Mason
Anna turns around. When she sees me, she stops in her tracks and frowns, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she finally says. “You could have at least called first.”
“I did. I tried, anyway. You didn’t answer.”
“How did you get my number?” Her brow is still creased, in either confusion or annoyance. “Or my address?”
“Unimportant,” I reply. I take a few steps forward, until we’re face to face, just a few feet away from each other. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” I repeat. “Tonight. I’ll buy you dinner.”
“What’s to stop you from just talking to me here?” she asks. Anna plants her feet and faces me, crossing her arms.
Apparently, she’s gonna make this hard. That’s okay, I’ve got this.
“It’s long. And complicated. Besides, I’m hungry. And it’s dinnertime.” I give her a wink and my most disarming grin. “Come on, doll. Give me a break. You don’t have anything going on tonight. It’s Friday. Come out with me.”
“How do you know I don’t have anything going on tonight?” she challenges, jutting out her chin.
“Because if you did, you would have told me you were busy as soon as I asked,” I laugh.
The way her gaze flits away from mine tells me I’m right.
“Come on,” I coax. “Free meal. Good restaurant. A handsome dinner companion. What more can you ask for?”
She smirks at me. “A handsome dinner companion? Is someone else joining us?”
“Ha. I’ll let that one go because I know you don’t mean it.” I hold out my hand and wait for her to take it. She stares down at it like she doesn’t know what to do. I don’t pull my hand back.
“Mason,” she sighs, “I’ve had a long week. I’m exhausted. I’m really not in the mood to go on a…” She stops herself. “To go out tonight.”
“Trust me, doll. You’re gonna want to hear what I have to say. I have an offer for you.” Anna glances at me sharply. “Not that kind of an offer, doll,” I grin, giving her a wink. “But it’s definitely one you won’t be able to refuse.”
If bravado is what I need to get her into my car, that’s what I’ll use. One step at a time.
Anna shoots a look back at her house, like she’s considering whether to say no or not. I hold my breath and try to look confident. Finally, she sighs. “Okay, I guess,” she says doubtfully. “But can I go inside and get changed first?”
“You look great just as you are,” I tell her, letting my eyes slide over her body. I chuckle when I see her body shiver like I’m caressing her. “Let’s go. I have a reservation. If we leave right now, we can just make it.”
Anna cocks her head, skepticism etched on her face. “You were awfully sure of yourself.”
“Yup.” I reach forward and grab her hand. “Come on.”
Thankfully, she lets me pull her toward my car without protest. Anna watches me in silence as I open the passenger door for her. I manage to sneak a glance at her spectacular ass as she climbs in, and wait until she’s situated before I shut it behind her. I jog around to the other side and get in myself, then put the key in the ignition. The stereo starts blaring, and Anna jumps as I reach over and quickly turn it down.
“Sorry,” I grin. “What can I say? I like it loud.”
To my surprise, she rewards me with a small smile in return. “So do I,” she murmurs.
I pull away from the curb and make a U-turn to head back into the city toward downtown.
“So,” she says as she buckles her seatbelt. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about?”
“Not yet,” I reply. “Not until we’re sitting down.”
That earns me another irritated sigh, but I ignore it. Instead, I reach over and turn the volume back up a little on the music — just loud enough that it’s hard to talk — and enjoy the ride to the restaurant.
I’m taking Anna to what I hear is considered one of the best restaurants in town. It being Friday night, I’m sure they’re full up, but I asked Tom to pull some strings and call the publicity manager for the Rockets to get us a table. When I pull up to La Bella Vita, Anna shoots me a look and raises her eyebrows, but says nothing. I drive up to the front entrance and stop in front of the valet parking sign.
Two valets immediately approach the car, one of whom opens the door for Anna.
I step out of the car and hand my keys to the other one. “Here you go.”
The kid, who’s probably about twenty, looks at me with a flash of recognition. “Thank you, Mr. Robichaud,” he nods respectfully.
Anna’s come around the front of the car, and I put out my arm for her to take, which she does after a moment’s hesitation. Together, we walk up the steps, where another youngish guy opens the door to the restaurant for us.
Inside, the decor is modern and sleek, bathed in a warm candlelight. It’s a warm night, and they have an enclosed patio out back, so we elect to eat outside. At my request, we’re seated at a table a little at a remove from the others. I can’t have anyone else overhearing our conversation. For a second, I almost get pissed at myself that I didn’t try to talk to Anna about this somewhere private. But I doubt that she would have agreed to meet me somewhere where there weren’t any other people around. She doesn’t really know me, after all. And besides, I’m hoping the romantic atmosphere and a little wine will loosen her up.
When the waiter comes to take our drink orders, Anna looks at me with hesitation. “Please, order something,” I tell her. “Honestly, it would make me feel weirder if you didn’t.” She asks for a glass of red wine, and I tell the waiter to bring a bottle of sparkling water for me. We peruse the menus while he’s gone. When he comes back with our drinks, we give him our food orders. Then, the waiter slips away, leaving us alone.
Anna takes a sip of her wine. “That’s delicious,” she murmurs. “Wow.”
“Glad you like it,” I grin.
“Okay.” She sets the glass down and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So, what’s the story?”
Shit. I was sort of hoping to wait until she’d gotten through most of the glass before I started explaining why I brought her here. But one look at her face tells me she’s not about to sit around exchanging pleasantries. I take a deep breath. Here we go.
“Like I said before,” I say, “I have a proposition for you.”
She cocks a brow. “Okay…?” she murmurs. “What sort of a proposition?”
Fuck.
“I, uh, went to see my agent yesterday.”
“Yeah?” A flicker of interest crosses her pretty features. For the first time, she seems to let her guard down a little. “What did he say?”
“Well, turns out, it looks like the Rockets do want me after all.”
“Oh, my gosh, Mason — that’s great!” Her mouth breaks into a wide smile. It’s fucking dazzling. “I’m so happy for you!”
“Thanks. I’m pretty pumped about it.” I take a swig of water. “But the thing is, they have a condition.”
She arches an eyebrow, clearly waiting for me to finish.
This isn’t how I planned it — not that I really planned it all that carefully. But in my head, we weren’t even going to be talking about this until the dessert course. How did I lose control of this conversation so fast?
“Mason? Are you going to tell me, or are we going to play twenty questions?” Anna’s starting to get irritated, I can tell. And I don’t want her to be in a bad mood when I ask her.
Shit. It’s now or never.
I sigh. Here goes nothing.
“They, uh, want me to have a fiancée, a fake one,” I say quickly. “And I'm thinking it might be good if it was you and me.”
Anna’s just staring at me, but I can tell I’ve stunned her. Her eyes are wide, her lips are slightly parted, and she doesn’t even blink for several seconds straight. Then suddenly, she’s blinking rapidly, as if to make up for it.
She snorts, loudly, and covers her mouth as she breaks into peals of laughter.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” she says in between guffaws. “This is a joke, right?”
“No, it’s not a joke. And look, it’s not my idea,” I tell her. Anna is still laughing, loudly and helplessly. Around me, a couple of people at other tables are looking over at us. A few feet away, a woman leans over and whispers something to her companion. I’m wondering if they think I just proposed to Anna and she turned me down. I lean forward and try to continue, hoping she’ll stop laughing long enough to listen. “Anna, stop. Please.” I take a deep breath and tell her the rest. “It’s the general manager’s idea, I guess. He thinks I need this, to show the public I’m a changed man. A man in love, whose only ambition other than football is starting an all-American family with the woman he loves.”
There are tears of hilarity streaming down Anna’s face, but she’s finally stopped laughing. Now she’s looking at me like I’ve just told her I’m a space alien. “You’re actually serious about this? You know this is freaking crazy, right? God, Mason, what the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I want to get signed with the damn Rockets, that’s what I’m thinking!” I shoot back, and launch into my best sales pitch. “And it could work out great for you, too! You said you’re trying to move up the food chain at your job, right? Well, what would being the fiancée of a high-profile linebacker for the Rockets do for your image? Everyone in town would know who you are, Anna. The station would be falling all over themselves to offer you a prime slot. It’s a win-win, for both of us!”
But now she’s shaking her head. I open my mouth to keep talking, but Anna holds up a hand to stop me. “No. No, no, no. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking when you decided to try and rope me into this, Mason.” She reaches for her purse and starts to get up from her chair. “But I’m not going to play bimbo girlfriend for you.”
“I’m not asking you to play bimbo girlfriend!” I say, grabbing her arm. “I’m asking you to play my fiancée! That’s totally different!” We’re definitely putting on a show here, even though no one can hear what we’re saying. It probably looks like we’re fighting, and probably like I’m being a dick. I lower my voice again. “Look, please, Anna. Please just hear me out.”
Goddamn it, I hate to beg, but in this case I have to. Having her stalk out of the restaurant and leaving me here is the last thing I need right now. Inside, I curse myself for being such a fucking idiot bringing her to a crowded restaurant for this conversation.
“Please,” I say one more time, locking eyes with her. “Sit down.”
For a second, I don’t think she’s gonna do it.
Then, she glances around the room, finally seeming to realize we’re being watched. Slowly, she eases back into her chair. I relax just a little bit.
“I won’t do it, Mason,” she says quietly, picking up her glass. “But I’ll sit here and have dinner with you, since we’re here, so everything looks normal. When we’re done, you’ll take me home, and we’ll forget this ever happened. Provided you don’t bring it up again tonight. If you do, I’ll get up and walk out of this restaurant. Deal?”
Shit.
I don’t know what else to do or say. It’s clear this is a non-starter.
I’m not gonna get signed to the Rockets. Not unless I can find someone else to be my fiancée.
But the thing is, I don’t want anyone else. I mean, I could probably get the team’s manager to find me someone else. Hell, that’s probably what I will do. But it’s for sure not gonna be Kayla.
And now, apparently it’s not gonna be Anna.
My shoulders slump as I realize I can’t argue with her. “Okay. Let’s just have dinner, then,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted. Damn, I could use a drink right now. But I can’t even do that, because as far as the rest of the world knows, I’m a recovering alcoholic.
Our food comes soon after that. We eat, mostly in silence.
It’s delicious.
I don’t give a shit.
Eventually, the silence breaks a little, and we talk about whatever. Stupid stuff that doesn’t matter. It’s pleasant. But I can’t keep my head in the game.
When the meal’s over, I pay the bill, and then I take her back to my car. I drive her back to her place.
We don’t talk much in the car.
Then she’s opening the car door.
“Thank you for the ride, Mason,” she says quietly, and closes it behind her.
I watch as she makes her way up the walk, then opens the front door of the house she lives in.
Then the door shuts, and I’m here by myself. I pull away from the curb.
By myself.
Shit.
10
Anna
That has to be the weirdest evening of my entire life.
An NFL player that I barely know just asked me to be his freaking fiancée.
What the hell does that even mean?
I snort to myself as I watch Mason’s SUV disappear down the street. “Who the fuck even comes up with that shit?” I say to no one in particular.
Harriet’s home when I get in. I don’t tell her about my evening. I don’t tell her about Mason’s ridiculous proposal. I just want to forget about this night.
Even though, when I finally go to my room and get into bed, I can’t get his face out of my mind.
He looked amazing tonight. I don’t know what it is about him. But his eyes just mesmerize me. And his body… when I’m near him, it’s all I can do not to just reach out and touch him. To see if he feels as good as he looks.
God, I bet he’s fantastic in bed. The cocky bastard.
I hate this.
The next morning, a few hours after my early morning slot, Ethan comes rocketing out of his office, a furious look in his face. He crosses the newsroom in a few strides, his jaw set and tense, looking like he’s about to explode. It’s clear he’s on the warpath for some reason. A few seconds later Thomas, Ethan’s assistant, comes out, looking exhausted.
PLAYERS: The Complete Series (Springville Rockets (Sports Romance Books 1-3) Page 39