Joanne’s got “gold-digger” practically written across her forehead. She’s only about eight years older than me, and as far as I can tell, has spent the majority of her life fretting over her looks and spending older men’s money. But, she makes my dad happy, so I basically decided a long time ago to just let it be.
The “sweetness” crap is from our first introduction, when she decided I was “far too involved in masculine things”, what with always watching football and hanging out at a pro stadium. She also thought my plans to travel the country scouting prospective players was “tawdry and lewd.”
She of course blamed it on my mother having left when I was so young, and decided I “needed a little feminine sweetness” in my life.
Hence, the nickname.
That, I do hate.
“Hi, Joanne,” I say flatly, nodding at Serena to go on ahead with Holden.
“Are you here for the big signing?”
I don’t think Joanne has watched a game of football in her life, which is just one more bizarre facet of my dad, the football nut, being with her.
“Oh, Lord no,” she says with an exaggerated eye roll and a wave of her hand. “I just stopped by to pick up a little walking around money from your father.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.
“I’m on my way to Bermuda, actually,” she says, pulling a compact out of her purse and peering into it as she pokes at the corners of her eyes. “You know how it is, London, sometimes us girls just need to get away from all the stresses of the day-to-day, you know?”
Joanne’s “stresses of the day-to-day” are, at worst, trying to figure out how to swap her esthetician appointment around so it won’t interfere with her life coaching session.
I push back the urge to make a comment about her trip and change the subject instead.
“Hey, Joanne, has my dad been taking his meds regularly? He was having some pain in his shoulder the other day and I just want to make sure he-”
“Oh, honey, I’m not his nurse!” Joanne says with a shrill little laugh, closing her compact and giving me a look.
I purse my lips together.
“Right, but you’re his wife, so would you mind terribly just making sure he’s taking all four every day?”
“London, your father is a grown man, you know.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
“Right, a grown man with high cholesterol and a history of heart issues, so could you please take five seconds out of your day to make sure he’s-”
Joanne sighs dramatically. “Oh sweetness,” she says with another laugh. “Still thinking about everyone else now aren’t we?”
I grind my teeth.
“And still single I take it?”
I frown. “I’m dating.”
“Sure you are, honey,” she smiles saccharinely at me. “Sure you are. Well don’t you fret, we’ll find a nice man for you yet!”
I glare at her, trying not to take the obvious bait.
“Thank you, Joanne, but I’m not worried about that.”
“Apparently not.”
The door to the conference room swings open as my dad pops his head out.
“There’s my girls! London, you about ready?”
I give Joanne one last glare.
“Enjoy Bermuda, Joanne.”
“Enjoy your boys club,” she says with a sigh.
“Oh, and London?” Joanne raises a brow at me. “Honey we have got to do something about that hair of yours.”
I swallow the heat from my face as I follow my dad into the conference room.
* * *
“So, what do you think, son?”
Dad claps his hands together eagerly, beaming at Holden.
This is why he’s got me working for him, because although my dad can be a tough negotiator, it’s times like this when he’s excited about something working out where his poker face leaves a little bit to be desired.
Holden nods, that grin coming to his face.
“You know what, I really liked what I saw,” he announces to the room before turning and looking directly at me.
I scowl, clearing my throat.
“We’ve been going over your extracurricular track record,” I say icily, meeting his stare right back. My mind flashes back to the myriad of sordid pictures and tabloid stories involving Holden and an endless stream of half-naked girls giggling all over him. The same confusing heat from before comes bubbling up inside, before I angrily shove it back down.
Dad frowns. “Oh, I don’t think we need to get into that just yet, Lon-”
“No, Dad, I think we do, actually,” I say pointedly.
I’m going off-book here, and I know it. Holden might be the wildest, but it’s not like we’ve never recruited a pro football player that didn’t have some sort of party-boy history that needed some cleaning up.
But here I am, hanging onto it and getting more and more ticked off by the idea of his shenanigans with all those stupid other girls.
You are SO jealous…
I frown again at the voice inside my head, taking a deep breath and trying to bury it deep. I am not “jealous”; please. I knew exactly who and what Holden Cade was going into all that, and I’ll be damned if I let myself feel used like one of his little groupie skanks.
But, this also isn’t just some sort of personal bullshit. Holden behaving while on this team is my business.
“As I was saying, Mr. Cade, we’ve been looking over your tabloid record.”
Holden grins. “Oh yeah? Anything good?”
Some of the other board members snort out laughter as he turns and grins at them all, but I am not having it.
“Not really, no.” I shake my head tersely, keeping my eyes on his.
“If you pull some of that crap here in Houston, we’re going to have a problem.”
Dad puts a hand on my arm.
“I think we can discuss team behavior later, London.”
I scowl again, but this time, I drop it.
Holden clears his throat.
“To answer your question, Mr. Jacobs, yes sir, I’m interested.”
Dad beams again as Randy pats his client on the shoulder.
“Well then, should we break out the official paperwork then?”
“Well, almost.”
Every eye in the room turns to Holden’s grinning, smug face, including his manager, who looks like he wants to put duct tape over his mouth.
Holden shrugs again, reaching up to push his fingers through his tussled blonde hair.
“I mean, I’ve known Denver my whole life, sir,” he says, addressing my dad. “And I’m sure Houston is a great little town and all, but I just,” he looks down and kicks at the hardwood floor with his boot-heel in this absurd “aww shucks” way that probably gets me more annoyed than it should. “I just don’t think I can make a move like this until I see what there is to do to kick back and relax in a flashy place like this.”
My men around the room chuckle. I just roll my eyes.
The man is looking at an absurdly lucrative contract considering his recent record and conduct. And he’s worried about our nightlife?
My dad shakes his head, still laughing as he steps up to Holden and claps him on the shoulder.
“Fair enough, son! Fair enough!” He glances around the room.
“So! Who’s takin’ our boy here out on the town?”
I’m not at all surprised by the hand that shoots up first.
Tom, of course. Tom’s one of the younger guys on the board – a smarmy business school, holier-than-thou asshole who’s tried to convince me to come out on a date with him on more than one occasion.
Besides being bad with hints, he’s a world-class suck up.
“I know a great cigar bar, buddy,” he says eagerly, stepping forward with a particularly opportunistic grin on his face, like he and Holden are old pals.
“Not much of a cigar fan,” Holden shrugs, brushing him off. “I’m really more of a whiskey guy.” He
looks at me pointedly as he says it.
I quickly look at my clipboard, as if there’s suddenly something extremely important I need to study on it.
“I’m a whiskey man myself, actually,” Dad pipes up. “But I’m not much for goin’ out and painting the town red these days,” he says with a chuckle.
He furrows his brow for a second before he turns and beams at me.
Oh no.
“You know, London is a pretty damn good whiskey aficionado herself, actually! Takes after her old man like that.” Dad slings an arm over my shoulders. “Hell, she could take you!”
A lump forms in my throat as Holden turns his gaze to me, the corners of his mouth curling in a wicked grin.
“Oh yeah? You a big whiskey drinker?” he says pointedly, smirking at me like he’s enjoying watching me twist on the line like this.
“Yep,” I say thinly.
“Any place around town you know that might have Pappy Van Winkle 23 year?”
Heat floods into my face as Holden’s eyes pierce right into me and sends a little warm shiver through my body.
“A Pappy fan, huh?” Dad chuckles, waving a finger at Holden. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, son!”
Holden grins. “Yes sir! I really enjoyed myself last time I had a few of those.”
His gaze only seems to get more intense, and I quickly swallow the lump in my throat as that warm feeling starts to find its way to places that I certainly don’t need being made warm by Holden Cade.
“That work out for you, honey?”
I can tell my dad is looking at me expectantly, but I’m still just looking right at Holden, my gaze icy.
“I’ve got work to do tonight.”
“This is work,” Dad mutters under his breath, giving me a stern look.
“Ms. Jacobs, I’d be delighted to have you show me around.”
Holden’s still staring right at me, that supremely cocky grin plastered across his supremely perfect face.
‘I’m wondering just how bad you want me to make you my little slut.’
I ignore the illicit little shiver that tingles down my back, along with the pulsing throb between my legs as he looks at me like that.
“Fine,” I say flippantly.
Holden licks his lips.
“Well then, we’ll reconvene tomorrow after our boy here has had a chance to take in the town, shall we?”
Dad and Randy shake hands and the room starts to break as the other board members begin to leave or talk amongst themselves.
“See you tonight, sugar.” His voice is velvet in my ear, and I can feel my tingle before I whirl on him.
“Just so we’re clear, this is just a business thing,” I hiss under my breath, jabbing a finger at his broad chest.
“Perfect,” he purrs. “I’ve become a big fan of your ‘business’ things.”
My face goes bright red as I whirl around. But Dad and Randy are halfway out the door of the conference room, and far out of earshot.
“Watch it,” I hiss as I turn back to him. “I’m your boss now.”
He shakes his head as he takes a step closer to me.
“Not yet you’re not.”
A hand goes to my waist, and I can feel the breath catch in my throat before I force myself to step away from the gravitational pull of him I keep seeming to get caught up in.
“Not happening,” I say as coolly as I can, shaking my head.
All I can think about are those stupid tabloid pictures of him and his army of football groupies. Giggling, touching him, letting him pour champagne all over them. There’s a long list of silly girls who’ve been wooed and used by Holden Cade, and here I am signing my name on the bottom of it.
He leans down, his lips by my ear.
“And if you wanted to go ahead and wear one of those cute little cowgirl hats again, I got a stallion you could ride on.”
I shiver, feeling the flush bloom through my face. I rake my teeth across my lip, inhaling the scent of him and feeling dangerously close to falling right into him before I manage to center my head and pull away.
I step back from him, quickly taking a breath.
“Keep dreaming,” I say with a thin smile.
“Oh, believe me, I will.”
He steps close again, letting his fingertips trail over my hip.
“I’ll keep dreaming of it until you’re moaning my name again with every inch of my cock inside that tight pussy of yours.”
Oh, God.
And this time, I know I’m going to fall. His crude, dirty words and that hot voice of his slipping inside my ear has me so damn hot and so wet. And I know if he asked, I’d let him take me right here and right now in the middle of the damn conference room.
“Hey, dick-head, you ready? We got some financials to go over.”
I gasp and jump away from Holden at the sound of Randy’s voice - pulling back like I’ve just touched a hot pan with my hand.
I swallow quickly, my face positively beating with heat as I look up and momentarily lock eyes with the hot, consuming, prick of a jock grinning away at me.
“See you tonight, sugar.” He winks as he turns. “Seriously though, wear the hat.”
21
London
Remind me why you said yes to this?
I glare at my reflection in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.
Duty, I guess. Duty to my dad and this team, and knowing that despite his infuriating arrogance and his cocky charm, we do need Holden Cade.
I feel an illicit tingle run down my spine as I say it again, hoping to convince myself that agreeing to go out with Holden again is for “duty” and not because of any lingering forbidden urges I may have for him.
I sigh and slump my shoulders at the outfit reflected back to me - the fourth one I’ve tried on. Because as much as I want to brush off what happened before with him as just a one-time thing, and as adamant as I am with myself that of course what happened before will never happen again, here I am preening for him.
Ridiculous.
But still, this last outfit with the jacket?
Uh, yeah, no way.
The apartment phone rings as I’m struggling with the quarter-sleeve blouse that looks better fit for teaching fourth grade math than it does going out on the town with the hottest man in professional football - however much it is not a date.
“Ms. Jacobs?” It’s the building concierge downstairs. “There’s a package delivery for you down here.”
My brow furrows in puzzlement considering the late hour.
“Okay, thanks David, you can just send him up.”
I’ve managed to rid myself of the schoolmarm blouse and slip back into a sweatshirt and jeans when there’s a knock at my door.
“Evening ma’am. Sign here please.”
I look at the garment bag in the delivery guy’s hands in puzzlement as I scrawl my name across a tablet screen.
“Hey, who’s this from, by the way?”
The guy pulls a delivery receipt out of his pocket and frowns.
“It’s from a Mr. Pappy Winkle?”
I roll my eyes.
Of course it’s from him.
The delivery guy smiles at me as he passes me the garment bag.
“Have a good evening.”
Back in my room with the garment bag draped across the bed, I rip open the small card that was taped to the zipper.
“No uptight business suits tonight.”
The corners of my lips pull back in a small grin before I can stop it as I pick up the package by the hanger and start to pull open the zipper.
“Well, let’s see what you’d like me to wear instead, Mr. Ca-”
I freeze as the garment bag drops away, and I can feel the heat bloom through my cheeks as I stare at quite possible the shortest, skimpiest little black dress in the world. I blink as the heat comes rushing into my face, staring at the scandalously teensy dress hanging off the hanger in my hand.
No way.
&n
bsp; It’s not a cocktail party black dress. It’s not “flirty”, or “fun”. It’s what I’d wear if I were waitressing at a strip club, or dancing in an 80’s rock music video.
Huffing, I almost throw the stupid thing across the room.
Give me a break.
It’s enough that I have to walk back into the lion’s den and take Holden out on the town again. But there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I’ll be doing it in this thing. I roll my eyes as I stand there staring at the dress, trying to even imagine the gall and the arrogance it would take to even send a woman something like this to wear. I bite my lip, running a hand over the soft silk, the delicate embroidery along the scandalous hemline, and the plunging neckline.
And yet, as wildly inappropriate a gift and as porn-star racy as it is, it is a gorgeous dress.
Oh screw it.
I’m pulling off my clothes and slipping the skimpy thing down over my body before I know it, feeling a heady, naughty rush as the cool silk skims over my skin. I pull it down, my face only getting redder as I realize it is down as far as it goes. Taking a deep breath, I finally drag my eyes up to the mirror.
Whoa.
I look scandalous. I look like a senator’s mistress. I look like a femme fatale.
…And I look hot.
So, this is what Holden Cade likes his dates to go out in, huh?
I roll my eyes at the thought. Briefly, I flash a flirty kiss-face in the mirror as I twirl, blushing again as the super short hemline teases up over my ass.
I stop, breathing thickly and blinking.
No. Good LORD no.
I quickly pull the dress off and toss it on my bed, shivering as the silk leaves my body.
I may not have to go out tonight to meet Holden Cade dressed like a math teacher, but I’m sure as hell not going as a call-girl either.
* * *
"You're not wearing what I asked.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and scowl at him. I know exactly why the smug smiling jock standing in front of me sent me the dress he did, and it wasn’t because he legitimately thought I’d wear it.
Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 12