Good lord, even with only three sentences he had the power to make her blush. Looking up, she met Ross’s grin, trying to hide her surprise.
“What?”
Avoiding eye contact she slipped the card back into the envelope nonchalantly, her hands shaking. It was no big deal. Just a client thanking her for a job well done, that was all.
“What do you mean what? The hottest football player on the planet just sent you flowers.”
“So? He was thanking all of us for everything we did for the event, that’s all,” she said, refusing to look at him and Charlotte, her cheeks still flushed from the last line of the card, but they didn’t need to know that. There was no other reason he would send her flowers other than to thank her. Especially a bouquet this exceptional, which seemed fitting coming from the man who sent them.
“I don’t know about that. I’ve never had flowers like these sent just to thank me for a job well done,” Charlotte said, leaning in to smell a giant rose petal.
“Well, for a job well done outside of the bedroom, that is.” She winked, grabbing the phone as it rang again.
“You’re silly,” Alivia said, picking the massive flowers up off the desk. “It’s nothing.”
There was no way the flowers meant anything more than a nice gesture thanking her for all her hard work. Jax was a professional athlete and after Saturday night she learned he was a local celebrity as well. There was nothing about her that he would find interesting. He had said it himself; she wasn’t what he had expected.
“I’ll be in my office starting the paperwork for the new accounts,” she said over her shoulder walking down the hall to her office. Getting far away from Ross and Charlotte’s ridiculous notions.
“By the size of those flowers, I’d say you owe him something quite large, lovey.” Ross chuckled as she shut her office door placing the flowers down on her exquisite glass top desk. Walking around the other side of the table, she skimmed through the mail that was left for her and sat down in her chair eyeing the flowers again. Were they right? Were the flowers more than an appreciative gesture?
No.
No.
No way.
Leaning against her desk chewing on her nail, she stared at the small white card taunting her insides. Maybe she should e-mail him? No, maybe text? No, definitely call him.
Ugh, it was so much easier talking to him when she didn’t have the way he was watching her replaying in her mind.
No.
She needed to stop this ridiculousness and just call him. If he was as happy as he said he was with the event, he could be a recurring client. Which didn’t stop the pang of hope that she would be able to work with him again. To see him again.
Silly woman.
Hesitating another second, she picked up her phone before she lost all courage, quickly dialing his number that was written on his file still sitting on her desk. Leaning in to smell one of the delicate petals again she waited for him to answer.
Please go to voicemail.
Silently waiting she realized she had no idea what to say to him. It was a whole lot easier to hold a conversation with him when she hadn’t known those dark green eyes, that ridiculous square jaw and oh my, those dimples that crept up when he gave her that dangerous smile.
Voicemail, voicemail…
“Hello?”
Crap.
“Um. Hi. Mr. Monaghan?”
“Yes,” he answered, out of breath.
“Hi, it’s Alivia Moore…From Save the Date… From Saturday night….”
Drawing out her words slowly the line went quiet a moment and she hoped he would catch on before she had to think of any other obvious ways to remind him of her existence.
“Well, hello Alivia Moore,” he said, his voice softening a bit. “From Save the Date.” She could almost hear him smiling. “From Saturday night.”
He was mocking her.
Her shoulders softening a bit, she released a small breath she didn’t realize she was holding onto, hiding her flushed cheeks.
“I just wanted to thank you for the gorgeous flowers,” she said, clearing her throat a bit. “They’re lovely, but you really didn’t need to do that.”
Admiring the beautiful roses once more, she smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time a man sent her flowers. And it felt nice.
“What flowers?”
Oh no!
Anxiety taking over, she scrambled around her desk for the card, files falling off the table. Did she misread the card? Were they really from a vendor? Was this a sick joke?
“I’m kidding,” he chuckled with all the ease in the world. “You sounded tense when I answered.”
Plopping back into her seat, she leaned her head back, allowing her heart to make its way back up into her chest.
“And you’re welcome. Plus, it was the only way I could get you to call me without having to plan another party,” he said, the tone of his voice getting deeper with each word that dripped from his mouth. And she remembered that mouth. “And to ask if you’re busy this Friday night.”
Is he asking me out?
“Now why would you want to know that, Mr. Monaghan?” she asked playfully, slowly sinking back into the ease of playful banter that seemed to flow naturally between them since meeting exactly forty hours ago. But who was counting?
“Because I would like to take you out to dinner to thank you again for all that you did for me and for the women and children’s center. Plus, as I recall, you made me stand up in front of over three hundred people and speak. I told you that you would owe me.”
Chuckling, she rested back into her seat grinning like a damn fool.
“Well tell me something Mr. Monaghan, do you take all your business partners out to dinner?”
“Nah, most of them are men, and they just wouldn’t look as good as you in a dress.”
Sharing a laugh, she could sense that feeling creeping up inside her belly. The same one that reminded her of high school when she had a crush on the most gorgeous boy in school and she would hide inside her closet talking to him for hours on the phone all giddy and smitten. Except this wasn’t high school. And this wasn’t a boy. This was a man. A very striking man and a professional athlete who already had the power to make her feel unbalanced under his intense stare, but also wildly intrigued. Plus, she had just got her foot in the door with the football league. What would happen if it didn’t work out between them? Would she have to see him again? Would it damage her reputation? Chelsea had mentioned his “flavor of the month.” Clearly, he dated often and she wasn’t interested in being anyone’s temporary time pass, no matter how attracted she was to him. Especially when she had the chance to plan events for the Mavericks organization.
“It’s just dinner,” he teased during her moment of silence. Yes. It was just dinner and before she had a chance to scrutinize all the reasons she shouldn’t move forward, all rational thought abandoned her.
“Well, dinner would be nice then.”
“Okay, great.”
“Perfect! I will see you then, Mr. Monaghan,” she smiled to herself.
“Liv?”
“Yes?”
“It’s just Jax.”
* * *
Grinning to himself, Jax slipped his phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t completely confident when he sent those flowers to Liv that she would call or even agree to have dinner with him, but he needed to see her again. He hadn’t been able to get her and that smile out of his head all weekend. Sticking his music buds back into his ears, he resumed the three mile run he was completing before she called. He promised himself that he wouldn’t get into any relationships during the season; that his sole focus would remain on his performance on the field. And he never broke a promise. He was eager and determined to take his team to the Super Bowl his first year of wearing blue and silver. It was the reason he was brought to Carolina. But what was one dinner with quite possibly the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on?
It wasn’
t like he was in danger of starting a relationship or getting in too deep with a woman, anyways. He hadn’t exactly figured out how to successfully mesh the two yet. Career and relationships. There were plenty of guys on the team that had girlfriends, fiancées, and wives and they made it work, but he never seemed to be effective at that. He worked hard on his talent, remained focused on his career and dedicated himself to his team a hundred and ten percent. Maybe that was the problem? Trevor had accused that it was because he hadn’t found the one that made him want to make it work badly enough. Maybe Trevor was right or maybe he just took after his father more than he would ever admit.
Seven months ago he ended things with a woman he thought he was willing to make it work with. He had met her junior year of college while playing at the University of Florida. They spent almost every day together; up until he got drafted in the first round to Washington. Sure, they had to endure the long distance relationship thing, but he wasn’t worried about being over eight hundred miles away. She would finish school while he played his rookie year in the league and they would see each other in between on bye weeks, school breaks, and the off-season. But it was then that he started to see a difference in Vanessa Flynn. She had demanded more and threatened more often. Calling him early in the morning while he was recovering from a rough game the night before, complaining to him that another one of her friends got engaged, only to call again at night crying and accusing him of not loving her enough. He had cared for her, sure, but he wasn’t positive that he wanted to marry her. He never felt those feelings for any woman. He was perfectly fine focusing on his career, but he also knew that Vanessa wanted more. Much, much more. Their rare time spent together was consumed with parading him around town to the best restaurants and most exclusive clubs in the city with her arrogant friends and suffocating family. Yet, he couldn’t even convince her to go to a local tavern to meet a few buddies and their girlfriends to blow off some steam or hang at home to just recoup from a long week of practice, unless it offered table service and a photo op.
He wanted to make her happy. He did. But more than that, he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t anything like his father. Plus, aside from Vanessa, he had no one. The day after she had called him having another meltdown over not being engaged, he went and looked at rings. He found an appropriate diamond, one flashy enough to please her, paid for it, took it home and waited. Waited for the enthusiasm. The war between excited and nervous he only assumed would come with proposing to the woman that he was going to spend the rest of his life with and whom would be the mother of his children. And he wanted children. Lots of them. But those feelings never came.
His mother had raised him to be a gentleman, but even then he couldn’t bring himself to ask her father permission to marry his daughter. So he continued to wait. Vanessa had flown out to Washington the following weekend unannounced, unhinged and charging into his apartment the night before a game demanding they get engaged in an attempt to keep up with her friends. It would have been so easy to pull out the ring and get on one knee and propose to her in the middle of the small apartment, but he couldn’t do it. So he ended it. He anticipated the pain and the regret to creep in, watching the only person he had left, storm out of his life threatening him that he would never find anyone that would love him because he was so damaged. But again, it never came. Of course, the breakup would have been a hell of a lot easier to move past if it weren’t for the large trade that sent him to the Mavs as their starting quarterback. The organization that Mr. Flynn, her father, owned.
A football rolled at his feet pulling him from his thoughts as he slowed his pace. Picking it up, he handed it back to the high school kid who was trotting over to retrieve it.
“I’m sorry man,” the kid said reaching for the ball, stopping when he realized who he was. “Holy shit, man, you’re Jax Monaghan!” the kid yelled much louder than he would have liked and much like he assumed they would, the group of guys playing rough touch abandoned their field, making their way over to shake his hand asking him to play ball with them.
After fifteen minutes of signing shirts, taking pictures and promising a stellar season, Jax made his way back to his truck. He was meeting up with Trevor and a few of the guys at a new bar, Rooftop, for a few drinks. Maybe then he could settle some uncharacteristic nerves he was having when he began to think about his date with a certain charming blonde. Laughing to himself he opened his car door and jumped inside. Nothing made him nervous. Not three hundred pound linebackers gunning for his legs on game day and least of all, a date. Slipping on his Ray-Bans he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was just something about her that pulled him in and he was looking forward to finding out exactly what it was.
* * *
Finger combing her hair quickly, Alivia looked into the wide mirror inside her bathroom. Exhaling another deep breath, she reached for the hairspray, knocking it over as it dropped, smacking her foot.
“Ouch,” she whined, picking up the thick bottle off the floor. Throwing it inside the sink she braced her arms against the counter dropping her head.
She needed to relax.
Ross and Charlotte had nearly pushed her out the door earlier, insisting that they run the office for the rest of the day, providing her with just enough time to catch her breath after the ridiculously long week, squeeze in a quick manicure and second guess her decision to have dinner with Jax.
Walking back into her bedroom she slipped her lip gloss into her purse. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him again. Dear Lord she hadn’t stopped thinking about those dimples all week and found herself re-reading his note attached with the bouquet of flowers a few dozen times. When she sent him a text with her address, her stomach just about jumped into oncoming traffic at his simple response of, “See you then.” She didn’t know much about him, guessed that was the point of the date, but she had no idea what he found so interesting about her. At least enough to go to such lengths to get her attention. She was an event planner, dedicating all her time and energy into her business so that she could maintain her modest apartment and afford food for her and her dog. That was it.
“What am I doing?” she whispered, spraying herself with her favorite perfume, coconut and hibiscus clouding around her. Saturday night had been a blur. A shadow of reality between the ultimate success of the event and encountering Jax. And after watching him move about the room for five glorious hours, one thing became very clear.
He was a superstar.
Slipping on her gold jeweled bangles, she shook out her hands, mentally shaking the nerves. As fascinating as it was watching him handle his obligations as host, ensuring every guest was paid attention and every question was answered to satisfaction, it was equally as intimidating. Everyone wanted a piece of him and although he handled the entire evening seamlessly with an unwavering ease that could only come from a self-assured man, she still didn’t understand where she was fitting into the equation. People didn’t compete for her attention, city superiors didn’t acknowledge her as if she was sent to save the city somehow and nobody had waited patiently outside the hotel to interview her or snap photos. She was just a girl from a small town, desperate for a fresh start.
Stealing another glance into the mirror, she checked her outfit, smoothing her hands over the ivory fitted jeans delicately hugging her long legs. Even if the evening was a total disaster, at least she’d look cute in the wreckage. She had no idea where Jax was taking her, where professional athletes dined. Another unanswered question. Casual chic with a feminine lace top and matching nude pumps seemed like the most logical choice.
Shutting her bedroom door, she walked out into the large open living room, stepping over Mr. Beans laying in the middle of the floor. Grabbing a bone from the large jar on the counter, she watched her pup enjoy the last sliver of late afternoon sun in his favorite spot in the apartment.
“How does Mommy look?” she asked the slobbering canin
e that owned half of her heart. Raising his head, he let out a quick bark, and she was convinced it was a bulldog’s bark of approval. Bending down, she planted kisses all over his white and brown nose. She felt guilty that she hadn’t been home much the past few weeks and she hated leaving him again.
“I promise tomorrow,” she said in her baby voice reserved just for him, “you and Mommy will go to the dog park and go get some toys at the pet store.” She smiled, slipping his wishbone above his jowl and into his mouth. Rubbing his big ears, she doted on the fifty-pound lazy ball of love who would find the idea of running around in a park absolutely dreadful. She knew from three years of experience that she would end up taking him to just the pet store, which was fine with her.
Rubbing his smooth brown ears methodically, she stilled as the chime of the doorbell filled the quiet space.
This was it.
Her first date in almost a year with a man that was not only gloriously handsome and an athletic prince, but had a way of making her control slip replacing it with uncertainty and inhibition along with a long line of other unfamiliar emotions. Walking towards the door, she glanced in the mirror hanging on the wall, checking her teeth, smoothing out her hair for the hundredth time and opened the door silently thanking Jesus for the magnificent man standing in front of her.
If it were possible, Jax was even more intimidating than she remembered. Gone was his designer tuxedo replaced with a pair of tan shorts fitting perfectly around his long legs and a white polo shirt stretched across his muscles as if it hadn’t a choice; proving once again just how big his body really was. Muscles and arms and legs that she had caught herself daydreaming about for the better part of the week stood before her. He looked more relaxed than the last time she saw him. Watching him leave the charity dinner, he hadn’t wasted a second shedding his thick jacket and loosening his tie. He looked comfortable now and looking damn near good enough to eat.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he smiled, already armed with the familiar dimples that held with them the power to soften every carved edge on his strong face.
False Start (Mavericks #1) Page 3