Harley Brennan, Running Back

by Jean C. Joachim

  Bianca’s eyebrows rose, and her eyes widened as Shyla fessed up. “You could get fired for doing that, couldn’t you?”

  “I don’t think so. We’d not be doing anything bad, just delivering a little truth about the women and what’s going on.”

  “Still. Dan’ll hit the roof.”

  “He doesn’t have to know,” Shyla said, while folding fabric. “I can do a lot to help your career, Bianca. I’ve be in this business for ten years. I know Gunther Quill. He’s the one who recommended me for this job.”

  “Gunther Quill? The producer?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’d help me?”

  “If you help me, damn right.”

  “What do you want me to do?” The young woman laid out plates with a pattern in Caribbean blue and white on a small, round table covered in a cloth of the same hue. She placed silver flatware in the proper places and finished with napkins that matched the tablecloth.

  “If we take turns spying—listening in, really—then no one will suspect us.”

  Bianca nodded. “But I don’t want to tell Mr. Brennan. That might jeopardize my job.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell Harley.”

  “Harley? Do you know him?”

  “We’ve met before,” Shyla lied. Not really a lie. Only a partial truth. Not the same as a lie.

  “Okay. As long as I don’t have to do that.”

  “Thanks,” Shyla said, hugging her cohort. “You’re the best.”

  “You won’t forget me, will you?”

  “No way, sweetie.” Shy spread a beautiful, patterned shawl, made locally, over the back of the sofa.

  They finished setting the many candles around the room, placing two on the table. Shyla surveyed their work, nodded, and folded up the fabric they didn’t need. Bianca called for the limo, and the two women sat on wicker chairs on the balcony, waiting for their ride back to the hotel.

  When they returned, Shyla bought Bianca a drink. There were a couple of contestants at the bar. The designers listened carefully as they sipped.

  “I think Helen is taking advantage. She takes up all his time at the cocktail parties,” Belinda said.

  “I know. She interrupted me with Harley twice,” Casey agreed.

  “I think we should have a plan. Make sure to keep stealing him away when he’s with her.”

  “Brilliant, Belinda.”

  “Knew you’d like it. Let’s get a couple of other girls too. We’ll squeeze her out.”

  Shyla sipped her drink, glanced at Bianca, and raised an eyebrow. The conspirators took their drinks out to the pool. Three more girls arrived.

  “Mary said she wants to be an actress, and if she gets engaged to Harley, then she’ll get all the publicity she needs. She said if they get married on TV, she’ll be sure to get at least a guest spot on a soap or a series.”

  “Oh? Wow. Some girls are not here for the right reasons.”

  “Bet she’d sleep with him to get picked too.”

  Shyla paid the tab. She and Bianca left, returning to their rooms. Shyla paced in front of the window. Harley needs to know about Mary. Damn! Taking him for a ride. Mary was the girl he was taking on the date at the condo tonight. The one who’d be alone with horny Harley in the seductive setting she’d just set up.

  Shy started to sweat. She picked up her phone and sent him a text. He’s probably turned it off. They probably made him.

  Important info. Need to talk.

  She busted open a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and settled into the lounge chair. It faced a big window with a view of the Caribbean. Her heart ached. How she wished she could be here with Harley, on their honeymoon. No hassles. No brother or father to worry about. The two lovers, alone, together. She sighed.

  Her phone rang. Harley’s name appeared.

  “Okay, shoot. What have you got?”

  “You have a date tonight with Mary?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “This chickie might not be exactly what she seems,” Shy began, kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable on the bed.

  Chapter Five

  “You’re not just trying to ruin my date, are you?” Suspicion dripped from his deep voice.

  “Harley Brennan! You’re the one who strong-armed me into doing this. Hey, fine. Don’t listen to what I tell you. Bianca and I were in the bar. We heard stuff. Oh, yeah. The girls are pretty pissed at Helen, too, for taking up all your time. They’re hatching a plan to retaliate.”

  “Shit! What the hell do I do?”

  “Don’t ask me. I have no clue. You’ve always been good with women, you’ll figure it out.”

  “Thanks a lot for deserting a sinking ship.”

  “Hey, I promised to spy for you, not to run interference. If you can find a hole in the defensive line in the Super Bowl, you can figure this out.”

  She hit the “call end” button and sucked in her lower lip. Anger rose in her chest. Who does he think he is, anyway? I don’t give a damn if he finds a wife.

  As the heart ceremony began, Shy and Bianca found an empty loveseat out of the way of main traffic in the hotel lobby. They sat down, their ears tuned to the muffled sounds coming from the small ballroom.

  They were not surprised to see a tearful Mary return from the dinner date with no heart and her suitcase waiting for her. She gave a great show of being heartbroken, but Shyla and her intern knew the truth.

  “Maybe she should be an actress. That was an Academy Award performance of the brokenhearted female cast out into the night.” Shyla made a dramatic gesture while Bianca laughed.

  “I do feel a little guilty,” the younger woman said.

  “Would you feel guilty if Harley had actually picked her then had his heart broken?”

  “I guess this is the lesser of two evils.”

  “Doing the right thing isn’t always easy.”

  They watched quietly as Helen stumbled tearfully down the hallway to the front entrance. Shy was happy to see her get the boot.

  “She deserves it,” Bianca whispered. Shy nodded.

  Limousine drivers loaded luggage and each young lady then pulled away toward the airport.

  As she and Bianca helped Harley whittle down the number of women, anxiety grew inside of Shy. Soon, Harley would have to pick a wife. One who wasn’t Shyla. She needed to have a plan, so she could deal with it.

  Dread filled her at the thought of hearing the news of his engagement. No way could she pretend she wouldn’t be devastated once he was no longer available. She shuddered at the idea of turning on the news and seeing his smiling face with one of the women there. The future Mrs. Harley Brennan. It sent chills up her spine.

  As each day passed, that moment drew nearer, making her question her choices more and more. Was it too late to change her mind? How close was John to finishing school and making a living? Could she give up her work, take a chance? What if it didn’t work out? She’d be nowhere. And what about her father and John? If she and Harley split, the men would be out on the street.

  Maybe it was time to put some pressure on John. After all, he’d been in school six years. He must be graduating with his Master’s soon. Stress gathered inside her. The clock was ticking, and her chance for happiness kept slipping away. It was time John stepped up to the plate.

  She stopped. He was taking care of her dad, no easy task. Besides, she and her father didn’t get along. If her brother shipped him here, Shyla would have to put him in a home, which would probably cost considerably more than the few hours of outside care he got every day. No way would he consent to live with her, so his staying with John would have to suit her.

  To take back control of her life, she had to put together a timetable. It had been a long time since she had talked to her brother. She picked up her phone.

  “John? Hey, how are you?” She sat back on her bed, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers.

  “We’re good. You?”

  “Oh, okay. I was wondering…do you
have any job prospects lined up yet?”

  “Graduation’s not until January, sis.”

  “Never too soon to get started.”

  “I know this is hard on you. I appreciate every dollar you send. Believe me. But living with dad is no picnic, either. He’s cantankerous.”

  “I’m not surprised. He was never an easy man.”

  “Easy? Nope. And now, he’s much worse.”

  “I’m sorry, Johnny.”

  “I hope you’re not making too many sacrifices for us.”

  Shyla bit her lip. Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. A deep breath helped steady her voice. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Good. For a minute, I was worried.”

  She could hear the relief in his words. “It’s okay. Everything’s under control.”

  Heat flamed her face. Never before had so many lies rolled so easily off her tongue.

  * * * *

  Guilt wasn’t in Harley Brennan’s comfort zone. So, when he had first asked Shyla to spy for him, he’d had a few twinges about it. He rationalized his scheme by acknowledging the seriousness of what he was doing. He was searching for a life partner and didn’t want to get waylaid by some faker, a pretender with a different agenda. That appeared to be fair. All’s fair in love and war.

  He had been surprised that Shy had agreed to go along. It had depressed him that she’d be at all comfortable talking about him ending up with another woman. He’d have expected her to get sarcastic and turn hurt eyes on him. She had cast her gaze on her hands, making it impossible for him to read what was on her mind. Her agreement had appeared weird, but then Shyla was unpredictable, a trait he’d always loved about her. Maybe not this time.

  Her advice had been spot on. At first, he hadn’t known if he could believe her warnings about this girl and that. But her analysis of what was going down among the women and the false motives of a few had proven to be the truth. He had been grateful for her opinion.

  Even so, the plan had backfired. Her willingness to put his welfare first made him love her more, not less, made him trust her feelings for him more, not less. As the finale drew closer, confusion grew inside the running back. He called his best buddy, Mark Davis.

  “You want to ask me about Shyla? She’s my wife’s best friend. Don’t expect me to badmouth her.”

  “I’m not. I’m confused. There are a couple of chicks here who seem to be the real deal. They’re hot. Might be good wives. But I still have feelings for Shyla. Should I wait for her?”

  “Haven’t you waited long enough?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. But she’s here, and—”

  “She’s there? Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. She’s vetting the women for me.”

  “She’s what? Are you insane?” Mark hollered.

  Harley moved the phone a foot from his ear. “It’s okay. She’s doing a good job.”

  “You have really flipped. This is too weird. Make up your mind. Grow the fuck up, man.”

  The phone went dead. Harley ran his fingers through his hair and wandered over to the picture window. He looked out over the clear, still Caribbean Sea, such a beautiful shade, and watched the sunset palette of reds and purples bleed into deep pink. The beauty of the sight wiped all thoughts from his mind. His heart thumped faster as the sky danced through a kaleidoscope of colors, as if putting on a private show just for him.

  When the color had settled into a combination of dark turquoise and midnight blue, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Sleep wasn’t happening. He’d never been more wide awake in his life. The bar was still open. He peeked in, hoping none of the women from the show would be there. He let out a breath to see the place practically empty, except for one couple in the back corner. He sat at the counter.

  “Whadda’ll ya have?” the bartender, a nice looking man in his twenties, asked.

  “Vodka. Rocks.”

  “Stoli?”

  “Fine.” This was no time for beer. No lightweight drink was going to get him through.

  “Aren’t you the guy from Marriage Minded?” The man placed a glass in front of the running back.

  “Yep. That’s me. You are?”

  “Skip. Nice to meet you.”

  “Like-wise.”

  They nodded at each other while Harley took a swig of the strong liquid. It burned ever so slightly going down. The power of the beverage coursed through his veins. He watched Skip wipe down the bar and rearrange the glasses.

  “You look like you’ve handled a few women in your day…”

  The young man laughed and smiled at Harley. “Could say that.”

  “I need some advice.”

  “Shoot.”

  By the time the footballer explained his predicament, he’d downed three vodkas.

  Skip rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow, man. That’s way beyond anything that I’ve seen. Don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Thanks. That makes two of us.”

  The alcohol coursed through him, unleashing amorous feelings. Now would be the perfect time for Vanessa to show up. I’d take her upstairs and give her an interview she’d never forget.

  He snickered at his own salacious thoughts. Even with imbibing, he still wasn’t sleepy. So, he did what he always did—it was time for a run on the beach. Harley worked out when he was tense, anxious, or wound up. It always reduced his stress, returning him to normal so he could rest through the night.

  He returned to his room and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. After doing a few stretches, he headed for the front door. The fact that it was two in the morning didn’t faze him. He simply needed a little time to do what he wanted, and it was now.

  He ran for a bit then returned to sit on the sand, staring at the moon. His body relaxed, the booze softening his anxiety. Harley was good, but alone. Three a.m. Perfect time to roll over in bed and make love to the woman lying next to you. He sighed, wiped his face with the towel he’d slung around his neck, and headed back to the hotel.

  * * * *

  Naked, Shyla had climbed into bed early. Tension had exhausted her, and sleep came quickly. However, she awoke from a bad dream. She’d dreamt she was marching down the aisle in a wedding dress with Vanessa and Cathy to meet Harley. He’d choose which one to marry on the spot, and the other two would have to hand over their gowns immediately.

  Tossing, she had become tangled up in the sheet and jolted awake. Sweaty, warm, and upset, she couldn’t breathe. She threw on her cover up and went to open the window. Leaning against the sill, she took in the calming sound of waves in the distance. It was two in the morning.

  Peering out from behind the curtain, Shyla didn’t spy a soul on the grounds. She slipped her room key in her pocket, flip-flops on her feet, and padded to the patio. Silvery beams reflected off wide, shiny green leaves and glass top tables. She found a lounge chair tucked into the shadows of a palm tree and lay down. The air caressed her skin with moist, gentle fingers. There was a slight, cooling wind. This was a place for lovers.

  Cathy and Vanessa drew the strongest interest from Harley. Shyla suspected that he was going to marry one of them. A shiver ran through her as the breeze cooled her down. Looking left and right, and finding no one about, she tiptoed over to the hot tub. After pressing the button to make the jets go, she slipped off her cover up and shoes, and eased her nude body into the hot water.

  God, that feels good! Leaning back against the wood, she closed her eyes and tried to wipe her mind clean of all worries as the jets pummeled the tightness from her muscles. She didn’t realize she was talking out loud until a distinctly masculine voice responded.

  “What have you got to worry about?”

  Her eyes flew open. To her right, wearing only trunks, stood Harley Brennan, sweat beading on his forehead and chest. God, he looked gorgeous, with the moonlight kissing his bare shoulders. The memory of running her palms over the hair on his chest made her fingers twitch. His locks fell across his forehead.

&
nbsp; She looked up and their gazes connected. “What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same question. In fact, I might ask you what I’ve wanted to ask you since I found out you’re here… What the hell are you doing working here and not telling me?”

  She swallowed, stalling for time to come up with a plausible response.

  He shook his head, words spilling out of his mouth. “You’ve got no answer, do you? Trying to screw this up too? Like you screwed up my life? You made it impossible for me to find anyone else. You. It’s your fault. And now, you’re doing it again. What the hell, Shy?”

  “Hey, our separation was mutual. You agreed. We agreed.”

  “Yeah. So, I repeat, what are you doing here? And don’t tell me trying to protect me from these bad women.”

  She gulped, lowering her gaze. “I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have come. But when they offered me the show and said you’d be on, I just figured it was serendipity.”

  “Serendipity?”

  “Karma? Fate?”

  “Bullshit. The truth. Now.”

  “I couldn’t say ‘no’ to one more opportunity to be around you and get paid a bundle too. After I’d signed the contract, I had changed my mind, but it was too late. There were too many people doing me a favor to get this job for me to simply walk out. People in this business have been shot for less than not honoring a contract.”

  “What did you think would happen here? You’d bust up my chance with another woman? Is that why you’re nixing them, one by one?”

  She shook her head. “Absolutely not. When I got my brain back, I realized you were only trying to move on. I told myself I’d come, do my job, stay in the shadows, and you’d never even know I was here.”

  “Really? Didn’t last long, did it?” He shifted his weight, drawing her stare to his abs.

  “It would have worked perfectly if I hadn’t forgotten my purse.” Oh, shit!

  “What?”

  “Nothing, nothing.” She waved her hand. She’d forgotten he didn’t know she had been hiding in the closet, listening to everything he’d said. He’d go ballistic if he found out.