As much as he had wanted to disagree and fight Lyle’s decision, he knew the owner and coach were right. Harley was on the cusp of serious injury and had to get out now before he destroyed the rest of his life, or ended it prematurely.
Sadness overwhelmed him. He cried at the kitchen table before grabbing the keys to his car and heading to the city. Once he had gotten his personal defense team in motion, it was time to break the truth to Vanessa. And he had one more important call to make.
As he let his car warm up, he picked up his cell and dialed.
“Mac Caldwell, please. Harley Brennan calling.”
Jonesy, the secretary, put him through.
“Hey, Mac, how are you? I’m fine. Remember that conversation we had a couple of years ago? Yeah, that’s right. I’m interested.”
He clicked on speakerphone and roared out of the driveway, heading for New York City.
* * * *
Limoges, a fancy French restaurant located in Central Park was the total opposite of The Savage Beast. Delicately patterned china, from Limoges, in France, accompanied a beautiful, natural wood floor, the walls and draperies patterned in strong, French turquoise blended with creamy white. Chandeliers were muted to provide the right light for a romantic atmosphere.
The head waiter plucked two menus and showed Harley to a table in a corner. The room was windowed on half, allowing the beauty of Central Park to become part of the décor. Harley figured it was better in spring or summer than it was now. But the stark landscape with leafless trees, gray walkways, and overcast sky mirrored his mood.
Harley ordered a ginger ale. It was a long drive home, and he needed to be sober. He looked up as Vanessa arrived. She knew how to make an entrance. Wearing a tight, turquoise dress, low cut, and six inch, silver heels, she sashayed her way down the aisle to his table. Her breasts bounced, her legs were lean, she was beauty personified, yet none of it did much for Harley.
He noted to himself that the twitch he used to get between his legs when he’d go on a date with Vanessa on Marriage Minded wasn’t happening anymore. He’d compliment her beauty, but it was the kind of beauty you see on the walls of a museum. It wasn’t flesh and blood gorgeousness, which was the kind he liked. She looked like a model and as bloodless as a store window dress dummy.
He stood as she approached. She leaned over and kissed his stubbly cheek then sat down in the chair the maître d’ held for her. She ordered a glass of wine and sat back, staring at him.
“What’s up?”
“Change of life plans.”
“Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“I can’t play football anymore.”
“What? What happened?”
“The team has decided that I’ve had one concussion too many. I’m a liability. I might die the next time, or become a vegetable. So, they’re releasing me.”
“You won’t be playing pro football anymore?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh my God! Are they right? Could you die?”
“I suppose. It’s not that so much as the possibility that I might sue them if I have early dementia or something. That’s the last thing they want.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Her drink arrived. Vanessa spent time sipping instead of talking. She looked around the room, keeping away from his stare. Then, she focused on her glass, not meeting his gaze.
“It’s okay, Vanessa. Really. I’m going to be all right.”
“I’m sure you are. I mean, once you leave football, then there’s no risk, right?”
“Right.”
“But what about us?”
Harley didn’t consider himself a mean person, but every once in a while he took pleasure in screwing someone to the wall, figuratively. “That’s what I was wondering. This is probably a game-changer for you. I mean, you went into this expecting to marry a rich, successful, football player with a long, lucrative career ahead of him. Now, you could end up married to a high school coach.”
“A high school coach? Really?” Color drained from her face.
“I mean, that’s just speculation. I don’t know where I’m going to end up.”
“Eww. High school coach doesn’t fit in with my plans at all.”
“Then, we could have kids. Settle down in a nice, little town. You could learn to bake.”
“Bake? Kids? I wasn’t planning on kids until I was forty. Then, maybe one.”
“That’s your plan? It sure as hell isn’t mine.”
“No? What’s yours then?” She copped an attitude.
“A couple of kids, maybe a year to two from now.”
“Oh, no, no, no. I’m much too young. And I have my career. Pregnancy will ruin my body.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“You know that I care for you, Harley, don’t you?” She cast her gaze to the floor, and her hands fiddled with the napkin.
He nodded. Here it comes. He could hardly keep a straight face. “Let’s order.” Hiding behind the menu, he broke into a wide grin. This couldn’t have been going better.
They ordered. Steak for Harley and seafood salad for Vanessa.
“Where were we? Oh, yes. I do care for you…”
“But?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“But I had planned a totally different life. I never would have gone on Marriage Minded if I thought you’d be a high school teacher.”
“I’m sure.”
“I hope you understand. This isn’t anything personal, but I’ve got a certain lifestyle. I’m happy doing what I’m doing.”
“If you stay with me, we’ll have to get rid of the L.A. hotel budget immediately.”
“Really? I’m booked out there for the next two weeks. I have shoots with this hot, new photographer, Leo Gabriel. He’s a big celebrity guy.”
“How hot is he?” While the game he was playing amused him, Harley wouldn’t accept her being unfaithful.
“Not that kind of hot. Popular.”
“I’m sorry, babe, but I have to cut back. What I have has to last me for the next forty years. Maybe more.”
She frowned. He marveled at how her incredible beauty dissolved when her smile went south. Her face fell completely when he said forty years. He wore a wry grin as he looked forward to watching her wiggle out of the engagement gracefully.
“I can’t do that.”
“I’m not paying any more bills. It’s time all this work you’re doing earned a little money.”
“You have to fake it until you make it. You know that, Harley.”
“Actually, I don’t. I didn’t fake anything. Maybe your father will be happy to foot your bills. Can I have your credit card, please?” He put out his hand.
Her pout was even less attractive than her frown. She fished around in her purse.
“If you don’t give it to me, I’ll just have it cut off anyway.”
She plucked it from her wallet and slapped it into his palm. “There. Happy?”
“Do I detect a little reluctance at going forward with this engagement?”
Color rushed back into her face. “Okay, okay! Yes! I’ve been looking for a way to end this almost from the moment it began.”
Harley’s eyes widened at the unexpected confession. “Really?”
“You’re a nice, decent guy, Harley. But we have nothing in common. Whew. There. I’ve said it.” She yanked at the diamond ring, finally slid it off, and placed it on the table.
At that moment, their meal arrived. Harley scooped up the ring and put it in his breast pocket. Relief coursed through him. Easier than I thought.
Once the server had left, Harley piped up, “I was sincere when I proposed to you.”
“I know. And I meant it when I said ‘yes.’ But we didn’t know each other at all and, well, life throws stuff at you.”
“You’re telling me.” He sliced off a piece of steak.
“You’re not mad?” Her brow wrinkled, her eyes
questioning.
Harley chuckled. “I’m not mad. I’m relieved.”
“Really?”
“I feel exactly the same way.” He grinned.
“You’re kidding? You do?”
He nodded.
She laughed. “We didn’t communicate well, did we?”
“Nope. No hard feelings.”
“None here. Now, what are we going to tell the media?”
“And Greg Carson on Marriage Minded?”
Vanessa pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse. “Let’s do a press release. Would you be available for a joint interview?”
“Good idea.”
“We’ll just say that it was a mutual decision, based on the different directions our lives took. Sound okay?” She looked up, her face glowing with youthful appeal.
“Perfect!”
She nodded.
They passed a pleasant meal—probably the most pleasant since they’d gotten engaged—and wrote the release. During dessert and coffee, Vanessa called her agent to put the word out.
“Have you met any men you might consider settling down with?”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever want to settle down. But Leo, the new photographer, is kinda cute.”
“A photographer would be perfect for you.”
“Is that a slam?” Her brows knitted together.
“No, no. Just an observation.”
“How about you? Gonna call that Shyla person?”
He sensed color heading for his cheeks. “No. She’s got her own life. Probably engaged to some director or producer by now.”
“She looked like she was way in love with you.”
“You think so?”
“Woman’s intuition. It was all over her.”
“She’s got a big career in the movies. She’s a set designer. She travels a lot.”
“Just your tough luck, eh?”
Harley wasn’t prepared to admit a thing.
Chapter Sixteen
Shyla slipped on her fleece robe, and padded out from the guest room at six. Penny was up with the baby, but Mark was on his way to Las Vegas to play the Nevada Gamblers. With nothing happening in Pine Grove, Shy had come to visit her friend.
Once the frenzy of the holidays was over, she enjoyed New York in the winter. Usually she’d have booked a cold weather vacation in the Caribbean, but this year she didn’t have the money. So she’d have to settle for a week with the Davis’ family, instead.
While Penny nursed, Shyla put up a pot of decaf and brewed a cup of regular for herself.
“Scrambled eggs?” Shyla called to her friend. Penny nodded. While she was cooking, the new mom flipped on the television from the remote control. The sound from the screen droned in the background as Shyla sang to herself and prepared breakfast. When she heard her friend shouting, she finished loading eggs on plates, then stopped, turning toward the living room.
“What’s the matter?”
“Com’ere! Com’ere quick!”
Shy carried the two dishes, but almost dropped them when she spied Harley and Vanessa on television. Penny put the baby up to her shoulder to burp and patted the cushion next to her. Shy sat down, placing the food on the coffee table while keeping her gaze riveted to the screen.
“They just came on. Let me rewind. As soon as Emily’s done.” She picked up the remoted, rewound, and then paused.
Shyla couldn’t take her eyes off Harley. There he was, looking as handsome as ever in a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, and tie in blue to match his eyes. His hair was stylishly combed, his face covered in more than a little scruff. He looked gorgeous. She glanced at Vanessa, who was dressed like a movie star and standing next to him.
Penny put the baby across her lap and hit “play.’
“Harley Brennan and Vanessa Goode, golden couple from Marriage Minded call it quits. That’s right. Exclusive to Celebs ‘R Us. This hot pair has called off their engagement.” The video showed Harley and Nessa holding hands and smiling. The interviewer asked them why they were ending their relationship.
“Our lives are spinning in totally different directions,” Vanessa said.
“Who pulled the plug first?” the woman asked.
“It was mutual,” Vanessa purred.
“That’s right. We both agree, staying together in our circumstances doesn’t make any sense,” Harley piped up.
More platitudes poured from their smiling mouths, while Shyla’s hung open. She’d never expected to hear this, though it was something she had prayed for daily.
“It’s your turn, Shy. Go get him,” Penny said, placing her sleeping infant in a baby seat.
“Wait. I have no idea what this means. His life is going in a different direction?” Shy settled back on the sofa as the interview continued.
“I understand you’re giving up football, retiring, Mr. Brennan,” said the interviewer.
“Not sure if I’m giving up football or football’s giving up me.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
“It’s a health thing.”
“Are you all right?”
“Sure, sure. I’m fine. But it’s time to move on.”
“What exactly are you moving on to?”
“When I’ve figured that out, I’ll give you a call.” He laughed.
Then the interview was over, and the camera returned to the regular talk show stars.
Shyla froze in her seat. She couldn’t move. “Did I really see that?” she asked, when she found her voice. “Son of a bitch. Did you see that?”
“Oh my God! He did it! He dumped her.” Penny sat straighter on the sofa.
“Or she dumped him.”
“Does it matter?”
Shyla shook her head.
“Well? What are you going to do?”
“Me? How does this affect me?”
“Don’t be stupid. Call him. Congratulate him. Something!”
“You’re right. Okay. Okay,” Shy said, pulling out her phone. “But what do I say?”
“Text him.”
With a quaver in her hand, she brought up the text screen and typed.
Congratulations or condolences?
She hit “send” and held her breath.
“That’s it? What did you send, two words?” Penny cocked an eyebrow.
“How’d you guess?”
“Pfft. Good luck with that. Go for him, girl. He’s all yours now.”
“Says you. We’ll see.”
Shyla took the plates into the kitchen. While there, her cell dinged. She jumped.
“That must be him,” Penny said.
Shy approached her phone as if it was a hissing snake. She turned on the messaging screen gingerly. There it was. A response from Harley.
Come up to Monroe tomorrow, for the weekend.
She showed the text to her friend.
“When’s the next train? Let’s get you packed while the baby sleeps.” Penny jumped up off the couch and took the designer by the hand.
* * * *
Shyla looked out the window at the bleak, winter landscape as the train whisked her up the shore to Connecticut. She had another hour, so she sat back and closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her body tingled in anticipation of being alone with her former lover. He was free now, and she wasn’t traveling anymore. And with her father’s passing and John’s finding a job, her financial obligations were over. She was finally free, free to be with him, if he still wanted her. But could she live up to the type of woman he was used to?
Visions of the gorgeous Vanessa swam through her mind like electric eels, shocking her with their reality. She’d never be that put together. She’d always have hair coming loose from a bun, a hem coming undone, or something to mar “the look”. She’d never be chic, too thin, or dressed in the most expensive clothes. Shyla had style, but she was careful with money.
With more than her own mouth to feed, she’d learned to stretch a dollar. Now, she had nothing in the bank and little com
ing in. Mindy couldn’t pay when the playhouse was closed for the winter. Shyla had saved what she’d made and got some extra cash from renting her condo. That reserve would help make it through the winter, enabling her to pay her rent until she started receiving a salary again in the spring. It was tight, but she could do it. She’d been there before.
“Next stop, Monroe,” the conductor announced as he passed through the car. Shyla started. She had been dozing while thoughts about the sets for the next play danced around her brain. She shrugged her purse strap onto her shoulder, stood up, and made her way to the door as the train slowed to a halt. Wheeling her bag behind her, she stepped across the gap between the vehicle and the platform and looked up.
The small station didn’t have many people waiting. She spotted the tall man with his hand raised immediately. Warmth flooded through her as he approached.
“Baby. So good to see you.” He engulfed her in his big embrace. She rested her cheek against his jacket, pressing into his chest. His arms squeezed her until she almost couldn’t breathe. Guess she had her answer to the question of how glad he’d be. He bent to kiss her briefly. “You look great. Come on. Let’s get corned beef.”
She grinned, following him to the car. He took her suitcase and lifted it into the trunk then opened the door. Sliding into the seat, she was nestled in luxury. The car was warmer than outside. She shifted around, getting comfortable and facing Harley.
Before he fastened his seatbelt, he leaned over for a serious kiss. His tongue danced with hers, stirring her blood. She cupped his cheek while he ravaged her mouth. When he sat back, his blue eyes examined her while he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Yes, he had on her coral lipstick.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he muttered.
“Me, neither. Let’s go. I’m starving,” she responded, lowering her gaze.
Before she’d confess her feelings, she needed to know more, much more.
Harley put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.
Harley Brennan, Running Back Page 20