Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2)

by Magda Alexander

  “I can’t believe players would sever their relationship with my agency. It’s one of the best in the business.”

  “Trust me. Some would. If there’s one thing players respect is families.” He strolls back to me, that slow swing of his hips drawing my gaze, along with the rest of him. Why am I fighting this? He could be mine, in bed and out. Fine. I’m in. But first, we need to set some rules.

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes, darling.” He says, cupping my cheeks.

  “While we’re married, you don’t screw around with anyone.”

  “Oh, Ellie girl, don’t you know? There’s no other woman for me.” He brushes his mouth across mine, and I tingle down to my toes.

  “Yeah, right,” I whisper against his lips. He might ooze honesty, but I know what he’s really like. “Promise me, Brock.”

  He makes the sign of the cross over his heart. “I promise. I’ll treat you right, especially in bed. We had a great time Sunday night, didn’t we?”

  My face grows hot as I recall the things he did to me. And everything I did to him. “Yeah, but that was just—”

  “Sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. It wasn’t.” His hands slide down to my ass and lift me. After dropping me on the counter, he rubs his hard cock against my pussy.

  “Oh.” I widen my legs to give him better access. There’s only so much temptation I can withstand.

  He kisses my lips, nibbles my jaw. “I’ve had lots of sex, Ellie girl. What we have? It’s special.”

  “I bet you say that to every woman who hops in the sack with you.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Uh-huh.” I don’t believe him for one second.

  “Most of those women were looking to score with an NFL player so they could brag about it to their friends. It meant nothing to them or me.” He kisses my fingers, one at a time, the last one he licks, same as he did Sunday in bed. “But you are different. You’ve always been different.”

  God. Why am I falling for his malarkey? Sooner or later, he’ll want his freedom, because Brock Parker can’t be true to one woman. No matter what he says. And the last thing I want is more heartbreak. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime. So as much as I want to say yes, I can’t. I push away from him. “Sorry. This is not going to work out.”

  He rubs his hands up and down my back, and I practically melt in his arms. “It doesn’t have to be forever, you know.”

  Well, that makes sense. He would think that way. And that is something I could agree to. “Only long enough to get over this hump, then?”

  “Exactly.” He gives me his most brilliant smile, as if I’m a dull student who’s just caught up. “We’ll have to give it a go for at least a year. Until I’m through with this season and signed on to a new team. Then we can put out a statement. A mutually agreed story about how things didn’t work out. In the meantime, we’ll just enjoy ourselves.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “Pervert.” I whisper against his mouth.

  “Stick in the mud.” He kisses me and everything fades away. I’ve never been able to be this close to Brock and not melt.

  “Oh, God, that’s just gross.” Kaylee.

  Busted by my own daughter. I hide my flushed face against his shoulder.

  Brock’s thumb strokes my throat as if to say, ‘Don’t worry. I got this.’ “Get used to it, kid. I just asked your mother to marry me. And she said “Yes.”

  “I didn’t,” I whisper against his chest.

  “Yeah, you did,” he murmurs right back.

  “Uggh.” Kaylee clatters away, probably to hide in her bedroom again.

  I glance up into his gorgeous face. “Told you she would be a hard nut to crack.”

  His mouth quirks. “Guess what? So am I. Hard I mean.”

  He lifts me off the counter.

  But when he pulls me toward the hallway, panic sets in. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to bed?”

  I yank back and stop our progress. “With Kaylee in the next room? Are you insane?”

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Yes!” How could he think I could have sex with my daughter only a few feet away?

  “Then we’ll have to find a bigger house.”

  Like hell, we will. “I’m not moving.” I might be willing to get married, but I’m not chucking my whole life for him.

  Chapter 18

  Brock

  THE THREE-RING CIRCUS, otherwise known as our press conference, gets scheduled for two days later. Over two hundred media representatives eager to cover the juicy scandal have camped out at the Outlaws’ compound. But only those credentialed with the team’s PR office are allowed in, which should keep out most of the gossip rags.

  The day of the press conference, Ellie and I wait in the PR office until it’s time for the briefing to begin. Having suffered through several media frenzies, I know what to expect. Ellie, on the other hand, is practically jumping out of her skin. Unable to remain still for long, she paces up and down the office, arms wrapped around her middle, eyes darting around the room.

  “They won’t bite, you know?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s my job.”

  The glare she shoots at me is hot enough to singe. “You’re disgusting.”

  “But you love it.” When she doesn’t return another snappy one-liner, I know I have to do something to calm her nerves.

  Taking her hand, I lead her into the nearest office. Thankfully, the place is empty. Whoever it belongs to, he’s probably dealing with the press.

  I rub her chilled hands between my own. “You’re one block of ice.”

  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I haven’t attended a press conference before.”

  “Because you know how brutal the questions can be.” I drape my jacket around her shoulders. As big as it is, it comes down to her thighs.

  She burrows into me, seeking my warmth. “Thanks.”

  I stroke her back to get her circulation going. “I won’t let them browbeat you, you know, and neither will the head of Public Relations.” She’d insisted on taking questions with the hope it would stop them once and for all. Even though I have my doubts, I went along with her plan.

  Taking a step back, she glances up. “It’s not the questions that worry me.”

  “Then what does?”

  “That I’ll snap at them. Say the wrong thing.”

  I chuckle as I hug her to me. “You won’t.”

  “How do you know that?” Her words rumble against my chest, and everything’s right in my world.

  “Because you are the consummate professional. And you’ll know exactly what to say.” I drop a kiss on her lips. Wish I could do more. But now’s neither the time nor place.

  Someone raps on the door. “Mr. Parker? Ms. Adams? They’re ready for you.”

  “Be right out,” I yell.

  We wind our way through the media office into the press conference room right next door. As soon as we walk in, a flurry of camera clicks go off.

  The head of PR greets us from the dais. “Brock, Ms. Adams. Please come up and take a seat.”

  Holding her hand, I lead her up to the steps to the raised platform used for after-game interviews. Not only is the head of PR there, but so is Coach Grohowski and Oliver Lyons, the owner of the Outlaws. For that matter, Marty’s here as well, although he’s keeping a low profile in the back of the room.

  The PR director introduces himself, Coach Grohowski, and Oliver Lyons before he spells out the rules of the conference. “Brock Parker will make a brief statement, and then he’ll take some questions.” He turns to me. “Brock.”

  “Thank you.”

  When I stand, Ellie removes her jacket, but I tell her to keep it on. I don’t want her to get cold. I drop a kiss on her lips, and another barrage of clicks go off.

  “Hello.” The statement I prepared along with the Outlaws PR and my agent rests on the podium in fron
t of me. The few words written there are not nearly enough to express what I’m feeling. I have to make things crystal clear. I owe Ellie that much. “Some of you, okay most of you, are wondering about my relationship with Eleanor Adams.”

  She gives me the side eye because she knows I’m going off script.

  “I met Ellie at Stonewall Jackson High. She was one of the smartest girls I knew. All straight A’s. Me, on the other hand? Well, I was too busy with football to pay much attention to school. And Macbeth was kicking my ass.”

  Laughter rolls around the room.

  “You know the NCAA rules. If you don’t maintain a C average, you can’t be drafted to play college ball. So I needed to improve my grades. A friend told me about a girl that tutored students. So I hired her to help me out. It wasn’t easy. I was stubborn as a mule, but she didn’t give up on me. I got a B+ on my midterm. First time I’d gotten such a high mark. She went from being my tutor to being my friend. And before I knew it, I’d fallen for her. But halfway through our senior year, she left. I didn’t know it at the time, but her Mama was getting married and her fiancé had gotten a new job out of town. I asked everyone—the school, my friends—if they knew where she’d gone. But nobody had a clue.”

  I grip the edge of the dais as I recall the pain of the day I realized I’d never see her again.

  “I went on to college, but I never forgot the sweetest girl I’d ever known.” I glance back to see her eyes filled with tears. “You see, I’d truly cared about her. But I’d never told her so. The rest you probably know. I attended Clemson, made it all the way to the Championship game. During my last year in college, I was drafted by the Florida Manatees. Later on, I got transferred to the San Diego Missionaries.”

  The gazes of the journalists bounce between Ellie and me. One thing for sure, they’re not bored.

  “When I heard I’d been transferred to the Chicago Outlaws, the top team in the nation, well, I was elated.” A choked sound reaches me. Ellie. It has to be. A quick peek at her confirms it. She’s biting down on her bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

  I gotta make this story good, pour on my Southern charm, to keep her from getting sad again. “Well, imagine my surprise when I spot the little lady herself waiting for me at the airport. Whoo-boy! She almost knocked me off my feet.”

  She’s rolling her eyes. I can feel it.

  “Never one to pass up an opportunity, I asked her out. You might remember seeing her at the banquet a couple of weeks ago?” Some of the journalists nod. Good. They were paying attention.

  “Now, let me be clear about this. She attended as a favor to me. You see, she works for the agency that represents me and wanted to keep things professional. So much so that when I asked her out again, she turned me down. Yeah, she pretty much busted my heart into a million pieces.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Her voice is low enough only I can hear.

  I place my hand over my chest as if I’m still feeling the pain. “So, I gave in. What else could I do? I’m a gentleman after all.” I turn to Ellie. “Aren’t I, darling?”

  “Sure thing. Sweetheart.” Her saccharine smile might fool everyone else, but it doesn’t fool me.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about her, so I thought I’d give it one more try. After the Minnesota game, I dropped by her place. And there I got the surprise of my life. A daughter I knew nothing about.”

  Her demeanor grows somber, as every eye zeroes in on her. Some questioning, some downright nasty.

  Knowing my future is on the line, with her, with the team, I turn serious. “Now I got to be honest here. It hurt that she’d never told me. That she’d chosen to raise our daughter with no assistance from me.” I take a deep breath, let it out.

  “But I understand why she did it. She knew about my reputation, my partying. She didn’t think that would be a healthy relationship for her child. So she made the hard decision to keep the baby secret from me.”

  Half of the audience glares at Ellie, but the other half appears sympathetic.

  “Our daughter takes after her Mama. She’s beautiful and smart. And that’s all I’m going to say about her. As journalists, you’re curious about what’s going on, but we need privacy while I get to know our daughter. Ellie and I would prefer you don’t intrude while we work hard on becoming a family.”

  “What about child support, Brock? Are you going to pay for that?” someone in the back of the room yells. So much for waiting for the Q&A.

  “Every penny and then some. I’ve already set up a college trust fund for our daughter. She won’t have to worry about expenses when she goes to school. Every penny will be taken care of.”

  “What about Ms. Adams? Are you going to pay her?”

  Ellie jumps to her feet and pushes me out of the way. “No, he’s not. He doesn’t owe me a dime.”

  I wink at the audience. “Whoo-eee. She’s something else, isn’t she? She’s an independent, self-sufficient woman to her core who refuses to take money from me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Brock about his daughter?” a woman reporter, one of the few in the audience, asks.

  “Because, err—”

  I wrap an arm around Ellie’s waist. “Tell the truth, honey, don’t be shy.”

  “Well, I knew about Brock’s, err, lifestyle. And I didn’t want to expose my daughter to it.” She pretty much paraphrases what I just said.

  “Can you blame her? I was a horndog plain and simple.”

  “Was?” somebody asks. “Have you changed your ways?”

  “I’m glad you asked that question. That’s very perspicuous of you,” I say.

  “Perceptive,” Ellie says.

  “What?”

  “Perceptive, not perspicuous.”

  I grin. “See how smart she is. She’s always teaching me.” I cover the microphone so only she can hear. “Of course, in the bedroom, it’s another story.”

  Her face turns a bright shade of red.

  Needing to put her out of her misery, I take my hand off the mike. “Shall we share our news with them, sweetheart?”

  Her gaze roams over the gaggle of reporters. She knows they won’t leave us alone until we tell them what’s going on. “Yes.”

  “I asked the little lady to marry me. And she said yes.”

  If the noise was deafening before, it’s nothing to the sudden eruption of sounds in the room—camera clicks, voices yelling questions. Ignoring it all, I tell her, “Show them the ring, darling.”

  She holds up her right hand which sports the six-carat solitaire diamond I bought the day before. It’s way too big for her, but we didn’t have time for a fitting.

  “When’s the wedding, Brock?”

  “As soon as possible. I can’t wait to make her my bride.” I squeeze her to me.

  “You’re not getting married just to quiet the rumors?”

  I grow dead serious. “Absolutely not. I’m marrying Ellie because I love her and always will.” And with that, I swing her into my arms and give her the hottest smooch possible. As always, she melts. “And she loves me. Don’t you, darling?” Seemingly, I left her speechless, because all she does is nod.

  “All right. That’s enough,” the head of PR interrupts. “You got the answers to your questions and—”

  His voice fades as one of the assistants rushes us off the stage and out a side door to the parking lot. Although some reporters apparently figured out which one was my car, they’re not being allowed near it by the team’s mountain-sized security guys.

  After opening the door for Ellie, I climb into the Porsche Cayenne and we head out.

  “How are you doing?” I ask her. She seems her usual self, but it can’t help to ask.

  “Okay. It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

  “You did good.”

  “Well. I did well.” Her correcting my grammar gets my motor running. But then what doesn’t? Everything she does turns me on.

  Pretty satisfied with my own performance, I ask. “So how did I do?”


  “You really want to know?”

  “Absolutely. I value your opinion.”

  “I never heard so much horse pucky in all my life.”

  I grin. “Maybe. But I had them eating out of my hand.”

  Chapter 19

  Eleanor

  BUSY REPLAYING THE PRESS CONFERENCE in my head, I don’t pay much attention to the road. Only when he pulls into his condo parking lot, do I realize where we are.

  “What are we doing here? Shouldn’t you be dropping me off first?”

  He turns off the ignition key and leans back in his seat. “We need to talk.”

  There’s no shortage of subjects. The press conference. Our wedding plans. But there’s no time. At least not now. “I need to go home, Brock. Kaylee will be there soon.”

  “Your mom’s at your house, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, of course.” She’s supervising Butch who’s become ultra-protective. If anybody so much as rings our doorbell, he goes nuts. “But she’ll leave as soon as Kaylee arrives.” Of course, Mama will stay if the paparazzi are still hanging out, but I’d just as soon not impose upon her more than I already have.

  “The press still camped at your door?”

  “Some.” I fetch my cell from my purse. “Should I call an Uber?”

  “No need. I’ll drive you home. Let me grab a few things first.”

  “What things?”

  “Clothes, toiletries, my shaving gear.”

  Clueless, I ask, “Why?”

  “Because I’ll be staying with you.”

  “What?!!!” I’m not ready to have him move in this instant. I need time to prepare, to come to terms with the reality of Brock in my house. “You can’t do that. Not today.”

  “Ellie”—he cradles my jaw in that big hand of his—“now that we’ve announced our engagement everyone will expect us to live together. And going by the strong media presence at the press conference, they won’t stop camping out at your door. At least, not until our wedding. So I need to be there, living with you. If I don’t, it’ll be all over the tabloids.”