For a Little While (One Strike Away Book 1)

by Mary J. Williams

  AFTER SPENCER AND Drake left, Blue hadn't bothered to go to bed. Instead, she sat at her desk and carefully formatted a strategy. The end result was simple and to the point, magnifying the pros of the situation. Ross Burton and his board of directors could worry about the cons.

  After a quick shower, Blue fashioned her hair into a low ponytail, a long line of glistening red down the center of her back. She took extra time with her makeup, covering the slight circles under her sleep-deprived eyes.

  Understanding that concealer could do only so much. Blue had a lot to say this morning. Why not frame her words with a bold coral color that said, look at me.

  Dressing for battle—her version—Blue picked her outfit carefully. She didn't know what to expect when she entered Ross Burton's office. But she wanted to look like a professional.

  Still, Blue was a woman in a man's world. Why try to hide the fact? The light-yellow, fitted skirt and cream-colored silk blouse suited her mood perfectly. A dark-yellow belt and patent-leather pumps were perfect accents. And the four-inch heels gave Blue a nice boost. To her height and confidence.

  Fastening a pair of antique silver earrings, Blue decided she was ready. Until her eyes caught sight of an item on the bookshelves near the closet door. She hadn't opened the box in years. Hadn't wanted to.

  Every time Blue considered tossing the box, a kind of perverse sentimentality would overwhelm her. She used to curse weakness. Now, she was grateful for it.

  Opening the lid, she reached in, unfurling a platinum chain. Hanging from a small loop was a bluebell made of sapphires.

  Blue fastened Spencer's gift around her neck. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed the feel of it against her skin.

  A smile on her face, Blue checked her satchel, making certain she hadn't forgotten anything. In the elevator, she took out her phone. Spencer answered on the first ring.

  "Morning, gorgeous."

  "Morning, handsome."

  Spencer chuckled. "For a couple of people who didn't get any sleep, we sound damn chipper."

  "How do you know I didn't sleep?"

  "Because, I know you, Bluebell."

  Blue's hand went to her neck, the sapphires warm to her touch.

  "Where are you?" Blue asked when she heard the sound of laughter in the background and music. Bruno Mars if she wasn't mistaken.

  "My place," Spencer said.

  "Are you having a party? And why wasn't I invited?"

  "Travis and Nick dropped by for breakfast. You know Nick. He can't be in a room for longer than thirty seconds without blasting his tunes."

  "Nick and Travis just happened to drop by?" Blue asked, stashing her satchel in the backseat of her car.

  "I may have called them. As soon as I explained the situation, I couldn't have kept them away. Travis never turns down the chance to make his famous pancakes."

  Blue slid behind the steering wheel. Spencer had some pretty special friends. Drake needed their support and bam, there they were. The next time she saw Travis and Nick she would give them both a big, sloppy thank you kiss.

  "Before you ask. Drake hasn't wavered. If anything, he's more determined than ever to stop his blackmailing ex in his scumbag tracks."

  "How he's holding up?" Blue, switching to her in-dash phone as she put the car in drive.

  "Stronger than he thinks. He'll be fine."

  "I have an appointment with Ross Burton at nine o'clock."

  "How did you manage that on such short notice?" Spencer sounded impressed.

  "For all his easy-going charm, Ross is a businessman who keeps a close eye on his investments. I told his assistant that I had vital information that could seriously affect the Cyclones. Time-sensitive information. He cleared his calendar."

  "So damn smart."

  "Yes," Blue agreed, seeing no reason to dissemble. When the man was right, he was right. "Drake should be there, Spencer. Or at the very least, he needs to send a representative who will have his best interests at heart. Whatever is decided in Ross' office, he should have a say. A big, vocal one."

  "Okay. I'll talk to Drake."

  "Good."

  Blue breathed easier. She'd do her best to take care of Drake. No matter her personal feeling, in the end, she was management. Low level with little power. Drake had all the leverage, and he needed to use it.

  "Take care, Blue."

  Hanging up, Blue spent the rest of the familiar drive to the Cyclones' headquarters mentally finetuning her presentation. She arrived an hour early. Exactly as planned.

  "Good morning, Ms. O'Hara." Peri looked up from her computer in surprise. Try as she might, Blue couldn't persuade her assistant to drop the formality. Not wanting to alienate the woman, she didn't push the issue.

  "I have a meeting with Mr. Burton's in an hour. Do you know if he's arrived yet?"

  "I can find out. If not, would you like me to let you know when he gets here?"

  "Please. And coffee, Peri. Black. In the biggest cup you can find."

  "Right away."

  Blue never drank coffee. But this morning, she'd make an exception.

  "Anything else? Have you eaten breakfast?"

  "I don't think my stomach could take anything solid."

  For all her assistant knew, Blue could be suffering the after-effects of a wild night out. Peri, ever efficient and discreet, didn't ask for details.

  "Oh. One more thing. Make a note to inform Mr. Sutter about the meeting."

  "Really?" Peri asked, her pencil poised above her ever-present notebook.

  "Fifteen minutes after the start."

  Nodding, Peri scribbled the information, a small smile curving her lips.

  "I DIDN'T EXPECT to see you this soon. But I shouldn't be surprised."

  "Drake asked. I said yes." Spencer looked Blue up and down. "Don't you look like a breath of fresh air?"

  "I was going for professional yet feminine."

  "Mission accomplished."

  Blue arrived at Ross Burton's reception area fifteen minutes early. Partly because she hated to be late. Mostly, because she couldn't stand another moment pacing the small confines of her office.

  She and Spencer arrived simultaneously.

  "And don't you look spiffy."

  Spencer posed for her as if on the cover of a magazine—not an unfamiliar location for his photo-friendly face and body. The light gray single-breasted jacket and perfectly creased pants fit as if made for him. Which they were. Hair perfect. Face freshly shaven. Spencer looked more like a well-heeled businessman than a rough-and-tumble athlete.

  Either way, Blue found him irresistible.

  He straightened his already immaculate tie.

  "Blue is my favorite color."

  When this was over, and they were finally alone, Blue planned on messing up his perfect suit and tie. In ways they both would thoroughly enjoy.

  "Mr. Burton will see you now, Ms. O'Hara."

  "Here we go."

  "Blue." Ross Burton rose from behind his desk. "And Spencer. What a nice surprise."

  "Hold that thought," Spencer said, shaking Ross' hand.

  Eyes narrowing, the jovial host turned into the cautious team owner.

  "Would you like to explain?"

  Ross directed the question to Blue. He indicated for her to take a seat. Spencer chose the chair beside hers.

  "We have a… development."

  "Concerning?"

  "Drake Langston."

  Blue outlined the situation with little embellishment. Ross listened in silence. A perfect poker face, she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

  "I assume you're here representing Langston?"

  "That's right," Spencer nodded.

  "Hmm."

  Ross rubbed a hand over his face. A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was about to say.

  "Come in."

  Vance Sutter stuck his head in the door.

  "Well? I said come in. That
means all the way."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Burton." Vance shot Blue a wary look. "I just heard about the meeting."

  "Do you want to fill him in, or should I?" Ross didn't wait for Blue to answer. "Drake Langston is gay. He plans on telling the world this afternoon. An ex-lover. Blackmail. Not wanting to live under the burden. Blah, blah, blah. Does that about cover it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Other than the multiple sarcastic blahs, Blue admired the way Ross boiled down the facts to a few succinct sentences.

  "Well, we have to stop him," Vance erupted, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. Without a jacket, his fresh-that-morning shirt was already soaked under his arms. "Isn't there a morality clause in his contract?"

  "One that covers drugs, woman-beating, and murder. Sexual orientation no longer applies."

  "Why not?"

  "Because this is the twenty-first century." Blue gripped the sides of her chair. Otherwise, she might give into the impulse and smack Vance's reddened face.

  "Is there any chance of delaying Langston's coming out?" Unlike Vance, Ross was calm and pragmatic. "Until we can figure out the potential damage."

  "Mr. Burton." At the moment, Blue was his employee, not his friend. She addressed him accordingly. "Drake will come out today."

  "Talk him out of it," Vance yelled.

  "I can't. Nor would I try. He didn't make this decision lightly. Blackmail is ugly. And, in case you've forgotten, illegal."

  "True," Ross nodded sagely. "We can't risk sounding like we condone such behavior."

  "We can't risk sounding like we condone perversity. We cater to families, Mr. Burton. Do you think Mom and Dad will want to bring little Suzy and Bobby to watch a…?"

  "A what?" Spencer asked, his eyes pinning Vance like a bug.

  "I don't know the politically correct word," Vance waved his hand dismissively.

  "Gay man. Homosexual. Take your pick."

  Blue could see the desire in Spencer's eyes to knock Vance across the room. She'd had the same impulse more than once. But right now, the man and his prejudices didn't matter. Only one opinion counted.

  "What do you say, Mr. Burton?"

  Saved by the buzz. Ross looked more than a little relieved as he reached across his desk, hitting the intercom button. He knew damn well the delay was temporary. But any port in a storm.

  "What!"

  "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Burton. Riley Preston is here to see you."

  "Did we have an appointment?"

  "No, sir. She—"

  "Sorry to barge in, Ross." Riley burst through the door, Ross' assistant at her heels. "I thought you might like another owner's input."

  "How did you hear?"

  "A little bird." Riley smiled at Spencer when he gave her his chair. Crossing her long legs, her skirt showing just the right amount of skin for an early morning meeting, she set her lilac-colored Marc Jacobs handbag on the floor.

  "Let me guess the little bird's name," Vance sneered.

  "Blue called me for advice," Riley freely admitted. "The decision to crash your meeting was all my own."

  "I appreciate the sentiment," Ross said, though his expression belied his words. "But this really doesn't concern you."

  "I disagree. The Seattle sports community is a family. Didn't you say that in a speech just last week?"

  "That sounds like me," Ross sighed.

  Riley's eyes twinkled. "Face the facts, Ross. You can't prevent the inevitable. If you agree, a few of the Knights' players, current and ex, would like to attend Drake Langston's press conference."

  "You're kidding." Blue couldn't keep her comment to herself. "Who?"

  "Logan." Riley shrugged. "Sean and Gaige Benson are shooting a movie in Vancouver. But when I told them, they hopped on a private jet. They should land any minute."

  Logan Price, Gaige Benson, and Riley's husband, Sean McBride. An impressive trifecta of Seattle sports royalty. Football Gods. For one of the few times in her life, Blue found herself speechless.

  "I appreciate this, Riley." Apparently, Ross—with a big push from Riley Preston—had made up his mind. "I owe you."

  "Any other time, I'd agree. But standing up for a man's right to love who he chooses, should have nothing to do with quid pro quo." Riley laid her hand on Blue's arm. "We're doing what's right. Which is sad. Because we shouldn't have to."

  "Are you really going to let this happen?" Vance rounded on Ross, outraged beyond the point of self-preservation.

  "Do you really have the balls to get in my face?" Ross rose, towering over his shorter, slighter employee.

  "Mark my words. If you allow a little fag to dictate how you do things? The season? The team? Ashes."

  "That's it."

  Jumping to his feet, Spencer lunged at Vance. Showing amazing speed for a man his size, Ross put his considerable bulk between the two men.

  "Tempting as the thought may be, I can't let my star player annihilate my ex-head of PR."

  "Ex?" The zealot outrage seeped from Vance's body.

  "You've made your position clear, Sutter. I have to assume working for a team with an openly gay player would be too much for you. Morally speaking."

  "But—"

  "Clear out your office."

  As the reality of his situation sank in, green slowly replaced the red color suffusing Vance's face. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  "Now, Sutter."

  When Vance was gone, Ross straightened his jacket, calmly walked around his desk, and dropped into his seat.

  "That leaves the ball in your court. I hope you're ready for the shit storm to come."

  "Me?" Blue's eyes widened.

  "Vance is gone. Who else?"

  "I assumed you would hire someone to take his place."

  Ross shrugged. "Head of PR would always be your job to win or lose. I regret throwing you to the wolves so soon. But you brought me this situation, Ms. O'Hara. Handle it. Unless you don't think you're up to the task."

  Blue's shoulders squared. Questioning her abilities was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. The gesture not only got her attention but made her determined to prove herself.

  "I won't let you, or the team, down, Mr. Burton."

  "I have no doubt," he said, reaching for his phone. "We have a lot to do before the press conference. You to coordinate the media and I," Ross let out a heavy sigh. "My board of directors will shit bricks. But, what the hell. We'll use them to build a barbecue in the bullpen. Give the relief pitchers something to do besides sitting on their thumbs."

  "Thank you," Blue hugged Riley as soon as they were out of Ross' office. "Your arrival turned the tide."

  "I don't know about that. You had plenty of backup without me."

  "I'm very lucky to have so many good people in my life."

  Blue took Spencer's hand. Her mind was already on what she had to do, who she had to call, and how she would get everything done in a few short hours. As a result, she missed the flare of pleased surprise in his eyes at her public gesture of affection.

  But Riley noticed. She winked at Spencer. And he grinned back.

  "You need to get going." Riley looked at her watch. "My troops are probably cleaning up as we speak. I need to text Sean to let him know the dress code. He'd kill me if I let Spencer show him up."

  Spencer, his hand still in Blue's, walked her to her office.

  "Do your magic," he told her. "Shoot me the details, and I'll make sure Drake and my gang are here on time."

  Touching Spencer's face, Blue gave herself a moment before the crazy began.

  "Your gang?"

  "Nick and Travis."

  Blue smiled. "Naturally."

  "Before I came here, we had an emergency team meeting."

  Spencer had been busy. "How did it go?"

  "As you'd expect. Some of the guys jumped right on. Others were a bit more hesitant. A few…?" Spencer sighed.

  "Vance isn't
alone in his views."

  "No. At least nobody vocalized their objections." Eyes narrowing, Spencer moved the edge of Blue's blouse to the side. His finger ran along the chain, coming to a stop at the cluster of sapphires. "You kept my gift."

  "At least a dozen times I was so close to giving the necklace to one charity or another. Something always stopped me."

  "Bluebell." Taking her hand, Spencer raised it to his lips. "Thank you for giving me a second chance."

  "Thank you for asking."

  If Spencer hadn't come back into her life, would Blue have spent the rest of her life subconsciously wondering what if? What if he hadn't broken up with her? What if they were still together? Would she have been happier with him? Or was she better off without?

  Thankfully, she'd never have to find out.

  "Do you want me to send in Peri?" Spencer asked, leaning close to brush a kiss across her cheek.

  "Please."

  Alone, Blue set aside her personal thoughts to concentrate on the job at hand.

  "You updated the media file when? Last week?" Blue inquired the second Peri appeared.

  "Pull up the list."

  Blue gave Peri an abbreviated rundown. Without blinking, the woman got to work. Knowing the task was in capable hands, she finished the draft of Drake's statement that she'd started around five that morning.

  Not bad. A few tweaks. A little polish. Attaching the final product to an email, she wrote:

  Drake.

  Read this carefully. I hope I've captured what you want to say, but DO NOT trust me with your words. Have your agent go over every letter with a fine-tooth comb. If there's anything you want to add or delete, let me know right away.

  Remember. You have the power. Don't let anybody take even the slightest bit from you.

  Crossing her fingers, Blue hit send.

  "Which conference room do you want to use?"

  Blue didn't ponder the question long. Only one choice made sense.

  "First floor, east end."

  Peri nodded her approval. "The biggest one available."

  "One time only." Again, Blue crossed her fingers. "After today, Drake will deal with the press in smaller numbers. Hopefully, after a week or so, they'll be satisfied to let his skills on the baseball field do the talking for him."

  BLUE PAUSED OUTSIDE the boardroom to catch her breath. T-minus twenty minutes and counting. The time had flown. Now, each second seemed to take an eternity.