Changing Constantinou's Game

by Jennifer Hayward

  A lump grew in her throat. He squeezed her arm and took off to shout something at one of the producers. She looked at the huge bouquet of calla lilies to distract herself. Alex was out of town. Had he remembered what tonight was and sent them? She pulled out the card, her skin going all tingly as she recognized his distinctive scrawl.

  “Man’s got taste,” Macy mused.

  “Man’s got everything,” Izzie muttered. “It’s a problem.”

  “Only if you make it one,” Macy drawled.

  Izzie slid the card out of the envelope. Game day is all about adrenaline and how you use it. Channel it. Focus it. And...break a leg. —A.

  She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and stared at the flowers. Now he was showing his sensitive side. Dammit.

  David Lake, the weekend producer, poked his head into the room. “You just about ready to go?”

  Macy swept a neutral color over Izzie’s lips. “She’s good.”

  Izzie stood up, her legs feeling like spaghetti, her stomach rolling even worse now.

  It’s all about adrenaline and how you use it. Channel it. Focus it.

  She nodded and swallowed hard. Sixty minutes. She could do this.

  * * *

  James Curry walked Alex to a back corner of the set. “Izzie’s on edge,” he murmured. “Whatever you do, don’t let her see you.”

  Alex nodded. “Got it.”

  Curry gave him a wary look. “Listen, Constantinou—”

  “I talked to Laura,” Alex cut him off. “I owe you an apology. I was barking up the wrong tree.”

  “You sure as hell were.” James dug his hands in his pockets and fixed his gaze on the monitor. “Glad we got that straight.”

  The producer counted down to air. Izzie’s face was pinched and pale, her hands clasped nervously in front of her as she looked into the camera.

  “Come on, Iz,” James said quietly. “Let’s nail this.”

  Izzie’s cohost, Andrew Michaels, greeted the viewers and introduced Izzie. She smiled and returned the greeting, but her demeanor was stilted, completely unlike her. His stomach tightened. Come on, Izzie. Relax. Breathe...channel it.

  She started reading the headlines, her voice high and rushed, her gaze fixed on the teleprompter. They rolled a clip. He watched her give herself a mental shake. That’s it. Shrug it off. She started on another story. This time she spoke slower, more evenly. She still looked tense, but a steadiness had come over her. Curry gave an audible sigh. By the time they went to break she was bantering with Michaels, her usual animated expression on display.

  Alex’s lips curved. She was going to be okay. Good girl.

  He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, wondering what the hell he was doing here anyway. A few hours ago, he’d been in an excruciatingly boring meeting in Boston, trying to focus on the stack of numbers the gray-haired CFO of a consumer electronics retailer was throwing at him, and failing miserably. All he could think about was Izzie and being here for her.

  After all, he’d rationalized, who knew better than him what it was like to have your career hang in the balance? To have everything you’d worked for come down to four quarters that flew by in the blink of an eye? So he’d called his old friend he’d had dinner plans with, canceled and hightailed it home.

  What he didn’t know was what he was actually doing. When two weeks of satisfying your lust with a woman didn’t inspire the “it’s been fun” speech, a smart man walked.

  He wasn’t walking.

  * * *

  “And that’s a wrap. Thanks, everyone...”

  Izzie sat at the anchor desk in a daze as David bounded up onto the set and unclipped her mic. “Great job,” he beamed. “It was a really good show.”

  “Except for the rocky start.”

  “Nothing you wouldn’t have extracted yourself from given a little more experience.” Andrew, her cohost, clapped her on the back. “Nice job, Izzie.”

  Relief swept over her like a tidal wave, her hands and feet tingling under the bright lights. The sweet buzz of victory raced through her veins. It had either been channeling her fear or allowing it to consume her for the rest of her life.

  She had done it.

  She stood up, walked into James’s bear hug. He drew back, a grin on his face. “Lester Davies called me five minutes ago raving about you.”

  The head of the network?

  James grinned. “He apparently missed the first five minutes...”

  Her stomach knotted. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

  “You loosened up.” He jerked his head over his shoulder. “I’d say let’s go celebrate but I’m figuring you’re gonna choose him over us.”

  Him? She squinted into the darkness. A tall figure straightened away from the wall. Alex.

  “We can do our drinks another night,” James said gruffly. “Get out of here.”

  Izzie didn’t hesitate, her legs wobbling as she walked toward Alex, but this time for a totally different reason. She stopped in front of him, tipped her head back and looked up at him. “You’re supposed to be in Boston.”

  “I managed to get home early.” His mouth tipped up at the sides. “You were great, Iz.”

  “I got better as I went.”

  His gaze swept over her. “You look sexy in a suit.”

  Heat spread through her. “The words on the card were perfect. Thank you.”

  He nodded toward the crew. “I know I’m barging in on your night, but I have some champagne in the fridge I thought we could...drink.”

  Her pulse raced. “I’m getting my jacket.”

  Her feet couldn’t seem to move fast enough as she sped back to her desk, switched off her computer and gathered her things. She was turning to leave when she noticed the folded tabloid on her desk. Frowning, she picked it up and flipped it open. And suddenly felt winded. A photo of Alex and a stunningly beautiful brunette coming out of a restaurant together was emblazoned on the front page.

  She glanced at the date. Thursday. When he’d said he couldn’t see her.

  She dragged the paper closer to read the caption.

  Former football star and sexy CEO Alex Constantinou had dinner with his former fiancée at Miro’s on Thursday night. He and the soon-to-be ex-wife of Flames quarterback Gerry Thompson looked ultra-cozy together, making us wonder if things are back on.

  The warm glow inside her chilled. She stood there, her heart shriveling up into a tiny ball. The sound of hushed voices penetrated her haze. She looked over at the two reporters at the entertainment desk, watching her. They’d left it for her.

  She turned her back on them. And searched for an explanation. Alex wasn’t the type of guy to cheat. He was brutally honest in everything he did.

  So why was he having dinner with his ex?

  She took a deep breath, shoved the paper in her bag and walked toward the exit. She’d ask him. As a rational woman who wasn’t crazy with jealousy would. That was her, right?

  * * *

  “All right, out with it. What’s wrong?” Alex threw his keys on the hall table at his penthouse and shut the door.

  “I think I’ve hit the wall,” Izzie murmured, no closer to knowing how to bring up the photo than she’d been a half hour ago.

  He lifted a brow. “Now, Iz.”

  She walked over to where her bag lay on the floor. “Someone left this on my desk,” she said quietly, pulling the tabloid out and handing it to him.

  He scanned the story, his mouth tightening as he read. Then he tossed it down on the hall table. “She’s going through a tough time with her divorce,” he said flatly. “That’s you people blowing a simple dinner up into something it isn’t.”

  She bit her lip. “Why didn’t you tell me it was her that night?”

  “Because I thought you’d have the same insecure reaction you’re having right now,” he bit out. “It was nothing.”

  She swallowed hard, pressed her damp palms against her thighs. If it was nothing why hadn’t he
told her? Wasn’t she allowed a little insecurity over a dinner he’d deliberately kept secret from her? With his ex?

  “She’s obviously still in love with you,” she said quietly. “One look at that photo and it’s as plain as day.”

  “There’s nothing between Jess and me, Iz. You have to trust me or this is never going to work.”

  She clenched her hands at her sides, frustration bubbling over. “You can’t blame me for asking. Alex, you almost married the woman, then you go out for dinner with her and I find out about it in the tabloids.”

  He let out a harsh breath. “You of all people should know what they print in those rags is complete crap.”

  “I do—I just—” She floundered helplessly. “I just wish you’d told me.”

  He jammed his hands in his pockets. “This is my life, Iz. This is what you people have been doing to me my entire life, spinning lies and painting them as truth.”

  “I am not you people. I’m the woman who gave up the story of a lifetime to protect you.”

  Color stained his high cheekbones. “This is never going to end. It’s who I am. What you signed up for by agreeing to be with me. The press love to dish the dirt on my relationships. There’ll undoubtedly be more telling their story when the money’s right. So if you can’t handle it maybe you should get out now.”

  His words rang out, stark and unrelenting in the quiet stillness of the penthouse. The silence between them stretched to deafening. He spun on his heel and stalked toward the kitchen.

  * * *

  Alex pulled two champagne flutes out of the cupboard, set them on the counter and leaned his forehead against the cool wood. What was he doing? Izzie hadn’t deserved that. But that tabloid had set him off. On the heels of everything else he was dealing with, after that unexpected phone call from Jess this week, it was just too much.

  Jess’s voice had been raw, thick with tears when she’d caught him on his way out of a meeting. Her marriage to Gerry was falling apart. She needed him. And fool that he was, he’d canceled on Izzie and agreed to meet her for dinner, because no matter what she’d done to him, he’d loved her once and she needed him.

  Pressure built in his head, the kind before a thunderstorm that held you in its vise. Once he would have died to hear Jess tell him she still loved him. That she’d made a mistake. Instead it had seemed like some cruel joke that was ten years too late. Because he’d stopped missing her, needing her a long time ago.

  Because he was falling for another woman. Hard.

  He pressed his palms against the wood and levered himself away from the counter. Pulled the chilled champagne out of the wine fridge and started unpeeling the foil. Anything to avoid the truth. That he was terrified of falling so hard again, of putting that power in another person’s hands that it was almost blinding.

  He worked the cork out of the bottle. The thing was, Izzie wasn’t anything like Jess. Sitting across from his ex it had become crystal clear for him. With Izzie, honesty was like a truth serum she’d drunk at birth. Whereas Jess had spun lie after lie, abandoned him when he needed her most, Izzie had given up that story for him. She was strong and she was courageous. And yes, a little neurotic and insecure at the same time. But weren’t they all human? Didn’t they all have their weaknesses?

  The cork hit the ceiling with a resounding thump. The question was, could he offer Izzie more than a brief, few-month affair? Had Jess’s betrayal rendered him incapable of trust again?

  He picked up the bottle and poured the champagne. His overwhelming instinct was to walk in there and finish what he’d started so she’d call it quits for him. Yet something told him if he messed things up with Izzie, it would be the biggest regret of his life.

  Which left him exactly where?

  Scooping up the bottle and glasses, he found her on the terrace, looking out at the floodlit 843-acre New York landmark that was Central Park. Her shoulders were straight as a board, her hands curled into fists at her sides.

  She turned around. “Alex, I—”

  He waved her off. Handed her a glass. “I need to tell you about Jess. About that night...”

  Her eyes widened. He walked to the railing, turned and leaned back against it. Started talking before he changed his mind. “I met Jess in high school. She was smart, strong, working two jobs to keep her family going after her mother walked out on them and her dad fell apart and started drinking. I was from a wealthy family. I could help them, so I did. She was determined to keep her brothers and sisters together and not let the family get split up by social services.”

  “And trying to get through school at the same time,” Izzie added quietly. “That must have been tough.”

  He nodded. “When I finished college and went to play in New York, Jess came to live with me and my sisters. At first things were great. She loved New York, she loved living the life of a professional football player’s girlfriend, and I loved indulging her. But then I got injured.”

  He pulled in a breath at the sudden tightness in his chest. “It’s never a good thing when a quarterback tears his rotator cuff, but my physical therapy was going well and there was every indication I’d recover. Jess, on the other hand, wasn’t handling it so well. She couldn’t handle any kind of uncertainty in her life and the thought of me losing my career made her nuts.”

  “Because of her past.”

  He nodded. “She’d heard they were worried about my arm. There was speculation in the press they were grooming Gerry Thompson, the backup quarterback, to take my job. We had a big fight the night before a qualifying game for the playoffs. She said I was being naive. That I didn’t see how management was writing me off.”

  He pulled the top buttons of his shirt open and paced across the terrace. “I went out and had a few too many drinks...wondered if she was right about Gerry.”

  Izzie pressed her fingers to her temples. “And you decided to play.”

  He nodded. “I’d been so nervous about my arm and trying to speed my recovery, but I was hurting. A friend told me about this guy who had high-level street painkillers that had helped him through an injury. They worked well, too well for me, and I started to take them regularly, telling myself I could stop when I needed to. That night, when I decided to play, I double dosed. I felt amazing. I was so high by the third quarter I felt invincible. And then I threw that pass.”

  “I saw the tapes,” Izzie said huskily. “It was so perfect.”

  It had been perfect. It had also been his last. His throat constricted, threatened to cut off the air he so desperately needed. The memory of the ball leaving his hand, sailing through the air in a perfect arc and landing in Xavier’s outstretched arms would forever be burned into his mind. The roar of the crowd, the glare of the lights as Xavier dove into the end zone for the touchdown. He was back. They were winning. And that was all that had mattered.

  The illegal hit, long after the play, had been unexpected. The weight of the defender crashing into him, taking him to the ground until all he could feel was the searing pain in his right arm. His throwing arm. The indescribable white-hot burn that had pushed him to his knees. The hush that had fallen over 60,000 fans...the most eerie sound he’d heard in his life.

  He blinked hard. The humiliation of being lifted off the field in a stretcher had been the most helpless feeling he’d ever experienced. The knowledge that that night had been the last time he would ever lead his team onto the field excruciating. Because he’d known. He’d known.

  The weight of Izzie’s hand on his forearm brought his gaze up. “There was nothing the doctors could do?”

  He shook his head. Each surgeon’s diagnosis had been the same. It’s damaged too badly, Alex. Your career is over.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t go to my father and plead for a job. Jess left me and married Gerry a few months later.”

  Izzie’s fingers tightened around his arm. “She wasn’t worth half of you, Alex.”

  He’d felt as if he wasn’t worth anythi
ng in those months afterward. His body broken, his future in tatters, it had taken him a year to pull himself together.

  He shrugged her fingers off. “I didn’t tell you this for your pity. I told you because I need you to understand what happened between Jess and me. I can’t be with someone with those types of insecurities.”

  “How could you not want her back?” She said it as if she couldn’t help herself. “She’s so stunning. You have so much history together.”

  “Because I want you,” he said quietly. “And if you’d ever stop comparing yourself to that mother and sister of yours, you might actually see why.”

  A dull red color stained her cheeks. “I know, it’s just—hard to break old habits.”

  “You’re going to have to or this isn’t going to work.” He stepped closer and ran his thumb over her cheek. “There’s a part of me that doesn’t believe it has to be the same as it was for our parents.. They made choices. We create our own destiny. But, I am only one-half of this equation, Iz. I need you with me.”

  Her gaze darkened. “I can, I promise you I can. I just may not always be perfect about it. You’ve got to cut me some slack.”

  He let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Hadn’t realized how important her answer was to him. He dragged his thumb down over the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “Prove it.”

  Her eyes widened as she registered what he was asking of her. She pressed her lips shut and took a step backward and he wasn’t sure if she was going to run or stay. Then she deposited her glass on the table and moved her fingers to the buttons of her blouse.

  She was shaking, her hands fumbling with the tiny pearl buttons. But he held himself back. This had to be all Izzie.

  She released the second, the third button; exposed the rounded curves of her breasts. The dusty blue of the silk that encased her flesh made his throat go dry. Down her hands went, dispensing with the rest of the buttons. She pulled the shirt from the waistband of her skirt, shrugged out of it and dropped it to the ground. The dusky imprint of her nipples protruding through the silk made him pull in a breath.