Quarterback Casanova (Kansas City Griffins #1)

by Lisa Rayne

  Ray laughed back. “Smart-ass.” He adjusted so he sat more securely on the desk with his knee bent and his thigh half on the desk. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  She glanced around, taking stock of who else was in the room.

  “If you’re looking for Super Spy, he’s out. Working on a human interest piece related to one of the Griffins pet charities.”

  “Good.” She pulled her smartphone from her bag, keyed in the passcode, and tapped through her picture gallery. When she found the one she wanted, she handed the phone to Ray.

  He gave the phone a casual glance then abruptly yanked it closer to his face. “Are you kidding me? This is real?”

  “Yep.” She swiveled side-to-side in her chair, enjoying his reaction to the selfie of her sandwiched between Dash and his twin. “Real. Above-the-fold worthy. And all mine.”

  He leaned in and whispered. “There are two of them?”

  “Shocking, right?” She stopped swiveling. “You can imagine my reaction when I first encountered Tatum.”

  “Tatum?”

  “The brother.”

  “So the kiss photo?”

  “Was of the other one. He’s a real estate investor. It looks like the photo was some sort of businessman’s warfare. He was in the middle of a multimillion-dollar deal that fell through when his conservative investors saw the photo.”

  “So it had nothing to do with Dash at all?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “So what’s you angle on the story?”

  “I’m thinking about sticking with the secret life theme but spinning it into a human interest multi-article spread.”

  Nodding, Ray looked at the photo again. “That could work. It will require multiple followups with Dash. You going to be able to swing that? You two work things out while you were gone?”

  Her face tightened, and she looked away. “I’ll manage.”

  “You’ll manage …” Ray shifted, dropping the hand holding her phone into his lap and studying her intently. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing, Ray. Everything’s fine.”

  “Queenie,” his voice took on an admonishing tone that brooked no refusal, “I suggest you start talking or I’m about to walk out of here and make good on my threat to beat some quarterback ass.” He leaned towards her, slipped a hand under her chin, and turned her face towards his. “What happened?”

  She sighed and shook her chin loose. Her hand rubbed across her forehead a few times before she answered. “Let’s just say the trip was full of highs and lows, personally and professionally. Dash went from a ball of anger to a ball of confusion when our investigation led to Tatum.”

  “Let me guess.” His lips twisted in disgust. “He needed emotional support, and he was willing to let you give it, but now he’s back to wanting nothing to do with you or—”

  She jumped up and put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it. You agreed not to mention her here.”

  Ray was the only one at the paper who knew about Tallie. He lowered Naomi’s hand and kissed her palm. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I wasn’t about to say … you know.”

  She sighed. “Sorry. I know you better than that. I just … I’m a little jumpy I guess.” She looked around again. “Dash just found out and he’s angry with me. Plus, he doesn’t want me to do this story. So, I have to find a way to work this without his cooperation. At least, without his willing cooperation. I can probably get DuChamps to intervene again, but under the circumstances, that might be throwing gasoline on the fire.”

  Ray nodded. “I’d agree. But what do you mean he just found out? He just found out what?”

  “About the real reason for my leave of absence.” She sat back down and rubbed a hand over her face again.

  “Wait a minute.” He frowned. “I’m confused. I thought you told me that you—”

  “I did. Among the other things I found out this week, however, was that hardhead didn’t bother to read any of them. He got a bit of a surprise when he dropped me at home from the airport. He took one look at the eyes and about threw an aneurysm.”

  “Damn. That’s rough. I think the boy is an idiot—”

  “Ray.”

  He put his hand up. “But I wouldn’t have wished that on him. Not about that.” He shook his head. “I take it he didn’t take it well.”

  “No, he didn’t. I explained, but he walked out. He didn’t like me much before. Now, I suspect I’m a few rungs below scum of the earth.”

  He stared at her.

  “What?”

  “You still haven’t figured it out, have you?”

  “Figured out what?”

  “Dash doesn’t hate you, Naomi. He may want to. He may behave as if he does. But his problem has always been that no matter what he does, he can’t stop himself from loving you. He’s just too big of a chickenshit to put aside his trust issues and accept it.”

  “Yeah right.” She waved a hand. “Cut the romanticism, Ray. It doesn’t suit you.” She turned back to her computer.

  “Honey, a man doesn’t work as hard as Janssen did to avoid an ex—won’t talk to her, won’t be in the same room with her, can’t even read her letters—” He scoffed. “Unless that woman is so far under his skin the only way he can possible see through to eliminate the threat is to completely amputate the limb.”

  Her hand stalled over the keyboard. “You can’t be serious?”

  “I’m dead serious. Frankly, it’s one of the reasons I’d just as soon throttle the boy as look at him. You deserve better.”

  “You’re biased.”

  “Damn straight, I am.”

  Smiling, she shook her head and went back to her computer screen.

  “What on earth are you searching for so diligently?”

  “A face in the crowd.”

  His brows rose. “Huh?”

  “Ha!” She swiveled her monitor towards him.

  He frowned. “An old picture of the Kansas City Griffins? Okay. I’ll bite. Why?”

  “Him.” She pointed to a man standing on the edge of the picture, wearing jersey number ten.

  Ray leaned forward and squinted. “Carl Maynard, the Griffins former backup QB. What do you want with him?”

  “I saw him in Ibiza.”

  His back straightened. “You saw Carl Maynard in Ibiza this weekend?”

  “When else was I in Ibiza, Ray?” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I saw him this weekend. We were at a club. I only caught a glimpse of him, and I couldn’t put a name to the face at the time, but it’s been bothering me ever since.”

  “Carl left—or was traded—under some questionable circumstances almost two years ago. No one ever got the full story, but my understanding was Carl wasn’t happy about the trade. Felt he’d been railroaded. Is this Tatum sure the photo was a plant to ruin his business deal?”

  Her shoulder lifted. “Reasonably sure. He didn’t have confirmation at the time. No one had contacted him about it, but after his deal fell through, he assumed that was the motivation.”

  Ray turned, leaving his butt against her desk but planting both feet firmly on the floor facing forward. “He assumed?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Yeah …” She became uneasy. Journalists didn’t work on assumptions. They worked on facts, hard corroboratable facts.

  “And a former Griffins player, the one who used to have Dash’s job, just happens to show up on the Mediterranean island from whence originated a photo that could cost Dash his job. That’s quite a coincidence. Since when did you start believing in coincidences, Pellier?”

  Well, duh! She snatched up her phone. “I didn’t.”

  She needed to call Tatum. If that photo wasn’t really about him then someone had been targeting Dash after all. The question was who?

  Chapter 16

  Flustered, Dash dropped his hands to his waist. Practice wasn’t going so well. The offense had been running play routes for the past forty mi
nutes. His last pass had gone exactly where it needed to go, but Max Gordon had still dropped it. He couldn’t throw the ball any more accurate than that. Max seemed to be working awfully hard not to catch the ball, and it was beginning to piss him off.

  Thorsten James Coffey III bumped his shoulder none too lightly as he walked passed.

  Dash whirled. “You got a problem, Trey?”

  Coffey whipped off his helmet, allowing his neatly coiled locs to fall past his shoulders. “Gordon isn’t the only receiver on the field, Janssen. Try throwing to someone else. You might actually get a reception.” He stormed off not letting Dash get in a response.

  Dash swore under his breath. Three days after discovering he had a daughter, his head still wasn’t on straight. On top of that, all his receivers seemed to have a stick up their butts. He glanced over to the sideline. Although his injury kept him from practicing with the team, Shave Stephens stood in street clothes observing team play. The man had been bearish and uncongenial for weeks. A career-threatening injury could do that to a man, but Dash hadn’t been happy having his grouchy butt hovering over practice with everything else Dash had going on.

  Today, Shave had arrived at the stadium with a smile on his face. Funny, now that Shave’s disposition had improved, Dash wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile off his face. The upbeat grin irritated Dash or, more accurately, the thought of what had put that smile on his face irritated Dash. He’d heard talk in the locker room that Shave had met with Naomi last night for dinner. The thought pissed him off.

  Shave had contented himself with consulting with the offensive coordinator for most of the past week, but today he’d been chatting up the receiving teams. Was he stirring up trouble? It’s not something Dash would have expected from him, but the starter and Gordon were tight. Maybe there was a reason Shave’s favorite receiver wasn’t catching the ball for his replacement. From where Dash was standing, it looked like Shave was trying to undermine his authority with the offense and move in on his woman.

  Dash had stopped by Adele’s everyday after practice to play with Tallie, but he hadn’t seen Naomi once. He hadn’t yet figured out how to approach her about custody and childrearing issues. He expected her to be resistant. It still grated that she didn’t think him man enough to be a good father to Tallie, and apparently, she’d moved on after their weekend in Ibiza and decided she preferred dating the starting quarterback after all.

  Back in formation, Dash banished Naomi from his thoughts and made the snap count. He dropped back for a long pass and let it fly. Max made the route then leapt high into the air. The route was perfect, the timing was perfect, the throw …

  “Shit!” Dash watched in horror as Max grazed the ball with his fingertips but failed to bring down the pass.

  “Janssen! Try putting the ball in the receiver’s hands why don’t ya!” Coach Waterman wound a full arm rotation and slammed his clipboard to the turf. “Dammit! The goal is to move the chains, ladies. Move. The. Chains. If you two can’t connect, we don’t advance.” He glared at the receiver and dumped his fists on his hips. “That ball was catchable, Gordon.”

  “The throw was off—”

  “Don’t give me excuses. Do your damn job.” He turned back to Dash. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but ya’ll better find a rhythm or our playoff chances are shot.” Snatching up his clipboard, Coach stomped towards the offensive coordinator.

  Dash glanced at Shave, expecting him to be gloating at the mistakes Dash was making. Instead, Shave was staring at Gordon. His brows creased then he headed over to speak with the receiver.

  “Hit the showers,” Coach bellowed. “We’ll pick this back up tomorrow.”

  Dash removed his helmet and loaded his lungs with deep breaths. His win-loss record was even. He’d won exactly as many games as he’d lost. Not the position he wanted to be in if he had any chance of keeping the starting position. He had to find a way to turn things around. As Coach had indicated, if he didn’t fix the passing game, the Griffins chances of making it into the playoffs were nil.

  He sauntered towards the locker room. He also had to find a way to turn things around with his “baby mamma.” He almost laughed at the thought. This was certainly not a position he ever expected to find himself in. Now that he was, life held challenges on all fronts. Well, at least there was one female Pellier in the city who liked having him around. He hit the showers and made haste to go see his little girl.

  *

  After a harsh Monday at work, Naomi arrived at her mother’s apartment early. She pulled up short when she nearly collided with Dash coming out the door. She threw up her hands to keep him from smacking into her. “Dash, what are you doing here?”

  He flicked his gaze behind him before he responded. “I came to visit Tallie.”

  “Tallie,” she repeated in a breathless whisper.

  He closed the apartment door. “Don’t worry, Naomi. I haven’t told her who I am. All I am to her right now is the guy with the football. I’d like to change that. Can we get together for dinner tonight and discuss it?”

  He reached for her. When his hand moved towards her face, Naomi’s brain told her to move, but her senses reeled at high speed, neutralizing her brain waves and making it impossible for her to move.

  Dash touched her cheek. The heat from his fingers did odd things to her body and jumpstarted her brainwaves. She flicked her head away.

  “I don’t know, Dash. Um …” She looked at the closed door. “Tonight’s not a good night for me. How about I call you to set something up?”

  He stared at her. “Will you?”

  “Will I what?”

  “Will you actually call me?”

  “Of course,” she responded, but reddened under his continued gaze. The thought of not calling him, of putting this conversation off indefinitely, had crossed her mind.

  His smug grin warned her he’d seen her blush and understood its meaning.

  She shook her head and said softly, “I’ll call you, Dash. I promise. Just give me a few days. Okay?”

  She needed some time to get her mind around this. She hadn’t expected to see him again. She certainly hadn’t expected him to want to be a part of Tallie’s life.

  When he’d walked away a week ago, she’d thought she’d seen the last of him. At least, in person for personal reasons. She expected to have to see him from time to time over a story about the Griffins, especially with rumors mounting that Shave Stephens might not make it back for the rest of the season.

  She didn’t know how to handle a Dash that would become an integral part of her life, of her daughter’s life. She needed a little time to regroup.

  “I’m counting on that, Naomi.”

  She nodded and turned for the door.

  “Oh, and Naomi?”

  “Yes,” she said over her shoulder.

  “If I don’t hear from you in a few days, I’ll come looking for you.” He turned and walked away.

  Great, she mouthed to his retreating back. She pushed into her mother’s apartment, closed the door, and leaned her back against it. She closed her eyes against the emotional maelstrom churning inside her.

  Her mother’s voice broke into her introspection. “Honey, are you okay?”

  Opening her eyes, she looked speculatively at her mother. “I just ran into Dash.”

  Her mother flinched and made a big production of drying her hands on the tea towel she carried.

  Naomi squinted at her mother. “Coming out of your apartment. What’s going on, mom?”

  Adele turned and headed back to the kitchen.

  “Mom?”

  “Nothing’s going on, mon chou. Dash stopped by to visit Tallie.”

  “And you let him?” Naomi squeaked.

  Adele looked at her. “Of course, I let him. He’s her father.”

  “He hasn’t been a father up ‘til now.”

  “But he wants to change that. And he couldn’t exactly be a father to a child he didn’t know he h
ad.”

  “That was his fault!”

  “Maybe.” Adele moved to the sink and continued washing the few dishes she had abandoned upon hearing the front door.

  “Maybe? Mother, you can’t seriously be taking his side on this.”

  “There’s only one side I’m taking, and that’s Tallie’s.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I understand why you didn’t pursue the matter with Talon when you were pregnant. Once I moved you to New Orleans, all I wanted was to make sure you carried Tallie to term. Once you moved back here, however, you had no reason to continue to hide her from him.”

  “I wasn’t hiding her!”

  “Yes, you were, and your original reasons no longer applied.”

  “Of course, they applied. Once people find out about Tallie, the speculation and the attempts at nabbing photographs of her will start.”

  “That was going to happen anyway. She’s the daughter of a professional football player, a player with a bright future ahead of him if the way he played this weekend is any indication. Any child of his will be—hopefully a brief—curiosity for the press. But, if you really intended for Dash to step up and be Tallie’s father, you knew at some point you were going to have to deal with the media. So, why pretend that allowing Dash to keep his head in the sand was about saving your daughter from an unpleasant experience? It was about saving you from facing your fears.”

  “You’re one to talk, mother.”

  Adele took that verbal slap in stride. “You’re right. Which is exactly why I know what I’m talking about.”

  Naomi’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “I get that you were hurt when Dash blew you off and didn’t respond to your letters.” Her eyes shadowed briefly. “Boy, do I ever. When your father ignored my pregnancy and then rejected you because he couldn’t see himself in your infant face, I let my pride get in the way of what was best for you. I could have forced a paternity test. I should have forced a paternity test. My failure to do so let him pretend that I was just another gold digger making false claims.”