“As long as we have a moment of privacy,” she began, “I want to apologize for the other night in Cabo. I . . .”
“Save it, Dorothy. I caught the tender moment between you and the coach. Your friend the wedding planner did us both a favor back there in Mexico.” He stood inches from her. “What’s the matter? The coach’s wife is recovering from her cancer, so you figured before he dumped you, you’d make the moves on the future quarterback? Is that how it went?”
He was so close she could see the black rings around his gray irises. His eyes were sparkling with anger. Confused, Carly tried to gather her breath.
“Wh-what are you talking about?” She braced her hands on the table, hating the way his menacing stance affected her.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He stepped even closer. “Chicks like you are all over this league. Playing hard to get, always trying to find the best deal for themselves. Well, news flash, honey. I’m not playing. If the coach wants to dip his stick into you, that’s his business, not mine.”
What? She was no longer confused; she was incensed.
“That’s disgusting!” She reached up to push him away, but he was already at the door.
“Save it, sweetheart. What you do is your business. Just don’t let me hear any rumors about you and me in Cabo because nothing happened. Thank God! You try to say something did and I’ll rat you and the coach out to the Wizard of Oz in a heartbeat.”
He stormed out of the conference room before she could get a word in. Standing there with her mouth gaping open, her hands once again braced on the table, she was unsure whether to laugh or cry. Carly had had worse things said about her. The press—and people she thought she trusted—had certainly bested Shane Devlin’s accusations. But that didn’t mean his words didn’t hurt.
Hank’s secretary stuck her head in the room, startling her out of her shock.
“Gabe Harrelson’s wife is on the phone again. She’s not happy Gabe’s signing bonus is revoked because of his fall. Hank asked if you could reason with her.”
Great. Now she had two irrational people to deal with.
Three
It was still drizzling several hours later when Shane walked from the practice facility back to the main office complex of the Blaze. Earlier, he’d managed to endure the press conference, followed by a meet and greet with trainers and coaches who hadn’t been paraded through the conference room that morning. Fortunately, Roscoe had taken off shortly after the media session. But not without a lecture.
“I know it’s asking a lot, but try to play nice, Shane,” Roscoe had chided him. “Smile for the media and suck it up. And, Hank’s assistant is off-limits, if you know what’s good for you.”
There was no way Roscoe could have picked up on the sexual tension between Shane and Carly. It was just typical Roscoe, practicing damage control. But Shane knew enough to steer clear of her.
“Don’t worry, I learned a valuable lesson in San Diego,” Shane said. Roscoe just grunted, slapping Shane on the back before heading to New York.
Locating his locker, he unpacked the few things he’d brought with him on the plane. A three-day mini-camp began in the morning, and he’d finally get an opportunity to let his arm do his talking. Shane was always more comfortable dealing with adversity on the field than off.
The drizzle cooled him off as he walked. Next on his schedule was a private meeting with Coach Richardson. Something he was not excited about. Up until this morning, Shane had been looking forward to playing for the man. Richardson had been a pro-bowl player in his day and had evolved into a top-notch coach, one who was known and respected for his fairness and integrity. That image was destroyed this morning.
The guy was married to a woman with cancer, for Chrissakes. Shane shook his head in disgust.
The same disease that had taken Shane’s mother’s life some twenty years ago. Thinking of the coach’s three children, he grew angrier. That anger certainly had nothing to do with the fact that the coach’s hands had been all over Carly. No, he was upset that both Carly and Coach Richardson had somehow disappointed him.
Shane was someone who expected very little from people. Most people betray one another. It was a fact of life he’d grown up learning the hard way. It was the reason he didn’t let anyone close to him. Let them in, and they’d just screw you over later on. He didn’t want to delve too deeply into the particular reasons for his disappointment with the coach and Carly, however. That would only lead him to admit to feelings he didn’t want to feel. He needed to forget about the Blaze’s sexy siren and concentrate on learning the team’s system so he could play football.
Stepping into the main office building, he combed his fingers through his hair, trying to dry it. Not knowing where the coaches’ suite was located, he stopped to ask at the security office just inside the front doors.
“Shane Devlin, as I live and breathe,” a voice called from the back of the office.
Shane looked up to see a shiny-headed African American man striding across the office, smiling with his hand extended in greeting.
“Donny Carter?” Shane smiled his first real smile in a long time. “What are you doing here?”
The two men clasped hands and then leaned in to tap each other on the back.
“Been here for a year now. You’re looking at the head of security. So watch your ass!” Donovan teased.
Donovan Carter grew up in the same small Pennsylvania college town as Shane. Donovan’s father had been the chief of police back then. Chief Carter probably had done the most of any adult to keep Shane from ending up in jail—or dead. In return, Shane let little Donny shadow him around the football field, picking up all the right moves to earn a commission to the Naval Academy as a tailback on its football team. His senior year, Donovan blew out his knee in a game against Michigan, ending his dreams of playing in the NFL.
“I told you I’d make it to the pros somehow.” Donovan smiled as he leaned his hip against the desk behind him.
“What were you doing before this?” Shane was a little ashamed that he had lost touch with Donny over the years. But then again, Shane had put much of his past behind him.
“Oh, I did my stint in the Marines, working for Naval Intelligence. And before you say anything, I’ve heard all the jokes about me not having enough intelligence for the job.” He put his hands up and laughed.
“How are your parents?” Shane propped a shoulder up against the wall, relaxing for the first time that day.
“Mama’s good. She’s already called this morning. It’s all over ESPN about you signing with the Blaze. She’s sending a box of cookies later this week. She made me promise to share.”
“I always knew I loved your mama. How about your dad?”
Donovan’s smile dimmed a bit. “Oh, he passed a few years ago. He had a heart attack in his sleep. Mama was just glad he died peacefully and not by a bullet.”
Shane felt his chest tighten as his shame grew. Donovan and his family had been a lifeline for him while growing up, and Shane hadn’t even bothered to keep up with them after going on to college. He should have. But that was his father’s hometown now. Not Shane’s. He didn’t want to know what was going on there.
“I’m sorry.” The words sounded hollow, even to Shane.
“Hey, he’s in a better place.” Donovan jumped off the desk, quickly changing the subject. “You got a place to stay? I’ve got a two-bedroom condo I just bought down in the warehouse district on Federal Hill. You’re welcome to crash there ’til you find some place.”
“Thanks, man, but I think the brass wants to keep an eye on me. They’ve leased me a place in some gated community a few miles from here. I’m sure it’s a good distance from any decent nightlife.”
“Yeah, that may be a little tame for a player like you, but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do, right?” Donovan teased.
>
They both agreed to catch up over dinner and a few beers at the end of the day. Donovan pointed him toward the coaches’ suites in the other wing of the building. Shane made his way to his meeting with Coach Richardson feeling a little better about his day.
The feeling was short-lived, however.
“Coach Richardson had some pressing commitments outside the office this afternoon, but he’d like you to meet him at his house,” the coach’s secretary told him. “It’s only about ten miles from here, hon. Here’s the address. Just plug it into the GPS in your rental car and you should find it without a problem. The guard at the gate knows Coach is expecting you.”
Shane could only imagine what the coach’s pressing commitment was this afternoon. Getting down and dirty with the GM’s assistant. His gut clenched again at the thought. He was just about to ask if he could reschedule the meeting for the next morning, when a young woman he’d seen hovering outside the conference room earlier in the day raced into the office.
“Amy, what’ve you got there?” the coach’s secretary asked.
“Has Coach left for the day?” Nearly out of breath, she peeked into the coach’s darkened office.
“Yeah, hon, he has.”
Amy swore, then colored brightly as she saw Shane standing there. She turned back to the coach’s secretary.
“Carly left these forms and she needs to review them and send them off to the commissioner’s office first thing in the morning. I was hoping Coach could give them to her. I know they’re getting together tonight.”
Jeez, did everyone on the team know they were having an affair?
“No problem.” She plucked the envelope from Amy’s hand and handed it over to Shane. “Shane is headed to Coach’s house. He’ll take it.”
Was she kidding? Take something for the coach’s girlfriend to his house? Where his wife and kids lived?
Shane was about to tell them both what they could do with their envelope when his agent’s parting words from earlier echoed in his head: Play nice. Right.
These people were just a means to an end, Shane reminded himself. So what if they weren’t who he desperately wanted them to be. Nobody ever was. Wasn’t that the main reason he kept to himself and trusted no one? The only thing he should be focused on was playing every game and breaking every one of his deadbeat dad’s records.
Flashing both women his most charming Devlin grin, he took the envelope and headed for what would certainly be an interesting encounter. On his way out, Shane stopped at Donovan’s office and left him a note rescheduling dinner for the next night. There was no telling what was waiting for him at Coach’s house.
Twenty minutes later, Shane pulled into a long driveway that wound back behind a massive stone home. The plush front lawn was meticulously manicured, lovingly kept up as if the Blaze were going to play their opening game on it. He pulled back behind the house, toward the three-car garage. A carriage house stood farther back, with a basketball court and a swimming pool beyond that. The Richardsons lacked for nothing, it appeared. Shane parked the car in the roundabout in front of the garage. One of its doors stood open, revealing a veritable sporting goods store: bikes, scooters, Rollerblades, hockey sticks, and every type of ball imaginable were strewn across the floor.
The windshield wipers squeaked to a halt as Shane turned off the ignition. Getting out of the car, he noticed a large, dark-haired woman, dressed in jeans and a chamois button-down shirt, standing at the trash cans just inside the garage. Her hands went to her hips as she greeted Shane with a smile that seemed to encompass her entire face.
“You must be the new guy,” she called out. “Come on in out of the rain. Your California blood can’t be used to this cold.” She waved him through to a door in the back of the garage. Shane followed her into the garage, not bothering to dispute her assumption he was Californian by birth. What did he care what these people thought of him. He just wanted to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible.
“I’m Penny, the housekeeper,” she prattled on, her back to him as she led the way. “Coach said to expect you. He and his family always like to welcome the new players their first night in town. The Richardsons are good people.”
He thought Penny might be singing a different tune were she aware of the coach’s fling with the GM’s assistant. But, Shane figured it wasn’t his place to burst that bubble. They entered the house through the mudroom. A row of floor-to-ceiling cubbies similar to those in the training facility were lined up along one wall. Each contained assorted jackets, more sporting equipment, backpacks, and shoes. Stepping over a pile of hastily discarded shoes scattered about the doorway, he carefully dodged two umbrellas drip-drying on the floor.
The conflicting aromas of garlic and freshly baked brownies greeted Shane when they stepped into the kitchen. The room was massive but homey, richly adorned with stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and warm walnut cabinets. CNN droned on a flat-screen TV mounted above a gas fireplace, lit to ward off the chill brought on by the spring rain. A bulky sofa and two chairs took up the area in front of the fireplace, while a large farmhouse table occupied the spot in front of a huge picture window. Three teenage girls were spread out at the table, a laptop and notebooks covering its surface. They giggled as Shane walked in.
“Ignore the coven over there,” Penny said, her tone admonishing the girls. “They’re supposed to be working on a presentation for school.”
Penny motioned for him to have a seat on one of the stools parked along the island at the kitchen’s center.
“Coach will be here any minute. He just ran out to pick up some softball cleats for his youngest,” Penny said.
Shane suddenly felt uncomfortable being in the coach’s house, surrounded by his family. He knew what the coach was doing and he didn’t think it had anything to do with cleats for his kid. He remained standing in hopes of making a quick exit as Penny set a plate of brownies on the counter, still smiling at him. She took another plate over to the table where the girls were seated.
“Where’d Emma run off to?” Penny asked.
“She’s in the other room printing,” one girl managed to get out before shoving an entire brownie in her mouth.
The garage door opened as Penny headed for the back stairs. “Shane, I’ll be right down. I’m going to check to see if Lisa is awake. I know she wants to meet you.”
Shane could feel his palms begin to sweat. He had to get out of there. He had no intention of meeting the coach’s wife. The warm domesticity of this house was suffocating him. With the exception of his buddy Roscoe’s house, Shane didn’t do the family thing. It was all too unnatural for him.
He turned toward what he thought was the back door, only to collide with a teenage girl—Emma, he assumed. Papers she’d been holding went flying across the floor and she quickly bent down to retrieve them. Wavy strawberry blond hair hid her face as long, slender fingers efficiently snapped the papers off the floor. He was reminded of Carly and her long fingers passing over her reams of paperwork earlier that morning. God, he had to get out of there! He felt as if the pocket was closing in around him.
“We’re hooooome!” a young girl’s voice sang out.
Emma looked up at the same time. Shane felt as if he’d been blindsided and thrown to the turf for a loss. Blue eyes eerily similar to the ones that captivated him in Cabo San Lucas stared at him. A soft, shy smile adorned a face with a familiar smattering of freckles across her nose.
“Sorry,” Emma said. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
Shane felt the air leave his lungs as they both found their feet.
“Look, Em,” the younger girl cried. “Daddy got my ruby red cleats! Aren’t they the bomb?” A pixie version of the coach danced around the kitchen, bright green eyes shining as her ponytail flounced behind her.
“Molly, your uniform is bright orange. Have you no fashion sens
e at all?” Emma practically wailed at her sister.
“Who cares! I like ’em. I’m going to go show Mom. I know she’ll love ’em.” Molly bolted for the stairs, grabbing a brownie as she went.
“Dad, how could you? She’ll be a fashion don’t!” Exasperation adorning her face, Emma stood facing her father.
Matt Richardson smiled, leaning down to kiss his middle child on the forehead—much as he’d done with Carly earlier in the day. Shane’s gut clenched even tighter.
“I pick my battles where I can, sweetie pie. Red cleats are a fight I don’t care about winning.”
Clearly Emma didn’t agree with her father, letting out a huff as she walked back over to her friends.
“Welcome to Camp Chaos.” Coach grinned, extending his hand to Shane.
As the two men shook hands, the back door crashed open and loud footsteps thundered into the mudroom.
“Get off my case, Aunt Carly!” a male voice yelled. “You’re not my mother!”
And there it was. Confirmation that Shane was an ass. Carly March wasn’t fooling around with the coach. They were related somehow. He’d fumbled the play. Badly. Hell, he never should have pushed her buttons earlier in the day. He couldn’t decide if he was relieved she wasn’t having an affair with the coach or scared shitless about how and when she’d reveal the accusations he’d hurled at her. Right now, he was having trouble just getting a breath into his lungs.
A blur resembling a large teenage boy raced by.
“Hey! Christopher James!” Coach yelled. “You get back here and apologize to your aunt!”
Carly entered the kitchen, her shoulders slumped. Shane tried to blend into the wall behind her. She’d changed from her uptight power suit into designer jeans that, from Shane’s vantage point, fit her to perfection. A fuzzy sweater jacket in a soft shade of lavender hugged the rest of her body. Her hair was loosely pulled back and tied with a ribbon. The kitchen, boisterous only moments before, was now silent as the girls stared at Carly.
Game On (AN OUT OF BOUNDS NOVEL) Page 4