To Win Her Smile

by Mackenzie Crowne

  They shared a grin, then Moira pinned her with a knowing stare. “On the business end, I know you, and your honorable gene will give you fits if you do what this V person suggests without reciprocating. Give Wyatt Hunter what he wants. Do a fabulous job shooting his calendar and offer to attend those games, too. With as much money as he’ll be forking over, you can afford a few transatlantic crossings.”

  The faint sound of crunching gravel outside interrupted Piper’s consideration of all Moira had said, and she stepped to the window. She cursed beneath her breath and jerked to the side, not wanting to be seen as Abigail parked her tiny red sports coupe next to Piper’s ten-year-old SUV.

  She spun around and hurried to snatch her coat from the chair before grabbing the handle of her suitcase. “Did Tilly take the manor’s station wagon to the village?”

  “No, Agnes Coulter collected her. Why?”

  “My dear cousin is here and I’d rather not see her until I have her check in my hand.”

  Chapter 7

  Sweat soaked the neckline of Wyatt’s sleeveless shirt and beaded on his brow. Male grunts competed with metal meeting metal and gritty rock ‘n’ roll as he pushed through the rep. He blew through his teeth and his triceps bunched, then stretched. Having received the all clear on his shoulder, he’d increased his workout level to where he’d been before his careless injury. The return to normal, here in the busy team gym, anyway, felt good.

  Pretty much everywhere else, life sucked balls.

  The family meeting his father had called could mean only one thing. Dear Old Dad had decided the time had come to throw his hat in the ring in his bid for the presidency. Wyatt pushed the bar toward the ceiling with gritted teeth. Nearly two years of angry phone calls and lectures on the concepts of family unity, political correctness, and positive optics, would stretch into another eight once the election had been won. And it would be. Richard Hunter didn’t lose.

  Wyatt’s shoulder muscles contracted and released as he maintained a steady pace with the bar. Jesus. Talk about a clusterfuck. He was surprised Megan hadn’t already shown up on his doorstep. His sister would no doubt be frantic to plan damage control.

  A bead of sweat slid past his temple and into his hairline. Mentally shoving aside the imminent and unavoidable fallout from his father’s political race, he attempted to clear his mind. He gritted his teeth when the image of cat-shaped emerald eyes filled the void.

  He lowered the bar to hover above his chest before straightening his arms once again. Piper Darrow had been gone three days and he’d yet to come up with a viable plan to bring her back.

  And the dirty dream she’d starred in last night wasn’t helping.

  “That’s eleven.” Gabe Tillman stood behind the bench at Wyatt’s head, acting as his spotter.

  Flat on his back with his legs spread wide, Wyatt cursed beneath his breath as a vision of russet curls sliding over his naked thighs snuck into his head. With half the Marauders’ offensive line surrounding him, a hard-on would be damned inconvenient, but that didn’t matter. Recall of the dream continued and his cock twitched as dream Piper lifted her head and looked him dead in the eye. She fluttered her lashes in that adorable three-blink quirk and curled her lips in an I’m-going-to-suck-you-off-now smile.

  Christ.

  He barely suppressed a groan and grunted through the next rep. Although some in the press would argue the claim, he’d never had trouble keeping his head in the game. Neither had he ever failed to shake a woman from his mind. Since clapping eyes on Piper, he’d had a problem with both.

  Why that was, he hadn’t a clue, but he was damn well going to find out. He had no choice. Although he’d like to, he couldn’t, in good conscience, blame the uneasiness he’d been suffering on his lucky charm refusing to cooperate. He was the first to admit he was a superstitious bastard, but he wasn’t so far gone he allowed himself to be led by circumstances.

  When it came to his lucky charms, he made the rules or tweaked them to fit until he got his way. Piper was an ocean away, but a phone call before each game would do the trick professionally. Personally? Yeah, a phone call wouldn’t satisfy that part of his agenda.

  He wanted her close enough to touch. Now. Not three weeks from now when the Marauders had a bye week and he was free to follow her to England.

  How else was he to discover what it was about her that wouldn’t leave him alone? He flexed his fingers on the bar. Not that he was looking for long-term from the sexy photographer. Fuck no. She was hot as hell, but she was just a woman and there were plenty of them out there. Sure, he planned to settle down one day. Do the whole family thing. He liked kids and wanted a few of his own, but there was plenty of time for that. Later. Once he’d achieved his goals on the field.

  An image of Piper’s sultry smile flashed in his head, and he grunted. Damn it, the sexy photographer was fucking with his head, and there was too much at stake to ignore the potential fallout.

  “That’s fifteen,” Gabe said from above. “Three more for a full four sets.”

  At the next station, spotting Jamal Knight in his workout, Mario Davis turned his head. “Four sets? You’re off light duty?”

  “Light duty.” Jamal snorted and paused between reps. “Anyone with eyes could see his shoulder has been fine for two weeks. The team docs were playing it safe.”

  Straddling a third bench, Tuck snickered and his eyes flashed with a teasing glint. “Wyatt’s not worried about his shoulder. It’s another body part that’s giving him trouble. Ain’t that right, buddy?”

  Wyatt ignored him, clenching his teeth through the last two reps.

  “Which means there’s a woman.” Jamal rolled his head to the side. “Who is she?”

  “And does she have a sister?” Gabe grinned down at Wyatt, unfazed by his irritated glower.

  “I want in, if she does.” Jamal eased the bar into the brackets, then flopped his arms onto his stomach.

  Mario leaned on the bar to study Jamal from above. “What happened to the Italian babe with the southern accent and killer ass?”

  Jamal sighed. “She rang the death knell.”

  “Ah, hell. She asked you to meet her mamma?”

  An exaggerated shudder wracked Jamal’s body. “And her daddy.”

  “Fuck, yeah.” Gabe shook his head. “Total deal breaker.”

  Mario laughed, then turned to eye Wyatt. “So? Who is she?”

  “His new lucky charm.” Tuck bared his teeth in a happy leer. “Remember the lady photographer with the broken nose?”

  Wyatt would have told Tuck to get bent, but was interrupted by Mario’s almost reverent sigh. “Piper, right? I met her at the fundraiser the other night. Shit. That woman is fine.”

  His last rep completed, Wyatt resettled the bar and sat up. He pinned Mario in place with a squinted scowl. “Did your fiancée meet her, too?”

  Mario grinned and shrugged. Jamal and Gabe chuckled, but it was Tuck’s full-throated laughter that scraped along Wyatt’s strained nerve endings.

  “He’s bent out of shape because he failed to seal the deal with the fine photographer. She went back to England a few days ago.”

  Wyatt met Tuck’s taunt with a toothy leer. “It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings, asshole.”

  Tuck chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll up that C-note to a thousand that she’s already started humming.”

  “You, ah, might want to rethink that bet, Tuck.”

  A question creased Tuck’s brow as Gabe jerked his chin toward the gym doors.

  Wyatt followed his gaze, and his pulse rate skyrocketed to stroke range. Piper Darrow glided across the gym’s rubber matting like a stunning apparition. At her side was V Fitzpatrick, stalking toward them with her usual purposeful stride.

  Green eyes, brighter than an Irish countryside, brushed over Wyatt before flitting away to pause on each of h
is teammates. Every sinew and muscle in his body clenched in almost painful anticipation as he slowly rose to his feet. He didn’t have a clue what was happening or why, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was here, and he meant to keep her around at least until he’d figured out how to break the funky spell she’d cast over him and eject her from his head.

  “Good. You’re all here.” V came to a stop and cast her gaze around to encompass Mario, Jamal, and Gabe. “Gentlemen, if you haven’t met her yet, this is Piper Darrow.”

  Much to Wyatt’s frustration, Piper continued to avoid his gaze. She shook hands with each of his teammates. He looked on silently as she accepted Tuck’s kiss on her cheek.

  He shot Wyatt a challenging grin before turning back to her. “What are you doing back in town? And does CC know you’re here?”

  The cool mask she’d worn while greeting the rest of the guys softened into a smile, but V beat her with an explanation. “I was lucky enough to convince Piper to work with us on the Fab Five project. We spoke to CC a few minutes ago and she gave the green light to start with you, Tuck. Beginning tomorrow morning.”

  Well, shit. Wyatt had the urge to smack his forehead. He should have thought of Caroline’s video project himself, instead of tossing out his clichéd calendar idea. He’d have to come up with some way to thank V for succeeding where he had failed but, for the moment, he wanted Piper’s emerald eyes on him.

  “How long will you be in town?”

  This time, he was prepared for the punch to the gut when she slid her gaze to his. From the way she’d been avoiding looking at him, he’d expected nerves. Instead, the green depths of her eyes held a light he hadn’t seen in them before. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it looked to him like the light of challenge. Fuck, yeah. Whatever she had in mind, he was all in.

  “I’m scheduled to be in Manhattan for the next five weeks. After that…” She shrugged. “Well, it depends.”

  Five weeks wouldn’t cover the season, but it gave him some room to work. He snatched a towel from the back of the chair beside the bench. “Depends on what?”

  “Not what. Who.” It happened so quickly, he wasn’t sure, but his cock twitched, insisting she’d given his body a fast once-over before she met his gaze again and smiled. “That depends on you, actually.”

  Heat lashed across his lower belly. “Well, now, sweetheart. I sure do like the sound of that.”

  And there were the nerves he’d expected, along with a blush.

  “Oh, ho, Tuck. Looks like you lose your...” Mario stopped short on a grunt, followed by male snickers.

  Wyatt didn’t turn to find out which of his friends had tossed the elbow and prevented Mario from sticking his foot in his mouth. Again. Most likely, Tuck had done the honors this time, since he’d be on the receiving end of his wife’s anger should CC learn he was placing bets on her friend.

  V ran her gaze over the group. “We’ve booked Piper to spend up to a week with each of you to get the photos we’re after. Tuck is covered, but I’m expecting the rest of you to swing by my office sometime in the next forty-eight hours so we can work out the schedule.” She pinned Gabe with a warning stare. “Don’t make me come looking for you, Tillman.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gabe held up both hands in surrender.

  Turning her head, she looked at Wyatt and bared her teeth in the smile he’d watched her use to make even the toughest of players nervous. He fought a grin and slung his towel around the back of his neck. The tactic wouldn’t work on him. She might still be angry with him over that rafting shit, but he knew her too well to be intimidated by her hard-ass lady-agent glare.

  She pointed a finger at his nose. “I need to see you in my office ASAP.”

  He shifted his gaze back to Piper, where he wanted it. She swallowed, and he couldn’t help but wonder at the return of her nerves. “Now works for me.”

  “Take a shower first, big guy.” V smirked, her eyes full of satisfaction. “We’ll meet you upstairs once I’ve finished giving Piper the nickel tour.”

  * * * *

  Wyatt paused in the doorway of V’s sixth floor office, his gaze landing unerringly on Piper’s profile. She stood beside the floral couch he’d occupied often over the past year. The rapt pleasure on her face as she listened to Jason Goodwell, head of the Marauders’ marketing department, would have lit up Times Square.

  “And the note she hits at the end.” Jason’s chest swelled on a heaving sigh. “It’s a thing of beauty, I tell you.”

  “I will definitely make a point to see it while I’m in town.”

  “If you need a date, I’d love to see it again. In the meantime, if you have any questions or need anything, business or pleasure, give me a call.”

  The urge to land his fist in the guy’s face, despite knowing full well Jason batted for the other team, took Wyatt by surprise. Shit. What the hell was that all about? He didn’t get jealous. Ever. And especially over a woman he’d yet to take to bed. Maybe he was coming down with something, a bug, or virus of some kind. Whatever it was, he needed the cure, and fast.

  “There you are.”

  V drew his attention and he cursed beneath his breath at her smug smile. She was up to something. He just didn’t know what.

  She waved him in. “Shut the door and have a seat.”

  He hesitated with his hand on the knob. In all the times he’d come to V’s office, she’d never requested he shut the door. Not such a strange thing, really. While they were both on the Marauders’ payroll, the two of them had never had actual business before. The Fab Five project was technically team business but, for some reason, he suddenly felt the way he had in third grade when he’d been called to the principal’s office for stealing a kiss from Sheri Johnson.

  He shot a darting glance at Piper.

  That depends on you, actually.

  Well, shit. Despite her heated reaction to his kiss the other day, had she complained to management over what had taken place in the Tuckers’ kitchen? Uneasiness pricked the hair on the back of his neck, until she turned her head and met his gaze. Her tentative smile put him at ease and tied him in knots at the same time.

  “Wyatt.” V rolled her eyes when he didn’t move.

  Tugging the door closed behind him, he strode to the single wingback chair to the right of V’s desk. Piper and Jason settled on the couch.

  V crossed her arms on her desktop and studied Wyatt. “This hunk of the month calendar Piper mentioned? Were you thinking ‘amateur production whipped up in the garage’ or will you be handing her photos off to actual professionals to produce the final product?”

  Oh, shit. He jerked his gaze to Piper. Her tentativeness from earlier was long gone. And the light of challenge in her eyes? Yeah, like blinking neon. The little red rabbit had done an end run around him, calling in reinforcements to verify his job offer was legit.

  Damned if he didn’t find that sexy as hell.

  He attempted to keep the anticipatory grin off his face, but failed. “Change your mind?”

  “As I said downstairs, that depends on you.”

  She shifted on the couch, crossing her legs, and he was momentarily distracted by the flash of toned calves and the memory of silky soft skin above a stretchy, lace garter. He lifted his gaze and, staring into her emerald eyes full of self-confident satisfaction, the gnawing tension in his gut eased for the first time in days.

  He flashed his most winning smile. “I’m in.”

  “That’s nice,” V drummed her nails on her desktop, “but you never answered my question.”

  Wyatt dragged his gaze from Piper to look at V. From the phrasing of her question, she knew damn well he’d thrown out the idea on a whim, and the smirk in her eyes said she was enjoying calling his bluff. He thought fast. If they were actually going to do this thing, the Down Syndrome Research Foundation was the logical vehi
cle.

  “I’m thinking DSRF will jump at the chance to be involved, since any funds raised would go to them. They also have an excellent marketing department.”

  He bared his teeth in a thought-you-had-me grin. V shook her head, but it was clear from the quirking of her lips she was impressed and didn’t want to show it. He was more than a little impressed himself. Hell, he’d made his bullshit ploy to get Piper into bed sound like the real deal. At the same time, he’d nearly managed to pull the first smile from V since he’d returned from the Colorado River with his throwing arm in a sling.

  Not bad. Not bad at all.

  “Obviously, you’ve yet to nail down the particulars.” All trace of humor vanished from V’s face as she glanced between him and Piper with a no-nonsense stare. “Until the two of you work out the details and sign a contract, this is all conjecture. But, as it appears both of you are in favor of proceeding, there are a few specifics I’d like to throw out there.”

  She waited until they’d both given their assent, then addressed him directly. “I’m assuming the initial funding will come from you, personally?”

  Wyatt nodded, wondering where she was going with her line of questioning.

  “That being the case, and contingent upon DSRF coming onboard, Caroline has authorized a ten-thousand-dollar donation. She’ll bump it up to twenty-five if you agree to use Marauders players only.”

  “Marauder of the Month.” Jason hummed. “Has a ring to it.”

  V smiled and met Wyatt’s gaze once more. “Of course, she would require the courtesy of final approval before the calendar goes into production.”

  Wyatt propped his ankle across the opposite knee. “Tell her to double her donation to fifty and she has a deal.”

  V didn’t blink an eye at the demand. “I can’t see her objecting to that.” She shifted her gaze to Jason. “Piper and I have tentatively agreed to meet each Friday afternoon so I can see a sampling of what she’s gotten for the Fab Five project and to deal with any issues that might arise. Will that work for you?”

  “Perfectly.”