“So, Piper,” Gracie tapped a fingertip to her chin, “how are you planning to give Wyatt a run for his money?”
“Oh, I…”
“And what can we do to help?”
Chapter 11
Week two of the Marauders’ season dawned crisp and bright with a gentle breeze that carried the scent of sunshine and early fall. A perfect day for football, according to those in the know.
Piper hadn’t spoken to Wyatt since he’d dropped her off at her hotel after that panty-melting kiss in his kitchen. Consequently, she’d yet to tell him she’d changed her mind about their fling. Which might actually be a good thing, considering the way she kept wavering back and forth. As she’d explained to CC, V, and the Gridiron Girls, a “strictly professional” arrangement with Wyatt would be best for everyone involved.
Her head agreed with that sound and logical plan. But, bugger it all, how was a woman to cling to sound logic with the memory of Wyatt Hunter sucking the essence of her orgasm from his fingers while his eyes blazed with arousal?
A sensual shudder shook her as she slid from the limo that had delivered her to the Marauders’ sports complex for this afternoon’s game. How to broach the subject of renegotiation was the problem. After all, an extra fifty-six thousand pounds sat in her account as of yesterday. The bulk of which had come from him in the form of his half-up-front payment. Thus far, he’d been true to his word, yet here she was, planning to alter the arrangement they’d agreed upon after the fact. Guilt insisted she renegotiate the payment she would receive as well.
She didn’t have a lot of wiggle room, not if she was going to pay off Abigail in time, and tying compensation to sex or, in this case, the lack thereof, left Piper feeling slightly icky. Still, fair play demanded she make some kind of gesture.
The money was all she had.
She hadn’t left herself a lot of extra time, arriving at the stadium just before kickoff. After presenting her credentials to the security office personnel, she was escorted onto a private lift that delivered her directly to a tunnel leading to the field. As she stepped into the sunlight flooding the Marauders’ sideline, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Once they had, she spotted Wyatt.
Muscular body displayed to perfection in white uniform pants and Marauders’ blue and gold jersey, he stood a dozen or so feet away. As Dallas kicked off to start the game, Wyatt and a dark-haired man studied the tablet in the man’s hands.
As if sensing her presence, Wyatt lifted his head and glanced her way. The hair on her arms prickled as their gazes clashed. Several heartbeats passed as he ran his eyes down her body, then up to pause first on her chest, then on the hat pulled low over her brow. His gaze dropped to meet hers, and she squelched the urge to fidget beneath his questioning smile.
For sure, the I Heart NY ball cap she’d picked up in a shop around the corner from her hotel was far from her usual, sophisticated style. So was the oversized sweatshirt printed with Oops… Did I roll my eyes out loud? Which made them perfect. Combined with the work denims she’d brought from home and the trainers she’d found in yet another store, she looked nothing like the Baroness Delaney.
Not that she expected the European tabloids to have a presence at an American sporting event, but neither did she plan to be recognized. Four more caps, a half dozen printed sweatshirts, and several new pairs of jeans hung in her hotel closet, and would throw off anyone looking while she was here in the States.
With a slight shake of his head, Wyatt tugged on his helmet. And, bloody hell, she had no business going woozy over the wicked grin and sexy wink he shot at her before loping onto the field.
Turning away, she met the smile of the adorably charming young man who had been the first to come to her aid last week after being hit by Wyatt’s tipped pass. She rushed to repeat her gratitude for his kindness, and he waved her off, introducing himself as Kip Walker. In his third year at university, the handsome young athlete played tight end for Boston College, but his team was the Marauders. On every Sunday he could manage, he volunteered as water boy, making the round trip by train between Boston and Manhattan for Marauders’ home games.
Tall and muscular, he fit right in with the mammoth warriors crowding the home team bench. The players’ respect and affection for him was clear to see, in particular, Wyatt’s. And those sentiments obviously went both ways. Whenever the Marauders’ quarterback stepped from the field, the team’s most loyal volunteer was there with a cup or towel, or anything else Wyatt might need.
Otherwise, Kip remained at Piper’s side throughout the afternoon. After raising a brow at her sweatshirt, he returned from the locker room at halftime with a Marauders’ hoodie. He grinned at her cocked brow, but then crossed his arms and waited until she’d changed into the bright blue garment sporting the team emblem.
For more than three hours, she snapped her photographs while attending American Football 101. With million dollar dimples and a clear love of the sport, Kip explained the fundamentals of the game along with some of the team’s statistical achievements he considered important. Words like catch ratio, reception percentage, and rushing attempts made little sense to her, but his enthusiasm was impossible to resist.
And if she’d worried her bad mojo would show its ugly head, she needn’t have. A repeat of last Sunday’s accident wasn’t likely with Kip hovering like some kind of self-appointed guardian angel. Several times he stepped between her and potential danger when the play ventured too close.
On one such occasion, a Marauders’ receiver and his defender barreled toward the sideline in her direction. Before she could react, Kip scooped her up and spun her clear of the approaching mayhem. Setting her on her feet once again, he shrugged at her arched brow, white teeth flashing in his unapologetic grin.
She laughed and shook her head. Certain men should come with a warning label. With his solid build, midnight-black hair, laughing blue eyes, and naturally protective instincts, Kip was one of them. He’d said he was majoring in statistics, but he’d clearly already achieved a PhD in charm. Probably while he was still in the cradle.
Late in the fourth quarter, he raced onto the field with his water bottles during a break in the action he labeled the two-minute warning. Piper zoomed in on the Marauders players gathered loosely at the center of the field. Brushing over Tuck, she paused on Wyatt where he spoke to another of the men. The wooziness returned as his dimples made an appearance in his trademark grin.
She briefly glanced at the scoreboard. With the clock winding down, Wyatt and his teammates were clobbering Dallas, which might have something to do with his good humor. Except that, even in the first quarter, when the visiting team had taken an early lead, Wyatt’s enjoyment of the game had been evident.
He loved what he was doing and it showed.
Piper gritted her teeth. How unfair was it that, shadowed by his helmet and beaded with sweat, his handsome face was even more appealing than usual and the curve of his lips sexier?
A whistle blew, ending the official time out. With a sigh, she readjusted her focus to the man she was supposed to be watching. The men broke their huddle with a clap of hands. They approached the line of scrimmage and she snapped a shot of Tuck.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Piper glanced to her right before refocusing on the field. “Which is precisely the point of the disguise.”
V sighed softly. “I guess I’d be a little paranoid, too, if I were in your shoes.”
Piper adjusted the zoom. “I doubt any of those vultures you mentioned care about me after all this time, but…” She shrugged.
“Better safe than sorry?” V offered.
“Something like that.”
A moment of silence, then, “How’s it going?”
“Rather well, actually.”
On the field, Wyatt called the snap. Bodies crashed together as Piper followed Tuck’s move
ment with her lens. She pressed and held the shutter button. The camera whined as it captured Tuck’s mid-air catch in burst mode.
The fans roared their appreciation. V added her encouragement, verbally cheering Tuck on as he added several more yards to the play before being forced out of bounds by a defender. He crashed to the ground, then immediately rolled to his feet. Impressed, Piper kept shooting. Even with her limited knowledge of the game, she recognized sheer athletic ability when she saw it.
Once he’d rejoined his teammates, she lowered her arms and turned to meet V’s gaze. “He’s quite talented, isn’t he?”
A brisk nod. “He’s headed for the hall of fame, as are a couple of his teammates currently on the field.”
Piper slid her gaze back to the men gathering around Wyatt. “He’s also incredibly photogenic.”
“Who? Tuck or Wyatt?”
Piper’s jaw sagged as she whipped her head around. Oh, bother. “V, I...”
“Yes, I heard you the other night. You truly believe a strictly business relationship between,” she paused and glanced around at the milling players, coaches, and staff before meeting Piper’s wary gaze, “the two parties involved is in your best interest.”
Piper heaved a sigh, but her relief was premature.
“However, knowing the other party as I do, you can expect your decision to be challenged.” She smiled softly at Piper’s frown. “From your comment when I arrived at CC and Tuck’s, I assume your feelings on this matter are due to a desire to avoid a professional conflict with the team. Or am I mistaken? Is there more to it than that?”
Piper stared at her. “I should think avoiding a professional conflict would be enough.”
“Sure, if you have a personal issue along those lines.” V glanced toward the red zone where the men were lined up. “But, please be clear….”
The stadium vibrated with frantic cheers and Piper turned back to the field. Her gaze landed unerringly on Wyatt, scrambling to his feet from beneath two huge defenders. His helmet and faceguard couldn’t disguise the pure exhilaration on his face as he hurried toward the end zone to join in the celebration of Tuck’s latest touchdown.
A warm glow heated her chest as she brought the camera back to her eye.
“As I was saying,” V spoke at her side. “Please be clear that neither myself nor anyone associated with the franchise have a problem with what you and,” she cleared her throat, “the other party do with your private time. As long as it doesn’t affect your working together.”
Piper slowly turned her head. “Oh, Lord. I really wish you’d kept that detail to yourself.”
“Less temptation?” V’s smile was as perceptive as her question.
Piper choked back a groaning whimper and nodded.
“Would it surprise you to learn I was in a similar situation not long ago?” V jerked her chin toward the tall dark-haired man Wyatt had sought out on the sideline throughout the game. The same man he’d been speaking to when Piper first arrived. “That’s the team’s offensive coordinator. His name is Sam Fitzpatrick.”
Piper turned back and blinked. “Your husband?”
V nodded and the affection in her eyes as they followed Sam was impossible to miss. “We knew each other before he came to work for the team near the end of last season. We were married less than two months later. Ask me sometime how successful he and I were at keeping things between us strictly business.”
Piper choked on an inner wince. Nothing like demolishing the strongest of my self-erected barricades designed to keep me out of Wyatt’s bed.
V chuckled and held out her hand.
“What’s this?” Piper shoved aside her crumbling hope of resisting the irresistible, and accepted the sheet of paper.
“It’s Wyatt’s list of models for his calendar.”
Piper unfolded the sheet and read the names. “Well, he certainly works fast, doesn’t he?”
V squinted, her smile sly. “Apparently so.”
Piper didn’t bother rolling her eyes at the not-so-subtle innuendo. The blush heating her chest and rising to her neck and face said it all.
V laughed softly. “Like I told you, the players respect and like Wyatt.” She grinned. “He’d have no trouble finding volunteers for his project. But I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when he told them what he wanted. I’m sure he took a ration of shit before they said yes.”
Piper dropped her gaze to scan the list. Tuck’s name was there. If CC was correct in her prediction, that ration of shit had definitely come Wyatt’s way.
“One more thing.”
Piper glanced up, and the apology in V’s eyes brought an instant chill to Piper’s skin.
Bloody hell. What now?
“I know you’re slated to be with Tuck this week, but there’s been a…development that requires a change of schedule.”
She nodded warily, sure she wasn’t going to like whatever V had to say.
“Wyatt needs to leave tonight for Oklahoma City. His father is holding an early press announcement tomorrow morning, which can mean only one thing. Richard Hunter is announcing his run for the presidency.”
Piper held her breath, but it didn’t do her any good.
Face stoic, V heaved a sigh. “I realize something this big isn’t what you signed on for, but we respectfully request you to go with Wyatt to document the event.”
Piper’s stomach plummeted. So much for her clever disguise. And she’d been worried about being recognized among the thousands of people attending an American football game? Good God. She should have run when she’d had the chance.
Bollocks. I hate when my inner nag is right.
* * * *
Piper’s cell phone rang less than a minute after she’d arrived back at her hotel room. Checking the screen, she breathed deep to calm the heavy thudding of her heart and answered Wyatt’s call.
“Piper Darrow.”
“Hiya, duchess. You looked beautiful today.” She hadn’t a clue how to respond. Not that it mattered. He went on before she could. “You left the complex before I could thank you properly for today’s win.”
She cursed the instant blush heating her cheeks and cleared her throat. “Statistically, the Marauders’ lopsided victory was practically a given. I doubt my presence made a bit of difference.”
“Statistically?” A deep chuckle, then, “A photographer, B&B owner, and a sports statistician?”
She smiled. “Hardly. The statistical information came courtesy of Kip Walker. Someone from the organization really should look at him more closely. His talent for numbers and recognizing successful patterns in the matchups of different lines is being wasted.”
“Believe me, someone is looking at him. Several someones, in fact.” Affection and humor competed in Wyatt’s tone. “Sounds like the kid’s picked up another disciple.”
“Fan, actually.” She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it across the bed. “Most of what he said went straight over my head,” she admitted with a laugh. “But he is so adorable in his intensity. I was utterly charmed.”
“Yeah, he’s adorable, all right.” Wyatt paused as if he’d adjusted his phone from one ear to the other. “V said she spoke to you about traveling to Oklahoma City with me tonight?”
“Yes, she did.” Reminded of what lay ahead, Piper eased to the edge of the bed and toed off her trainers. “What time is the flight?”
“Three hours. Will that give you enough time to be ready?”
For which? Attending your father’s press announcement? Or spending the night in your bed in some hotel? How a woman was supposed to prepare herself for either of those scenarios, she hadn’t a clue, but she would bloody well be finding out.
Everything had changed. Once his father made his announcement tomorrow, Wyatt would be under more scrutiny than ever before. As closely as they would
be working together, someone was bound to take notice of her, but that was business, as V had said. Piper would deal with any fallout from her professional relationship with Wyatt, but their personal dealings were another matter.
A five-week fling between them was no longer an option. As soon as they arrived at their hotel in Oklahoma City, they’d be tackling those renegotiations she’d been considering. She no longer had a choice. If she and the Marauders’ sexy quarterback were to have their “when,” it was tonight or never.
She swallowed the nerves bubbling up in her belly like a geyser. “I can be ready if I get off the phone and start packing.”
He said nothing for an extended moment, then sighed. “I’m sorry about this, duchess. I know the last thing you want is to be caught up in the limelight tomorrow’s event will provide but, if you’ll trust me, I’ll see to it your name isn’t part of the conversation.”
Her throat tightened that he’d recognize her anxiety over the matter without her having to remind him. “I appreciate that.”
“If it were up to me, neither of us would be going, but I understand why the team feels tomorrow should be documented.”
“So do I,” she admitted softly.
Another pause, then, “I sent the itinerary over by courier.”
Piper frowned at the envelope on the small entry table. She’d scanned it in the lift. “It was waiting for me at the desk when I arrived. I didn’t see any seating assignments for the flight.”
“We’ll handle that when we board.”
“That’s fine, but I’d prefer we be seated in different rows. I’d rather not advertise that we’re traveling together.”
He chuckled at the demand, until she pointed out maintaining her anonymity had been part of their deal. “I’ll swing by your hotel in an hour to pick you up.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
His low laughter stroked her in places that had been dormant for several years. “Have it your way, duchess. The information on the gate location is included in the itinerary. Don’t be late.”
To Win Her Smile Page 12