My Surprise Secret Baby (Romance Box Set)

by Lexi Wilson

  Anyway, the long and the short of it was that when I went out and picked up a woman, I’d take her to the nearest strategically-located apartment, where we’d get naked and my cock would do what it was built for – over and over.

  The other practicality about having different residences all over town was that it helped with my privacy, being a celebrity and all. It wasn’t vanity to know that people were on the lookout for me – paparazzi, reporters, people with something to sell. And of course, women. Having different residences was a way of keeping my life under control.

  And, it helped me manage my sex life. When I wanted pussy, I preferred to go looking for the woman, instead of the woman coming looking for me. This maintained my private space for what I liked to do with my privates.

  So after I wolfed down a little breakfast, Cole drove the two of us over to my actual home, a McMansion in Old Preston Hollow. We sat in my living room and talked over my plans for what I’d do when my NFL career ended. A football player’s career wasn’t that long, with the wear and tear on even the best body. We always retired younger than people in other professions. I expected I’d probably be done some time in my thirties, and then what would I do with the rest of my life?

  I actually did have some ambition for my life besides playing football, spending my millions, and fucking – not always in that order. And, I wanted Cole, the closest thing I had to a best friend, to be a part of what I had in mind. We would own it as a team.

  I wanted to start my own line of designer sportswear. My own label, the Barrett Porter line of athletic clothes for men. I had the idea and the name recognition – the “branding,” to use the lingo. I had the vision, as the artists call it. But, I didn’t have the know-how. I could be the face of the brand, but I needed help making it happen.

  Cole had worked in sports and fitness publishing; he’d worked on some of the magazines where my photo shoots had appeared. He knew people – designers, marketers, and so forth – who could get the ball in play for me, so to speak. We talked about headhunting and pooling talent, and even some buyers for sportswear and menswear store chains. Slowly but surely, Cole and I were starting to pull it together.

  Just when we were getting the most excited about everything we were planning, my phone went off. It was almost as annoying as having it ring while I had my dick in a woman. Almost. I’d eventually learned to turn the phone off while fucking. As I answered the call, I made a note to myself to remember to turn it off at times like this, too. Who the hell was this, giving me the business equivalent of a coitus interruptus?

  It was my manager. He wanted me to come to the head office, on the double. What was this about? I wondered.

  Chapter 5

  Bama

  My mind was made up. After Kira and I talked about it, we agreed that the best way for me to go about finding Barrett was the quickest, most direct route. To find Barrett, what I needed was to go to the man most likely to know where he was or where he lived.

  The man to see was Quinn, his manager, who also happened to be my mentor.

  Quinn Slattery was a middle-aged, gray-haired Irishman with the beginning of a pot belly. When I came to Dallas, a twenty-two-year-old girl right off the train from Montgomery, Alabama, looking to try out for the Dallas Rangers cheerleaders, it was Quinn who’d noticed me and taken an immediate liking to me.

  To be honest, I was leery of Quinn when I first met him. I was right out of school and right off the train, needing to get myself started in life. To an outsider looking at me, I must have looked green, inexperienced, and naive – and vulnerable. A girl like me in the position that I was in at that time is like Little Red Riding Hood in the forest on her way to Grandma’s house: a target for any hungry wolf lurking around. There are people who lie in wait for girls like that, ready to make them pretty, sparkling promises and lure them into God knows what. Or worse yet, even just snatch them off the street. I’ve read and heard enough stories about vulnerable girls trying to get started and ending up high on drugs and becoming like meat in a market, used and sold around, beaten and worse.

  Arriving in Dallas, I thought maybe becoming a cheerleader for the Rangers would be the beginning of something better in my life. I thought maybe it would open up doors for me, as long as I didn’t run into the wrong people with the wrong intentions. And at first, having a middle-aged, slightly paunchy guy take a shine to me during the tryouts set off red flags. On some level, I suspected Quinn might be a wolf in manager’s clothing.

  Thankfully, he wasn’t. His friendliness was just friendliness. His interest in helping me was just an interest in helping me. Quinn liked me. When he told me he thought I had talent, he wasn’t stringing me along or trying to lure me into anything. He said he thought I was a smart girl and could be going places, and that was all he meant. He actually believed I’d be good for the Rangers Cheerleaders.

  Without ever so much as trying to put a hand on me, Quinn took me around and introduced me to people. He made sure I got into the tryouts, and he made sure people knew what he thought of me. I’m sure I pretty much owe my presence on the squad and my ability to move up to head cheerleader so fast to Quinn’s belief in me.

  That was why now, when I was in the worst trouble of my life, I saw Quinn Slattery as my best hope. If anyone could connect me with Barrett, he could.

  And if he couldn’t... No, that was unthinkable, I told myself.

  If Quinn couldn’t help me, my life could be over as I knew it. My cheerleading days would be over, and I’d have that much less to work with in making a life for myself and my baby. Barrett’s baby. I had to think positively, now of all times, and trust in Quinn the way I’d trusted in him before. Quinn just had to come through for me. He couldn’t let me down now.

  Quinn was glad to see me when I got to his office. He had his secretary hold his calls so he could give me his undivided attention. I sat down across from him at his desk.

  I had one pretext for the favor I was about to ask him. I only hoped it would work. “It’s about something I want to do for someone,” I said. “Something nice.”

  “Oh?” he replied. “What’s that? And who is it?”

  “Well,” I continued, innocently, “it’s Barrett. His birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

  Pondering, Quinn said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I thought it would be nice if some of the girls and I, and maybe some of the other players, threw him a little party. A surprise party, you know. I thought I’d make it look like a friendly gesture and invite him out someplace where we’d surprise him. So, I wanted to send him a card, a nice card, you know…”

  “You could just email him,” Quinn suggested.

  “I wanted it to be something nicer, more personal. And you know, a card in the mail is like that, nice and personal. But, I don’t have his address. So, I thought maybe you did, and you wouldn’t mind…”

  Quinn held up his hand at me and gave me the sternest look I’ve ever seen from him, which made the words pile up in my throat like crashing cars on a highway. Then and there, I knew I was a goner.

  “Hold it. Hold it right there,” he said. “Let me just stop you right there. Now, honey, you know I can’t be giving out personal information on Barrett or any of the other players. For that matter, I couldn’t be giving out personal information on you or any of the cheerleaders. We’ve got damn strict rules about that.”

  Trying to recover, I argued, “But, that must be just for the press, right? You can’t give our personal information to the media or anyone like that, or they’d be hanging out at our homes and stalking us and invading our privacy. But, this wouldn’t be giving Barrett’s information to anyone outside. It’d be strictly inside the team, right? And, I’d never give it to anyone else, you know that.”

  He stopped me again. “Inside, outside, what you want it for, it doesn’t matter, sweetheart. The rules are the rules. I don’t break the rules for anybody. That means anybody. Not even you.”

  I protested, “But�
��”

  He shook his head and made a slashing motion with his hand, as if he were the coach, giving orders on the field. “Can’t do it means can’t do it. Sorry, the rules are there for a reason. What if I gave somebody your personal contact info? How would you feel about that, huh?”

  Feeling like a sinking ship, I could only say, “But honestly, all I want-”

  “Yeah, I hear what you’re saying. And, I’m not too sure I believe it, anyway. You know this town is full of women who’d like a crack at Barrett. And, you also know we have limits to how much players and cheerleaders socialize. The rules might get relaxed sometimes, like the night before the Super Bowl, but they’re there and they don’t change. An exception like what you’re asking? That is a big frickin’ no.”

  He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know, especially about the limits around players and cheerleaders socializing. And damn it all, the mess that I was in was the exact reason those rules existed. I was doomed before I’d ever started.

  Quinn continued, “Even if I wanted to bend the rules, or ignore them for you, I couldn’t. I don’t know Barrett’s address. Only the owners know that, and you’re sure as hell not getting it out of them.”

  Going back to the analogy about cars piling up on the expressway, I now felt like a tire with a great big leak. All the air was rushing out of me. I had failed. Totally, utterly failed. What could I do now?

  With nothing else to do, I thanked Quinn for his time and did my best to hide how depressed and miserable I was as I let myself out of his office.

  I was so depressed and worried and miserable that I could hardly see anything or anyone around me when I reached the street outside Rangers headquarters. I really thought this was my best shot to find Barrett and tell him he was going to be a father. With this failure, I was out of ideas. I needed help. I needed Barrett’s help. And now where could I go? What could I do? Where could I turn?

  I’d come to Dallas thinking I could make something of my life if I just took a chance. And, it had all started in the building I’d just left.

  It was as if the headquarters of the Rangers was where my life had really started. I’d gone there looking for a chance to keep it on track. And if it came out what I’d allowed to happen to me before I could figure out a way to help myself, my visit to Quinn’s office today just might be my last. I crossed the street and was halfway down the next block when I took a look behind me at the headquarters building, as if to tell it goodbye, and down the street was something that made my eyes light up with new hope.

  He was coming out of the parking garage: tall, built, broad-shouldered, dark-haired. I knew the way he walked, the way he moved; it was unmistakable. My heart leapt and my legs followed it. I broke into a run, waving my arm and calling out to him, “Barrett! Barrett, wait! Wait!”

  I galloped down the street, shouting at him, flailing my arm, ignoring the people turning their heads and watching me speed past them like a madwoman. I had to get to the corner before the light changed! I told myself. I had to talk to him! “Barrett! Barrett!”

  Being so fixed and focused on that vision of perfect maleness, I wasn’t looking at anything else, including the man coming out of a building to one side of me as I ran frantically by. We collided, bringing up again that image of cars crashing on the freeway. The man spun and staggered away. I fell onto the sidewalk and lay there, dazed and panting. Quickly I sat up, clutching at my belly. Oh God, am I hurt? Is the baby hurt?

  The man that I’d run into knelt down beside me, offered me his hand and helped me up, asking me if I was all right. Still holding my stomach, I decided I felt all right. I seemed to have only had the wind knocked out of me. I was barely aware of telling the man I was okay as I quickly glanced at the street corner where I’d spotted that big, muscular hunk…

  He wasn’t there. Had he gone into the headquarters, to Quinn’s office? Did I dare go back there, and if I did, would Quinn tell Barrett that I’d been asking for his address? And, did I really want to have the scene that might happen next with Quinn there? Or, if we went somewhere else and I told Barrett my news, would we have to deal with Quinn being curious?

  I stared at where I thought Barrett had been. Had he even been there at all? Was it just my imagination? I could have gone back looking for him, but I’d lost my nerve. Much as I couldn’t afford to second guess msyelf, I couldn’t go back there now.

  In a choking voice, I whimpered, “Barrett…”

  The man I’d hit gave me a concerned look. I hardly knew that he was there, or that there were other curious people on the street looking at us. I hardly knew anything – except that I was still in serious trouble and my predicament was only going to get worse.

  Chapter 6

  Barrett

  I could have sworn I heard someone calling my name when I was walking to the front of the Rangers headquarters building.

  It wasn’t that much of a surprise. Fans spot me all the time. They holler out to me and honk their car horns at me. Once, there was a bus driver who stopped his bus right in the middle of traffic, opened the bus door, and yelled to me when he saw me on the street. A friendly yell, I’m glad to say, but I’ll bet it still pissed off his passengers and it got the cars backed up behind him honking.

  That’s how it is when you’re famous. You get recognized and people yell out when they see you. If you’re lucky, they’re yelling something good. I’ve mostly been lucky. I’m a popular player.

  Shrugging all that off, I went into the headquarters to see what Quinn Slattery wanted. He hadn’t gone into it on the phone.

  A couple of guys joined Quinn and me in his office – executive types, marketing and advertising reps. They were the reason for the meeting. They’d been talking with the owners of the team about a new commercial sponsorship deal. Their company, a sports drink maker, wanted an on-camera spokesman for their upcoming campaign. Naturally, since I was the hot property, the short list of spokesmen was made up of one name: mine.

  The whole thing didn’t really interest me that much. The photo shoots I’d done before were in line with my long-term plans. I’d been interested in having my own line of sportswear since I was in college and banged a fashion-design student. I thought it’d be cool, having my name on guys’ athletic gear for guys who wanted to look like me.

  The world is full of guys who want to look like me, but there aren’t necessarily that many who actually do. When there’s somebody you want to look like, but you can’t quite get there, for a lot of people the next best thing is to be associated with the name of the one you want to look like. It’s like wearing the name brings you a little closer to actually being the person or capturing some of the person’s identity. That’s why when I was in college and then went pro, I did some modeling. That was a way to get people used to seeing me posing in workout clothes, swimsuits, and so forth. The next eventual step from there would be to start my athletic fashion line.

  Hell, I’d even gone totally naked – tastefully – for the annual ESPN Magazine Nude Issue. They had to pose me carefully so my cock wasn’t in the picture, which was a challenge, considering the way I’m hung. I had to pose sideways to they didn’t shoot my whole ass. But, I’m proud to say I was the most popular subject with that year’s issue – with both women and certain men, if you know what I mean. It was all in the name of the game.

  Or, the game that I had in mind for when I retired, anyway. I’d start marketing the Barrett Porter line while I was still playing and make the transition from being a quarterback to being an exercise gear mogul when I retired. That was the plan.

  For now, though, the team owners wanted me to be the face of a sports drink. It really wasn’t the kind of thing I had in mind to do, but compared to posing nude, it ought to be a cinch. And, it would keep me on the public’s mind even during the off-season, which would keep the owners happy. Keeping the owners happy is important, even when you’re the “star” of your team. You have to work with how big you are, but not think you’re to
o big for their liking. So, I went along with it.

  The money wouldn’t hurt, either, not that I was anything like hard-up for cash.

  Handshakes were exchanged with a promise that a contract would be drawn up and sent to me, to go over with my lawyer and sign. The deal was closed, and I walked out of Quinn’s office expecting to be some millions of dollars richer than I already was. On my way out, I passed by the desk of Quinn’s secretary, Josie. She was just coming in from lunch.

  Josie was a brunette with blonde highlights. She was pretty and had my favorite kind of figure on her. The only reason I hadn’t logged a night of sack time with her was that it could have soured my relationship with Quinn. There are a few cookie jars you don’t want to stick your hands in and a few honey pots you don’t want to...you get the idea.

  So Josie – who for all I knew could have had the same thoughts about me – was just a friend. And it was as friends that we got to talking as we usually did. It was the subject of this particular talk that struck me as kind of curious.

  “You know,” said Josie, “while I was out for a quick bite, I heard something. There was a girl out there shouting your name.”

  I shrugged with the modesty that I usually put on at moments like this. “Yeah, now you mention it, I thought I heard that, too. But, I get that a lot. Fans spot me, girls see me, and they call me out. Kind of goes with the territory.”

  “But, when I heard it, I looked,” Josie said. Leaning in to me, she went on, “You know who it was?”

  By her tone I assumed she found something significant about it, so I humored her. Shrugging again, I replied, “I heard, but I didn’t see. So...who?”

  Meaningfully – though I didn’t have a clue what the meaning might be, and I’d bet she didn’t know, either – Josie answered, “Bama. You know...Brianna Majors? That Bama.”