Wicked Player

by Lynn, Stacey

  Her friendly grin widened. "Thanks," she said. "I bought it today."

  The brunette, who I knew was Shannon Powell, laughed uproariously. "You dork,” she exclaimed. "You don't tell people you got a spray tan."

  Paige playfully rolled her eyes and I smiled at the banter between the two friends. This was a conversation I would have with Amanda or one of my brother’s wives.

  “That's ridiculous. Why do I care if anyone knows I have a spray tan?"

  Shannon rolled her eyes and her voice dropped an octave. “Because it's uncouth. And tonight we are supposed to be the belles of the ball." She burst into another round of laughter and this time Paige followed her.

  "I think you're the dorky one," Paige replied.

  "Ladies." A stern warning came from the corner. Oliver stood straight like a statue, hands shoved into the front pockets of his tuxedo pants. He wasn't looking at his wife or his sister-in-law, though. His dead serious glare was pinned on me, and when I met his through the elevator doors, they dropped to my press badge.

  I looked away from him, unable to withstand the intensity. Clearly, I wasn't to be trusted listening to them.

  “Yes, ladies. If we’ve told you once, your father and I have told you a hundred times. No bickering in public.” Beaux’s faux parental voice made me crack a smile.

  He was standing closest to me, and as the girls fell into more laughter, I sent him a grateful smile.

  He flashed me a wink. “Don’t worry about the surly man in the mirror. We forgot to remove the stick from his ass.”

  “Beaux—”

  He lifted a hand, palm out in Oliver’s direction, and grinned at me. Pointing to my badge, he declared, “Off the record of course.”

  His tone was teasing, but a seriousness lurked behind his eyes. He might have been teasing, but he wasn’t joking.

  I covered my badge. “What happens on the elevator stays on the elevator. Promise.”

  “In that case.” He flung out his arm and wrapped it around his wife’s waist, yanking her to him.

  Her hands slammed to his chest and she bent backward. I jumped out of the way so she didn’t hit me. “Don’t you dare kiss me, Beaux Hale. You’ll ruin my makeup.”

  “Woman. What is this hell? I have to wear a tux and I don’t get to make out—“

  “Gross,” Shannon groaned. “You’re going to make me vomit.” She caught my eye and grinned. “Don’t mind him. He might be an adult, but he’s nothing more than an overgrown ball of dweebiness and hormones.”

  It was all I could do to hide my smile. “No offense taken,” I assured her.

  She held out her hand then and pleasantly smiled. "Shannon Powell and I’ve seen you on the news before. You’re very sweet."

  "It's nice to meet you, Shannon," I said. "Elizabeth Hayes and thank you.”

  She dropped my hand and then slid it to the back of her husband. “I think it's lovely that Gage has allowed reporters to follow him over the next couple weeks. He really believes in what he's creating, and I'm glad that everyone in the state will be a part of it."

  "Trust me, I'm just as honored to be here tonight, and I believe the children will be when they can play in their new wing." The doors dinged as I was finished talking, and I stepped out of the elevator quickly to allow them to exit. Shannon fell in step next to me. She carried an ease about her, devoid of any pretense that she was married to one of the richest athletes in the country.

  She looped her hand around my arm like we’d been friends for decades and hadn’t just met. “And don’t let Oliver scare you. He’s distrustful of pretty much everyone.”

  “Woman—” he growled, walking right behind us.

  She winked at me. “See? He’s such a pain in the ass.”

  “And if you don’t stop talking shit about me to a reporter, it’s your ass that’s going to be feeling pain later.”

  “Oh.” She shivered and nudged her elbow into me. “That sounds delightful.” She reached out with her other hand, threaded her fingers with her husband’s. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

  He gave her a beleaguered sigh, but his patience with his wife ended when our eyes met.

  Before he could glare at me again, I pulled away from Shannon. “I’m here to follow Gage and write a story on the children’s wing. I promise that’s it.” And because I couldn’t help myself, I continued. “There will be no mentioning spankings. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab a drink and find my table.”

  “I’ll come find you later,” Shannon said. “I might not know you—but I like you.”

  “Same,” I replied and halted my steps so they could continue.

  “Enjoy your evening,” Paige said to me. Beaux flashed me his sweet, All-American boy smile.

  “Enjoy your tan.”

  She laughed sweetly and waved her hand in the air as they passed by. “Will do!”

  I waited until they were in the restaurant and took a minute to calm myself.

  All four of them were as down to earth as anybody I’d ever met. With the exception of Oliver, possibly nicer. And if their friendliness was any indication of how the night would go, perhaps I’d be able to enjoy myself and not be so fixated on Gage Bryant after all.

  Nine

  Gage

  “Wow, Gage, honey. This is marvelous.” My mom’s hand pressed firmer on my forearm. I was escorting her into the Hills hotel restaurant and reception room where tonight’s event would soon start.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  It didn’t matter how many fancy restaurants I took my parents to or what presents I bought them, including the new Enclave SUV for her last year. I’d wanted to buy her something nicer, something more luxurious. With everything my parents had been through, and as much they’d always supported me, I always wanted her to have the best.

  I also knew she’d refuse, concerned it wouldn’t look good for the pastor’s wife of a small, country church in Ohio to drive around in something so ‘excessive,’ as she called it.

  I disagreed but respected her enough to get her something new and shiny but something she’d also feel comfortable driving around.

  That was Sue and Graham Bryant. Simple pleasures. Gentle lives full of love and serving and gratitude.

  “You done good, son,” my dad said as we came to a stop.

  A waiter appeared in front of us carrying a tray filled with champagne.

  “No thank you,” I told him. “But can you have someone bring us some sparkling waters?”

  “Certainly Mr. Bryant.”

  “It’s always so weird when they call you that instead of me,” my dad said, playfully teasing me. His smile fell. “Not kidding, son. We’ve told you this a lot, but this, what you’re doing, and what you’re pouring your wealth into…well, we want you to know that you could do nothing for the rest of your life and we’ll always be so darn proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I let go of my mom’s hand in order to pull my dad to me. I grew up in a strict home, forced to not only follow the rules of the house but be a good example outside of it lest I brought any shame to my parents.

  While I never necessarily got pissed about it, it was a lot of responsibility to put on a kid. And that was the crux of most of my life, because in so many ways, I was still that kid, not wanting to embarrass them.

  They’d always love me, but I never wanted to bring negative attention to their purpose and calling.

  Hence the membership at Velvet and why continuing anything with Elizabeth was a bad idea.

  Perhaps the first bad idea I was still going to follow through with.

  I walked them around the room, guiding them toward our table. We stopped and spoke with several players, their wives who embraced my mom in their arms like she was theirs, too.

  It’s how my parents were. Regardless of religious affiliation or lack thereof, people met my mom and immediately felt pulled to her. Like they’d always had her smiles and goodness and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in their lives.
>
  By the time I had them at our table where we’d sit with the Rough Rider’s coaches and wives or girlfriends, I’d already clocked Elizabeth.

  Somehow, in a room of hundreds, her presence was still a vibrant beacon.

  She was off to the far side, halfway to the bar, a flute glass in her hand. Even from the distance separating us, I found her easily. It unsettled me. One night of perfect sex shouldn’t have me so on edge.

  I’d never before been drawn so forcefully to a woman. Sure there were women who would play the game, go digging for a guy with deep pockets and do it fluidly without the man knowing if he was even being conned, but those women had never been attractive to me.

  This woman played no games and after considering her reactions to me earlier, spending way too much time after the hospital thinking about her, there was no way she recognized me from the other night.

  Which meant as long as I kept my distance with her professionally, I could still see her personally.

  But that meant I was forced to keep my distance, and I didn’t very much like that idea, either.

  She was talking to a man I didn’t know, but another reporter based on the badge draped around his neck that matched hers.

  Her body called to me. Wrapped deliciously in a black dress, one of her arms was completely bare. The sleeve of the other was loose and sheer but classy. A line slashed from that shoulder to just over her breast on the other side. It hung loosely on top, gathered at her trim waist and then was skin tight from what I could see, down to the floor.

  She had to have on at least six-inch heels to make herself appear so much taller.

  I wanted to rip them off her feet. I liked her smaller size. She was petite. She had a personality ten times larger than her height and a beauty that surpassed it all.

  “She’s pretty,” my mom said. Her gaze was on Elizabeth.

  Shit. I was doing a bang-up job of keeping my distance.

  “She’s a reporter covering the story.”

  “Hmm.”

  I peered at my mom. She might have been sweet and kind but biting her tongue wasn’t her strong suit. “What?”

  She grinned at me over the edge of her champagne flute that held sparkling water. “I didn’t say anything.”

  I gave her a look. “That sound said enough.”

  “If you say so.” She laughed lightly and I bent, kissed her cheek. “Don’t you need to speak soon?”

  “Yeah. You bring your tissues?”

  “Always have them when you speak of this, honey. And I know your dad said earlier how proud we are of you, but I just want you to know, if Harrison was here, he would have grown up looking to you like his real-life hero, and he would have chosen a man worthy of that honor to look up to.”

  Damn her. Making me teary-eyed and emotional before I spoke was plain evil.

  “Mom. If Harrison survived, don’t you know I would have spent my life looking to him as the real-life hero?”

  After all, that would have meant he defied death.

  “Darn it.” She sniffed and opened her clutch. “You weren’t supposed to make me cry yet.”

  I kissed her cheek again and hugged her quickly. “You started it.”

  She slapped my back. “Such a child. Go. Make us proud.”

  Which meant when I walked away from my mom, my dad taking over his job of hugging her as I passed her over, I went to the stage not thinking of Elizabeth and what I wanted to do to her at Velvet as soon as fucking possible, I went focused on the entire damn reason and purpose for the night.

  My mom was a miracle worker without even realizing it.

  Or, perhaps she was just that damn smart and knew exactly what she’d done.

  I wouldn’t put either past her.

  * * *

  I gave my welcome speech and promised the reporters I would give them a few minutes to ask the questions that I didn't get to answer yesterday due to my hasty departure. We ate dinner and once the music kicked in afterward, several of the player’s wives took to the dance floor.

  I was in the middle of a conversation with David Cumber and his wife Kassy, the owners of the Rough Riders. We’d spent most of the conversation talking about the season and the upcoming game, but as much as I loved football, there was only one thing on my mind for most of the night.

  Like a moth to a flame, I knew exactly where Elizabeth was every minute of the evening. My sudden obsession with her should have bothered me more, but for some reason, I couldn't find the reason that would make me stay away.

  "Don't you agree, Gage?”

  I had no clue what David had just said. Based on the grin Kassy wore, she knew exactly where my attention had drifted. Hard not to figure out considering I was still fixed on Elizabeth.

  "I think Mr. Bryant has other, more interesting things on this mind tonight, dear, than continuing to talk about this weekend's game."

  Kassy winked at me.

  "I can assure you, sir, we are more than prepared for the match on Sunday against Nashville." I flashed Kassy a grateful smile silently thanking her for saving my butt. Wouldn’t exactly do to have the owner of my team, the man partially responsible for signing my checks and ensuring I have a job next season, to think I was blowing him off.

  Kassy placed her hand on her husband’s arm. "Come on honey, I'm sure Gage has other things and other people to see to this evening. Let’s go bore someone else to tears with your football knowledge."

  He gave his wife an unhappy look, one with much more bark than bite. Kassy threw her head back and laughed, pulling him with her as she stepped away. “Enjoy your evening, Gage. Tonight is a huge success. You should be very proud of yourself and what you’ve accomplished.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Ah, and see, she has manners for everyone but her husband.” David rolled his eyes but easily wrapped his arm around his wife’s lower back. “And I’ll end this conversation with, she’s exactly right, and my wife usually is. You should be proud of what you’re doing. I know I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you, sir. And if you could go proclaim my awesomeness to my parents, that’d be great. I don’t believe they ever tire of hearing it as well.”

  He tipped his head toward me, grinning widely. The Kempers knew my parents well, considering mine visited as often as they could and when they did come, they always insisted on seeing the Cumbers. “That we can surely do.” He turned to Kassy. “Unless my wife thinks that conversation would be boring as well.”

  “Oh no. I always enjoy talking about Gage’s talents and awesomeness.”

  They walked away, leaving me shaking my head. For owners of such a huge organization, as well as richer than rich, they were sweet and so down to earth, I often assumed they spent the days sitting around watching Netflix and sports, drinking American beers much like every other red-blooded American couple.

  They’d both come from small towns, met in college, fell in love immediately, and were married right after college despite many objections due to their young age. Yet they’d now been married for forty years, had three grown kids and a slew of grandchildren. Every time I was in David’s office, he had a new family picture with more chubby infant or toddler faces included in the framed photo.

  Yeah, they were good people. And I was honored to know them, even if they thought the same of me.

  I waited until they were at my parents, David cordially placing his hand on my mom’s shoulder to get her attention, and then mine swung to the other side of the restaurant.

  As I found Elizabeth, she was setting down another glass, still not drinking champagne. She nodded down at the couple she’d been speaking to and even from this distance, I was able to make out the words her lips were forming.

  Excuse me.

  She turned to leave, but it wasn’t her I focused on as she did. Connor Hopkins, the asshole reporter from earlier, who’d clearly upset her based on her body language and facial expression, was standing at one end of the bar, his eyes on her ass as she l
eft the room.

  He smirked, said something to the bartender, and was quickly handed two glasses of champagne.

  That smirk of his made me move to follow him. He was closer to the exit, and I was stopped multiple times by people who wanted my attention, but I brushed them all off as politely as I could.

  It wasn’t that Connor watched Elizabeth leave.

  It wasn’t even that he had champagne in his hand, even though I’d noticed she’d only had one glass of champagne all night.

  No, the thing that had me fighting against forcefully shoving people out of the way to get to him, wasn’t his actions, but the look in his eyes.

  It was the look of a lineman right before the blitz. The one that said, “I’m going to fuck you up and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  And any look like that in a man’s eyes directed toward a woman was never a good thing.

  Ten

  Elizabeth

  Fresh air.

  It wasn’t so much an urgent need to step outside after I used the restroom, but I was still hot and uncomfortable.

  Good gracious. A night of even being in the room with Gage was too much for this girl to handle. Multiple times I’d caught his eyes on me. During his speech, he’d found me more than once, eyes pinning me to my seat every time he did with an intensity I’d only ever felt once in my life.

  Not seen, because when it happened, I’d been blindfolded.

  It was too much. Too distracting. I’d fought through polite necessities all through dinner, attempting to focus on the speech, all while trying to remember my questions for later, but also trying to forget the man from last night.

  The sex had been incredible, and Gage was clearly the hottest man alive East of the Mississippi. Since it’d been awhile, that sex had just turned on my libido and it was now focusing on Gage.