Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (19 page)

• • •

As she sat on the front steps and stared at
the spot down the street where his car had disappeared from view,
she pleaded with herself not to analyze things. Or at least not for
a few precious minutes. Her body was so happy. So blissfully
satisfied and lazy and relaxed. Why let her brain sabotage it?

All she had honestly expected was a lesson.
Some provocative verbal sparring. And maybe if she was really,
really lucky, a kiss and the hint of more to come. But making hot,
sweet love with Wyatt Bourne?

In her wildest dreams, she hadn’t imagined
that. Or at least not in the way it had happened.

Even better, it wasn’t a one-shot thing. He
wanted to quote-unquote start seeing her. To get his obligation out
of the way so he could concentrate on romance. Take her to dinner.
He had even asked her to wear her embassy dress, which clearly
meant he had had some serious fantasies from that first night at
the fundraiser.

Wow
.

If only he hadn’t pulled out it would have
been the most perfect human interaction in history.

Oh my God!
she accused herself
angrily.
What difference does it make? You had great sex.
He
had great sex.
Every
one had great sex. Please, don’t
overthink it.

But wasn’t that the point? They had had
great sex individually but not together. After coming so close, he
had consciously chosen something just as satisfying but ultimately
impersonal, at least compared to what they had been destined to
have.

“He’s right,” she fumed aloud. “You
literally can’t be satisfied. Because we both know it was the best
sex you ever had. And you’re
criticizing
it?”

Closing her eyes, she forced her thoughts
back to the lessons. How adorably sincere and dedicated he had been
as he drew his sketches for her, never knowing that most of her
attention was on his muscled forearm, his warm breath, his
incredible nearness.

And to the extent some of the information
had seeped through she had loved that too. Seeing the game through
his eyes, she could feel how much these men loved this sport. She
could even understand why some women honestly seemed to love it.
Not just because the players were hunks, but because of the
choreography, the structure, and most of all, the potential for
unscripted greatness. A blocked play, an interception. A stupendous
athlete like Wyatt, whose vision down the field showed him things
no mortal was supposed to see.

It almost made her want to watch the AFC
championship game, but the allure of climbing back into bed and
smelling QB on her sheets was even stronger.

Was she actually dating the infamous
Surgeon?

The thought made her wince. As a woman, it
was all good. As a sports agent, wasn’t it a bit more complicated?
And as an agent for PMA?

Extremely
complicated.

Which meant, she had to call Murf.

Chapter Six

Wyatt had said he wanted to start seeing her
“beginning next week.” Wasn’t that a loophole? Why alert her boss
to something that hadn’t even happened yet?

Of course, things had changed after he spoke
those words, mostly because he made the classic mistake of fondling
her under her shirt . . .

She laughed at the memory of his shocked
expression. The great Surgeon momentarily speechless. He had been
so sure they were fake. So sure her eye color had been augmented as
well.

“Because he didn’t want to be attracted to
you,” she reasoned fondly. “But he was. Right from the start. And
now that he’s going for it, he’s
really
going for it.
Dating, dinners, all kinds of wooing, even though he could just get
away with—well, anything.”

It was true, wasn’t it? She was so hot for
him, she would gladly fall into bed at a moment’s notice. Still,
dating sounded like so much fun. Bantering over dinner, long walks
in the moonlight, spending the night in each other’s arms—

Hence the need to call Murf.

When her phone rang at that moment, she was
sure her boss’s ears were burning, but the screen told her it was
Bam Bannerman’s fiancée. Which made sense, since Darcie had texted
her that morning about the house hunting.

“Rachel?”

“Hi, Darcie. I got your message. Thanks so
much for helping us find a house. What would we do without
you?”

“It’s fun. Especially because your tastes
are so different from Bam’s. Or at least according to him. I love a
good challenge.”

“I can be happy anywhere, but you’re right,”
she said with a wry laugh. “He wants a showplace, I’m more the
cottage type. But really, as long as
he
lives there, I’m in
heaven.”

Darcie sighed, knowing this wasn’t just a
platitude. She had seen Rachel look at the guy, and honestly? It
was like they were in their own little world at such moments.
Didn’t even
need
a house. Just each other.

“I’m determined to find the perfect place.
No compromises. So I need your input.”

“Ask me anything. Or better still, come for
a visit.”

“Pardon?”

“Vince wants us to get to know each other.
And I want that too. He and Sean rave about you, you know. So does
Erica. I need my own Darcie stories.”

“I’d love that,” Darcie admitted. “And I
love
San Diego. So pick a day and I’m there. With tons of
photos since I screened a variety of properties so I could pick
your brain about details.”

“What about Tuesday? We could meet at
Vince’s condo after school and go from there. Food, drinks, the
beach—we can talk houses anywhere, right? And Vince works out with
Jason Spurling on Tuesday afternoons, so I’ll have you to myself
for a few hours.”

“
Jason
Spurling?”

“Johnny’s brother. He plays for the
Chargers.”

“That sounds familiar. Does Murf represent
him?”

“Hmmm . . . I don’t think so.
Which is strange now that you mention it.”

Darcie could almost hear the wheels turning
in Rachel’s brain. A kindred spirit apparently, never able to let
things go. “I can tell we’re going to be good friends, Rachel. So
Tuesday it is. It’s the address we have in Bam’s file, right?”

“Right. I’ll rush home for sure. Thanks,
Darcie.”

Darcie said good-bye and hung up, pleased
about the new friendship, and especially pleased to have something
else to report to Murf, even though news of her relationship with
the Surgeon would eclipse everything else.

Smiling, she checked his calendar. Miami,
after which he’d go to Boston and then Philadelphia. Darcie knew
exactly why he was traveling more than usual. Emily’s mom was
spending ten days in Dallas and, while Genevieve and Murf were fond
of each other, the woman was so chatty—not to mention
breathtakingly irresponsible—even Emily pleaded exhaustion after a
few days.

Such a shame,
Darcie decided as she
instructed her phone to “Call Murf’s cell.” In a perfect world,
Genevieve could watch the children so Emily and Murf could get
away. But Emily had learned her lesson with the first baby and now
didn’t trust her mom to pay adequate attention.

“Hey, Darcie!” boomed Murf’s cheerful voice.
“I’m sitting on a beach with a martini. Fly out and join me. We’ll
come up with a business excuse later.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a laugh.
“Any news from the Genevieve front?”

“My poor wife. Actually, you should fly
there
. Just show up at the door and pretend you didn’t know
we had company She’d appreciate the rescue.”

“Nice try, but I don’t have Em’s patience.
Can’t you see me gagging your poor mother-in-law?”

“I’ll double your base salary this minute if
you’ll do that,” he assured her. Then he asked warily, “Things are
still good with the job, right?”

“I love it. That’s why I’m calling,
actually. With a two-part report. First, I’m meeting Rachel in San
Diego on Tuesday to go over photos from my house-hunting trip.”

“Excellent.”

“She’s so sweet, Murf. How did she and a
rascal like Bam ever get together?”

“Love’s a mystery,” he agreed. “Speaking of
which, I hear you had dinner with Sean Decker last week. How was
that?”

She winced at the subtle hope in his tone.
Apparently he agreed with Johnny and Bam despite the way he had
scolded
her
when she raised the issue of Sean’s
availability. “Like you said,” she drawled, “his relationship with
Kerrie is a serious matter. Plus he’s a client, right?”

“I never said you couldn’t date clients.
Especially
that
one. It’s rough seeing him so miserable,” he
added stubbornly.

“Wow.”

“What I mean, obviously, is Kerrie’s great.
If she’d just get on with the divorce, that would be fine. But
what’s she waiting for?”

“You guys are brutal.
Anyway . . .” She imitated his light cough, mostly
to warn about the change in subject. “There’s something else. I
hate to ask, but can you keep it confidential? From Emily, I
mean?”

“No problem. What’s up?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “You’re supposed
to tell each other
everything
. Didn’t you guys get the
memo?”

“Am I keeping it confidential or not?”

“Yes, please.” She felt a twinge of
foreboding. “I might be dating someone else. It’s a little soon to
tell, but since he’s in the sports world, I wanted to give you a
heads-up.”

“You
might
be dating him? What’s
missing? Monkey dance?”

“Oh, my God,” she groaned. “I’m begging you,
please
stop calling it that.”

He chuckled. “Well?”

“It’s Wyatt Bourne.”

Murf’s silence roared across the airwaves
for a few long, ominous seconds. Then he murmured, “I’m actually
surprised it took this long.”

“Really? After that debacle on the
plane?”

“I caught him looking at you a couple of
times at the fundraiser. Specifically looking at your ass,” Murf
said dryly.

“Do you disapprove?”

“As your boss, no. As your friend? I’m not
sure. How long has it been going on?”

“It won’t officially start until next
Saturday,” she said teasingly. “But meanwhile, I saw him last
Sunday, and again today. He’s taking it slow. Emotionally, I mean.
Which is good, right?”

Murf sounded cautious. “I don’t really know
the guy. No one does. But I trust your instincts, so no, I don’t
disapprove. It’s odd though,” he mused. “He knows you’re with John,
so that’s a red flag.”

“You mean John Spurling? How am I with
him?”
she demanded, laughing. “You, maybe. And definitely
Bam. But Johnny?”

She expected Murf to laugh too, but instead,
he reminded her, “Bourne attracts a ton of media attention just for
getting out of bed in the morning. So if they catch wind of a new
girlfriend—especially a sports agent—it’ll be splashed everywhere.
Which could be good for your visibility, but I’d want to give John
a heads-up. Sean and Bam too. All of our clients actually. The
question is, when do I do it?”

“It’s too soon,” she told him quickly. “But
if next Saturday’s dinner date goes well—sheesh, you’re right. I
wouldn’t want the guys reading about it in the paper. And Sean
can’t
stand
Wyatt, so I’d want to break it to him
personally. Ugh . . .”

“So that’s the plan. Mind if I ask why you
haven’t told Emily? You two usually carve up your dates like dead
chickens.”

“Lovely,” she drawled, regretting the web
she was weaving by telling her best friend half the story and her
boss—and almost best friend—the other half. So she said with a
sigh, “Em wouldn’t approve.”

“Why? The ego thing?”

“Maybe the aloofness,” Darcie suggested
carefully. “That’s the rap on him, right? Johnny’s a team player,
Wyatt’s a lone wolf.”

“Which obviously isn’t true. It always takes
a team. But yeah, that’s the hype.” Murf exhaled sharply. “I’ll
wait until I hear from you. Just don’t sign him with PMA without
checking with me.”

“He still thinks I’m hopeless in the
football department, so no worries. And like I said, it could be
over before it starts. I just wanted to mention it up front.”

“I appreciate that, kid. Anything else?”

“Just a quick question: why isn’t Johnny’s
brother one of our clients?”

“That’s not a quick question,” he drawled.
“Ask me again in person. And meanwhile, he’s another one you
shouldn’t sign without checking with me. If he asks you—or worse,
if his
wife
asks you—just tell them you don’t have signing
authority but you’ll talk to me about it. I’ll take it from there.
Got it?”

Darcie wanted to pry for details, but
decided she already had enough mystery men in her life. If Johnny
and his brother didn’t get along, or if the wife was a
problem—which Murf had implied—she’d find out soon enough.

In person.

“There’s no danger of me signing anyone, I
promise. I have my hands full with Bam.”

“And the Surgeon?” Murf chuckled. “I still
can’t believe you called him Doctor.”

“Let it go.”

He chuckled again. “Thanks for keeping me
informed, kid.”

“My pleasure. Bye, Murf. Don’t forget the
sunscreen.”

• • •

She didn’t expect to hear from Wyatt during
the week and that instinct was confirmed by his silence. No flowers
either, so she bought some for herself—pink roses with sprays of
baby’s breath—set them on the coffee table, and spent quality time
with her new lover by watching his triumph in the AFC championship
game.

Murf’s observation from the night of the
fundraiser rang came back to her:
His team should have been on
life support but thanks to the Surgeon they almost won it all.
Even a novice like Darcie could see it was true as she watched the
nail-biter of a game. Wyatt virtually willed them into a win by
being un-sackable, unstoppable, and unpredictable. Sure, he used
the very plays he had drawn up for her on paper, but he modified
them on the fly.