Broken Play (4 page)

There were little lines in her forehead, where she'd wrinkled it in concern. Cass reached over and rubbed a finger over them, smoothing them out. “Nope.” He was telling the truth. It didn't change a damn thing for him. He looked over and without words he knew he and Beau were on the same page. What they wanted wasn't going to happen overnight. Fine. They could take the long road. He'd dealt with broken plays before. You readjusted and went back to the playbook. But in the end, the result would be the same. Marian would share their bed.

She sat back with a huge sigh of relief. “Okay. Now I can have dinner and enjoy it.” She laughed. “I was really worried about getting that out in the open.”

Beau patted her leg. “Don't ever be worried about talking to me or Cass about what's on your mind, Marian. We're pretty reasonable guys, despite the overwhelming testosterone we give off.”

Cass laughed with Marian. “Is that what the smell is?” he joked.

Marian couldn't believe how much she enjoyed dinner with Cass and Beau. She wasn't going to have any wine, but Cass ordered a bottle for the two of them and it didn't seem to bother Beau. He drank Coke. The amount of food the two big men ate was incredible. Without a doubt, they made their waiter's night.

They had her laughing almost nonstop. Who would have thought that the frowning Beau had such a good sense of humor? He was self-deprecating, but also very astute. And he was a master at imitations. Cass just sat back with an indulgent little smile on his face and let Beau go on. Spending time alone with them like this made it much more apparent what drew the two men together. They were much more alike than they seemed at first glance. And she liked them both immensely. Probably more than she should, just as she'd told them.

The thing was, Marian loved football, but she hated football players. Well, not really. And therein lay the problem. She found them all endlessly fascinating, modern gladiators in glitzy arenas, punishing themselves for the thrill of the game and the joy of pushing their own limits. Thrills she shared. Watching them on the field got her hot and bothered and horny. And no player had ever bothered her as much as these two. But she'd been burned, and burned badly, by players in her past. As beautiful as they were on the field, as fierce and strong and smart as she knew them to be, they couldn't be trusted. Because some of them didn't know when the game ended and the rules changed. She didn't need any man running right over her and hurting her in the process. She could work with them, but she absolutely couldn't play with them, because their rules were too different from hers.

Beau delicately wiped his mouth with his napkin as she watched. His table manners were impeccable, as were Cass's. She really liked the sort of urbane vibe they gave off here in this fancy restaurant. They were both dressed as if they'd stepped off the pages of
GQ
. Even Beau with his neck tattoos didn't seem out of place. She was a very, very lucky girl tonight, and planned to enjoy it. If she had her way, this was the last time she'd indulge her little weakness for them.

Beau caught her look and smiled. “So where do you live?” he asked nonchalantly. He must have seen something in her face because he held his hands out to his sides harmlessly. “Just wondering. I'm not going to stalk you. I swear.”

She smiled at the absurdity of even the fleeting thought. “I'm sure you have better things to do with your time.”

“Not really,” he said, shrugging. “But I'm still not going to do it.”

“Right now I've got an apartment near the stadium. But I want to buy a house.” She didn't tell them she hadn't bought a house right away because she was afraid of failure. You didn't admit that out loud, not even to yourself. But she had her feet under her now, and she was more determined than ever to stay. She could do this job. More than that, she could own this job. She knew it.

“Those new apartments they built at the same time as the stadium? I heard they were nice. They're trying to turn that into a sort of mini-city, centered around the stadium.” Cass pushed his empty plate away. “Every time I drive up and see the big Gulf Shores Complex sign I look around for the ocean. We're, like, what, almost three hundred miles from there?” He shook his head. “It's bad enough the team shares a name with one of the most famous college football teams in the South. But they had to give the stadium a stupid name, too.”

“Don't forget the American football team in Birmingham, England,” Beau added, a gleam of humor in his eyes. “I love to go online and read some of the shit those Brits have to say about us.”

“Yeah, well, I don't like going online and seeing the comparisons between a fucking English football team and an NFL franchise,” Cass grumbled.

Marian laughed. “We're actually trying to work something out with the British Birmingham team. Some mutually beneficial PR. They want a game. We said no. We're afraid you guys would literally kill someone.”

Cass gave a booming laugh that drew appreciative glances from the ladies and frowns from the men around them. “Good call. But I'd love a trip to England. Drop that in someone's ear.”

“Duly noted,” Marian told him. And she would. Sending the team captain might be a good way to cement a better relationship. Trash talk on the Internet was not the way to sell tickets or merchandise abroad, which was a nice revenue stream for the NFL.

“So where are you looking for a house?” Cass asked. “We've got a place over in Greystone.”

“I don't even know where that is,” she said with a rueful look. “I've been so busy since I got here that I haven't had time to drive around and get a feel for the city.”

Cass lowered the drink he'd been about to sip. He shook his head and sighed. “Another workaholic in the making,” he said. He set the glass down and looked at Beau. “We're going to have to take her under our wing.”

Beau nodded with a serious expression. “Yep.”

“We're going to take you around and help you find a house,” Cass said with a finality that made her pulse jump.

“Oh, no,” she said. “We're not going there, remember?”

Cass looked too innocent. He placed his hand over his heart, and Beau copied him. They reeked of insincerity. “Friends would do that for friends. We've been here for a while, we know the town better than you. And we can enlist some of the other guys to help, too. Teach you how to let loose and have fun. Let us help. Come on, what can it hurt?”

As she looked at the two of them trying so hard to look as innocent as it was possible for huge, muscular, dangerous football players to look, Marian could think of a lot of things it could hurt, starting with her heart. Dealing with them at work was one thing, but throwing herself into a closer friendship, one without benefits, was asking for trouble. She flashed back to Beau's interview earlier that day. Apparently the Rebels were indeed bringing trouble to her door, and she was finding it harder and harder not to open it and let trouble trample all over her.

“Hey, Mr. Perez!”

Beau turned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling his name. He was listening to some music but he still heard her. It was a woman he'd seen around once or twice. She was young—looked like she'd just graduated from college. She had that nerdy look that some of the guys liked, with her hair in a messy bun and black-framed glasses sliding down her nose. Her legs looked a mile long in a short skirt and some kind of socks that came to just over her knees, clunky shoes on her feet. She was pretty in a skinny, messy way. Not his type, but pretty. Problem was, he couldn't remember her name.

“Um, yeah?” he answered tentatively as she hurried up to him. As he took out his earbuds he looked over at Cass next to him, who just shrugged.

“Melody Ann Merriot,” she said with a friendly smile. “From PR.” She held out her free hand. The other was clutching a notebook and several papers against her chest.

“Hi, Ms. Merriot,” he said politely, shaking her hand carefully. She was awfully skinny and he didn't want to crush it.

“Mr. Zielinski,” she said, holding her hand out to Cass. Cass shook it as carefully as Beau had.

“Cass, please,” he said with a polished smile and his Southern-boy charm. “Mr. Zielinski makes me sound too old.”

She laughed and Beau found himself relaxing. He hadn't even realized how tense he'd gotten when he heard her call out his name. Her manner was cool and easy and friendly, and Beau breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that no one was going to yell at him. She turned back to Beau and she was all business.

“Mr. Perez—”

“Beau,” he corrected her with a quick smile.

She smiled back just as quickly. “Beau, okay. Then call me Melody Ann. We need you in PR. We've got to take advantage of your sound bite from yesterday. ESPN wants another interview, and so does the NFL Network, although I'm not sure which show they want it for. They're doing a special on mini-camps this week, but I think it's for
NFL AM
.”

Beau blinked at her a few times, then looked over at Cass to see if he knew what the hell she was talking about. He got another shrug and turned back to Melody Ann, PR girl. “What?” he asked in confusion.

His response stopped her just as she was about to say something, and her mouth hung open for a second or two. “You don't know?” she asked, equally confused. She grabbed her phone off the top of her pile of papers and held it up, screen facing out. “Hasn't your phone been blowing up?”

“I sure as hell hope my phone isn't blowing up,” he said with a little laugh. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked. He saw a little moon icon on his screen. “Oh, shit. I forgot to take it off Do Not Disturb.” He looked over at Cass. “I turned it off when we were with Marian last night.”

Cass yanked his out of his pocket and laughed. He showed Beau the same little moon on his. “I did, too.” He swiped his finger and changed the setting while Beau turned back to Melody Ann.

“Sorry,” he said. “What did we miss?” Just then Cass's phone began to beep furiously and he flipped it around again so Beau could see.

“Blowing up,” he said.

“No shit,” Melody Ann replied, rolling her eyes. “Come on. I'll show you what's going on in my office.”

Once they got into her tiny office—Beau and Cass took up all the available free space left by her desk and file cabinet—she woke up her computer and Googled Beau's name. He and Cass stood behind her watching as an entire page of YouTube clips and online-magazine stories came up, all dated the day before.

“Oh, shit,” Beau whispered. “That is not good.”

Melody Ann laughed. “No, it's not good. It's great. Watch.” She clicked on a YouTube link and Beau saw it was from ESPN.

“So, what do you think of when you hear Beau Perez's name?” one of the anchors asked the other.

“Can I say those words on TV?” the second anchor replied, and they both laughed. Beau cringed.

“Think again,” the first anchor replied. “Word on the street is he's in fighting shape this season and raring to go. Here's an interview he did today with Stan Litchfield.” They showed Beau's interview.

“Wow,” the second anchor said, obviously impressed. “He knows his team. I saw a lot of support behind him in that clip.”

“It appears so,” the first anchor said. “But what is Danny Smith going to say about it?” Both anchors laughed again. “Apparently the ‘prima donna'—Beau's words not mine—isn't responding to interview requests.”

“Apparently,” the second anchor said, mimicking the first, “Beau Perez just brought trouble to his beeping door.” They laughed again and the clip ended.

Melody Ann scrolled down to the comments. Most of them were supportive. “So?” she said, turning to look at him.

“One story on ESPN doesn't make me a star,” Beau protested. “And after a day's reflection, I don't think it's in the team's best interest to piss off Danny Smith.”

“Fuck Danny Smith,” Cass said heatedly. “You're the only Rebel they're talking about on ESPN right now besides him. I'm with Melody Ann. Let's run with it.”

She laughed again. “There's more, superstar,” she told Beau. She went back to the Google list and clicked on a couple more. His sound bite, edited with a beep, just as Cass had predicted, was the lead story on half the sports-news programs in the US. Hell, even CNN had picked it up. Then she clicked on a montage from
The Tonight Show.
Jimmy Fallon had apparently used Beau's sound bite as emphasis on every joke and comment all night. “How about Twitter?” she asked. She went to the trending topics and damn if his name wasn't third on the list. “Are you on there?” she asked.

“I think so,” he said. “But I haven't posted in ages.”

“Give me your login and password,” she told him. “I'll post as you today. You can post, too. I promise I won't post anything that will embarrass you or get you into trouble. Remember, I'm a professional.” Her last comment made him laugh and she smiled at him. “Beau, I'm serious. You are officially viral. America loves you. Run with it.”

“Run where?” he asked with a shrug.

“Leave it to me,” she said, patting his arm soothingly. “I'll take care of you.” He looked over at Cass.

“Let her take care of you,” Cass told him. “This is the best thing to happen to this team since…well, ever.” He gave Beau a serious look. “You are the best thing to happen to this team.”

Beau wasn't sure he wanted that sort of responsibility. “I'm not good at this shit.”

“No one is,” Melody Ann told him matter-of-factly. “That's why God created PR people.”

Marian looked around and wondered for the fifth or sixth time how she'd gotten into this situation. She was standing in Cass and Beau's dining room in their Greystone house waiting for Cass to return with plates and silverware. They'd bought Chinese takeout after driving her around Birmingham and showing her different neighborhoods. They'd actually looked at two houses, which Cass had arranged with his realtor that afternoon. Without telling her. She wasn't sure if she should be pissed off or glad for the help.

“Fried rice or white?” Beau asked, opening up the cartons on the table.

“Fried,” she responded automatically. She hated white rice.

Beau grinned at her. “A girl after my own heart. Cass gets the white.”

“Did you like any of the houses or neighborhoods today?” Cass called from the kitchen. “And don't give me the white rice.”

Marian laughed. “I thought I did. Until we got here.” She looked around at the impressive house. The neighborhood was gated. Beau told her they wanted the extra security. Their notoriety meant they occasionally got paparazzi or kinky stalkers. The house itself was enormous. The exterior was a combination of brick and natural stone that made the house look like it would be at home in the Rocky Mountains. But it was the interior that took her breath away.

The entire house was hardwoods—the floors, the ceilings, the trim, the built-in shelves and bookcases, even the butcher-block kitchen counters gleamed with a rich mahogany color that was warm and inviting. There were windows everywhere. It was night now, but during the day it would be an impressive sight. It seemed as if each room contained a huge stone fireplace. If she could have described her dream house, this was it. And Cass and Beau lived here. Life was so unfair sometimes. As if they hadn't already pressed all her “Yes, please” buttons. And she had to say no.

“You like it?” Cass asked, poking his head through the arch that led to the kitchen. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, but a giant antler chandelier in the den? Really?” she asked. “Isn't that a little over the top?”

“Nope,” Beau said, licking the spoon he'd just used to scoop some crispy duck onto his plate. “Manly.” Cass set down the silverware on the table and grunted in agreement. Then he pounded his chest. It was too much, and Marian broke up laughing.

“Where do you want to sit?” Cass asked her, looking up and down the table. Like everything else in the house, including the two owners, the table was huge. It could seat at least twenty. Ridiculous.

Marian didn't answer; she just picked up a giant hammered-silver bowl from the middle of the table. She carried it over to the sideboard and set it down.

“What are you doing?” Beau asked, watching her with a frown.

Cass was already smiling before she said, “Making room to sit down. This table is big enough. And far too formal for you two.”

“You want to sit on the table?” Beau asked with a laugh. “You got it.” He pulled out a chair and then held out his hand. Marian took it and climbed onto the table. She sat down cross-legged and Beau hopped up and sat down next to her. “Shove the food over here,” he told Cass.

“Yes, sir,” Cass said. “Whatever you want.” He pushed all the takeout cartons next to Beau and then he climbed up. Reaching over, he snagged a fork and handed it to Marian. “Your fork, my lady,” he said. “We just have crispy duck and moo shu pork. Too fancy for you?”

“No egg rolls?” she asked in disappointment. “I thought we ordered egg rolls.” Cass grabbed a container, opened it, and held it out so she could see inside. “Egg rolls,” she said, and pulled one out and put it on her plate.

“They get kind of soggy in the container,” Cass warned. “Want me to warm them up in the oven?”

“You are very domestic,” Marian teased him. “I had no idea you knew how an oven worked.”

“You'd be surprised at the things I know,” Cass said, waggling his brows.

“None of that,” Beau growled. “This is not a romantic dinner. Just friends having takeout. We agreed.”

Cass groaned as he carried the egg rolls back into the kitchen. “Don't remind me,” he yelled back at them.

“Thank you,” Marian said quietly, scooping moo shu pork onto her plate, not looking at Beau.

“You're welcome,” he said. “But I can't hold him off forever, you know. He's a very determined son of a bitch.”

“So am I,” she said firmly. “And I am determined not to screw up the team by getting involved with you two.”

Cass came back to the table and she steered the conversation away from their relationship status. “Mike is thrilled about Beau going viral. He said he almost had a heart attack when he saw the story on the NFL Network last night. He almost choked to death on his dinner with no one to give him the Heimlich.” Both Beau and Cass laughed. Mike was a notorious workaholic and loner. “He thinks you're a player who's going to shine under the spotlight,” she said to Beau. “What do you think?”

Beau grimaced. “I've been under the spotlight. I'm a little too tarnished to shine.”

“Nonsense,” she said, and she meant it. “I think you're going to be brilliant. There's going to be a lot of media attention on you now.” She'd been thinking about what that meant for her all day. There would definitely be no romance now, not with the press scrutinizing Beau's every move. He and Cass hated that sex tape and what it had done to their lives. They tried hard to keep their personal lives out of the limelight. No wonder Beau was reminding Cass they were going to remain nothing more than friends. A three-way romance was absolutely out of the question. And it was stupid of her to feel so let down at the thought, since she'd already told them so last night.

Before Beau could answer, there was a knock at the front door and Rebels quarterback Tyler Oakes came in without waiting for an invitation. “Hey, guys!” he called out to them. “I'm here! You said eight, right?”