Ask For It (23 page)

“You okay?”

How did she answer that question without giving away too much?

“Doing great. Minus the fact that I look like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

Trevor laughed, loud and long. The more she heard that sound the more she wanted to hear it. She needed to devise a plan to keep him in her life on a permanent basis.

“And wondering if I’m going to ever get the paint out of my hair,” she added, just so he’d laugh again.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you ran into enemy fire.”

It was entirely his fault. After fun-and-frisky-paint-ball-shed-sex she’d been ready to get home and have him all to herself. It didn’t help that he’d promised to give her a foot rub that would make her melt.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Wyatt.” She kept her tone light and teasing. “I still expect my foot massage.”

“I wouldn’t renege on a deal.”

“You two need to get a room,” Greg said from the backseat.

She glanced back and found his blue eyes alight with laughter. “We intend to. Just as soon as we drop you two goobers somewhere.”

That wiped the smirk right off his face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

December

New York City

The following day, Trevor returned to New York. He’d already dropped his mom off at her house and his brother’s had taken a cab from the airport. He was half a block from his loft when he saw a flock of paparazzi camped out on his doorstep. What the hell did those vultures want now?

He should have known that the bliss he’d felt these last few weeks wouldn’t hold. Those bastards wouldn’t stop until they’d picked him clean of every shred of privacy he possessed. He knew all too well how their questions and stories could lead a deranged woman to think she really knew him. Understood him.

His chest tightened and he struggled to breathe.

“Do you want me to circle around back, sir?” his driver asked.

“No.”

Tipping his head back, he thought of Julia’s smile. The way her eyes crinkled when she was happy and the adorable creases between her brows when she was frustrated. She thought he was brave…

He wanted to be. For her. And for himself. To prove to himself that anxiety didn’t have to win and that he was normal again. Healed. Whole.

Julia made him feel whole.

No, he was done going through the service entrance because he didn’t want to face the press. Hell, he might never be ready, but that didn’t mean he had to run from them. His business was his business.

As soon as the car rolled to a stop, bursts of light filled the Town car’s interior. Several deep breaths later, the driver popped the trunk and retrieved Trevor’s luggage.

He gave himself a quick mental pep talk, just like he had before a game. Pumping himself up, boosting his ego skyward, and telling himself he could do anything he set his mind to. Even find his bliss again.

Unfortunately, he was starting to wonder if some of his happiness was tied to Julia. He was just going to have to camp out on her doorstep until she agreed to spend eternity in his bed.

The thought brought an instant, sweeping calm and a smile to his lips.

Questions bombed him as he stepped out of the car and the flashing bulbs put him in the spotlight.

“Trevor, what’s this about you looking at property in Atlanta?”

“Are you leaving New York?”

“Why the move?”

And just like that, he went from calm to furious. This was what he’d been afraid of for the last three months. These bozos turning his relationship with Julia into a circus. Putting her in the crosshairs of some crazy person.

Though his housekeeper reported that the doorman hadn’t found any more letters in the last week, he couldn’t help but worry that history was about to repeat itself. Only this time, the woman he loved was at risk.

“No comment,” he said, reaching for his suitcase.

Without another word he pushed his way through and escaped up to his loft.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge he settled onto the low slung couch and pulled out his cell phone. He’d learned to be proactive about his security which meant protecting his privacy with an iron fist.

Unless they learned Julia’s identity he didn’t want to give her cause for concern. She was too busy to add another level of stress to her life. If he wasn’t such a greedy bastard, he’d step away from her all together until the dust settled.

Eventually she’d be done with her edits, her loft would be finished, and hopefully this latest ‘fan’ would disappear back into the woodwork. But as he mulled over the idea he knew it wouldn’t work. He needed her too much. Simple as that.

Mentally he went through everyone who knew he’d been in Atlanta and looking for a house. It was a short list. His agent didn’t even know.

JJ, her family and his family had known he was in Atlanta of course. But not the shopping part. He’d done that before he’d picked up his mom on the way out of town. While his brothers had taken her Christmas shopping, Trevor had arranged to meet with the real estate agent. He’d been careful not to utter a word about his plans. There was no use rocking the boat before anything was finalized.

That left his real estate agent, obviously. And…the real estate agent’s assistant.

After draining half the bottle he punched a button to dial the real estate agent. He hated playing the part of the rich asshole but sometimes it was called for.

“Paul Witticker,” the agent said after two rings.

“Paul. Trevor Wyatt here.”

“Mr. Wyatt, I didn’t recognize your number.”

Trevor hated the way the man had sucked up, but he came highly recommended. It annoyed Trevor that he was going to have to change his phone number again.

“We have a problem.”

“What’s that? I’ll do anything I can to help,” Witticker said quickly. Too quickly.

“When I arrived back in New York there was a posse of reporters waiting on my doorstep wanting to know why I’m looking at property in Atlanta.”

“Oh dear.”

That was it? Who said ‘oh dear’ these days?

“You don’t happen to know who could have leaked that information, do you?”

“No sir. It didn’t come from this office, I assure you.”

Trevor’s mood darkened. He really didn’t like being lied to.

“Mr. Witticker, only two people knew I was in Atlanta looking at property. So I’m reasonably sure the leak came from your office. Perhaps your young assistant was over eager.”

“I-uhh—Anthony knows our client’s privacy is of utmost importance.”

Trevor blew out a sigh. He should have known just by looking at the guy what a pompous ass he was. The bow tie should have been the first clue. His language the second. Utmost? Who said shit like that?

He decided to try a different tactic. “Look, I get it. A famous football player comes into town looking to buy a house. That’s news. I bet Anthony is even a fan. He probably told a buddy who told a buddy who happened to be a reporter.”

His phone beeped, alerting him to an incoming call on the other line. He ignored it.

“I-yes, I’m sure that’s what happened.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Trevor replied.

“I’m so glad you understand Mr. Wyatt. He meant no harm I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, well, either way, you’re fired. I need people I can count on to be discreet. It was nice meeting you Mr. Witticker.” Trevor hung up and hit the voice mail button.

His agent’s name was at the top of the list. He blew out a sigh, really not wanting to hear what Brady had to say right now. Even without listening to the message he had a pretty good idea what his agent would say.

Deciding to ignore the world for a while he ordered a pizza and stretched out to read Julia’s book again. Despite the initial seizing of his heart when she’d mentioned the premise of her book, she was a brilliant writer. Her pacing was flawless and the attention to detail, it was like she’d lived the story herself.

Other than the car accident there were no similarities between him and the hero of the book. Where the hero had been a quarterback, married and very much in love, well, Trevor wasn’t a quarterback or married…yet. And the hero struggled through the physical therapy to rejoin the sport he loved.

Trevor had thrown in the towel. Sighing, he stared out at the city. Fuck, if he didn’t feel like a quitter. But quitting had really been his best option. His only option. It wasn’t like he’d ever be as fast as he’d been. It was a God damn miracle he didn’t walk with a limp. And he set off every metal detector he walked through, thanks to all the pins in his leg. His knee and shoulder still ached when it rained.

No, it was better to go out on top and leave a legacy.

He was halfway through the book when his phone rang again. Deciding he couldn’t avoid Brady forever, he answered the call.

“What’s this about you moving to Atlanta?”

Yep. He’d totally called it. Damn, he hated being right sometimes.

“I’m not moving to Atlanta. I’m buying a house there.”

“This is about her, then. The journalist?”

“Of course.”

“Does she know what you’re planning?”

“Not yet. Soon.”

“Don’t you think you should see if she even wants you down there before you go dropping change in an unstable real estate market?”

Like he had anything else to do with all his money. And he was sure that Julia wouldn’t mind if he had a place closer to her. Absolutely sure. That week he’d spent with her before she’d moved told him as much.

“Look, I fired the real estate agent I was using. Someone from his office opened their mouth. Find me someone else. A straight shooter who can keep his mouth shut. I want to move on this before the holidays.”

“Christ that’s soon.”

Not soon enough as far as Trevor was concerned. Other than family, there was really no reason to be in New York all the time. And he was starting to like the southern climate. Whereas they were predicting snow for the city this weekend, Julia had left for her morning jog wearing a t-shirt.

“Find me somebody.”

“All right. Do me a favor and talk this over with her.” There was a pause. “Before it blows up in your face.”

“Why would it blow up in my face?” A feeling of unease prickled him.

“I don’t know. Women can be finicky. Ask my ex-wife.”

“Look, as soon as I have an agent I like, and houses I like, I plan to take her with me to pick one out.”

“Oh my god. You’re playing house.”

“Brady…”

“Stay by the phone,” his agent said before the call disconnected.

Half an hour later the phone rang again.

“Who have you got for me?”

“Just what you asked for. A straight shooter who can keep his trap shut. The only reason I know he’s worked with other players is because they’re my clients and I called them to ask. Evidently his whole family is in the business and he’s the go to guy for the Hawks and Falcons. Geez. Those southerners really love their birds.”

“They’re birds of prey, Brady,” Trevor reminded him.

“Got a pen?”

Trevor stalked into his office. “Yeah.” He took down the name and number.

“He’s expecting your call.”

“Thanks Brady.”

“What do you want me to tell all the reporters who are calling.”

“Tell them my personal life is none of their business.”

“Will do.”

Trevor ended the call and punched in the agent’s number. A smooth masculine voice with a soft southern accent answered. “Justin Sherwood.”

“Mr. Sherwood, Trevor Wyatt here. I understand you’re the man to talk to about a house.”

“I like to think so, yes. What are you looking for?”

Trevor really had no idea except that he wanted a big yard and a shower he didn’t have to duck to get into. He told the real estate agent that and heard a brief laugh. “And gated. Privacy is important. Reporters are parasites,” he said and instantly felt guilty. He really meant the paparazzi.

He didn’t lump Julia into that group, but still…

“Okay then. Let me get to work and I’ll be in touch. Is this a good number to reach you?”

“Yes.”

It was almost nine that night when Justin sent him links to five houses that fit Trevor’s requirements. He knocked one off the list for being too far out of town. The other was old and covered with wallpaper. He didn’t want Julia feeling the need to tackle a home deco project. He wanted her attention on him.

JJ was about ready to draft her resignation when Cindy called Sunday. John was the most insufferable bastard she’d ever met. At one point in time he’d been a decent writer, but good heavens. Being in the editor’s seat gave the jerk too much power. And he never bothered to curb his sexist view point. No wonder his wife had left him.

“Please tell me you’re bringing over a case of wine and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s,” she said by way of greeting.

“Oh, honey. What’s going on?”

“John.”

The single word said enough. How sad was that?

“What’d he do this time?”

“And I quote, ‘I heard you had brass balls, Fairchild. Don’t get soft on me.’” JJ growled in frustration.

“You don’t really need to keep working there you know. You’ve got your book now. And you could always expand your freelancing. Or maybe you and Greg could get another house to flip this year.”

JJ wanted to agree with everything Cindy was saying, even if buying an extra property would kill her at tax time.

The truth was she’d dreaded every moment of her job this year. It was monotonous. One game bled into another. Stats, stats, stats. Interview after interview. A revolving door of players, injuries, trades and scandals. More numbers and then her words, trying to weave them into something that would interest anyone.

“I know. What’s up?” she asked.

“What’s this I saw about Trevor looking at property in Atlanta?”

JJ sat up in bed and gripped her cellphone a little tighter.

“What are you talking about?”

“Adam and I were on the phone as he was checking his feeds. There was a snippet about Trevor looking at property here in Atlanta.”

Cindy’s words made JJ’s heart beat a little faster. Could it be true? Why hadn’t he said anything?