Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1) (10 page)

He scowled at her. “I can do this on my own.”

She snorted. “Not likely. I’m not letting you out of my sight until the interview is over. Change.”

He folded his arms and sat on the desk.

She sighed. “Seriously? Are you shy? You walk around naked in locker rooms all the time. And believe me buddy, I’ve seen you naked. I’m not going anywhere. Move it.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Ms. Kendall? We’re waiting on you.”

She opened the door a crack and peered out. “We’re finishing our prep. Be right there.”

Jason heaved a sigh and started unbuttoning his shirt. Stacia’s mouth dried as he slowly revealed the muscular chest that she had thoroughly explored only a few night before. Her face burned and she closed her eyes, mentally counting to ten, trying to calm her racing pulse. She opened them and Jason was slipping the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the smooth tanned skin of his torso. She hadn’t fully appreciated him in the dim lighting of the hotel room, too eager for the main attraction. She had really missed out.

Her hands itched to trace the ridges of muscle, to feel the warmth of his skin, to taste…

She shook her head, clearing the images from her mind. Now wasn’t the time for sexual fantasies. She looked up and saw Jason staring at her, a smirk on his face, as if he could read her mind. His hand moved to his pants and her face flamed further.

She fumbled for the doorknob and turned it. “I, uh, think you have it. I’ll be outside.”

His laughter followed her out the door. “Coward.”

A few moments later, she had her breathing under control. Jason opened the door and slipped outside. “Better, boss?”

She ran her eyes over his body, looking for any flaws. Her eyes widened when she saw a telltale bulge in his pants. He grabbed her arm and stalked down the hall. “Stop looking at me like that or we’ll never make the press conference.”

She grinned, the day looking a little brighter than it had a few minutes ago. He was as affected as she was. Maybe she had a future as a femme fatale after all.

She stumbled along after him, trying not to trip in her heels. “Grouchy today, aren’t we? Okay, we’re not going to allow many questions. We certainly want to avoid any discussion of your personal life. So, don’t say anything for those questions, got it? If you’re asked, just grin and deflect it, or change the subject. Don’t give in to their baiting.”

“Relax, Stacia.” He stopped the headlong rush and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her words. “I’ve done hundreds, if not thousands, of interviews. I can handle this.”

A subtle whiff of expensive perfume and the sudden stiffening in Jason’s shoulders indicated that Miranda Callahan had just walked up. Stacia turned. The owner’s daughter was dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit and followed closely by Cole Hammonds.

Jason stepped past her and held out his hand. “Ms. Callahan. Nice to see you again.” He nodded curtly. “Hammonds.”

Cole humpfed and shot Stacia a look. “Manners have improved. Slightly. Are you ready for the dog and pony show?”

She turned on the politician’s daughter’s smile, the one she used at all political events. “We sure are.”

Miranda and Jason walked out onto the stage, Cole leading the way to the podium. Flashbulbs began flashing and Stacia blinked rapidly, praying Jason wouldn’t blow it. After the brief announcement, Cole stepped to the side, leaving Jason at the microphone.

“Mr. Friar, can you shed any light on the allegations about your illegitimate daughter? Where is she now? Are you finally supporting her financially?”
Flash

Stacia winced and Cole scowled.

“Mr. Friar, you’re as well-known for your off-field antics as for your sparkling plays at first. Do you feel those activities contributed to your injury and decline in your career?”
Flash

She glanced at her watch and then out at Cole. She gestured to end it but he stood there glowering. God, it was worse than a reality housewives television show.

“Mr. Friar, is there any truth to the rumors that you’re flat broke from years of drug use and partying?”
Flash

Shit, not the drug use. Jason, shut up. She prayed to a God she barely knew, but she would have sacrificed all of her unborn children if he would stop the bloodbath in front of her. Jason’s face had gotten progressively harder, as if carved from granite, and his eyes promised retribution. But he held his tongue. Almost.

“Mr. Friar, is there any truth to the rumor that the Knights are the only team willing to take you on? How does that make you feel?”
Flash Flash Flash

And then it went south. Straight to the bowels of hell. All before Stacia could step in, not that she knew what to say.

“How the hell do you think it makes me feel?” With that statement, he ripped the mic off his team jersey and stormed off the stage. “Fucking vultures.”

At least she could finally say she knew what it meant when people said something was like a train wreck but they couldn’t stop watching. The horror.

Cole snarled. “Fix this now!” Then he stepped to the podium to appease the stunned media.

Stacia bolted after Jason as fast as three-inch Manolos would let her and caught up with him in the parking lot. She grabbed his arm, trying to wheel him around. Instead, she was almost yanked off her heels. He whirled to face her and grabbed her just as she teetered over.

“Why the hell would you wear shoes like that and try to run in them? Are you just plain stupid?”

“No, I’m trying to save your ass.”

His face was contorted into a feral mask, anger and rage twisting him. “My ass is safe, thank you very much. I don’t need a glorified babysitter to help me.”

“Well, based on that stupid display of temper in there, it sure looks like you need lessons in being human, or at least civility. And you wonder why no one wanted you.”

She could feel her career flushing right alongside his, straight down the crapper. How the hell could she recover from this? It would have been easier if he had slept with an intern like her last client. But insulting the media? Walking out on an interview? There was almost no turning back.

He dropped her arm and began pacing, short angry strides back and forth in the empty parking space next to the SUV. “That shit shouldn’t have happened. It should only matter what I do on the field. As long as I don’t fuck that up, nothing else should matter.”

“Well, you haven’t been on the field in over a year and the last time you were it wasn’t so stellar was it? So, what else do they have to talk about?” she pointed out quietly.

He glanced away as if the statement had hit too close to the mark. He heaved a shuddering sigh, and his shoulders slumped. “It shouldn’t matter.” This time, it was said more quietly, more subdued.

“No, it shouldn’t, but everything matters. So, now that you flubbed big time, we need to fix it.” Options began flashing through her mind, interviews she could schedule, events to play up, ways to deal with this as if it were an aberration. God help her, it’d better be an aberration or they were both doomed.

He sighed. “Not today. I’m not in the mood.”

“Yes, today.” She stepped in front of him and forced him to look her in the face. “You can’t keep running from your mistakes. It’s time for you to grow up and take responsibility. Besides, this could very well be your last chance. Do you want it or not?”

He avoided her eyes. “I don’t need your help.”

“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “Were you not in the same room I was? I saw a childish display of temper, not the mature adult who professes to be able to handle the pressure.”

“Whatever, darling. Leave me alone, at least for now. I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me how I screwed up. Don’t you think I know that? That I think about it all the time?” He drew a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. When he spoke, his tone was softer, calmer. “Look, I have to catch up with the team in Detroit. When I come back, we’ll deal with this, okay?”

She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and hug him, comfort him. She stood firm, her arms crossed, posture stiff. “Not good enough.”

“Well, it’s going to have to be, unless you want to come and live with me in my hotel on the road. I promise to be in bed early every night, focus on baseball and do nothing stupid. Besides, I have a lot to catch up on – batting, fielding, getting to know the rhythm of my teammates on the field. Just leave me be.”

She unbent a little, softened. She had to remember that he had a job to do, over and above what she had. And it wouldn’t be easy joining a new group of players with his reputation. “You promise to behave and to listen to me when you get back?”

“I’m not a child.”

She grinned at him, the tension leaving the area. He glared, then smiled and nodded begrudgingly. “Yes.”

She walked him to his Lexus SUV. “Fine. But don’t make me come up there.”

He snorted, got in his car then peeled out of the parking lot.

Stacia watched him go. She turned to the stadium with a heavy sigh. He wouldn’t change. None of them ever did. They only wanted someone to make it look like they did, clean their image. Reality didn’t matter one bit. She didn’t matter. For once, though, she had a client she thought she could believe in. A man who was a good person underneath, and not just good in bed. How to show that to everyone else, including him? Before she could tackle that job, she had some clean up to do and interviews to reschedule.

Time to duel with the devil.

*

Stacia’s cell phone
rang and she jumped. She rubbed her eyes, trying desperately to rub the grit out of them after reviewing Jason Friar’s extensive, and colorful, history for the past, she glanced at her watch, five hours. He was right about one thing; the fans had loved him, despite everything, until he got injured last year. Then all his bad karma came home to roost.

She glanced at the caller ID. About time he called her back. She pressed the answer button. “Hey, Michael. Glad you finally returned my call.”

“Hey, Stace. How does it look?” He spoke breezily, ignoring her sarcasm.

She sat back in her chair and swiveled around to face the back wall and the picture of the team. “He’s a freakin’ train wreck, that’s what he is. A complete disaster. And he has no interest in changing.”

“None of them ever do. And that’s not what we do. We’re not shrinks. We just polish them to make them look nice to the public. A little polish over the rotten core. Who they are and what they do doesn’t matter as long as they don’t get caught.” Irritation laced his tone. He didn’t even bother to hide it. “You know this. So, what’s the problem?”

She twirled a strand of her hair in her finger. What was the problem? She barely knew Jason and couldn’t believe she actually cared about what happened to him. Maybe it was something deeper, something she’d sensed on the campaign with Glazier. That vague sense of discomfort, of knowing that what she was doing wasn’t quite right. That feeling had been growing steadily for the past year or so. Of course, working with dirty, scum-sucking politicians didn’t help her feeling of helping the world.

“Stacia? Are you there?” Impatience rang through his tone, and irritation made his words sharper.

“What? Yes, I’m here, Michael. I guess I’m just feeling a little burnt out.”

Yes, she was tired. Tired of whitewashing dirty politicians. Tired of making bad people look good. Tired of dressing the ugly of the world into pretty little packages. But what else could she do?

“Don’t quit on me now, Kendall! Remember, you need this job.”

A few nights ago, the warning tone in his voice would have sent a chill down her spine. Instead, she only felt tired, a bone deep exhaustion exposed by her recent campaign and the resulting failure. Maybe she should have taken the implied vacation and used the time to examine her life. What would she find? A lonely, sad woman who conned the public into believing the lies and polish she placed on a pile of crap all in the name of a job. Was that what she wanted out of her life?

What about my needs
, a tiny voice inside spoke, poking at her consciousness.
What about what I wanted, needed, felt
?

Then her own words came back to haunt her, the ones she had tossed at Jason earlier that day.

Stop whining. Grow up. Take responsibility for your actions.

Yes, it was time she took her own advice. After this job, maybe it would be time to reconsider.

She sighed. “I’m not quitting, Michael.”

“Fine. Look, I took you on without any experience and you’ve handled yourself pretty well. Your biggest attraction for me is your connections and your ability to work with politicians, but if you can’t get the job done, with a slam dunk like Glazier, then we’re going to have issues and I may need to rethink this relationship. Got it?” Barely skipping a beat, he continued. “Talk to me about Friar. What’s the plan?”

Ignoring the chill of the threat, she whirled back in her chair to the laptop and began debriefing him about the problems and her proposed solution. But the little voice didn’t go away, reminding her of something she had lost a long time ago.

Her conscience.