Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1) (9 page)

“Really?” Sophie’s arch tone came through the phone loud and clear.

“Really. I’m just working on a plan to show the fans that he’s changed, that he isn’t the guy they thought he was.”

“And is he? Is he the guy the fans think he is or the guy
you
think he is?”

“I have no idea,” Stacia admitted. “But I’m working on it.”

“Well,” Sophie sighed. “Just be careful, sweetie. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I don’t intend to be hurt. I’m being really careful this time.” God willing, she had to be careful, or risk losing her heart in the process.

Never had she been so vulnerable.

“Umm-hmm.”

*

The next day,
Jason sat in his rented condo, staring at a television screen, studying the familiar swing. Two years ago, every baseball he saw was the size of a grapefruit and he nailed each one, winning baseball’s Triple Crown – most runs batted in, highest batting average, and most home runs. He’d been trying in vain to duplicate that same swing in the two years since. In vain, because he was older, slower, and dealing with a bum shoulder. Now that he had a contract, it was imperative to get that swing back as quickly as possible and make the most of the last six to eight weeks of the season so he could parlay that into a new, better contract.

A pounding on the condominium door jarred Jason out of his analysis. He scowled at the door, and leaned further in, trying to block out the noise. The pounding continued.

“Goddamnit! Hang on.”

He jumped up and stamped around the boxes stacked near the hallway, then kicked a hidden one.

“Sonofabitch!” Whoever was at the door had better be worth it.

He flung open the door, the curse dying on his lips. Stacia Kendall stood on the stoop, foot tapping, a smartphone in her hand.

“Great! I wasn’t sure you were here.” She tucked her phone in her purse and brushed past him into the dim, narrow hallway. She eyed the boxes piled in the entrance to the living room. “Interesting furniture.”

“I don’t have time to unpack. I have to hit the road in a couple of days to meet the team, once I pass my physical.” He crossed his arms and glared her.

“And your media announcement in two days,” she reminded him.

He grimaced. “Yeah, that too.”

“You can’t skip it.” She walked further into the room and stopped at the chair positioned directly in front of the flat screen TV on a small table. “You made me wait while you watched a movie?”

He scowled. “Not a movie. Not exactly. I was watching my swing, studying tape, getting ready.”

“Hmpf.” She snorted. “Well, before you can watch yourself playing baseball, we need to survive the signing. It won’t be easy. We have a lot of work to do.”

He brushed past her, ignoring her subtle perfume and his body’s traitorous reaction. He sat in the chair, picked up the remote and clicked play. “
I
have work to do.”

She stepped in front of the television, arms on her hips. “Yes,
we
do.” She snatched the remote out of his hand and clicked off the television. “Need I remind you, you don’t have the best reputation with the press? They tolerated you when you were on top of your game. But now, well, you’re not.”

He ran his gaze over her, noting her form-fitted business suit, blouse buttoned up, jacket buttoned, skirt an inch or so above her knee. Buttoned up tight, closed off, topped off with a prissy attitude. Instead of pissing him off, he had an urge to mess her up, unbutton her, get her to relax like their one night.

His intentions must have been telegraphed because her eyes narrowed and she stepped back, but not quite quick enough. His hand reached out and latched onto a hand, twisting then pulling her down until she sprawled on his lap, her sweet ass nestled in his groin. Immediately, his cock awakened and lengthened, pressing against her, begging for relief. He reached around her and opened the top two buttons on her blouse.

She struggled briefly, attempting to break his grip, trying to orient herself. He held her tightly, leaning in her, burying his nose in her hair.

“Relax,” he whispered into her ear. Her perfume wafted over him and he inhaled deeply.

“Are you sniffing me?” Her outraged voice broke through his sensual haze and he released her.

She jumped up and took a few steps away, smoothing her skirt and jacket. The blouse remained open at the throat, revealing a wildly beating pulse and the hint of cleavage from a heaving chest. He sighed. Mission accomplished.

She looked more like his Stacia—tousled, sexy, alive. Much better than the prissy dictator that he was stuck with for the next few months. He grinned, enjoying the sight. Her hand flew to her throat and she took a few more steps back.

“We agreed this couldn’t happen again.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but got stronger towards the end of the sentence.

“You agreed. I never did. I just said no one could know. Besides, there’s something here, something between us still.” Something that could complicate his life. Damn. Maybe he should have let them pick his jailer instead of the one woman he wanted.

“It’s just sex,” she retorted. “Nothing more.”

If only it were that easy.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled down a screen. “Okay. We have a lot to do before you join the team. First, we have the press conference in a couple of days, announcing your signing with the Georgia Knights. Then, I convinced some local stations to give you an interview.”

“Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

He jumped up from his chair and stormed into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and studied the almost-bare shelves. She peered over his shoulder and sniffed. He jumped, banging his head against the freezer.

He rubbed his head and glared at her. “Damn it, woman. How can you sneak up on anyone with those spikes on your feet?”

She glanced down at her stilettos and shrugged. “Practice. Now, I wouldn’t recommend the beer, not while we’re working. I’ll take a bottle of water. We can order out for food since you have the typical bachelor fridge.”

He grabbed two bottles of water and closed the door. “What’s in your fridge? A gourmet meal?”

She looked away, consulting her list. Again. “Actually, I’ve been a little busy and haven’t had time to shop.” She perched on a bar stool at the small counter, crossed one long leg over the other and took a deep swallow of her water.

Jason was mesmerized by the muscles in her throat, the long white column, leading down to the still unbuttoned blouse. His cock, which had settled to a dormant state, was definitely aware and perked up. He shifted position and leaned against the counter, downing a quarter of the water, hoping to quench his sudden heat.

“First, the schedule. You have your physical and some team things, so that gives us time to practice your interview skills. In two days, you have the press conference, announcing your signing. That’s at noon, sharp. We’re planning a decent turnout, considering.”

“Considering I’m a washed-up, has-been? A train wreck?” Bitterness burned his throat, choking his words but couldn’t seem to stop.

She froze before clearing her throat and looking at him, sympathy, or maybe pity, in her eyes. “I’m sorry the past year has been awful for you. But it’s time to grow up, get over it. Change your attitude. Change their perceptions. Change your life.”

He tossed the empty water bottle in the sink and pushed off the counter, anger a dull throb at his temples. He advanced on her, then caged her in his arms, hands clenching the edges of the counter. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, hearing lies, rumors, bullshit about your personal life? Having your name dragged through the mud to sell papers? Then, having someone you trusted with your livelihood, your entire financial life, steal from you and disappear? To have the one thing in your life that meant something, ripped away? Do you have any idea how that feels?”

Her hazel eyes calmly looked into his, holding his attention, not backing down. When she spoke, it was quiet, barely above a whisper, but the words cracked across him, sharper than a whip. “I grew up the daughter of a senator. Everything I did, said, wore, was reported on.”

She straightened her shoulders and her words grew stronger. “I would come home from school and our maid would tell me my father was expecting my call to berate me about some report that was probably not even true. Of course, most of the time he couldn’t be bothered to take my call, even when he demanded it.”

Her voice quieted and she looked away. “Then I had to live with my mother’s cancer treatments and her physical reactions plastered across the papers daily, alongside pictures of my father and his latest mistress, or
aide
, as he called them. I wasn’t even allowed to grieve without it being a photo op. And dating? Well, that was completely off the table, unless it was with someone my father hand-picked.” A deep breath and she finished. “So yes, I know exactly how you’re feeling. And I’m not sitting here whining about it. So get the fuck over it.”

Her words hit him like a splash of cold water, dousing his anger and his ardor in an avalanche of ice. He stepped away, hands falling uselessly to his side. “Shit, Stacia. I’m sorry.”

“Now, if we’re done with that, we have work to do.” She turned back to her phone but not before he could see a glint of tears in her eyes.

You’re a fucking idiot, Friar.

*

Stacia nervously chewed
her lower lip until she tasted blood. Only a few days between her introduction to Jason and today, when they would announce his signing and open him and the team up to media questions. In the intervening days, he had ducked her calls and avoided any conversation except to say, “I know how to be a nice guy. Really. Lay off.”

He’d better show. She should have escorted him personally from his house. She should have insisted. Damnit, if he screwed up this job for her, she’d kill him.

The door to the players’ area opened and Jason pushed through the security guards.

“You could have left my name at the desk,” he grumbled.

“It’s about time you got here. It’s almost time to start and I need to prep you on your answers.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hallway, resisting the urge to hug him and smack him at the same time.

“Well, good morning, Miss Stacia. I wasn’t born yesterday and I am reasonably sure I know how to speak, so I can answer my own damn questions, thank you very much.”

She yanked him to a stop and scanned him. “What the hell are you wearing? I laid you out a perfectly nice outfit and you put on this?”

Unbelievable. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt, definitely not the ironed shirt and pants she had specifically taken home and pressed herself two nights ago. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed. If she wasn’t so outraged, she’d jump him and take him back to the bed immediately. “Where’s your tie? Did you sleep in those clothes?”

He glanced down at the rumpled clothes. “Of course not. I didn’t have time to iron. Actually,” he rubbed his jaw. “I don’t own an iron.”

“Well, I do and I ironed your clothes. They were hanging in your closet.”

He stared at her, comprehension dawning. “But I have nothing in the closet. Why would I go in there?”

She threw up her hands, irritation buzzing in her ears. “I told you yesterday when I dropped them off along with food for your fridge. You were too busy watching television.”

He pulled her into the small room off the hallway and slammed the door. “Lady, I was working on my swing, studying pitchers, and getting ready to do my fucking job. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

“Well, you’d better make time because it’s not going away. Fortunately, I took the liberty of grabbing a second outfit. It’s in my office. Follow me.”

She yanked open the door and stalked down the narrow corridor, not checking to see if he was following. How could he be so cavalier about this? It wasn’t just his job, but hers too. She’d better make him aware of that before he got them both fired. At least she was prepared this time. Men. Honestly, sometimes they were just like children.

Once they were in her office, she slammed the door and gestured to the clothes hanging on the hook. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door, blocking any escape. “Change.”