Mercy: Second Chance Military Romance (47 page)

“Hey, Tony!”

A short blond-haired woman with huge fake breasts bounded down the hallway toward me as I approached the kitchen. Her tits were barely covered by a bright yellow bikini top. It basically hid her nipples. Well, sort of. Ugly Anthony stirred between my legs.

She stopped in front of me, smiling and struggling to stay on her feet.

“Who are you again?” I asked.

“Tiffany,” she said with a giggle.

“You having fun?” I asked.

“We could have more fun if we went upstairs to your room.”

I smiled.

“We probably could, but my doctor says I need to rest.”

“Aw,” she said, pouting.

“Maybe some other time, okay?”

As she beamed joy and drunkenness my way, I walked around her and into the kitchen. The only reason I threw so many parties was so I didn’t have an empty house. What good was all the money in the world if you were all alone? Loneliness scared me.

In the kitchen, I stopped at the refrigerator and opened the door. The shelves were stocked full with food and drink. While I craved a beer, I didn’t want to start down that road. After my suspension, I had to be ready for the playoffs. Our team actually had a chance.

I grabbed a bottle of water then shut the door. When I turned around, Sam walked in with a smile on his face. As a first year player, all the parties and fame were still new and exciting to him. He walked over while nodding his head up and down.

“Having fun?” I asked.

“Too much,” he said. “That one bitch is fucking tight.”

“Who?”

He laughed.

“I don’t remember her name.”

“Just don’t forget the cardinal rule.”

“The cardinal rule?”

“Always slap a Jimmy on your Johnny. A lot of these women just want to get knocked up for your paycheck.”

“Not all of us,” Joan said as she walked up.

I turned as she put one of her hands on my arm.

“Hey. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“You know how it goes,” she said. “Ugly Tony want to come out and play?”

Let her down easy
, I reminded myself.

“I need my rest, sweetness. Maybe some other time.”

Without blinking, she turned to Sam.

“How about you, big guy? Want to go have some fun?”

He nodded his head like an excited puppy. She took his arm and led him away. When I first started out playing professionally, I would have chased her and every other woman in my house, but times were different. I couldn’t get the image of the reporter staring at my naked body out of my mind.

FOUR

Tony

I pulled into her driveway. The Maserati never failed to impress. Once I fucked this crazy reporter chick, I would be able to get her out of my mind. At least that’s what I told myself as I got out of the car and walked toward her front door of a modest ranch style house in an okay neighborhood.

She opened the door and stepped out before I made it. Her dark auburn hair looked sharp so short. I smiled as she walked over, admiring the jeans and sweatshirt. Is she trying to make sure I’m not interested? I loved when women played games. Well, up to a point.

“You’re not going to invite me in for a drink before dinner?” I asked.

“Um, no. Let’s go. I have stuff I need to do later.”

“Wow,” I said, not attempting to hide my shock.

“I said I’d have dinner with you, but I never mentioned anything about enjoying it. As long as you don’t strip naked in the restaurant, we’ll be okay.”

“For the record, you walked into my locker room unannounced.”

“You still could have covered yourself up.”

We made eye contact. Electricity sparked in the air between us.

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t have to stare at Ugly Anthony.”

“Ugly Anthony?” She laughed. “That’s what you named it?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I bet,” she said. “And for the record, I wasn’t staring at it.”

“Fair enough. Love your outfit by the way.”

She glared at me a moment then walked over to the car and got in before I had a chance to open the door, not that I would have done that for her. I was the fucking star. Women wanted me. All women. Well, most of them. The hot ones anyway.

I got in and buckled up. She sat with her hands in her lap.

“You could have said no to dinner,” I said.

“No, because I need this story.”

“Are you accusing me of blackmail?” I asked with a chuckle.

“If the jock-strap fits,” she replied while looking straight ahead.

I laughed as I started up the car.
She’s funny
.

Neither of us talked on my way across the city, so I decided to have some fun with her and break the ice with something that always worked with women.

“Where are you going?” she asked as I pulled onto the onramp of the highway.

“Just a little detour.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, it’s not going to take much time.”

When I hit the mostly deserted freeway, I stomped on the gas, throwing both of us back into our seats.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed.

I went even faster, creeping past one hundred miles per hour.

“Hang on and enjoy the ride.”

“I am not enjoying this!”

I glanced over at her a moment.

“Keep your eyes on the road you maniac!”

After another few tense seconds, I let off the gas. The car slowed down as we approached the next exit.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Don’t lie. That got your heart going, didn’t it?”

“You’re an idiot,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

She stared straight ahead as I got off the highway and headed toward the restaurant.
Damn, that usually gets women wet
, I thought as attempted to figure her out. If she hated me so much, why had she agreed to dinner? Was it actually a blackmail date like she’d said?

I pulled into the parking lot of Pierre’s, a premium French restaurant also meant to impress her panties off. The fast and furious routine might not have worked, but after a bottle of wine and fine dining, she would spread her legs for me. Or maybe ride me in the car.

Inside the restaurant, they seated us immediately without a reservation.

“That was fast,” she said after the waiter left.

“I’m an athlete and an important person.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. When the waiter returned, we ordered our food. I told him to bring a bottle of his best wine. Expensive drinks always worked on the women, but Andrea did not seem impressed in the least.

“Why did you get into sports reporting?” I asked.

“I was an athlete in high school but not good enough for the Olympics, so I decided to become a journalist because I love sports so much.”

I nodded, actually interested in her story.

“High school sports took up most of my time growing up.”

“You don’t think it paid off?”

“It did, sure, but I wonder how it might have been different.”

“I hear you.”

Dinner went quickly, too fast for my taste. She pushed her plate away.

“I’m stuffed.”

“No room for desert?”

She shook her head.

“No. It’s late, and I’m tired. Some other night? I should get home.”

“You haven’t even asked me any real questions yet.”

“No, but I’ve got to know you a bit better. That will help me write a better story.”

“Yeah? What have you found out about me?”

“You act all tough like a player, but deep down, I think you’re no different than the rest of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can talk about that next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“I hope so. Everyone is writing negative things about you now. I want to change that and do something positive.”

“Alright then…”

I stared across the table at her beautiful face. She didn’t look away at first. After paying, we went outside to the car. On the way back to her house, I drove slow. Dinner could have gone better, but I thought I had a real chance of her inviting me in for drinks and more.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I pulled up to the curb in front of her house and parked. She opened her door right away.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” I said.

“That’s fine. It’s okay.”

She stepped out of the car. I did the same, following her down the walkway to her front porch. Both of us moved slow as the moon hung high in the sky. I found it hard to keep my eyes off her even though she was wearing sweats. Something about her turned me on.

At the porch steps, she stopped and turned to me. Our bodies were only a foot or so away from each other. I stared directly into her eyes, giving her my award winning grin. Most women melted at that point, but she frowned.

“Thanks again for dinner. I’ll call you soon about an official interview.”

“We can go inside and talk about it now.”

She sighed.

“No, it’s late. I need to sleep.”

Before she disappeared inside, I darted forward. With one hand on her waist, I bent in to deliver a kiss on her mouth. She kissed me back but pulled away when I tried to slip my tongue into her mouth.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

She turned and walked up the steps to unlock her door.

“Goodnight,” I said, stunned at her shooting me down.

After she opened the door, she twisted around to wave then slipped inside. I stared at her porch a moment, still in shock at her turning me down. Her sweet kiss lingered on my lips as I returned to my car on the street. Behind the steering wheel, I fired up the engine.

Her turning me down only made me want her more. Instead of going to get some strange at the bars or a strip club, I returned home to the mansion I paid twenty-grand a month to live in. What is it going to take to impress this woman? The question hounded me all the way back.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I still didn’t have an answer. Most days I would have gone directly to bed, but without practice or a game the next day because of my suspension, I went into the kitchen and stared at my wine rack, wanting to get drunk so bad.

Even though I didn’t have to worry about practice or playing, I resisted the urge and went upstairs to my bedroom. The empty house saddened me. It was one of the reasons I usually had plenty of people around – friends, family, and anyone else who could make not feel alone.

As I fell asleep, my thoughts lingered on the kiss and why she hadn’t invited me in? Was she a lesbian or something? Sleeping with her was one way I could ensure she didn’t do yet another hit piece on my career.

Most of the time I didn’t worry about what journalist wrote or said about me, but with her it was different. I cared about what she thought as much as what she might write about me. Gradually, I drifted off to dreamland.

FIVE

Andrea

The next day at work, I sat in the cafeteria and ate my lunch while reading a new Nora Roberts romance novel. With each steamy word I read, my thoughts turned to Tony kissing me. Why had it felt so good? He was a bad boy – not my type of guy at all. And yet…

“Whatcha reading?” Kenneth asked.

I looked up at him and set the book down.

“Nothing important. What’s up?”

“I saw you in here reading, and I came over.”

Okay…

“Well, I’m going to get back to it before my lunch is over. I have a lot of work to do.”

“When is your book coming out?” he asked as he sat down, ignoring my polite social clues.

I tilted my head to the side slightly and stared at him.

“Um. My book?”

“Yeah. Aren’t all journalists secretly working on a novel?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think I could do it.”

“Anyone can get published these days thanks to Amazon. You should do a sports romance and get away from the gotcha journalism.”

“That’s not the type of journalism I do.”

“I thought you were doing a hit piece on that Tony Carlitto guy.”

“It’s not a hit piece. I stick to the facts.”

“You know what I mean.”