Playing For Keeps (4 page)

“Ryan?”

“What?” He straightened in his chair when he realized he’d been staring at Samantha.

“My daughter is not on the menu.”

He might have to deny himself the taste of her, but that didn’t mean he had to deny himself the taste of red meat. Screw the game on Sunday.

Men needed red meat. It was a genetic thing, traced back to cavemen. Besides, he convinced himself, he wouldn’t be concentrating on her mouth if he was engrossed in his own food. “Sorry, Mr. Jameson. I’l have the Clooney Burger with the Claddaugh Onion Rings.”

“Good choice.” Mr. Jameson took the menus and disappeared into the back.

Ryan relaxed, but said, “This was a bad idea.”

“Told you so.”

He put his elbow on the table and looked at her. “You didn’t strike me as the ‘I told you so’ type.”

Samantha grinned. “That’s because you bring it out of me or maybe it’s because you deserved it.”

The light was back in her eyes. Maybe, this wasn’t a bad idea. He loved seeing her smile, she didn’t do it often enough, remembering her as always so serious, so control ed. The outfit she had on reflected this. Black, boxy, with no style. He wanted to strip each piece away and find the real Samantha.

“Did you notice that al the dishes are named after something Irish?”

“Couldn’t miss it, but the desserts are named after you and your sisters.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. And when your father said you weren’t on the menu, I was going to ask about the dessert, but thought I’d better not go there.”

“So over the past ten years you’ve developed some common sense.”

“I’ve developed in other areas too.”

Samantha raised her eyebrow.

“Now get your mind out of the gutter. Besides, I was always wel developed in that department.”

“Can we please change the subject? What is my dessert cal ed?”

“Sweet Samantha.”

“Fathers! Do I look sweet to you?”

Ryan leaned over and whispered, “Sweet, no. Hot, yes. But it’s how you taste that matters.” He couldn’t help but drop his gaze to her lips. Then he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and Ryan cringed at the sound of her brother’s voice.

“My Dad asked you two here to diffuse any rumors and instead you’re fueling them.” Patrick pul ed up a chair and wedged himself between them

. “
How’s my
baby
sister?”

“Good. How’s my pain in the
ass
brother?’

Ryan watched them as they exchanged playful banter. Samantha may complain about her big family, but he couldn’t help feeling envious. He grew up in foster care without anyone to care for him, without anyone for him to care about. Instead of playful skirmishes between siblings he fought battles with uncaring foster parents and kids who were as troubled as he was.

If it wasn’t for Samantha’s father touting him as the next Jerry Rice, he would’ve gotten lost in the system. Scouts showed up at his high school games and he ended up with more offers than he ever dreamed of. Mr. Jameson helped him decide on Notre Dame, where his son was also attending. Patrick and Ryan roomed together, becoming friends in the time it took for a hundred yard dash. His foster parents lost interest once they lost the quarterly check they received for his care so during col ege he spent holidays with the Jameson’s. He owed Samantha’s family. Big time.

The food came and Samantha’s father sat down across from Ryan. The conversation revolved around family items, so Ryan bit into his burger.

He nearly cried.
Yes, real men need red meat
.

“Now, what’s this stuff about lesbians?”

Ryan nearly choked at Mr. Jameson’s query.

Samantha pointed her fork at Ryan. “See what you’ve done?”

How was he going to explain his actions? With the truth. Ryan took a deep breath. “Mr. Jameson, you know how it is in there. Better me arranging her initiation than someone else. Who knows what they could’ve dreamed up? And she did great. I think the guys accepted her.”

Samantha’s father settled back into his seat. “Makes sense. Just make sure you keep watching out for our girl.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Samantha’s silverware clanked on her plate. “I can take care of myself. I’m not a girl and I am not a lesbian.”

Her father patted her hand. “You’l always be my little girl and I would love you even if you were a lesbian.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Samantha’s gaze turned towards Ryan. “Payback is going to be so sweet.”

His burger suddenly tasted like the leather on a footbal . Why couldn’t she understand that what he did was for her own good? He loved his teammates, at least most of them, but they could be real jerks. The added bonus of them thinking she was a lesbian meant he wouldn’t have to kil any teammates who made a move on her. That is, if they believed her.

Lunch was devoured as they talked footbal and the upcoming game. Of course, he had to reign in his mouth before revealing any information that Samantha could use in a story. She was a reporter, through and through.

Samantha knew her footbal , which wasn’t surprising as she grew up with a sportswriter father and two brothers who played. But that she was up to date on the latest stats despite being out of the country for several years - that was surprising.

“I’ve gotta go,” said Samantha.

Ryan went to get up. “I’l drive you back.”

Samantha put her hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s better that I leave alone.”

Patrick piped in, “Let me drive you.”

“I’l be fine.”

Her father said, “We want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Dad, if I can navigate downtown Baghdad then I can certainly find my way around New York City. It’s the rural areas you have to worry about.”

She spoke lightly but Ryan noted that her eyes remained flat. He shifted in his seat with disappointment as her hand left his shoulder and bestowed a kiss on her father’s cheek and then one on Patrick’s. It’s not like he expected a kiss. Besides he didn’t want a sisterly peck. He wanted a kiss that was ten years in the making.

“Bye, Ryan,” she said nervously.

Ryan’s eyes fol owed her gaze to her fel ow col eagues stil sitting at the bar. Is this what sportswriters did when they weren’t at one of the practices or a game? No wonder Mr. Jameson opened up a bar, he had a built in clientele with al his old buddies. He took a quick look at the door as Samantha left. His gaze rounded back to Patrick. He knew that look.
Oh boy, here we go.

“Samantha’s been through a lot. I know you like her and--”

“What gave you that idea?” Ryan asked. First Jake and now Patrick. Did he wear sign? If so, why didn’t Samantha see it?

“You think a big brother can’t tel when a guy is on the make for his baby sister?”

“Patrick, I never--”

“I know, I know, which is the only reason why you’re stil alive.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Remember, I have a license to carry a gun.”

“Hey, you’re the one who invited us here. What’s up with that?”

“Dad heard rumors about you two.”

Ryan’s gaze narrowed. “Who from?” he asked calmly, which was a miracle because at that very moment he was planning the serious ass kicking he was going to dole out.

“That’s not important,” said Mr. Jameson.

“The hel it is,” countered Ryan, his calm slipping away.

“It’s crucial you two remain professional, maybe friends, but nothing more,” Mr. Jameson said. “Besides, she’s not ready for anything more.”

Professional. Friends. But Ryan knew the score. Sure, they were concerned for Samantha’s career and more importantly her mental health. But it was more than that. Her family didn’t think he was good enough. And he couldn’t blame them either, because he thought it too. If he had a sister he wouldn’t let her date a guy like him. In fact, the guy’s ass would’ve already been whooped. “Don’t worry, I understand. Hands off.”

“You’l stil look after her? Make sure none of the guys give her a hard time?”

Good enough to be their watchdog, but not good enough to be part of the family. Ryan’s hand tightened around his glass. “Of course.” He got up quickly and pul ed a twenty from his wal et. “I worry about her too,” he admitted. They al looked to her barely touched plate.

“Lunch is on me,” Mr. Jameson said.

“I pay my own way.” He turned and walked out of the bar without saying a goodbye. He pressed the unlock button on the remote as Patrick caught up with him.

“What was that al about?”

“I’l be your watchdog for now. But don’t expect me to rol over and play dead.”

“As far as my sister is concerned, there is one part of your anatomy that better play dead.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ryan climbed into his car and closed the door. He shook his head in disgust. When it came to Samantha, that part of his anatomy didn’t understand the command ‘play dead’. Her scent stil lingered in the air. Breathing in the light ocean fragrance, his promise to her brother already seemed a distant memory.

***

Back at her cubicle, Samantha’s mind was not on touchdowns and passes where it should be. Never in al the years of reporting had she been unable to concentrate on the story at hand. Never.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the almost kiss. He wanted to kiss her; she knew it when his gaze had zeroed in on her lips. And she would have let him. That’s what the man did to her. She would have forgotten about their audience, her father, her job, and her heart. Luckily Patrick showed up, otherwise her father’s misguided attempt to ‘defuse’ would have blown up in their faces. Then again, if her family would butt out, she wouldn’t have been in this predicament to begin with.

Samantha had to face facts. Even though she was a hard-nosed reporter who had reported from the worst areas of the world, she would always be the baby. She would be worried over, coddled. Like today. Like al her life.

She loved her family, she truly did, but their love suffocated her. So she ran to the far corners of the globe to make a name for herself. Not to be Jerry Jameson’s little girl, because if she had stayed in sports like her father expected, that’s what she would’ve been. Every time she returned, she fel right back into the role they had given her and then she would run again to another hot story.

But she didn’t want to run anymore. She was so tired.

“Trading a little afternoon delight with Terrel for a story?” interrupted Laura, the only other female sportswriter on staff.

Samantha took a deep breath. She real y didn’t expect this from a female col eague. Shouldn’t they be sticking together? “I never traded anything, let alone sex, to get a story.” She tilted her head. “Have you?”

“No.” Shame clouded the woman’s face. “I didn’t mean to be snotty. Us gals work hard to be taken seriously and al it takes is just one screw up for us al to go down.”

“Understood. But Terrel is an old friend of the family.” Maybe she should make some sort of announcement to the whole world. Extra. Extra. Read al about it.

But the next day’s rival paper told an entirely different story.

Sugar bliss fil ed Samantha’s mouth as she munched on Captain Crunch. The door slammed and she glanced at the clock. 7:00 A.M. When was the last time she was out having fun until the sun came up? She couldn’t remember. Though if a story was brewing, she could go al night.

“Wel , we’re famous,” Hannah said brightly as she dropped the Daily Yorker on the kitchen table.

“You’re already celebrity,” grumbled Samantha. It was like she’d been out al night and Hannah was the one with a ful night’s rest.

“Go to page six.”

“You read my competition?”

“Just the gossip pages. When I’m out with my friends we pick up the early edition to see if we’re in it.”

Samantha flipped to page six and scanned the column, stopping halfway down. Okay, so it wasn’t an, Extra! Extra! It wasn’t even a headline. But tucked away among the gossip about celebrities and the high society crowd was a story that could potential y hurt not only her, but Hannah as wel .

“Oh, Hannah, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? Are you kidding? It’s hilarious!”

She re-read the story.

Samantha Jameson, the frumpy sports reporter for this paper’s rival, has been playing for the ‘other’ team. In fact, it’s common knowledge
she’s been shacking up with the very beautiful Hannah Hahn. It would seem all that beefcake in the locker room is wasted on Ms. Jameson.

Frumpy? That hurt. So her wardrobe hadn’t been updated in several years. She was a journalist, not some socialite. And how was her editor going to react to his employee being falsely ‘outed’ by the competition? But hey, if a guy can get a sex change operation and stil write sports, she had nothing to worry about. Right? Damn it, this was al Ryan’s fault. She tossed the paper on the table. “What about this is funny?”

Hannah plopped into the seat next to her and grabbed a handful of cereal out of the box. “Me, a lesbian? That is the funniest, most untrue gossip ever said about me. And you? Al those poems you wrote in high school about, what was his name? Oh yeah, Brian Fritz!”

Brian Fritz. Oh man, he was real y cute. A blue eyed, blond hair, Viking God. He was the star of the high school footbal team, like Ryan was the star of the col ege footbal team. Hmmm, a definite pattern was emerging.

“Earth to Samantha.”

“Sorry, my brain went on the Fritz.” They started to laugh about the phrase they’d used so often in high school when Samantha was caught daydreaming about her one true love. Or so she thought at the time. “What did your friends say?”

“We al had a good laugh and Ricardo Meres, wel , let’s say he had no doubt as to my sexual orientation when I got through with him.” Hannah popped a couple of cereal nuggets into her mouth.

“The soap opera star?”

“Mmmmm. Mmmmm. Good.”

“The cereal or Meres?”

“It’s al good.”

Samantha grabbed the box from Hannah. “What happened to Atkins?”

“A girl doesn’t live on meat alone.” Hannah giggled as she snatched the box back. “Not at least when it comes to food.”