Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (29 page)

“Well, she does seem smart,” Bea said with a
smile. “I’m glad you and she are still friends.”

He chuckled, sensing another putdown along
the lines of:
You were a fool to dump her
.

“I’d better hit the showers,” he told them
all briskly. “But don’t delete this yet, okay? I might want to
watch it again later.”

• • •

Darcie and her client knew the press
conference had gone well, but the verdict wasn’t official until
Murf called that evening and boomed his appreciation and
excitement. Darcie had never heard him so enthusiastic about a
non-family matter, and her spirit soared with pride and relief.

Alexi seemed relieved too, to the point
where he started flirting with her. At first she thought he was
kidding with lines like: “Let me rock your world, baby. It’s the
least I can do.”

But he kept it up until she had to lay it on
the line. “You’re my client. You’re too young for me. I’m hung up
on someone else. And frankly, Murf wouldn’t let me work with you
anymore if we got personally involved.
And
I wouldn’t feel
comfortable meeting your grandfather next month like we
planned.”

She loved the way he immediately backed off
after
that.
Still, he insisted on driving her all the way
back to Los Angeles. In the Carrera, of course. And
under
the speed limit, or at least within a couple of miles either way.
They stopped for dinner at an out-of-the-way diner, where they
could hopefully escape prying eyes. Then they exchanged life
stories, with Darcie joking that hers took less than five minutes
while his covered the rest of the meal plus dessert.

By the time he walked her to her door, it
was almost two in the morning. He came inside long enough to use
the bathroom, then she tried to shoo him away to the hotel room she
had booked for him downtown, but he had caught sight of the yellow
roses and took an appreciative sniff, then read the card and
laughed.

“Sounds dirty,” he said teasingly.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” she bluffed.
“I just shared some yummy sliders with my friends.”

“Not the guy you’re so hung up on?”

“No,” she admitted, stifling a yawn. “He’s
gone for good.”

Alexi stepped closer, his smile devastating.
“Here’s an idea. We spend one night together then get amnesia. Best
of both worlds, right?”

“I was really looking forward to meeting
your grandfather,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.

He chuckled and kissed her Sean-style on the
lips, then ambled over to the door. But when he turned to say a
final good-bye, she saw that he had morphed again, his expression
almost wistful. “When Murf said he wasn’t coming to Santa Barbara,
I figured he had given up on me. Now I get it. He
knew
it
had to be you. And now I know it too. So thanks, Darcie. I’m yours
to command forever.”

• • •

I’m yours to command forever
.

Darcie fell asleep with Alexi’s tribute
wafting over her, reminding her she had reached a new and amazing
stage in her career. Sure, she was still a rookie, but counseling a
superstar while simultaneously juggling calls to the Cowboys
organization, league officials, the Sheriff’s Office and the press
had been the biggest professional challenge of her life. Murf had
checked in a few times, thank God, but never once questioned her
strategy. Even when she decided to meet one-on-one with Deputy
Ames, and Murf’s reaction had felt lukewarm, he had still given her
the green light.

And she had been correct. Carl Ames was a
big guy with a Surgeon-sized ego who clearly needed to hear he had
done a great job. Now he would hear it over and over again on every
sports show in the country without feeling the need to re-tell an
embellished version to the press or grab a photo op at the scene of
the crime.

It was the first time in weeks she had gone
to sleep without thinking about Wyatt. But she must have been
dreaming about him, because when her PMA phone vibrated at nine
thirty the next morning, she knew it was him before she even looked
at the display.

“Hello,” she murmured groggily.

“Hey, Darce. Did I wake you? I can call back
later.”

“No, no.” She nestled back into the pillows,
eating up the sound of his deep, sexy voice. “I had a big day
yesterday so I’m just lazing in bed.”

“I saw the press conference. You were
amazing. Truly amazing.”

“Oh . . .” She sighed. “Well,
thanks for calling. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, we’re not done.”

“We’re not?” she asked, finally waking up
enough to understand she was on the phone with Wyatt Bourne in real
life, not some prelude to a sex dream.

“I need to talk to you. It’s important, but
it can wait till tomorrow if you want to go back to sleep. You
earned it,” he added sincerely.

“No, no. I’m awake, I promise. So talk away.
I’m listening.”

He was silent for a moment, then explained,
“It needs to be face-to-face.”

“Are you back in LA?”

“I never left.”

“What?” She struggled to sit up, then shook
away the last wisps of sleep. “What do you mean? Where are
you?”

“At the ranch. It’s a long story.”

“Oh, no, is it Tony? I’m so sorry,
Wyatt.”

“It’s nothing like that. Can I come over
this afternoon? I’ll schedule a workout for noon then be there
around two thirty. With food. My flight leaves at six, so the
timing should work great.”

She forced herself to think it through. To
acknowledge that this didn’t sound like a date. Not even a fake
one. Leaving for New York at six? Hardly enough time to make love,
much less have the obligatory fight thereafter. And to her
surprise, she didn’t really feel like playing games. Not even with
him.

So she tried for a pleasant but practical
tone. “I need a little more information, Wyatt. No offense.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Let’s call it a
business proposition. I know that’s still vague, but you’ll
understand when I explain in person.”

“I can’t be your agent.”

“Yeah, that’s understood.
Although . . .” His tone warmed. “You were amazing
with Romanov. I hope he appreciated it.”

“He’s mine to command,” she quipped. “So
yes, I’d say he’s grateful.”

Wyatt chuckled. “So two thirty? What kind of
food do you want?”

She knew she should say “Don’t come,” but
instead, she suggested carefully, “Tacos?”

“I’m yours to command,” he assured her
cheerfully. “See you then, Darcie. And thanks.”

• • •

Rolling to her feet, she made a quick stop
in the bathroom, then stumbled to the kitchen for a bottle of Coke.
Once back in bed, she nestled in the pillows again while dialing
Emily.

“Hey!” her friend greeted her. “I’ve been
dying to talk. Because that was epic. And you looked—dare I say
it—marvelous?”

“Wyatt just called. He’s coming over.”

“Oh, fine.” She huffed in displeasure. “Let
me guess: fake date?”

“Nope. It’s a business proposition.”

“In other words, he’s going to
pay
you to have sex? That’s actually brilliant. Now he can control
everything.
Including
the pull-out.”

Darcie giggled. “I didn’t even think of
that. My guess is he needs a lawyer.”

“Wyatt Bourne has
tons
of lawyers.
His agent’s probably one. Plus tax attorneys, trademark attorneys,
estate-planning attorneys. Get-out-of-jail-free attorneys. You name
it.”

“True.”

“This is vintage Bourne, Darcie,” Emily
assured her in disgust. “He refuses to call it a date. It’s always
a fake date, or a football lesson. And now it’s a business
proposition? The guy’s pathological.”

“He’s flying back to New York tonight.”

“In other words, he has his escape all
planned out? Just in case you get too chummy? Or pushy? And you’re
falling for that?”

“I know, but . . .” She took
a sip of her Coke, then admitted, “He sounded so good. I actually
don’t care why he’s coming. I just want to see him again.”

To her surprise, Emily didn’t mock the
sentiment. Instead she admitted, “I know you do. And I kind of get
why. You’ve always dated such pushovers. Now you’re dealing with a
real man and you’re loving it. It was that way with me and Murf,
you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he wasn’t a college boy. He was all
grown up. I remember how hot that was.”

“So what should I wear?”

“Huh? Oh, that’s actually a good
question.”

“Casual like a girlfriend? Or professional
like a lawyer?”

“How about that suit you wore at the press
conference? Is it too wrinkled?”

Darcie bit back a smile. “I only wore it for
a couple of hours, and never even sat down, so I think it survived.
But it’s overkill, isn’t it?”

“For a hot business date? I’d say it’s
perfect. And I’ll bet that love-struck deputy in Santa Barbara
would agree.”

“You mean Carl?” Darcie asked
innocently.

“Get over yourself. And wear that suit. And
don’t be too easy on the Surgeon. Make him work for it.”

“Thanks, Em. I’ll let you know what
happens.”

“I already know what’s going to happen,”
Emily assured her quietly. “But you can’t resist him, so just be
careful. Take a page from
his
book and wear a condom on your
heart.”

Darcie laughed at the bizarrely appropriate
advice. “I will. Give the kids a hug for me, please?”

“They love you, Darce. So do I. Don’t forget
that.”

“I love you too. Bye, Em.”

• • •

Darcie had paid a small fortune for the sexy
black silk suit. Now it was earning its keep. For one thing, since
the price had included alterations, it fit her amazingly well. A
great length, some suggestive tucks. Literally made for her.

Perfect for Alexi Romanov’s press
conference, where careers, reputations and contracts were on the
line.

But for a fake date in a private residence?
It felt downright silly, to the point where she almost stripped it
off at the last minute in favor of the traditional Bourne uniform
of polo shirt and shorts. The only thing stopping her was the vague
but hurtful memory of Wyatt walking out on her. He had had his
reasons. And neither of them were saints. But she had cared about
him from the start, and the idea that he might actually want a
lawyer—might actually be that dense, that dismissive of her
feelings—helped her power through.

She even wore the sky-high black heels.
Quite a contrast to the bare feet of their last encounter.

She knew he’d be on time, and so when he
pulled up at two thirty sharp she wasn’t surprised. But she hadn’t
expected the black Jaguar, and
that
threw her a bit. Or
rather a lot, to the point where she wanted to meet him at the curb
and suggest they take a drive to the middle of nowhere and go crazy
in that driver’s seat.

The mystery continued when he stepped out of
the car. Bourne all the way in his black cargo shorts and white
polo. No candlelit dinner in their near future, apparently, but
probably not a business meeting either. Not even when he pulled his
laptop case into view.

His sunglasses obscured his expression,
which annoyed her for some reason, so she continued peeking through
the window rather than venturing out onto the porch. If he got the
subtle hint he didn’t show it. Instead, he popped the trunk, took
out two white bags—presumably tacos—and ambled up the steps, his
long, lean body doing its living-god routine to the max.

I hate you,
she assured him weakly.
Please stop being so gorgeous
.

Before he could knock or ring, she pulled
open the door and flashed a professional smile. “Hi, Wyatt. Nice to
see you again.”

He pulled off the sunglasses, looked her up
and down, and said in a husky tone, “You always know what to
wear.”

Charmed, she stepped back to admit him. “I
wore this at Alexi’s press conference. So it was handy.”

“It left an impression,” he assured her.
Then he leaned in, but only to kiss her on the cheek before asking,
“Where should we do this?”

“Pardon?”

“The tacos. Kitchen or dining room?” He
swept his gaze around the room, fixating on the yellow roses she
had placed on the coffee table. “Let me guess,” he said cheerfully.
“Those are from Romanov? You definitely earned them.”

“Actually they’re from my Lancer
boyfriends.”

“Which ones?”

“Bannerman and Decker.”

“Big surprise,” he drawled. Then he gave her
an apologetic smile. “Thanks for meeting with me, Darce. I know
you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I wanted to get started on
this.”

Not exactly the most romantic statement in
the world, and so her tone was cooler than intended as she turned
toward the dining table and said, “Let’s get down to business,
then. I’ve got coffee and lemonade, so choose your poison.”

“Can I say something first?” he asked.

She was about to insist they sit first when
the doorbell rang and he arched a teasing eyebrow. “Expecting
someone?”

“No. Just—well, give me a second.” She went
to the entry, and since she had her own personal hunk on the
premises to protect her, she didn’t bother using the peephole
before opening the door to find another delivery guy, this time
offering her an even larger bouquet of roses. Red this time. And
there must have been two dozen at the least.

“Oh, they’re beautiful!”

“Have a good day, miss.”

Like the other one, he didn’t wait to see if
she would tip him. Because he was pre-tipped, and probably under
orders not to accept any more.

Burying her nose in the blossoms, she almost
forgot Wyatt was there until his voice sounded close to her ear.
“Romanov? Or more Lancers?”