Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (3 page)

Not that she had been awake to confirm that.
Instead, she had inexplicably fallen asleep.

What was
that
about?

Thoughts of Wyatt Bourne—both the one who
ignored her and the one who openly mocked her—drove her crazy. If
only she could do more Internet research, maybe she could dig up
something to put it in perspective. Was he married? That would be
best. But he hadn’t acted like a married guy. More like a single
jerk who knew how irresistible he was. So the second-best dirt
would be that he had a bad rep with women.

Focus,
she scolded herself, moving to
the bathroom to fix her hair and apply dramatic makeup, especially
to her eyes. They were a true emerald green, wide and friendly, and
when she wanted to look her best, they never let her down. All it
took was some bronze eye shadow and a few coats of mascara to make
them sparkle. Her shoulder-length, straight black hair was an asset
too, but only if she didn’t fuss with it, so she gave it a couple
of brushstrokes, applied some pink lip gloss to her lips, and
decided she had done what she could.

A knocking sound announced Murf’s arrival,
and she forced herself to exhale fully, then take a fresh breath as
she hurried to answer it. Time to show this man he hadn’t made a
gigantic mistake.

Throwing open the front door, she smiled in
delight.

Dapper, sophisticated, tall and
sandy-haired, looking like he’d been born with a silver spoon in
his mouth despite his unfortunate background—that was Patrick
Murphy. She could still remember the day her best friend Emily
brought him home to meet everyone. He had been so clearly
enthralled by Em, yet had exuded pure confidence, telling the
family he would be graduating from law school in another year and
then, armed with a bachelor’s in sports management from Texas Tech
and a law degree from UCLA, would become the hottest sports agent
in the country within five years.

All it takes is smoke and mirrors,
he
had assured them, but Darcie had watched how he did it, creating
the classy, competitive image, then backing it up with hard work
and brilliance. He had a gift for inspiring confidence, and so in
less than a year he had signed quarterback Johnny Spurling, fresh
out of Cal, a star in the making who was eager to please his famous
coach-father and intrigued by Murf’s vision.

After that there was no stopping either of
them. And somehow in the midst of the meteoric rise, Murf managed
to convince practical-minded Emily to “sign” with him too. Now they
had three children together. Darcie had seen him in that world
too—up to his neck in diapers, worshipping at Emily’s feet—but at
times like this, she could scarcely connect that guy to the one
standing before her.

“You always look so sharp in a tux,” she
told him proudly.

“You clean up pretty good yourself. Thanks
for wearing that dress. It killed at the embassy.”

“Hopefully for the right reasons,” she
murmured, wondering if she should run back to her bedroom and
choose the suit instead.

He cocked a teasing eyebrow. “Are you
forgetting the best advice I ever gave you?”

A smile tugged at her lips. He had indeed
changed her life with a few simple words. It had been the worst
summer of her life—the one between high school and college when her
perfectly nice breasts had decided to bust out. Literally. And just
as suddenly, guys she had known her whole life were looking at her
differently. Talking to her differently. Making jokes that just
weren’t funny, at least not to Darcie.

Perhaps if it had happened gradually she
would have been fine with it. Maybe even proud. Instead, she had
felt like a freak, and had rushed to Emily’s apartment near UCLA to
cry on her shoulder in frustration, insisting it was the end of the
world.

Then Murf had appeared in the bedroom
doorway and said, “Just remember. They may come for the breasts,
but they’ll stay for the brains.”

Darcie had burst into tears while a furious
Emily kicked him out with one powerful wave of her hand. But within
minutes, both women were laughing their asses off, deciding this
would be Darcie’s new motto.

Come for the breasts. Stay for the
brains
.

“I hired you for that sharp legal mind,” he
assured her now. “And the fact that you actually
enjoy
reading contracts, which is still a mystery to me.”

“I’m on my second pass-through of the CBA
and it’s starting to make sense.
Unfortunately . . .”

He waited patiently, although she suspected
he was mentally checking the time. Among his many values,
punctuality ranked high.

So she forced herself to be quick. “I met
someone on the plane today. A sports figure. And I inadvertently
insulted him.”

“In other words, some jerk hit on you? Who
was it?”

“He didn’t hit on me. Quite the opposite. I
repulsed him.”

Murf chuckled. “That doesn’t sound
likely.”

“I heard someone refer to him as a surgeon,
so when I met him, I called him ‘Doctor.’ He didn’t take kindly to
it.”

“You met Wyatt Bourne? Man, what are the
odds?” He paused to grin. “And you called him Doctor Bourne? I wish
I could have seen that.”

“I wanted to crawl into a hole.”

“His ego can take it,” Murf reassured her.
“That’s why they call him the Surgeon, isn’t it?”

“The Internet says it’s because his passing
is so precise.”

“That’s one explanation,” he agreed. “And
some say it’s because of his cutting remarks.”

“Oh! I can attest to that.”

Murf chuckled again. “Mostly though, it’s a
reference to his God complex. Just like a real surgeon saves lives,
and feels like a god because of it, Wyatt Bourne saves games. His
team would have been on life support by the time the playoffs
rolled around, but thanks to the Surgeon, they almost won it
all.”

Wincing at the admiration in his tone, she
told him, “The bad news is, he’ll never sign with you now. I’m so
sorry, Murf.”

“Who said I’d even want him?” Taking her by
the arm, he led her to the sofa and they sat side by side. Then he
continued. “Prestige-wise—and money-wise—signing Bourne would be a
coup. But he and John Spurling are rivals. Especially these days.
It’s not personal, but John’s my most valuable client. Not to
mention a close friend. I’d never do anything to jeopardize
that.”

“But they play for different teams. Doesn’t
that mean you can get them
both
a lot of money without
robbing either one?” She eyed him curiously. “What am I
missing?”

“You’re focusing on the contract, but that
isn’t the problem. It’s the support.” His tone softened. “I go to
John’s games. I memorize his stats. I sell him to everyone—on
every
level. And if his confidence ever wavers, even for a
second, I’m there to remind him he’s the best. That’s my style, and
it’ll be yours too.”

“So if Johnny Spurling and the Surgeon face
off in another Super Bowl, you can’t do that for both of them? I
get it.”

Murf nodded. “In a few years, when you’ve
got the hang of it, things could change.
You
could rep
Bourne and I could rep John and we’d be fine. Because you’d be
there for your guy and I’d be there for mine. It would be sweet,”
he admitted without attempting to hide his greed. “But you’re not
ready yet.”

“Trust me, I know. And like I said, Wyatt
Bourne wouldn’t consider it. I pretty much blew it with him when he
found out I never heard of the Surgeon.”

Murf chuckled. “That’s one for the books.
He’s probably the single most recognizable sports personality—” He
coughed and added diplomatically, “It’s my job to make sure you
learn all of that. And in the meantime—” He stood and offered her
his hand. “You can practice on Bam Bannerman. Starting
tonight.”

• • •

During the limo ride to the fundraiser, they
chatted about Murf’s children, especially the newborn named Nell.
Darcie had been there for the birth, just as she’d been for the
other two, and had stayed for a few days to help out. But her
former boss, the judge, had been in the hospital, so the Murphys
had freed her to make a fuss over the old man.

Good timing too, since he had passed away
within the month, leaving Darcie bereft and anxious to start
fresh.

Now she was doing just that, walking arm in
arm with Murf into the crowded, glitzy ballroom. As hot music
pulsed and scantily clad waitresses delivered trays of martinis to
throngs of beautifully groomed guests, she struggled not to gawk.
She might not know sports celebrities, but she recognized dozens of
stars from movies, TV and politics. Although as dazzling as they
were, they paled in comparison to the huge, brawny bodies of the
typical male attendee.

What did you expect?

She barely noticed their faces, so wowed was
she by their muscles. Which raised an interesting karmic question,
but she chased it away. These guys made a living with those
magnificent bods.

And
their brains, of course.
Strategies, x’s and o’s, and mostly, the intelligence to be
concerned about injuries, and the generosity to support this effort
to mitigate the effects.

“Are we sure Johnny and Erica are
coming?”

Murf nodded. “Bannerman and Rachel too. So
you should have a few ports in the storm.”

“And Sean Decker? And his fiancée?”

She noted how Murf hesitated, just for a
micro-second, before nodding again. “Sean for sure. I don’t know
about Kerrie.”

Kerrie?

Now Darcie had a name to go with the
mystery. So she persevered. “What’s their story? Erica said they
were more or less engaged.”

“You’re attracted to him?”

“What? Who said
that?”
she
stammered.

She expected him to tease her, but instead,
he just murmured, “It’s a serious relationship, Darce.”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to imply it
wasn’t. And honestly, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. So thank God
he’s taken, right?”

“We’ll find you someone,” he said, relaxing
visibly. “Emily wants your kids to play with ours, so you’re on the
clock.”

“But tonight, I’m all business. I
promise.”

Murf’s gaze fixed on a spot behind her.
“There’s your buddy Bourne.”

“What?” She whirled to see Wyatt standing
with a tall, curvaceous redhead, his hand possessively on her back.
Or rather, half on her back, half lower. Luckily, his face was
turned toward another couple so he probably didn’t notice how
shocked Darcie was.

Shock number one: he was there. She should
have expected it, but had honestly thought she’d never see him
again, much less so soon.

Shock number two: he looked amazing. Ten
times better than he had on the plane, and that was saying
something. In this room of tall, well-built men, he stood out as
something special, from his relaxed but dominating stance, to his
amazing shoulders, to that granite jaw.

And shock number three? He had a date with
him. A woman who made Darcie look flat-chested and gawky. A woman
gazing up into his steely eyes as though indeed he were a living
god. Everything about her screamed superiority, from the
waist-length hair that flamed brightly, to the sparkly black gown
that clung to every curve, and the height that almost matched
Bourne’s.

Crap
.

Hoping to salvage the moment, she told Murf,
“It never occurred to me he’d be here.”

“Virtually every QB in the league will show.
Concussions are a huge deal for them. For other players too, but
guys like Wyatt and John are sitting ducks.”

“But not so much kickers like Sean?” she
asked, anxious to learn, and also to dispel the notion that her
interests in him were purely amorous.

Murf arched a suspicious eyebrow, but all he
said was, “Sean used to be a quarterback. Did you know that?
Anyway, I’ve seen him take some serious hits as a kicker too. But
yes, to answer your question, his position isn’t nearly as
dangerous. And speaking of dangerous . . .” He gave
her a playful grin. “Here comes your future. All ten thousand
pounds of it.”

“What? Oh . . .” She smiled
to see Bam Bannerman headed their way, glad-handing his way through
the crowd like he was best friends with all of them. There was
something so alive about this guy—the twinkling blue eyes, the
hulky body, the sun-streaked hair—more like a barbarian than a
football player. Pillaging and loving every minute of it.

When he reached them, he didn’t lose any
time. Instead he grabbed Darcie by the shoulders and eyed her
playfully. “Man, you look good.”

“So do you,” she stammered, overwhelmed by
the sheer size of his gorgeous muscles.

Without taking his gaze off her, he told
Murf, “Thanks again for hooking me up with Darcie. I still can’t
believe how qualified she is.”

Darcie and Murf both laughed, then Darcie
asked, “Where’s Rachel?”

“One of her students is getting a new baby
sister tonight and Rachel’s participating by phone. She just got
the call, but she’ll keep it short.” To Murf he added, “You just
had one too, right?”

He nodded. “That’s why Emily couldn’t make
it. They’re still breastfeeding every five minutes.”

“Too bad you can’t bring in reinforcements,”
Bam quipped. “The big guns, right?”

Murf chuckled. “That’s enough breast jokes
for one night.”

“But they’re so cool,” the halfback said,
adding with a wink at Darcie, “I’m not allowed to talk about them
anyway. Rachel’s got me under a gag order. But I’m allowed to dance
with you. So what do you say?”

“I’d love to.”

Murf gave him a stern look. “Behave
yourself. I want her back in the same condition I left her.”

“Understood.”

“And, Darcie? Once you’ve had a chance to
visit with Bam and Rachel, I’ll introduce you to some of our other
clients. Especially Alexi Romanov. I’ve been telling him all about
you.”