Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (35 page)

“Hey,” Wyatt murmured, putting his arm
around her again. “No one’s suggesting that. He’s John’s agent. We
respect that.”

Spurling nodded. “Patrick Murphy steered my
boy right. And in return, my boy made him famous. So Wyatt’s right.
It would be above and beyond for him to do it. But even if he turns
it down, maybe he could recommend someone. See what I mean?”

Darcie barely nodded. A recommendation would
be great. But wasn’t this a game changer even for Murf? He didn’t
want to represent
both
Super Bowl QBs, especially when one
was his best friend. But the Rustlers weren’t headed to the Super
Bowl, were they? At least not this year. She didn’t even know which
conference they were in! Maybe it literally could never happen.

“How far off would it be?” she asked, not
bothering to explain herself. These guys were the experts, weren’t
they? Time for them to step up.

Spurling shrugged. “Facing off with the
Lancers? I’d say . . .” He glanced at Wyatt, his eyes
twinkling. “Two years?”

Wyatt chuckled. “Let’s say three. Just to be
safe.”

“Wait a minute,” Jake protested. “Is this
actually possible? I thought it was just bullshit! I mean, the Jets
own Wyatt’s ass, no offense. Sure the tag is non-exclusive, but all
they need to do is outbid us and they’ve got him. Right?”

“That’s where a great agent comes in,”
Spurling explained. “Hypothetically, of course.”

“Wow.” Darcie shook her head, virtually
bludgeoned. Then she slid her chair back to signal her escape.
“Coach Spurling? Thanks for the yummy food. And Jake? Sophie’s a
lucky girl.”

“
I’m
the lucky one. Come to the
wedding and you’ll see what I mean.”

Spurling stood and gave Darcie a fatherly
embrace. “I like having you on my team.”

“I like it too,” she admitted.

“Wyatt?” Spurling offered his hand solemnly.
“Whatever happens, it’s been an honor.”

“For me too, sir.”

“And we’re all on the same page?” Spurling
persisted. “This doesn’t leave this room? I need to make an
exception for our GM, but he’ll be discreet. Darcie? You know what
you need to do. Wyatt? Tell no one. Dub? Do
not
tell my
Sophie. We both know how she is.”

Jake laughed. “Yeah, we know. I might
mention meeting the Surgeon if that’s okay with Wyatt.”

“Feel free,” Wyatt agreed, adding to Coach
Spurling, “The Jets are gonna freak.”

“Let your new agent handle that. It’s
his
job, not yours, remember?”

Wyatt winced but nodded. “I’ll
remember.”

Spurling nodded too. “Thanks for stopping
by. And whatever happens, come back soon.
Both
of you.”

• • •

They walked to the curb, waving to their
host, then waiting until he went inside and closed the door before
they looked at each other with widened eyes.

“Wow,” she said finally. “Talk about
nuance.”

“I still don’t feel right about it,” he
admitted.

“Well, get over yourself. Because it’s
happening.”

“It is?”

“Absolutely. If you could see your face when
you talk about it . . .” She stroked his granite
jaw. “I wish I could do it for you myself, but we both know I
can’t. Maybe Murf will, or maybe he’ll recommend someone who can.
Either way,
please
trust him.”

Wyatt exhaled slowly, then nodded. “I’ve got
a big ego, but yeah, this is beyond me. Beyond anyone I’ve known.
So if he has advice, I’m all ears.”

“Good.” She gave him a wistful smile. “I
can’t keep up with you.”

“I feel the same way.” His lips brushed
across hers. “I still can’t believe I made you cry.”

“Because I only got five hours sleep. And
then you called me a breeding cow. So I was rocky, but I’m fine
now.”

“Darcie—”

“We both said things we shouldn’t. But
that’s behind us now, isn’t it? I mean—” She scanned his gray eyes
anxiously. “We can do this, can’t we?”

“Yeah,” he agreed in a dazed tone. “We can
do this. So . . .” He pulled open her car door and
gestured for her to get in. “Let’s get you home.”

• • •

She thought they would ride in silence,
digesting the complex situation, but instead they brainstormed
nonstop. There was so much she needed him to explain to her, which
he did patiently. And since there was no time to walk on eggshells,
she just asked and asked and asked, and to her surprise, he didn’t
hold back.

She even dared ask if the Jets could
possibly find a decent replacement for their star QB this late in
the game, and he surprised her by insisting it was one of the many
silver linings to this deal. Wyatt’s current backup, a guy named
Mark Serna, could step in almost seamlessly in Wyatt’s opinion.

“We practice together, he knows the
playbook, knows the players, and he’s a terrific athlete. He should
have been starting somewhere by now, but he stayed because he could
taste a Super Bowl ring. Maybe after a few years, especially if
they buy him the right weapons, which they’ll be able to do if
they’re not paying
me,
he can be the one to make that
happen.”

Loving the inside information, she tried to
make her own contribution by sharing arcane details of NFL contract
law. The NFL rules she had pored over, the arbitration rulings she
had digested, not really understanding the football terms but well
versed in the underlying legal theory.

“I just wish I knew more,” she lamented as
they reached her house. “Especially how the money works.”

“It’s a mind-fuck,” he assured her. “Every
year, guys think they got the deal of the century. But damn if the
owners don’t drive the bus every time.”

“Not
this
time,” she corrected him,
jumping out of the car without waiting for him to open the door.
She loved the Jag but needed more space to think. To expand her
mind.

Wyatt came around, took her by the hand and
led her up the steps. “Don’t get your hopes up, Darce. There are a
million reasons this won’t work. Like Dub says, the Jets own my ass
for as long as they’re willing to pay for it. We don’t know how
much the Rustlers can offer, but no doubt it’s not enough. Maybe a
few months ago, or at least before the draft, there was something a
smart agent could come up with. But now?”

She stood with him on the porch and dared to
ask, “If it can’t be this year—”

“Then it won’t happen, period. And I’ll be
fine with that. I’m proud of my old team. If we can make it all the
way next year—win it all—who am I to complain?”

She smiled, wondering if he was listening to
his own words.

My old team
 . . .

He had already moved on. A move that
energized him beyond belief.

And the most thrilling sign of that energy?
The way he stood so close to her now, owning her again even though
he hadn’t made a move. The power in his body, the towering strength
that had seduced her so easily from the start, pulled her toward
him like a magnet.

She wanted so badly to give in. But not yet.
So she said briskly. “We need a plan. Step one? I talk to Murf.
Alone.
I hope that’s okay with you. It’s a lot for him to
digest, and even though you could probably explain it better than I
can—”

“No, I agree. It wouldn’t be fair to corner
him. If he wants to say no, whether out of loyalty to John or fear
of alienating the Jets or the other owners, he can do it more
easily in private.”

She wanted to assure him Murf wasn’t a
coward, but knew there was some truth to that. Because Murf’s
reputation was his currency.

“To you this is exciting,” Wyatt continued
gently. “But it’s not how things are done. It’s fucked up, to be
blunt. So if he punts it to someone hungrier—with less to lose—no
problem. Or if he’s willing to just handle it as a single
transaction and then hand me off next year, I’ll pay him whatever
he wants.”

She nodded, even though she knew that
definitely
wasn’t Murf’s style. Long-term commitment was his
hallmark. The reason his clients trusted him so completely.

Still, a one-shot deal would mean Murf
needn’t juggle his loyalty to Johnny with his desire to make
history, not to mention to please Darcie. Because that would be
part of the equation, wouldn’t it? No matter how hard she tried to
present it as a business proposition, it was all about her and
Wyatt. Or at least that’s what Murf would think.

Wyatt seemed to sense her resistance. “If he
thinks it can’t be done? I’d be a fool not to listen. So would
Coach Spurling, because let’s face it,
he
has a lot to lose
too.”

“Okay, then, that’s the plan. I fly to
Dallas first thing in the morning. But first . . .” She
moved into his arms. “Come in for a few minutes. Please?”

“Are you sure?”

“Actually? No,” she said, surprising herself
as much as him. “I have a ton of work to do. Murf’s like the Grand
Inquisitor when he starts questioning things. I need to be
ready.”

“I can help with that.”

“It has to come from me. I’ll call you from
Dallas the minute I know. Will you be at the ranch?”

He shook his head. “Things are piling up at
my apartment, so I’ll catch the red-eye if you’re sure you don’t
need me.”

“I’m sure. And I’ll probably stay in Dallas
tomorrow night and fly home Sunday morning.”

“I’ll fly back Sunday too. Even if your boss
pronounces this DOA.” He cupped her chin in his hand and gazed
solemnly into her eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed her. Not
the power kiss from hours earlier. More like the kiss from the
vegetable garden—slow, hot, and promising. And then like that kiss,
it ended as simply as it had begun. Then he backed away and said,
“I hope you know how I feel about you, Darcie.”

She had no clue, but for the moment it
didn’t actually matter. So all she said was, “You’re important to
me too, Wyatt.” Then she unlocked her door and went inside, knowing
he was halfway to the Jaguar already.

• • •

The first thing she did after changing back
into shorts and a tee was check Murf’s schedule via the secure PMA
website. To her relief he was in Dallas for a few days, and while
his calendar for Saturday was fully booked, every appointment was
marked tentative, so she double-booked him from one to three
o’clock.

He’d be curious, especially because she had
left the
Subject
line on the meeting request blank. But he’d
also be deferential for that same reason, not wanting to press her,
especially if something was wrong. And even if it was good
news . . .

But it isn’t,
she decided.
It’s
messy and last-minute—two things he hates.

All the more reason to be as organized and
well informed as possible when her plane touched down at DFW. So
she opened an assortment of electronic and paper research files and
tried to settle down, but the hated
Contract for Surrogacy
still sat on one corner of her dining table, and even though she
knew she shouldn’t, she took it to her overstuffed rocking chair
and curled up with it.

“What are you doing?” she murmured aloud.
“This guy’s all over the place. Does
he
even know what he
wants? And do you honestly think he wants
you?”

That was the fear, wasn’t it? That she was
doing all this just to keep him? Sleep with him, fake date him, be
his fake agent, his fake lawyer, even put herself on the line with
her boss for him?

The mere thought of that power kiss—the way
she had welcomed his complete and utter domination—seemed to
support that theory.

No,
she decided, jumping up and
crossing to her desk to stuff the surrogacy contract in the bottom
drawer.
This isn’t just about Wyatt. It’s about you, too. Maybe
even
mostly
about you.

Murf had told her for years she was born to
be a sports agent, and while she and Emily had scoffed, she now
knew it was true. She
loved
this. Talking to the media and
coaches and cocky, adorable clients. Studying behind the scenes,
watching games, learning the lingo. And while keeping her head
above water was a challenge for the moment, she could almost
taste
the day when she’d take the lead. Shape careers. Get
her clients the best deals, bail them out of every scrape, bask in
that blaze of loyalty and admiration in their eyes.

And the roses weren’t bad either.

Chapter Ten

Operating on five hours sleep for the second
day in a row, she was almost punchy when she walked into Murf’s
office and gave him a hug. She was wearing jeans and a black silk
blouse, hoping to send a signal of casual weekend business. Not
just a friendly chat, but not a crisis either.

Or at least not exactly.

He arched an appraising eyebrow. “No
crutches? And no engagement ring. You had me worried.”

“Sorry, it’s just something I wanted to talk
about in person.” She paused for a deep breath, then decided to buy
herself one more minute. “How’s Em?”

“Great. Although she was miffed to hear you
were coming to town without letting her know. So I reminded her
I’ve always been your secret favorite.”

Darcie laughed. “She has ways of making us
talk before we’re ready, right?” Before he could respond, she
continued her roll call. “And my baby boys?”

“They’ve been calling their sister
‘Smoochie.’”

“Uh-oh.”

“Be afraid,” he agreed with a grin. Then he
motioned toward the guest chair across from his desk. “Shall
we?”

Nervous, she settled into her seat. “So I’m
just going to blurt this out, okay?”

“No problem.”

“It’s a little shocking, but you can always
say ‘no,’ so don’t worry.”

“Got it.”