Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (45 page)

She noted the stubborn set to his jaw and
knew he liked things just the way they were. And so did she. Their
relationship grew stronger by the minute, but wasn’t it built on a
shaky foundation?

“Is this about the baby?” he asked
carefully. “There’s a lot going on, I agree. So just pick a time
when it works for you—”

“It’s not about the baby. It’s about
us
. It’s going so well—”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s perfect for me. So
let’s make it perfect for you, too. If that means I’ve gotta read
the contract on Sunday—reaffirm every word of it—then that’s what
I’ll do.”

“
And
make changes,” she reminded
him.

He started to respond, his eyes twinkling,
but at that moment his phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

“Oh, God,” Darcie murmured. “Is it him?”

He nodded and answered. “Hey, Murf. We’re on
speaker with Darcie. What’s up?”

“Tell me you still want to be an LA
Rustler,” he said cheerfully.

“Woo-hoo!” Darcie exclaimed, tackling Wyatt
back to the bed.

Laughing, Wyatt called out, “That’s
unbelievable, Murf. I thought for sure we were dead.”

“I’m not gonna lie, it got dicey. And I’ll
probably get a panicked call at midnight trying to take it back.
But we’ve got a deal, buddy. As long as the Rustlers do
their
part.”

“And they will,” Darcie insisted. “Coach
Spurling will see to that.”

“It’s a big ask. But in return they get the
Surgeon, so yeah. It’s in the bag. Listen, folks,” he added
urgently. “My flight’s about to take off. I’ll spend the night in
Dallas and meet you around ten for the whole story. And be
prepared, because I might brag a little.”

“Feel free,” Wyatt told him. “I still can’t
believe you pulled this off.”

“See you at ten. And Darcie?”

“Yes?”

“You did a good thing, kid. I couldn’t be
prouder.”

“Me either. See you tomorrow, Murf.”

She stared at Wyatt, loving the look on his
face. Like a kid at Christmas. Or really, like a guy whose every
wish had just been granted.

The he shocked her by grabbing her and
insisting, “Tell me again. And this time, say it like you mean
it.”

Her heart pounded. “I fell in love with you
on the plane. And I’ve been falling ever since.”

“Damn straight,” he growled, but the glint
in his eye told her how much he loved hearing it. How much he loved
her in return. And when he scooped her up and twirled her in the
air, she knew they had left the baby contract behind forever.

• • •

You’re going to marry this woman
someday.

The realization jolted Wyatt to his core as
he sat on the edge of Darcie’s bed and watched her sleep. After
being dead certain for so many years that he’d be alone—that it was
a foregone conclusion—he could barely fathom this new reality.

But the alternative—
not
marrying
her—seemed even crazier as he stared down at her beautiful,
peaceful face. They had exhausted each other with euphoric
celebration of Murf’s victory, and as much fun as that had been,
this in many ways was the real prize.

He had had so many high points in his
career, but had never had anyone to share them with. And from now
on, it would
always
be this way. His first win with the
Rustlers. The day she told him she was pregnant with their first
child. The
birth
of that child. Championship games. The
Super Bowl again. Maybe even a
ring
next time.

And even the quieter moments. Making love.
Slipping away for long weekends during bye weeks. Seeing her face
every morning. Every night.

Overcome with emotion, he slipped under the
bedsheet with her and whispered in her ear, “Darcie?”

Her naked body hardly stirred, but one green
eye opened and she murmured groggily, “Ooo, there’s a rustler in my
bed.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Talk later. Cuddle now,” she suggested,
burrowing against him as she drifted back to sleep.

“I love you, Darcie.”

“Love you, too,” she said dutifully.
“Sleep
with me, Wyatt.”

“We’ll get married someday. You know that,
don’t you?” he told her, nuzzling her warm neck. “I know I haven’t
asked you, but I will. And you’ll say ‘yes.’ And then we’ll be
together like this forever.”

“Hmm?” She touched his cheek. “Not now,
Wyatt. Fall asleep with me. We’ve got the rest of our lives for
this. So go to sleep,” she said, reminding him wistfully,
“Tomorrow’s another big day.”

He had to laugh as she dozed off again.
Apparently he really had worn her out. Which meant he should do as
she asked. Let her sleep. Sleep
with
her.

But the fire burned in him, so he insisted
ardently, “We’ll get married someday. Maybe the day our first child
is born. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? And I’d be the luckiest guy
in the world.”

“Wyatt,” she mumbled, nestling her face in
his chest. “Go to sleep.”

His ardor flamed. “If they can run the test
in utero, we can do it
before
the birth. The kid would like
that, right? Being born in wedlock? Even though it’s not as big a
deal these days.”

“Test?” she asked sleepily. “What test?”

The question knocked him on his ass.
“Huh?”

“Why would our baby need a test?”

“Forget about it,” he murmured. “Go back to
sleep, honey.”

Her eyelids fluttered slightly and then, as
he watched helplessly, the warm blood of innocent sleep drained
from her face. “You’re talking about a
paternity
test? Of
our
baby? Oh, my God, Wyatt. Oh, my God . . .”

Chapter Twelve

Cringing, Darcie asked in disbelief, “You
think I’d sleep with someone else? While we’re—while we’re— Oh,
God, Wyatt.”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. I swear it.”

She scrambled away, feeling more like a
wounded animal than a person. Then she curled into a
self-protective ball. “Oh, God.”

“It was on the checklist,” he reminded her,
his tone desperate. “But I don’t care about it. I promise. Just
forget I said it.”

“The checklist?”

A roar sounded in her ears. Like pounding
surf. Or maybe just white noise. Something to drown him out.
Protect her from him.

Because this couldn’t be happening.

“You can’t be here, Wyatt,” she blurted out
finally.

“Don’t say that.” He edged closer,
respectful but determined. “I’m an idiot. But I swear I’d never ask
you for a paternity test. Not ever.”

“You already did.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t me talking.
It was a screwed-up seventeen-year-old boy—”

“Don’t you
dare
blame Hannah.” She
buried her face in her hands. “That poor girl. That poor,
poor
girl.”

“I wasn’t blaming Hannah. Why would I do
that?” His tone deepened. “Damn it, Darcie,
listen
to
me.”

“I’ll call the police,” she said, trying to
sound tough but sobbing again instead. “Please, Wyatt? Please
go?”

“Sure, baby,” he murmured. “I’ll go. But
I’ll be right outside. Because we can fix this, but only if we
talk. So call me when you’re ready. I’ll be in the car.”

She barely watched him as he walked toward
the door. She just needed him gone.

When he paused in the doorway and told her
he loved her, she waved him away. Not because she didn’t love him
in return, but because it didn’t matter. She had nothing left. Not
for Wyatt. Not for herself. Not for the baby who would never be
born.

A paternity test
.

Who knew something so simple could break a
person’s heart?

• • •

For the first hour, she huddled in a cocoon
of shock and disbelief. Unable to think. Didn’t even know where to
begin to think. Because she honestly didn’t understand what had
just happened.

They had been so happy. Crazy happy. Crazy
in love. Making plans for a future together. Children together.

Oh, my God . . . What were
you thinking?

He didn’t trust her. She had
known
that. He had basically told her time and again, but somehow, they
had forgotten it. Like some form of erotic amnesia. Right up until
the moment when he revealed his deepest, hidden fear—that she might
present him with someone else’s child. Claim it was
his
. Or
worse, wouldn’t know if it was his or someone else’s because she
was sleeping with so many clients these days.

You’re such a fool, Darcie
.

She wanted to blame him. To hate the ground
he walked on. But he had tried to tell her, hadn’t he? First with
the earbuds, then by refusing to kiss her good night. And even when
he finally acknowledged their dangerous chemistry, he had set clear
ground rules. No sleeping over. No long-term commitment. And most
of all, no coming inside her. Because God only knew how wrong
that
could go.

Her grief settled into a pattern—sobbing,
beating herself up, dozing off, then waking up to sob again. To
remember more and more warnings he had given her. Suspecting her of
wearing green contact lenses to trap him—and other players—into
lucrative contracts? How crazy was
that?
She could almost
understand about the boob-job, because lots of guys—and even
women—made that assumption. But her eyes?

Didn’t that say it all?

Yet she had believed love—along with some
clever provisions in a bogus contract—would conquer all. Because
she
did
love him.

And somehow she had convinced him he too was
in love. Which was insane, since less than a week earlier he had
been willing to use her as a breeding cow and then throw her away
forever. A surrogate vessel for the child he could confidently
raise as his own because he himself grew him in a test tube.

And of course, there would be a paternity
test to reconfirm the result—thanks to the goddammed checklist.

• • •

When she woke up for the tenth time and
realized the sun was coming up, she forced herself to face the
truth. Wyatt was right outside in the Jag, crammed into an
uncomfortable seat, feeling—well, God only knew how he felt.

Then there was Murf, floating on air, not
knowing things had gone tragically wrong. He couldn’t wait to brag
about his conquest, and she would make sure he had the chance. She
owed him that.

And she owed Wyatt something too. A way to
retreat gracefully from this dreadful argument so he could revel in
his new status as starting quarterback for the LA Rustlers. There
would be plenty of time to deal with the fallout later. Either they
would agree just to be friends, or . . .

Or what?
she challenged herself.
Try the boyfriend-girlfriend route again? How exactly would that
work?

And what would be the point? He didn’t trust
her. Wasn’t that a deal breaker?

And as for babies? She’d have them one day.
Just not with Wyatt.

And Wyatt would have a baby too. But he’d
have it alone. And maybe that was for the best.

• • •

Wyatt had paced the sidewalk for hours,
grabbing a few minutes of sleep here and there in the cramped
quarters of the Jaguar, always mindful of Darcie’s front door. A
part of him wanted to burst through it—to pull her into his arms,
force her to let him apologize—but he had offended her enough for
one night.

So he waited patiently, and at seven a.m.
his phone finally rang.

Thank God
 . . .

“Darcie?”

“Hey, Wyatt. Did you get any sleep?”

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“I’m fine too,” she said flatly.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“We need to get ready for the meeting. I
know you want to talk,” she said more gently, “but you need to go
to your hotel and shower. Please? We’ll talk later, I promise.”

“You can’t believe I would ever really ask
you—well, to prove
anything
to me,” he blurted out
miserably. “Come on, Darcie. Just give me five minutes.”

“I don’t want Murf to see my eyes all red
and puffy. He’s not just my friend, he’s my employer.”

“I’ll ask him to move the meeting—”

“Don’t do that,” she pleaded. “This is my
career we’re talking about. Your career too.”

“You think I give a
damn
about my
career?” he demanded. “Without you it means nothing. Give me five
minutes—”

“I will. Just not today.” Her tone grew
confident, and he found that reassuring. This was the old Darcie.
Determined to have her way. No more cringing or crying.

Wasn’t that a good sign?

“You promised we’d talk on Sunday,” she
reminded him. “After the media frenzy dies down. Just let me get
through these next few days, then I’m all yours. I promise.”

He vaguely remembered that promise. To
re-hash the baby contract once the deal was done. But so much had
happened so quickly, that agreement seemed like ancient history to
him.

But you asked her for a paternity
test,
he reminded himself bitterly.
So to her, it’s more
real than ever. Not to mention ugly and hurtful.

“I know I hurt you, baby. There’s no excuse,
but if you let me—”

“I’m hanging up, Wyatt. But I’ll see you at
ten. Let’s try to enjoy the victory, shall we?” Her voice softened.
“You’re one step closer to being an LA Rustler, and I’m one step
closer to being an LA Rustler’s girlfriend. We won’t let some silly
fight ruin that, will we?”

She was playing him and he knew it. Still,
he couldn’t resist the sentiment. The confirmation she was still
his girlfriend despite his unforgiveable gaffe. So he forced
himself to sound upbeat when he said, “Okay, baby, whatever you
want. Just tell me you still love me. And you always will. No
matter what.”