Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (48 page)

And the other fifty percent? Bluffs, pure
and simple. Wyatt had played for this guy so he knew.

As always in these football meetings, Darcie
said little, absorbed a lot. And to her surprise, she was almost
capable of independent thought, which was probably dangerous under
the circumstances. For one thing, Wyatt and Murf were so hot on the
idea of sending Joey Johnston to the Jets, and on paper it looked
pretty good. But paper wasn’t everything, was it? She had read
articles about the close friendship between Johnston and Luke
Stoddard, and worried that it would further undermine Luke’s
recovery—his willingness to accept mentoring—if Wyatt stole his
starting position
and
his best friend.

She even had a glimmer of an idea how to fix
it. But the meeting was less than a day away, and at this point,
“glimmers” were worse than just keeping her mouth shut.

So that’s what she did.

Plus, she was exhausted. And sad. Missing
Wyatt even though he was sitting right across the table from her.
If he hadn’t said what he said—hadn’t felt what he felt—they would
be chomping at the bit to be alone again. To dive into bed, teasing
and tempting, challenging and flattering. So into each other they
couldn’t stop, not even for food or sleep. Maybe even flying off to
Vegas to tie the knot.

How crazy was that?

Her mind drifted to his traumatic childhood.
His discovery that Matt wasn’t his real dad. Hadn’t a part of her,
deep in her subconscious, suspected it all along? The way he
referred to the guy as “Matt Bourne” or “my dad,” but never just
“Dad.” And the Bourne family was always “the Bournes.” Not “my
family.”

So it didn’t really surprise her, but like
Murf, she knew it didn’t matter. Matt Bourne was Wyatt’s dad in
every way that counted. Aunt Jenny and Bea had noted the
resemblance at the party. Wyatt’s protective nature. His strength.
Even his imposing stance. Sure, Denny St. Claire had donated some
DNA. Something in the jaw. Maybe the eyes. The throw. It meant
something, but not everything.

Not as much as Matt meant.

“Did we bore you to death?” Murf teased her
gently.

“Oh, shoot, my secret’s out,” she said with
a laugh.

“Hang in there, because we’ve reached the
fun part of this exercise. The part where you get to grill me.
Mercilessly.”

“That
does
sound like fun,” she told
him, hoping to make up for her maudlin mood.

He grinned. “Before we get started, let’s
hear what’s on your mind.”

“Hmm?” She felt a twinge of panic. Did he
honestly want to talk about Wyatt’s tortured past again? Now of all
times?

But instead he eyed her knowingly. “You’ve
got a problem with our plan, right? So spit it out.”

Shocked, she assured him, “That’s crazy. I
barely understand your stupid plan.”

“Don’t try to con me. Just spit it out.”

She rolled her eyes at Wyatt, who chuckled
in sympathy. Then she sighed. “Promise you won’t laugh? Because I
know
you guys have crunched the numbers. The stats. But Joey
Johnston isn’t just a number. He’s Luke Stoddard’s best friend on
the team. My concern—and maybe it’s unavoidable—is that Luke will
see this as something else you guys are stealing from him.” Turning
to Wyatt, she said firmly, “You’re doing him a favor. We
all
know that. But he’s living in a whiskey bottle. So he’s not
processing things logically. Just emotionally.”

“I didn’t realize they were friends,” Wyatt
said, visibly concerned.

Murf glared at her. “I know something about
Stoddard, too. Specifically about him and his agent—a guy named
Nick Gutierrez.
They’re
close friends too. A lot like me and
John were at the beginning. Nick’s a great guy. He’ll help Stoddard
through this, so no worries.”

“Oh, whew! Problem solved. Thanks,
Murf.”

But he was still glaring. “So when you say
he and Johnston are close, what exactly do you mean?”

“Luke was best man at Joey’s wedding last
fall. It made the LA papers, and thus the Internet. That’s where I
saw it.”

“Unbelievable,” he growled. “So what do you
suggest instead? Johnston’s
perfect
. He frees up substantial
cap space for Coach Spurling, and the Jets like his skill set. He
fits this deal perfectly.”

“Then do it. Who’s stopping you?”

“You’re such a brat,” he muttered. “Let’s
hear your alternative.”

“I don’t have one. I mean, in a perfect
world . . .” She glanced at Wyatt for support. “What
about Engels?”

Wyatt chuckled fondly. “The Jets would
love
that. But the Rustlers? Not so much.”

“Why not? When you were talking to Jake and
the coach, you all agreed Engels needed re-tooling before he could
fit your new offense.”

“He’s still more valuable than Johnston,
honey. It would be a windfall for the Jets, and unfair to LA.”

“It’s only a windfall if you give them the
extra first-round pick. That’s the current offer, right? Two first
rounders next year and one the year after that, plus a bunch from
the second and third rounds. But if they get Engels, maybe they
could take
one
in the first round next year and add
something sweet to the other rounds. Or the following years. Geez,
you
guys do the math. I’m just here for comic relief.”

Wyatt and Murf stared at each other,
shutting her out completely. Then Wyatt said, “Coach Spurling
loves
the draft. If he could hold on to that
pick . . .”

“And lose Engels?”

“Like Darcie said, we’d need to re-tool him
anyway. And I kinda like Johnston. He never loses focus. My kind of
player.”

When Murf shot her a look like this was all
her fault, she gave him a fake smile. “Let me guess: this is a
nightmare?”

“Smart-ass,” he grumbled. “But yeah, this
could work. Maybe even work better than Johnston. Damn.”

“Glad I could help.”

They both laughed, then Murf told her, “Now
that you’ve had your fun, how about doing your job? I need you guys
to grill me. Now more than ever.”

“Trust me,” she drawled back at him. “I
can’t wait.”

• • •

By the time they finished, Darcie was
completely drained. Not to mention in awe of Murf. The idea that he
could absorb this kind of beating today, then face down a bunch of
Rustlers tomorrow?

“Give me a hug,” she instructed him
fondly.

“My pleasure.” His embrace was gentle but
filled with emotion. “I love the hell out of you, kid. Even when
you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Well, you’re my hero every day of the week.
So get used to it.”

His cheeks flushed with pride. “You’ll be
back by noon tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m just sorry Wyatt
can’t be there. It’s gonna be legendary.”

“Yeah, Murf,” Wyatt said, extending his
hand. “They don’t stand a chance against you.”

“Thanks for trusting me with your career,
buddy.”

“You earned it.” He cleared his throat.
“When will I hear the verdict?”

Darcie bit back a smile, loving his
excitement. This was it—the moment he had needed without even
knowing it. “That’s a great question, Murf. Can we meet up with
Wyatt for dinner?”

Murf pursed his lips. “The fun and games
begin at one. And trust me, it’ll get rough. But with luck, we’ll
beat them into submission by six or six thirty. Seven at the
latest.”

“I’ll grab a table in the restaurant
downstairs,” Wyatt offered. “The one on the patio.”

“Good idea. But just show up. I’ll make sure
they have a private table waiting.”

“Full-service,” Wyatt said admiringly.

“Always. Now get lost, both of you. Save
your strength for celebrating.”

“Yay.” Darcie hugged him again, then took
Wyatt’s arm and led him to the door. “Let’s walk down
together.”

Chapter Thirteen

It felt good to lean on him. To feel his
strength. His power. Not just because she loved him, but because
she hadn’t slept much the night before. Neither had he. So maybe
he’d be okay with just parting company in the lobby.

But he kept hold of her arm when they
finally exited the elevator. “I know you don’t want to talk. And
that’s fine. But let’s hang out, okay? We can do it at my hotel if
that works better.”

“Aren’t you tired?” she asked playfully,
pretending to yawn. “You football players have
way
too much
stamina. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Yeah, I’m tired,” he agreed, pulling her
against himself. “So just sleep with me. I promise I won’t say a
word.”

His body felt so warm. So enticing. And his
arms? Rocket launchers for sure, but also gentle. Protective.
Seductive.

Except he doesn’t trust you. Because too
many people let him down, again and again.

“Say it,” he urged her as though reading her
mind.

“We’re just doing our best,” she reminded
him. “And you promised we’d wait until tomorrow night.”

“And then we’ll go home together? Go to bed
together? Talk all night if that’s what you need?”

“It’ll be such a great night,” she told him,
running her fingertip along his granite jaw. “I can’t wait.”

“And then you’ll marry me?”

“What?” She almost felt angry. Because she
was trying so hard. Despite all the pain. Despite the exhaustion.
Despite the pressure of knowing his career was on the line.

But he didn’t take it back. Instead, he
cupped her face in his huge hand and said forcefully, “I know I
screwed up. And I’m sorry. But I need you, Darcie. And you need me
too.”

“I’ll need you tomorrow night. All night
long. After that,” she said, pulling free and brushing away a tear,
“we’ll see.”

Misery shone in his eyes. “It’s like you’re
drifting away.”

It was so true. She was a helium balloon
tied with a green ribbon. And he was a child who loved that balloon
and wanted desperately to keep hold of it. But he didn’t know how.
Because no one had ever
taught
him how.

And so as much as she wanted to be with him,
she kept floating away. And there wasn’t anything she could do to
stop it. That was up to Wyatt, wasn’t it? And he just didn’t have
the tools.

So all she said was, “I need to go home,
Wyatt. But tomorrow night I’m all yours.”

• • •

Standing alone in the lobby, Wyatt stared
after her, completely at a loss. They were in love. The kind that
lasted forever. The kind he hadn’t dared hope for.

But to her, it’s just the starting point. So
figure it out, goddamn it.

“Hey, buddy,” Murf’s cheerful voice boomed
in his ear.

He turned, grateful for the distraction.
“Hey, Murf. Darcie just left.”

“She looked tired,” the agent murmured. Then
he gestured toward a half-empty bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure. Although I feel like I should do the
buying.”

“Never.” Murf led him to an empty table,
then ordered two extra-dry martinis from the waitress who appeared
out of nowhere.

When she was gone, Murf quirked a
sympathetic eyebrow. “So? How bad is it?”

Wyatt grimaced. “Apparently I have trust
issues.”

“You and me both,” his agent said
cheerfully. Then he grinned. “You’re surprised? Yeah, I’m a
hypocrite. Building a career by getting guys like you to trust
me
completely. But returning the favor? That’s like pulling
teeth.”

“Seriously?”

“It makes sense, don’t you think? There
weren’t any trustworthy adults in my childhood. Hell,
I
was
the adult from the time I could heat up a can of soup. And you? You
had a good role model for a while, but in the end, he let you down.
I’m not sure which is worse.”

“I’m fairly sure it was worse for you.”

Murf seemed about to dispute this, but
paused while the martinis were served. Then he lifted his glass and
said, “To the future.”

“To the future.” Wyatt took a perfunctory
taste of his drink and waited for Murf to continue.

“The point is, I’m a thirty-five-year-old
man who only trusts four people in the entire world. Not much of a
track record. And the first was just a fluke. After that,” he
admitted ruefully, “I made the next three work their asses off for
it.”

“How?” Wyatt asked, intrigued in spite of
himself.

“Well, John Spurling and I went through fire
together, so there’s that. And Sean Decker? You don’t know him, but
he’s probably the most decent, trustworthy guy in the world.
Eventually I caught on to that.” He arched an eyebrow. “Then there
was Darcie. I made
her
work the hardest of all.”

“Sounds familiar,” Wyatt mused.

“In my defense, she was just a kid when I
met her. Emily’s sassy little sidekick. I loved her, and knew she’d
be a great lawyer because of that smart mouth, but I never really
took her seriously until Em went into labor the first time. It was
rough,” he said as a shadow passed across his face. “My wife is
so—well, gifted really—we assumed she’d sail through childbirth
like everything else. Then she was doubled over in pain, gushing
blood, sobbing in my arms. I panicked. So did Emily. But
Darcie . . .” He exhaled sharply. “She took over.
Got me functioning again. Got the hospital staff in line. Kicked
the doctor’s ass. My wife won’t take drugs—not ever—and Darcie made
sure they respected that too. We made it through because of her.
And ended up with a perfect little boy.”

“That’s an incredible story.”

“Yeah, it was an eye opener.”

They were silent for a moment, then Wyatt
reminded him, “You said the first person you trusted was a fluke? I
assume that was your wife?”

“Right. You’d think the first one would be
the hardest, but it happened in the blink of an eye. A leap of
faith, you might say.”

“How so?”

“She was out of my league. So I had to act
fast. Unfortunately, I had nothing to my name back then except
student loans and an overinflated ego. So I put myself in her
hands. Not just my heart, because that part was easy. But complete
trust?” He eyed him intently. “I had a million reasons not to do
it. Not with
anyone
. But I went for it, and luckily, she
appreciated what it meant from a guy like me. And it changed my
life.”