He tried for one of his patient, charming smiles. “Come on, Liz. We’re at a party.”
She raised her gaze to his in a look of disbelief. “Really? You’re going to try that smokin’-hot charm on me? I’m immune, you know.” She flashed her engagement ring at him.
“I wasn’t flirting with you, honest. Gavin would kick my ass.”
“You’re damn right, he would.”
“I was just trying to get back to the party. There’s this woman…”
Liz rolled her eyes. “You have plenty of time to party. And I’m sure about twenty women to choose from, if not more. I just need a few minutes of your time. And we had an agreement when I signed you,” she said, giving him that steely-eyed gaze. “Remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
“We’re leaving?”
“Just across the hall. There’s someone we need to meet with. When we’re finished you can get back to the party. And your women. And whatever it is that you want to do with them.”
Hopefully it wouldn’t take long. Maybe Savannah was still around somewhere and he could hook up with her again.
Elizabeth led him to a room across the hall. It was a small meeting room with rows of tables.
“Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
She gave him the look, the one that meant she was going to argue until she won. He was just as stubborn, but time was important right now, so he grabbed a chair, spun it around, and straddled it.
“What did I do now?”
“Tonight? Nothing so far. But I want to remind you about your attitude.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you wanted to meet about tonight? We’ve already had this discussion.”
“I know. And we’re going to talk about it again. The hometown crowd likes a winner. They also like someone who isn’t constantly in the tabloids for an overindulgence of partying, for treading on his fellow players like they’re the shit beneath his Nikes, for accumulating more speeding tickets than the national debt, and for throwing the very expensive cameras of the paparazzi into a fountain. And if that wasn’t bad enough, following it up with a punch to the guy’s jaw.”
“Hey, he shoved the f**king camera in my face. Not just close to my face, but in my face. What was I supposed to do—say cheese and smile for him?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. Or turn around and walk away. You need to learn to control your temper and be taught how to behave in public. You need some lessons on how to interact with the media.”
Cole snorted. “I think I know how to handle myself just fine.”
Liz tapped her foot, though how she managed to stand upright on those five-inch heels was beyond him.
“And if you recall, when I agreed to sign you on as a client—mainly because no other agent wanted to be within five miles of you—and I managed to somehow get you signed with St. Louis, you agreed to do anything I asked of you.”
He thought that meant the slightly painful salary cut he’d had to take. At least Liz was savvy enough to put performance bonuses in the contract. He’d show them he wasn’t washed up. He was still an ass-kicker and this season would prove it. “I did what you asked, didn’t I?”
“Oh, the salary cut was just the beginning, Cole. Your image is toast. You know it, I know it, and Coach Tallarino knows it. If the coach wasn’t such a good friend of your cousin Mick—and if he didn’t owe me a few dozen favors—I guarantee you wouldn’t have this job.”
Cole wasn’t buying it. The Traders signed him because he had the talent and plenty of it. Agents liked to make threats to keep their players in line. He knew how this game was played. All he had to do was sit here and listen to Liz’s spiel for a few minutes, then he’d be outta here.
“The clock is ticking. It’s only a matter of time before no one will touch you, no matter how good you are on the field. You’re a PR nightmare.”
He stood and faced Liz, doing exactly what she said he wasn’t capable of. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his temper under control. “I’m a damn good wide receiver.”
“That might be true, but until you stop the nonsense off the field and prove to the coach, your team, the media, and the general public that you’ve grown up and your bad-boy days are over, it doesn’t matter if you score ten touchdowns a game. Reputation is everything in football.”
He blew out a sigh. Why couldn’t his stats be enough? What difference did it make what he did during his off hours? So he liked to party a little. So what? His bad rep was the media’s fault anyway. He was at the top of his game. After six years in the NFL, he’d damn well earned the right to relax and enjoy life.
But yeah. PR. He understood. And if he had to toe the line for a while until he got in the good graces of the fans and the coach, that’s what he’d do.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’m bringing in someone to help you.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“Just hang on a second.” She sent a text message, and a minute later the door opened.
He was shocked when Savannah walked in.
Relieved to see her, Cole grinned, glad he hadn’t lost the opportunity to spend more time with her.
“Hey. I was wondering where you’d wandered off to,” he said.
“You two know each other?” Liz asked.
“Yeah. We met earlier.” Cole turned to Liz. “You know Savannah?”
Liz’s lips lifted. “As a matter of fact, I do. And you’re going to get to know her a lot better. Savannah is your new image consultant.”
He pivoted and looked at Savannah, who gave him a serene smile.
The pieces fell into place. He’d been screwed by the pretty blonde. The game player had been played.
“My image consultant? What the fuck?”
TWO
COLE NARROWED HIS GAZE AT SAVANNAH. “YOU played me.”
“I did not.”
“You didn’t tell me who you were.”
“As a matter of fact, I told you exactly who I was and what I did for a living.”
“That’s bullshit. You told me you were there to observe. You didn’t say you were there to watch me. Were you looking for me to make an ass of myself?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t. And you didn’t. Until now.”
“Well, this is fun,” Liz said, stepping between Cole and Savannah. She turned to Cole. “Look, I have no idea what went on between the two of you, but the team has hired Savannah to work with you, so like it or not, she’s yours.”
Cole glared at Savannah. “I don’t like it. She isn’t mine, and I don’t want her.”
“Tough shit. She’s the best in her field, and you’ll do what she says.”
Great. Someone else to tell him what to do. An image consultant? He didn’t need anyone to change him. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll have to answer to the team owner, and as I mentioned earlier, you’re out of options.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. He’d make this work. Peaches there seemed like a pussycat, and he could be pleasant if he wanted to be. He’d just wrap her around his finger and then go about his business, and still make the owner, his coach, and Liz happy.
It was a win-win for everyone. “Fine.”
Liz smiled. “Good. I’m out of here. I’ve got wedding plans to finalize.”
“I’m so excited for you, Elizabeth,” Savannah said, turning her attention to Liz. “How are the wedding preparations going?”
“Everything’s moving right along, thanks to my future sister-in-law, Tara, who’s the best wedding planner ever. If it weren’t for her and Gavin’s sister, Jenna, I’d have slit my wrists by now.”
Savannah laughed, and the sound shot right to Cole’s dick. She had a throaty laugh, the kind you’d expect to hear in a smoky strip joint, not from Miss Image Makeover.
Savannah put her hand over Liz’s. “I’m sure you’ll be a beautiful bride.”
“Thank you.” Liz turned to Cole and gave him a glare. “You behave yourself. And please cooperate. This is the only chance you’re going to get.”
“I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“Why does that worry me so much?” She rolled her eyes and walked out the door, leaving him alone with Savannah.
He turned to face her. “Did you enjoy that?”
She gave him a benign look. “Enjoy what?”
“Leading me on. Letting me think you were some stranger alone at the party, when the whole time you’d been watching me and you knew who I was.”
“I can’t help what you thought, Cole. But you behaved like a gentleman. Not at all like the tabloids portray you.”
“I told you the media lies.”
“We’ll see.”
He’d wanted something different between them. His body wanted something more than what his mind wanted. He was still attracted to her, and now he had to work with her. This sucked. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now you can go back to your party. We’ll get started tomorrow morning.”
“Can’t. I work out with my trainer in the mornings.”
“Where, and what time?”
He told her.
“Fine. I’ll meet you there.”
He arched a brow. “You going to work out?”
“I might. But we’ll do our work after you’re finished.”
“Whatever.”
Her lips lifted. “I promise, these lessons won’t hurt at all.”
“Lessons? What lessons?”
“You’ll see. Good night, Cole.”
For the second time that night, she walked out on him.
SAVANNAH LAID HER PURSE DOWN ON THE GLASS table in her living room, kicked off her shoes, and headed into the bedroom, reaching for the zipper of her dress. She pulled the dress off and hung it up, then stopped in front of the bathroom mirror to stare at herself.
She’d worn her La Perla bra and panties tonight. They were so pretty, a blush pink, with lace and silk. Sexy, provocative.
Unfortunately, the only person admiring the ensemble was her. She inhaled and let out a long sigh, removing the clip and pins holding her hair up. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it forward.
She wasn’t bad-looking. Average breasts, her body a little on the curvy side. She liked to eat and she could easily slip into the overweight category if she wasn’t so active. She had a lot of restless energy, so she burned a lot of calories that way, which kept her metabolism rolling at a pretty high rate. But she had great legs. She worked out regularly so she could maintain her stamina at the level required to keep up with her clients.
Like her new client, Cole Riley, who’d hit all her hot buttons tonight. Actually, he’d been the first client she’d been assigned to who’d turned her head and made her think of him as something other than just a client.
That man had testosterone stamped on every inch of him. He was hard to ignore. The way he looked at her, pursued her, made her wish he wasn’t her client.
But he was. Starting tomorrow.
Tonight, though, she could think about what might have happened had she been able to indulge in the attraction that had been so obvious between them.
She’d always gone for the bad boys, the kind her mother warned her against, which made her want them all the more. And the one thing her mother had told her was that you could never change a bad boy.
But that’s what she did now, and she did a damn good job of it.
Too bad she was going to have to change Cole Riley. He was bad boy personified, and one look at him tonight had revved all her engines.
She rubbed her thumbs over her nipples, sucking in a breath at the sensitivity she felt even through her bra.
She moved to the bedroom and stretched out on her bed. The bed she’d be sleeping alone in tonight, just like every night. She dug in her heels and pushed backward until she lay in the center of the bed, then spread her legs, letting the ceiling fan bathe her body with cool air.
Cole Riley was interesting. If he hadn’t been her assigned client, what might have happened between them tonight?
She undid the clasp on her bra and freed her breasts, allowing her hands to wander. Not at all the same as a man’s hands—a man’s very large hands that would cover her breasts, rolling her ni**les between his fingers.
She gasped as the sensation sparked between her legs. She clamped her thighs together, her pu**y pulsing with the need to be touched. She brushed her thumb over her nipple while snaking her hand down her stomach, closing her eyes as the image of what she and Cole could do together flashed into her mind.
Cole shouldn’t be in her fantasies. He was her new client, and thinking about him as she slid her hand inside her panties was a monumentally bad idea. But she couldn’t get him out of her head. He was who she wanted touching her. His hands would be calloused and strong, not feminine and soft as she stroked the silken folds of her sex. She wanted someone who’d demand her response, who’d know what to do with a woman’s body.
She gasped as she slid her fingers down, teasing the folds of her pu**y with the light drag of her fingernails. Would Cole be gentle with her, or would he be rough as he dipped two fingers inside her, using the heel of his hand against her clit.
She arched against the sensation, closing her eyes and imagining him next to her, his lips closing over her nipple, drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth. She’d reach out and hold him there—her ni**les were so sensitive. She’d want it harder, would need more of that delicious pain.