She cocked a pretty blonde brow at him. “It’s my job to worry. Your image is at stake and this is a very high-profile event. In case you haven’t noticed, several sports figures will be at this event tonight, along with the media.”
“I already told you I’d be on my best behavior.”
“Don’t engage the media. If you’re asked a question, be benign.”
Now it was his turn to raise a brow. “How, exactly, does someone act benign?”
“You can answer football questions, or questions related to being with the Traders this season. Behavioral questions you need to avoid.”
“Avoid…how?”
“For example—Cole, do you think the reason Green Bay dumped you is because of your behavior?—how are you going to answer that?”
He scratched the side of his nose. “I don’t suppose you’d let me tell them to fuck off?”
She looked horrified. “Definitely not. You’ll tell them you enjoyed your time with Green Bay, and you think they’re a great organization, but it wasn’t a good fit for either you or the team. Now your focus is on the upcoming season with St. Louis.”
“So you want me to deflect.”
She nodded and patted his tie, raising her gaze to his. “Exactly. Don’t engage in a pissing match with the media. You’ll never come out ahead. Only give them positive, quotable remarks. Never denigrate your former teams.”
“But—”
She raised her hand. “It doesn’t matter what you really think. State the positive, focus on the Traders and this season. Get the media excited about St. Louis and you. If you’re optimistic, they’ll be optimistic about you.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. I’ll stick close to you so I can help you out if you need me to.”
“Jesus, Savannah. This isn’t my first time out in public. I think I can handle this. I’ve been handling it, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She gave him a dubious look. And okay, maybe she was right. He hadn’t exactly been a champion with interviews over the past couple years. He and the media weren’t the best of friends. But he’d give it his best shot because it was clear this was important to Savannah.
“Let’s go mingle,” she said, plastering on a bright smile.
But as they wandered through the crowd, he could tell she was nervous. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Savannah nervous. She was always so confident. But she kept glancing his way.
Did she think he was going to pick his nose in public? What kind of backwoods, uncouth redneck did she think he was? He rolled his eyes.
If there was one thing Cole could do, it was work a room. These might not be his type of people, but in the game of conversation he was never lacking.
They stopped at the bar. Savannah got a glass of chardonnay. Cole asked for water.
Grant Cassidy, the Traders’ quarterback, was also here tonight. Surrounded by media, he was smiling and charming and always “on.” Yeah, he was popular with the media and maybe Cole was just a little bit jealous about that, but if the guys with the microphones and the cameras wanted to give all their attention to pretty-boy Grant tonight, that was fine with him. The less spotlight on Cole, the better.
In fact, he’d be happy to fade into the background. All he wanted to do was play football, play it well, and be left alone to let his performance speak for itself. That’s all he’d ever wanted.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t Savannah’s plan. She grabbed his arm and practically paraded him back and forth in front of the media.
He finally dug in his heels and turned to her. “Really?”
“Really.”
It didn’t take long for the fish to bite. As soon as they finished with Cassidy, the media swarmed him.
“Riley. How do you feel about being traded? Again?”
“Do you feel like a failure after being dumped by yet another team?”
“What happened with Green Bay? Was it your off-field behavior that cost you the job?”
“Haven’t seen you much in the local clubs here. Purposely keeping a low profile, or are we just missing you when we scout out the night life?”
“Maybe you have a girlfriend and are staying in nights? Is she here with you tonight?”
He was going to need a mouth guard to keep from grinding his teeth. He wanted to tell them all to shove it up their asses, his usual response to invasive, moronic questions like the ones they were asking. But he kept his cool and answered them all, maintaining his calm and being as polite as humanly possible.
Despite the irritation prickling up his spine, he put on his best smile. “I feel great about being back home again. I’m jazzed to be with the Traders. They’re one of the best football teams in the league and I’m honored to be playing with them.”
He gave boring, team-positive answers. He told them he was happy to be with the Traders, that Green Bay was an amazing team and he expected them to have another stellar season, but he intended to look forward, not backward, and all he was doing right now was focusing on football, that’s why they couldn’t find him partying it up at the clubs.
Surprisingly, Savannah had been right. If he didn’t rise to the bait, the media got bored. He ended up fielding questions for about fifteen minutes until they found another sucker to badger and moved off. He turned to look for Savannah, but she had blended into the crowd. He signed a few autographs, fended off a couple frisky women who’d zeroed in on him when they saw him being interviewed, and made his way back to Savannah.
“You handled that well,” she said.
“I told you that you don’t have to worry about me. I really can handle myself.”
“When you want to.”
“So tonight I wanted to.”
She shook her head, but she was smiling. A genuine smile. That was a good thing. Maybe she was starting to believe in him.
“So what’s for sale tonight?” he asked.
“It’s a silent auction.” She led him over to the items up for bid. “You write your name down, and then someone else tries to outbid you.”
“I know how it works. Let’s take a look.”
It reminded him of a garage sale, only more expensive. There was a lot of junk, mostly stuff he’d never want to own, like artwork and shit. Though there was other stuff here for the non–art lovers. The trips were nice. Too bad it was the beginning of the season for him. He’d have no time now to take any trips to these exotic locations. He remembered Mick had taken Tara on one of these short tropical vacations. Mick said it had been great. Private and secluded, though he hadn’t offered up much in the way of details—not that Cole had expected him to.
Cole looked at Savannah, imagining her in a skimpy bikini swinging on a hammock in some hidden paradise. Yeah, he could definitely get into that.
“What are you doing?”
His gaze met hers. “Huh?”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like…you know what.”
His lips curved. “Can’t help it. I was checking out this private tropical getaway up for auction and imagined you lying naked on a hammock.”
Her cheeks went pink. She leaned against him to whisper. “Well, quit imagining that because it isn’t going to happen.”
“I know it isn’t going to happen, but you can’t control what I fantasize about, Peaches.”
“You have to stop fantasizing about me. About us.”
“And you need to quit leaning your sweet little breasts against me or I’m going to get hard.”
She pulled back so fast he was sure she was going to topple over on those sexy high heels.
“Look at this state-of-the-art barbecue instead,” she said, pointing out some stainless steel grill.
He cocked a brow. “Seriously? I like my grill just fine.”
“How about this art piece?”
“It looks like two porcupines mating in Play-Doh.” He hoped she didn’t fall in love with it.
She gave it a critical eye. “You’re right. It’s hideous.”
“Good. Then I don’t have to worry about your taste level after all.”
She laughed and moved on. It was more fun watching her examine the different pieces. She wrinkled her nose at some, spent time considering others. So far nothing seemed interesting enough for her to want to bid on anything.
Until she picked up a box. Kind of an ordinary box, actually. It looked old—some kind of antique wood, would be his guess. It was worn, with a scrolled pattern over the top. Savannah opened it up and it started playing music, some song that sounded familiar to him but he couldn’t place the tune.
Savannah obviously knew the melody though, because she sucked in her bottom lip and tears sprung to her eyes. She quickly shut the box, put it down, and moved on to the next item.
Something about that song had affected her. He caught up to her and slid his hand in hers. She lifted her gaze to his and smiled.
“See something you like?” she asked.
“No. But you saw something that upset you.”
Her smile died. “No, I didn’t.”
“What song was playing on that music box?”
“Oh. That? I don’t remember.”
“Peaches. Don’t lie to me.”
“Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.”
“I’ve heard it before. It’s pretty. Kind of sad.”
She blinked several times and he could tell there was something about the song that bothered her. He squeezed her hand. “Talk to me.”
She shook her hand. “It’s nothing. The song reminds me of my mother.”
“Is it like one of her favorite songs?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you want to talk to me about your mom?”
“Not at all.”
She wasn’t just upset. She was shaking. “Okay. Hey, let’s go back and take a second look at that stainless steel grill.”
The tension in her shoulders relaxed and she gave him a smile. “Sure.”
But while they were looking over the grill, Savannah’s gaze drifted back to the music box. He wasn’t sure if what he saw in her eyes was regret or longing, but he did know he couldn’t leave it alone. He was going to have to do something about it.
It took a good forty-five minutes to look over every item up for bid. Savannah ended up bidding on a pearl necklace, entering a bidding war with some older woman who claimed she wanted it for her niece.
“She’s full of shit,” Savannah whispered to Cole as she hovered near the bidding sheet. “She’s eyeing it like it’s the last piece of prize pecan pie at the county fair and she hasn’t eaten in a month. She wants that necklace for herself and I know it.”
Cole fought a grin, folded his arms, and nodded. “You’re tougher and meaner than she is, Peaches. I know you can take her down.”
“I intend to. There are fifteen minutes left in the bidding process and my name is going to be the last one on that sheet if I have to stuff her under the table and stand on her to make it happen.”
“If you need backup, let me know. I’ll carry her off and lock her in the closet.”
She batted her lashes. “You’d do that for me?”
“In a heartbeat, honey.”
Laughing, she hovered near the clipboard until old woman bidder hastily wrote her next bid. Then Savannah sauntered over, topped the bid and hurried off, no doubt hoping the woman hadn’t seen her.
Unfortunately, she had and the woman hurried back, giving Savannah a glare.
“I want to flip her off so bad.”
“Go ahead.”
“It would be improper.”
“You want me to do it?”