“Believe it or not, the fact that you’re a woman has nothing to do with why I don’t want you as my agent.” Her brows rose. “It’s because you don’t have a single client,” Cedric continued. “I need someone with experience.”
“I may not have much experience—”
“No experience,” Cedric interjected.
“I have a Jurist Doctor and chaired the Texas State Bar’s committee on sports and entertainment law. I was one of the top associates in my law firm’s contracts and negotiations division, and I can promise that I know this game better than half of your Sabers teammates.” She pulled at the hem of her jacket, straightening it. “All I’m asking for is twenty minutes. You owe me that much for ogling my breasts.”
Cedric barked out a laugh. What the hell? He’d had a good game today. Why not reward himself with an afternoon in the company of a gorgeous woman? “Fine,” he finally relented. “There’s a Starbucks about two blocks from here.”
“I know where it is,” Payton said. “Are you going there now?”
“As soon as you stop blocking the way to my truck.”
She moved out of the way, but before Cedric could take a step toward his vehicle she caught him by the arm, halting him. “I expect to see you there in ten minutes.”
Cedric looked down at the fingers nestled against his black shirt. He could feel the power in them. There was something about a petite, delicate-looking woman hiding that kind of strength that turned him on.
His gaze trailed from where she touched his arm to her warm brown eyes. The current of electricity that traveled between them was hot enough to singe his skin.
“I’ll be there,” Cedric promised.
Her fingers remained on his arm several seconds longer than necessary before she seemed to snap out of the lust-filled snare that had trapped them. She released his arm and inclined her head with a firm nod before heading in the direction of the visitors parking lot.
As he watched her walk away, Cedric wondered if he would be able to last the twenty minutes he’d promised her without thinking about how the rest of her looked beneath that denim jacket.
Chapter 2
P
ayton added a packet of raw cane sugar to her black coffee and took a sip. She stared at the entrance to the coffee shop, her anxiety building with every nanosecond that passed. Cedric couldn’t have been more than five minutes behind her, unless someone had detained him in the parking lot after she’d left. Or maybe he had stood her up despite his promise not to.
Payton had known this wouldn’t be easy. From the moment she’d left her position at one of the most prestigious law firms in Austin and boarded a plane for New York, Payton had anticipated the series of brick walls she’d come up against with frustrating regularity.
It didn’t matter how hard it was to break into the business, she reminded herself. As long as it kept her close to her dad.
Some of her earliest memories were of being on her daddy’s shoulders as he bellowed at his players from the sidelines of the Manchac High School Mustangs football practices. From the age of two until high school graduation, Payton had attended nearly every practice, coaches meeting and Friday night game. She understood the ins and outs of the West Coast Offense, and how to defend against it. She could draw up pass routes, devise a running play and figure out an opposing team’s defense strategy as soon as they stepped up to the line of scrimmage.
But she had ovaries and thus couldn’t possibly be a legitimate agent in the NFL.
Payton squelched her frustration. She’d expended enough energy debating this argument in her head.
She checked the time on her cell phone again. When she looked up she found Cedric holding the door open for a young couple who were exiting the coffee shop. Relief flowed over her at the sight of him. He hadn’t backed out on her. This was further than she’d ever been able to get before with a potential client.
He pointed to a table in the rear of the coffee shop. Payton met him there.
“Sorry for making you wait. I had an important call I needed to take.” He set the leather-bound notebook he’d carried in with him on the table. It had the Sabers logo embroidered on the cover, a growling saber-toothed tiger.
“That’s okay. I knew you would be here,” she lied.
He gestured to her cup. “You want a pastry with that?”
“No, thanks,” Payton said.
He walked to the counter without as much fanfare as Payton would have expected. With its close proximity to the stadium, the regulars were probably used to seeing Sabers players in their local coffee shop. Several of the customers in line congratulated Cedric on his touchdown, but there was no fawning. Payton noticed he declined when a couple of people tried to let him skip the line.
As she waited, she peeked at the notebook he’d left on the table. Payton instantly recognized the scrawled drawings as football plays. A genuine NFL playbook. What her daddy wouldn’t have given to have had a chance to thumb through this. She perused several of the plays, agreeing with some, finding flaws in others.
“That’s confidential,” Cedric said with a hint of a smile as he returned to the table.
“Then you probably shouldn’t leave it just lying around,” Payton quipped.
“I trust the guys who hang out here. I just have to watch out for the occasional Giants fan lurking around, trying to catch a glimpse of the playbook.”
She trailed her fingers across the smooth leather. “Pretty interesting reading.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it would keep you fascinated for hours,” he snorted.
“Actually, it would,” Payton replied. “Though some of those plays could use a bit of tweaking.”
His brow cocked in surprise. “Do tell.”
She pointed to the most obvious. “As soon as you line up in a T formation the defense expects you to run to the right. It would be smarter to bring in someone else as an eligible running back, to trip them up. Or maybe even run a reverse.”
His eyes darted to the playbook then back to hers. He turned the notebook and studied the play.
“How’d you come up with that?” he blurted, clearly impressed.
“I told you, I know football.” It was time for her to make her pitch. Payton didn’t want to waste any more of her twenty minutes. “I also know how valuable you are to the Sabers running game, even if front-office management doesn’t.”
“Really?” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you know?”
“I know it would be a mistake for them to go with another running back at this stage of Mark Landon’s career,” she said, referring to the Sabers starting quarterback who’d announced plans to retire at the end of next season.
“And how would you convince Sabers management that Landon’s retirement has anything to do with me?”
“Mark Landon has been handing you the ball for the past four years. When players work that closely together for an extended period of time, they develop a natural rhythm. If management brought in a new running back, that chemistry would be lost. Landon and the new guy would have to learn each other’s nuances. Then, one season later, a new quarterback would have to go through the same learning process. Whereas if they stuck with you, they could bring in Landon’s replacement early and get a head start on the grooming process between the two of you.”
Payton hadn’t realized she’d been leaning in as she spoke. She was halfway across the table by the time she finished. She couldn’t help it; football talk excited her. Payton sat back in her chair and folded her hands on the table, trying her best to rein in her enthusiasm.
“That’s just one of the reasons the Sabers should sign you to a new contract,” she said much more calmly. “By the time we go in for negotiations, I’ll have enough reasons to fill that entire playbook.”
“Damn.” Cedric laughed. “Even I wasn’t that sure the Sabers should re-sign me.” He eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup. “How many other players have underestimated you?” he asked.
“Enough,” Payton answered.
He took another sip of his coffee, set the cup on the table and raised his arms above his head in a huge stretch. “It’s their loss,” he replied.
Payton’s breath seized in her lungs. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“Before I agree to let you represent me, you’ve got to answer a few questions.”
“Shoot,” she said, the blood pumping through her veins like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby.
“How many times did you take the Players Association’s certification test before you passed?”
“Once.”
“Money. What’s your cut?”
“The standard four percent for the contract, twenty percent for endorsement deals. Anything else?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Cedric settled his elbows on the table. “How in the hell does an itty-bitty thing like you know so much about football?”
“Looks can be very deceiving, Mr. Reeves.”
“Apparently. You had me fooled up until the point you revamped one of our best running plays and made it ten times better. How’d you manage to do that?”
“I’m a huge fan,” she said with a shrug.
“That stadium was filled with over seventy-thousand fans today, and I’ll bet half of them couldn’t even read this playbook. You didn’t learn how to dissect that play just by being a fan.”
“My dad coached high school football,” Payton shared. “While most families discussed current events at the dinner table, we talked end around plays and pass routes.” She hitched a shoulder. “It’s what I’m used to.”
“I’ll be damned,” Cedric said, a rueful gleam in his eyes. “How many times did I blow you off?”
“More times than I can count.”
“I’m lucky you’re so persistent.”
“I had to be,” Payton said. “You’re the player I need.”
That brow hitched again. “How did I win that honor?”
“Because you’re the one who will be the most difficult to get signed to a new contract.”
His forehead creased in a frown, but Payton couldn’t be bothered by hurt feelings. This was business, plain and simple.
“You’re a hard sell, Cedric. You haven’t made the best name for yourself these past few years. If I manage to get you a new contract, other players in the league would have no choice but to see me as a legitimate agent.”
Instead of protesting, as Payton thought he would, he nodded and leaned both arms on the table. “Smart strategy,” he commented. “So, how do you plan to convince the Sabers to re-sign me?”
“Are you agreeing to become my client?” she asked, reminding herself to take a breath but unable to get air past the lump in her throat. His answer meant everything to her career.
“As much as I wish it weren’t true, I don’t have much of a choice,” he admitted. “Though you probably knew that already. These past few weeks I’ve discovered just how much agents talk.”
“For obvious reasons, I’m not allowed membership into their special club, so I’m not privy to all the insider information,” Payton said. “But your agent troubles aren’t all that private. It’s pretty much common knowledge.”
With a disgruntled moan, he shook his head. Payton reached over and put a hand on his arm. His eyes met and held her gaze for several moments before she had the good sense to take her hand away.
“Don’t worry,” Payton said, resisting the urge to rub her palm where she’d touched him. Who knew a simple touch could have such an effect on her? “Everything people know about Cedric Reeves is about to change.”
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Because the first step in my plan is a complete reputation overhaul. You, Mr. Reeves, are about to go from bad boy to Boy Scout.”
A dozen protests sounded throughout Cedric’s brain, warning him this was a mistake. He didn’t know anything about this woman, other than that she had great legs, serious skills as a stalker and apparently
did
know the game of football better than half the players on the Sabers team.
But could he trust her with his career?
Cedric glanced over at the counter where she’d gone to refill her coffee. She seemed legit and she talked a really good game. Wasn’t that what he needed in an agent? Someone who knew how to say all the right words to convince the Sabers that they needed him?
“What do I know?” Cedric murmured under his breath as he ran an agitated hand down his face.
The guys had tried to tell him that he needed to pay attention to the business side of this league, but that’s what Gus was for. From the day he’d approached Cedric during his sophomore year at Penn State, Gus Houseman had promised to take care of him. And he had. Gus had given him a generous—albeit illegal—monthly stipend throughout his college career, and on NFL Draft Day it was Gus who had treated Cedric’s entire family to a huge barbecue back in Philadelphia while Cedric and his mom lived it up in New York where the draft was held. An investment, Gus had called it.
But those days were behind him. Gus had cut him loose, leaving Cedric when he was most vulnerable, in the middle of the season before his contract came up for renegotiation.
His mom always told him the only person who would ever really take care of him was himself. He should have listened.
His agent troubles were real. It had taken several weeks of rejections by big-name agents for Cedric to finally see the light, but he saw it now, shining brighter than the halogen bulbs that lit up Sabers Stadium. If the Sabers didn’t re-sign him, there was no guarantee another team would pick him up. Cedric had never allowed himself to even contemplate that he would ever be one of those highly touted college players who washed out of the league after only a few years.
He wasn’t here just for himself. He had his twin brother to think about. A half hour ago, just as Cedric was preparing to leave Sabers Stadium, Derek had made his weekly call from Marshall’s Place, the top-notch facility for cerebral palsy patients Cedric gladly paid a small fortune to every month. His brother’s care had no price tag. And his brother’s love for football had no bounds. When he’d been drafted into the NFL, Cedric knew he was playing for both of them. He refused to crush Derek’s dreams, which is why he had to stay in the league for as long as possible.