Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (31 page)

She also received a world-class education as he pointed out blown coverages, explained the moves that made Johnny Spurling the league’s best QB, and alerted her to the fine-tuning by Johnny even after plays began.

Surprisingly, when Wyatt “the Surgeon” Bourne took the field, Bannerman showed appreciation and respect for that QB as well.

“So you don’t hate him?”

“I don’t hate anyone,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “I mean
—obviously—
child molesters and pedestrians. But no one in football, that’s for sure.”

“Not your coach?”

Bannerman considered it, then shook his head. “Not worth the effort.”

“I heard everyone hates the Surgeon.”

“You’ve been talking to Decker,” he said with a chuckle. “Bourne offends his noble sensibilities. But if I couldn’t play for John, I’d take the Surgeon in a heartbeat. No one threads a needle like that guy. Not even the big dog.”

“So you like everybody? Even Beth Spurling?”

“The Sarge? I
love
that crazy bitch.”

Rachel laughed in relief. “Me too.”

“When Deck broke my hand, Beth and the kids baked cookies and fast-shipped them to me in the recovery room. It meant a lot. Of course,” he drawled, “I didn’t eat them. Because I don’t have a death wish. But it was a cool gesture.”

She smiled and snuggled against him, imagining their immediate future. Visiting the San Diego Spurlings one weekend, the Portland Spurlings the next. Dancing at Sophie’s wedding. Double-dating with Sean and Kerrie.

Assuming Kerrie filed for divorce soon. And assuming Bannerman could handle the sight of his best friend with his coach’s ex. He was nonjudgmental, wasn’t he? He had just proved that. And even though he joked about Sean, he loved the guy like a brother and would respect his choice of life mate as long as she made him happy.

When she kissed him on impulse, he growled, “Now what?”

“You know what.”

“Yeah.” He stood and took her by the hand, pulling her to her feet. “You’re gonna wear me out. And I’ve still gotta plant that tree in the morning.”

“You should go straight to sleep,” she agreed. “But first, kiss me good night.”

He caressed her cheek with his huge, rough hand, then gathered her close and kissed her with so much passion, she melted in his arms.

And he must have sensed her knees were weak, because he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom without another word.

• • •

After romantic sex at dawn and a giant meal of waffles and turkey bacon, they headed to the backyard, where Rachel insisted on helping re-dig the hole that had been left by the dead walnut tree. Bannerman surprised her by producing a bag of starter fertilizer from the trunk of his rental car, along with a pamphlet on the care and planting of pomegranate trees.

“You’re using instructions this time?”

“This thing’s alive,” he explained, his gaze shifting to the glossy ten-foot beauty still in its crate. “And it’s gonna stay that way. So you can bring the fruit to show-and-tell. Maybe even this year.”

He was meticulously careful of the root ball and the flaming-orange blossoms as he eased it out of its container. When he finally had it in the hole, Rachel stood back while he turned it a few degrees at a time to position the best side toward the house. Then she ran into the kitchen and called further instructions from the window, and again from the bedroom, laughing when he complained, especially since she knew he wanted it to be perfect.

Finally they had it just right and, after spreading the roots gently, they shoveled the dirt back into place. Then they surveyed their work proudly. It was a beautiful tree, and according to the pamphlet might grow to fifteen feet or more in height and breadth. Still smaller than the walnut had been, but already it owned its corner of her yard completely, the blossoms adding a subtle but gorgeous touch of color.

“I love it, Vince,” she told him quietly.

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want to buy you a present too.”

“I’ll make a list,” he agreed. “Starting with a T-bone steak.”

“That sounds fair. I don’t have a grill, but I can fry it or something.”

He chuckled. “We’ll buy a grill on the way home from the beach. How’s that?”

She nodded, her chest tight with excitement. This was how her weekends would go now. Making love, walking on the beach, swimming with him, feeding him, then making love again. It sounded too good to be true.

“Can you stay another night?”

He arched a teasing eyebrow. “I figured you probably spend all day Sunday at church, since your dad’s a priest.”

“Don’t tease me about that,” she warned gently. “Anything else, but not that.”

“Got it.”

“I go to church—a nondenominational service on campus, actually—for an hour every Sunday. You can sleep in and I’ll pick up something yummy for breakfast on the way home.” She gave him a hopeful smile. “I usually go shopping with one of my friends on Sunday afternoon, but she’s out of town. And I can cut back on that.”

“It’s good to have friends,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, I’ll finally get to watch an actual game, not a retread.”

His phone vibrated loudly and he checked the screen, then winced. “Mind if I take this?”

“Of course not.” She watched him step a few feet away and realized he had never taken a call while he was with her, always letting it roll to voice mail instead.

Must be Erica,
she decided, remembering how Sean had snapped to attention when she called him.

“Hold on, I’ll ask her,” Bannerman said loudly. Then he punched a control—probably “mute”—and gave her a guilty smile. “So don’t yell, okay?”

She dissolved into laughter. “Stop saying that. It was
one time.
And I apologized.”

He chuckled. “You know who Patrick Murphy is?”

“Sean’s agent.”

“Yeah. John’s too. He’s basically the best in the business. He wants to have dinner next Friday.”

“Oh, you should definitely do that. I love our Fridays, but this is your career, right?”

The halfback arched a wary eyebrow. “He wants
you
there too.”

“Hmmm?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, Deck spilled the beans. Just to Murf, though. Not the McSpurlings or Beth. So he wants to fly down and take us both out. What do you say?”

She studied his expression. “Do you want me to come?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s a big decision to switch reps, since I already have a guy. My contract sucks though, and Murf’s been chatting me up for a while. Now he’s ready to give it the hard sell. And I’m ready to listen. It would help to have you there,” he added solemnly. “You can flash some skin and throw him off his game, right?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Great.” He pulled the phone back to his ear. “Murf? Yeah, we’re on. Rachel can pick the time and place and we’ll text you the details. Yeah, thanks. See you next week.”

When he hung up, she could see he was working it through in his head, so she took him by the hand and led him to the concrete steps to sit with her.

Then she waited.

Finally he explained. “Me and Murf have danced around this, partly because I want to be loyal to my guy, but mostly because there are some conflicts of interest.”

“What do you mean? Conflicts because he already represents your teammates?”

“Yeah, it’s a limited pool of money. And those guys get most of it. Which is fair, since they’re the talent. I just want to get paid what I’m worth. Especially with performance bonuses. That’s where Murf thinks I’m getting ripped off.”

“But there’s only so much to go around? So he might not push hard enough for
you
if it means taking money away from Johnny? Or Sean?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Bannerman mused. “And Murf’s hiring a new agent. His wife’s cousin. So the idea is, Murf trains her, and she can use his clout, but she handles my negotiations separately. So there’s no conflict. At least, that’s the theory.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve never really cared about the money, you know. And I won’t take it off my friends’ plates. But Murf has some ideas, or at least that’s his pitch.”

“It sounds like something you should consider. Even if you don’t go with Murf, you need decent representation.”

“Yeah, my guy sucks. He knows it too. He’ll retire if I dump him, and he’s rich enough to do it. Plus, all he really wants to do is fish.” His attention shifted to the pomegranate tree. “We’re supposed to soak that dude really good. Then we can call it a day.”

She snuggled against him. “I can’t believe Sean told his agent about us. So quickly too.”

“I keep telling you, he’s a girl. Gossip’s in his DNA. But he won’t blab to Erica or John. Because they might tell Beth and she’ll kick
his
ass for letting you get away.”

“And Patrick Murphy won’t tell them?”

“Deck swore him to secrecy.” He paused, then said with a shrug, “It wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? They’ll find out at Dub’s wedding anyway.”

She wanted to kiss him for saying that, and probably would have if he hadn’t made a good point about Beth. “I don’t want Bethie to hear it secondhand. So when it’s time, I’ll tell her face-to-face.”

“You’ve got guts, teach.”

“Thanks, sheriff.”

He grinned. “Let me get the hose going and I’ll meet you in the shower.”

“Okay. I need to try on those new panties too. But that should just take a second.”

He grabbed her into a loose embrace. “This is what I like about you, you know. You’re fun as hell.”

Tensing with delicious anticipation, she brushed her lips across his and admitted, “That’s what I like about you, too.”

• • •

On Monday morning, Rachel’s biggest fear was she would neglect the children. Or forget about them completely, thanks to daydreams about her perfect weekend.

Bannerman had left on Sunday after breakfast, mostly because she wanted to spend the afternoon shopping for a dress to wear at the upcoming dinner and he said that sounded like hell on earth.

When she suggested he just stay home and watch sports, and hopefully sleep over again, he reminded her they needed to protect her reputation. Having a guy spend the night occasionally was different than shacking up with some football player, he explained. She found his concern charming, and knew from the way he kissed her good-bye he honestly wished he could stay.

• • •

Rachel refused to be afraid, even though dinner with a high-powered sports agent loomed at the end of the week. All she had to do was sit there, look intelligent, flash a little skin, and offer moral support. How hard could that be? She had decided to wear the fancy black suit from her TV interview because it was expensive-looking and flattering. And paired with a sheer, lacy white shell with spaghetti straps, it would show the requisite amount of flesh.

She had found the new top during her Sunday shopping spree and had been wistfully glad Kerrie was out of town, knowing she would have steered her in a racier—not to mention pricier—direction. Not that she would have told her friend what the outfit was for. Not unless Sean had blabbed to
her
about the affair as he had done to Patrick Murphy.

That would be a good thing, she decided. She was tired to keeping secrets and feeling guilty about discussing Sean’s love life with Kerrie behind his back.

With the handsome kicker on her mind, she was startled to see him on her front steps when she returned home late Monday afternoon. He had parked a convertible in front of the house, and stood up as soon as she pulled into the driveway.

She wanted to jump out and greet him cheerfully, but instead just stared in dismay, barely recognizing him. His face was still darling, but looked so much older than his twenty-seven years. The green eyes barely sparkled, his expression lacked the usual confidence and optimism, and even his skin seemed gray and lifeless.

Concerned, she hurried over and twined her arms around his neck. “Is everything okay?”

“You’re sleeping with Bannerman,” he complained, holding her close. “So no, not okay.”

“Look at me.” She stared up into his eyes, completely confused by what she saw there. It didn’t feel like jealousy, but he was obviously upset. About her and Bannerman? Why? He felt protective, and knew his friend played around, but surely he didn’t consider her such a lightweight she couldn’t handle a real boyfriend.

It’s about Kerrie,
she decided uneasily.
He misses her, since she’s in Florida. Or maybe he’s more upset about dating a married woman than we realized.

That had to be it.

She touched his cheek. “You’re being silly, you know. We’re just having fun together. I’m a big girl, right?”

“You don’t know him,” Sean assured her. “He’ll break your heart and he won’t even know he’s doing it. And it’s all my fault.”

“I won’t get my heart broken. I promise.”

Taking him by the hand, she led him into the house, where a pungent aroma of chicken and garlic filled the air.

“What’s that?” he asked, sniffing and looking a little more alive.

“Chicken soup. It’s been slow cooking all day. You’ll love it.”

“I was going to take you out,” he said with an earnest smile. “But this smells so good.”

“Wash up in the hall bathroom while I change. Then we’ll have a nice long visit.”

After giving him another quick hug, she hurried away to change into shorts and a tank top. When she met him again in the kitchen, he had taken the lid off the soup and was inhaling deeply again, visibly in love.

Once he had taken a seat, she chatted as she transferred the soup to a bigger pot and added a few handfuls of rice and enough water to make the thick stock into a yummy broth. Then she joined him, giving him a stern look. “I can see something else is bothering you.
Please
talk to me about it.”

His expression grew stern. “You’re in over your head, honey. I’ve seen it before. Bam means well, and he’s a great guy, but he’ll get restless. Or some hot babe will catch his eye. He likes you for the moment. That’s obvious. But it can’t last.”