Midnight Play Page 3

  Dex stood, because he couldn’t sit still any longer. Restlessness was riding his blood, anxiety banding around his muscles. “The truth is, I was thinking about myself. My contract. The way I saw it, as long as I did my job, I’d be in the clear, and when the time came for housekeeping, the front office would take care of it. I didn’t push.”

  Her mouth opened—probably to ask Why not? yet again—but she blinked those long-lashed dark eyes and said, “So, what does your family think about this?”

  “I don’t have family to answer to.” Not anymore. But if she had been as thorough about doing her homework as she’d insinuated, then she would have known that he’d disgraced his family long before losing his father, then his mother and finally his NFL career.

  “Well, I do, Dex.” She crossed her arms, a gesture that seemed standoffish, but on closer inspection was…vulnerable. “My expectations for this team are in line with theirs. They haven’t changed their decision. Going into that meeting tomorrow, you should know that. Ignoring my authority isn’t going to get you your position back. Brock Corday is our quarterback.”

  Dex bent, grabbed the pen where she’d left it on the floor, set it on the desk and turned on his heel to leave. “Brock Corday isn’t me.”

  Chapter 3

  Dateless. The following morning, Danica slouched ever so slightly in her chair, drummed her fingers on the linen-draped table in the Slayers Club Lounge’s private dining room and stewed. Her friend Thomas had just called to say that he was on his way to McCarran International Airport to resolve a work emergency at his candy manufacturer’s flagship store in Atlanta. There was no hope that he’d return to Las Vegas in time to escort her to Veda’s wedding tomorrow. There was also no hope that, in just over twenty-four hours, she’d find a suitable plan B. Thomas was her plan B. Her on-again, off-again relationship with Ollie Johan, a polo player she’d met months after her divorce, was now permanently off.

  And there was no hope that her mother would let her do the unthinkable: show up to her best friend’s wedding without a date. Tem had been so desperate to ensure that each of her daughters had a plus-one lined up that she’d strong-armed her sister, Martha, who practiced free love, to commit to a man for one night only, and had curbed her criticism when Charlotte had said straight up that her plus-one would be Nate Franco or no one at all.

  All who really mattered were Veda, Mekhi, their minister and a witness or two. Try convincing Tem Blue, expert on all things fashionable and high society, of that. Danica could raise the argument that in a sea of hundreds of guests, nobody would notice or care that some man wasn’t wearing her on his arm. But once her mother got it fixed in her mind that she was right about something, nothing short of a filibuster could persuade her otherwise.

  Danica sighed and took a generous swallow of her mimosa. A quick scroll through her phone’s contacts told her that from Ewan Abrams to Scooter Zeeman, she was critically deficient in go-to guys. After breaking things off with Ollie, she’d been able to count on Thomas for those rare “must have a date” occasions. Now she didn’t even have Thomas.

  At eighteen she’d accompanied her parents to a garden party where she had met a sweep-you-off-your-feet young man who she was sure would give her the perfect romance, the perfect life. A few people had attempted to intervene—her older sister, her high school friends—but in Marion Reeves she had seen her happy ending. With her parents’ approval—Marion was “a solid boy with his head on straight,” from a respectable family—she saw no reason to slow down and think. Within a year she’d married him. He was her first, and he had been her only for years. No backup needed. Then the communication stopped, the distance set in, and as time brought Marion distinguished good looks and music-business stardom, he became someone she didn’t know. His loss of interest in their marriage hadn’t been a surprise. The fact that he’d come home late one night, sat her down and confessed that he’d just left another woman’s bed—that had been the shocker. And the end of a commitment they hadn’t been ready for but had kept up for the sake of appearances. Just to show the outside world that they were a power couple.

  To lie to everyone, including themselves.

  Danica was relieved to be free of that life, but freedom wasn’t such an easy thing to get used to. Her current predicament was proof of that. She’d relied completely on her plan B and hadn’t prepared a plan C.

  She would keep her mouth shut should Thomas’s name come up in conversation with her parents today. There was a difference between lying and not volunteering certain information, after all.

  Danica peered at her delicate white-gold watch. Any moment now Marshall and Tem would arrive for their meeting with Dex Harper. Hopefully, their thoughts would be on business—not their thirty-year-old daughter’s social life. Last night, after she’d gotten home and stowed away the naughty gifts from Veda’s bachelorette party, she’d had a lengthy phone chat with her parents about their motives for having a sit-down with Dex when they had a steady starting QB in Brock Corday. They’d touched on everything from Brock’s performance during last Sunday’s game—he’d thrown three touchdowns but had overthrown a critical pass late in the game, inviting an interception that could’ve cost the team the game had the Slayers’ defense not drawn a fumble—to the rotator-cuff injury he’d sustained during training camp to his mental preparedness for tomorrow’s away game. Marshall and Tem sounded confident in the young man’s abilities…so it boggled Danica’s mind that they would even humor Dex with a meeting hours before they needed to be on the family jet and heading out of town for the game.

  As much as they both wanted to go to Veda’s wedding, which had been a long time coming, the event simply had the misfortune of falling on a game day. Danica was a little—okay, a helluva lot—relieved that neither her father nor mother would be hovering at the wedding. She adored them both to pieces, but every once in a while a girl needed to take a breather.

  “Another mimosa, ma’am?”

  Danica cast a solemn look up at the waiter who’d arrived soundlessly at her table. “Please.”

  “Right away.” With a dimpled grin, he walked off to take care of her drink, and she discreetly swiveled on her chair to observe him. Swag. He had it.

  Hmm, I wonder how he feels about spur-of-the-moment dates? Danica didn’t care that he was a waiter; she only cared that he was available and not crazy.

  But her parents—particularly Tem—would care.

  Another sigh. Another gulp to finish her mimosa.

  At eleven forty-five, her parents strode into the private dining room. Danica stood, remembering to correct her posture, smooth away the creases in her summer dress as best she could and smile as they took turns greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

  “I really have to ask again why you’re even doing this,” she said once they’d settled at the table, both across from her, leaving the chair beside her vacant. The waiter had rushed off again to grant her parents’ request for cognac and lunch menus. “All he’s going to do is plead his case, which we’ve all heard dozens of times already.”

  “We’ve decided—” Tem glanced at her husband, who even while sitting seemed to dominate the entire room with his towering retired-bodybuilder’s physique, natural frown and those intense dark eyes “—that burning a bridge is foolish when there’s something on the other side of the bridge that you want.”

  “So what does Dex have that you want?”

  “Names.”

  “Names?” Danica scrunched her face in a frown, but caught the way Tem smoothed her fingers over her own forehead as a silent reminder to always be ready for the click of a camera. “What names?”

  “Men on Alessandro Franco’s payroll who were getting cash on the side,” Marshall explained in a baritone that was still booming despite his efforts to lower his pitch. “Bribes, bounties, blackmail—it’s all the same, and we want to purge our franchise of Franco’s corruption.”

  “The league is gathering this information, though. The
investigation’s ongoing, but it’ll all come out—”

  “We need this information soon.” Tem reached over to adjust the teal pocket square in her husband’s ink-black Armani suit. “Before the trade deadline.”

  “And Dex is willing to tell you everything he knows? Ma, Pop, I find that hard to believe. None of us was willing to hear him out before. Only Charlotte was willing to listen to him—”

  “Well, your sister has a special touch when it comes to wrongdoers, doesn’t she?” Anger lit her mother’s beautiful features. “She and Nate Franco—”

  “Why would Dex even consider doing this, when there’s nothing in it for him?” Danica interrupted, steering the focus away from her sister and her lover, or “partner in scandal,” as Tem had once referred to him. She didn’t like the tension that still hung over their family, but oh, hell, she was glad Marshall and Tem’s wrath wasn’t directed at her.

  “Dex is just the bridge, Danica.”

  “The means to an end, then?”

  “It’s just business. You can appreciate that.”

  Ah. So they were using Dex to get the information they wanted to better the team—a team that would never again include him. But he must believe there was a possibility, a hope, of him returning to the Slayers. That was the only way he’d give them what they wanted. And Marshall and Tem were savvy enough to realize where Dex’s weaknesses and desperation lay: his career.

  “Did either of you tell Dex that he’d get his job back in exchange for names?” she inquired softly, her gaze darting between them. Both sat imperturbable, emanating power and charisma and control. They were different yet so much alike—a perfect pair.

  Danica had invested years in trying—and failing—to crack their secret recipe for an unshakeable marriage.

  “That wouldn’t be ethical, now, would it?” said her father.

  “How Dex Harper interprets things is his choice.” Tem shrugged. “We haven’t made him an offer—you would’ve known.”

  Except she hadn’t known about this meeting until her assistant had gotten wind of it and inadvertently tipped her off.

  All of a sudden her mimosas weren’t settling so well.

  Before she could figure out a way to convince them to cancel the meeting and trust the league to wade through the intricacies of Alessandro Franco’s corporate deception, which included passing out cash bonuses to his men to tackle with the intent to injure in addition to bribing players, betting on his own team’s games and even covering his tracks by falsely accusing Marshall of threatening him into selling the franchise, she saw the hostess enter the dining area with Dex close behind her.

  Danica watched her parents stand to shake his hand, but she couldn’t get her own body to budge. You’re not going to like what they have in mind, Dex Harper.

  Why couldn’t the man put this much effort into snagging a gig on another team? During this past spring’s NFL draft, there had been several quarterback-hungry ball clubs. Even if no one picked him up as a starter, he could still be offered a backup position. He didn’t have to step into yet another raw deal.

  Dex paused at the chair beside her, his height and that piercing gaze tugging her full attention as he held out his hand.

  Handshakes were perfectly professional. She’d look like a rude ass to ignore him. So she slipped her hand into his, and was just a bit too in tune with his strong grip, the warmth of his palm, the way his thumb caressed her skin.

  He sat beside her, his gaze boldly stroking her. Quietly, teasingly, he commented, “Like that color, don’t you?”

  “Oh.” Danica studied her emerald dress. Hold up…he’d noticed that she was wearing green again and was actually asking her what she liked? Observant. Flirted as naturally as he breathed.

  “Dex,” Marshall said, after taking the liberty of ordering the other man a beer, “Tem and I are aware that you’re contributing to the NFL’s investigation. Let’s start with that.”

  And start they did, demanding answers that Danica knew Dex wasn’t obligated to share. Sitting beside him, she felt like his counsel, and almost felt compelled to lean and whisper in his ear that he had the right to remain silent because her parents would offer him nothing—not the restoration of his job, nor his reputation. Nada.

  Dex finally held up a hand, stopping the inquisition before Danica did something ridiculous like forget that she was Marshall and Tem’s daughter and the team’s GM. She was a spectator in this conversation. Her purpose was to sit, shut her mouth and learn.

  “A lot of talking going on here,” Dex said, “but none of it has to do with me. You’re asking me about Franco and the coaching staff and other players. You’re asking me for a list of names when you told me that we were going to talk about my file, Marshall.”

  “Alessandro Franco made a mess of the Slayers. That damage can’t be undone, but all this right here—” Marshall outstretched an arm, indicating not just the Slayers Club Lounge, but the stadium in its entirety “—is an extension of me. I don’t dig failure. Not for myself or my family, and not for my team. Any man who’s so focused on a contract that he can’t see the wrong that’s right in front of him doesn’t need to be on my payroll.”

  Danica felt the blow as if it had been delivered to her. She didn’t know where to look, so she pretended to study the condensation on her glass as she watched Dex out of the corner of her eye.

  Dex nodded, chuckling even though there was nothing funny about his circumstances. “Doing a little cleanup on the team, right, Marshall and Tem? In a hurry, too, with not too many weeks left to trade. Want me to help you figure out who to cut?” He stood. “I’m not on your payroll, so don’t ask me to do a job for you.”

  Danica finally lifted her gaze, saw him pluck a few bills from his wallet to pay for his beer and then walk away.

  “Damn it, we were so close to getting what we needed,” Tem whispered.

  “We still are.” Marshall reached over to squeeze her shoulder. “As long as no other franchise wants him, he’s still open to negotiation.”

  “It might be best to let him turn his attention to his own problems,” Danica said, but they continued on as if they hadn’t heard her. As general manager she was in theory supposed to be more of an equal, but it always seemed that she was being used more as an enforcer—just the gal to carry out their orders. It didn’t matter how she got it done, so long as it got done.

  “Ma, Pop, I need to step out for a moment.” She was already abandoning her chair and marching out of the room. Perhaps Dex was already in an elevator, or even somewhere in the parking lot, and she had no chance of catching him. But she had to try.

  She found him snaking his way toward the exit, and, picking up the pace as best as she could manage in stilettos, Danica approached and tapped him on the arm. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

  “Stopped to say hello to someone I know. Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not.” She cleared her throat. “A word?”

  “Did your parents send you as a last-ditch effort to get answers out of me?”

  “No.” Danica led the way to the balcony.

  It was vacant, but the rising temperature and high humidity were double trouble. The midday Las Vegas heat wrapped itself around her in an almost suffocating embrace.

  And when Dex joined her, the heat worked its way completely through her.

  Whatever this is you’re feeling, turn it off! Time to be a professional here—a GM. Not a woman who can be unraveled by a man’s criminally hot body.

  “The owners have no intention of bringing you on as quarterback, Dex. I’m being frank with you—something that should’ve been done prior to this chat we all just had.”

  “Chat?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You weren’t much of a part of it.”

  “Well, it was a meeting you’d gone over my head to set up with them, so what could I have really said? And you and I had our talk last night.”

  “If you remember what we talked about last night, then you
know how important my career is to me. I want my life back, Danica. I want it all back.”

  “In the real world people don’t get everything they want.”

  The incredulous look he sent her screamed, What the hell would you know about what happens in the “real world”? She supposed she couldn’t fault him too much for assuming her life was problem free. She worked her butt off to get people to assume just that. Take her divorce, for instance. No one but immediate family and close friends knew that she and Marion hadn’t amicably dissolved their marriage, that the truth was that he’d shattered her heart.

  “Danica…” Good God, how did her name sound so sexy rolling off this man’s tongue? “I don’t think your world and mine are the same.”

  “Fine. Then just know that I don’t want to have this conversation again. It stops here—today. The whole going over the GM’s head to try to negotiate your job back? No more of that. We’ve moved on. It’s time you did, too.”

  “Except no other team is interested. I’m not—how’d my agent put it?—desirable.” He let his gaze sweep her mouth before capturing her eyes, her attention, her sanity. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, felt her nipples tighten. When his gaze touched her there, her mind became crowded with thoughts of naked bodies and hard, raw pleasure. Was it even possible for a look to throw a woman into total arousal?

  Yes.

  He was taking her with his eyes, and she wasn’t about to tell him to stop.

  Just like that, he released her by taking a step back. With a sardonic smile, he wrenched open the glass door and went inside.

  Danica stared at her reflection in the glass as the door gently swung closed. Parted lips, fast breathing, pebbled nipples… She was turned on, and he knew it. “Oh, buddy. You’re a lot more desirable than you realize.”

  Chapter 4

  “I’ve never seen that much tongue in a wedding kiss.”