Read Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) Online
Authors: Kate Donovan
Power Play (Play Makers Book 4)
Cover
Power
Play
Brand-new sports agent Darcie Kildare knows
her way around a contract. But football? She’s still got a lot to
learn. And she definitely isn’t ready for a chance encounter with
quarterback Wyatt Bourne, known as “the Surgeon” for his precision
passing, cutting humor, and rampant god complex. After completely
embarrassing herself, and being mocked for her efforts, she only
hopes she never sees the gorgeous hunk again. Except of course in
her most private fantasies . . .
Wyatt doesn’t need an agent. In fact, he
doesn’t need anyone, much less an ambitious babe with a hot body
and a smart mouth. Even worse, her agency represents the Triple
Threat—Wyatt’s bitterest rivals—a fact she gleefully rubs in his
face every chance she gets.
Darcie doesn’t actually mean to taunt him,
but she owes him a zinger or two, doesn’t she? Plus, it’s so darned
much fun. And
he’s
having fun too. She can see that in the
steely eyes that turn cobalt at a moment’s notice. Something is
happening between them. Something neither of them ever felt before.
Something Darcie has dreamed of her entire life.
But the Surgeon has spent a lifetime making
sure it
never
happens to him. And as Darcie discovers too
late, he really is the best at what he does.
Title
Page
Copyright
Power Play
Kate Donovan
Copyright © 2015 by
Kate Donovan
Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert,
Wicked Smart Designs
Published by Beyond the Page at
Smashwords
Beyond the Page Books
are published by
Beyond the Page Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-940846-61-3
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Dedication
Dedicated to the QBs of the NFL—thanks for
the inspiration, guys!
Chapter One
Sprinting for her flight from Newark to Los
Angeles, sports agent Darcie Kildare tried to ignore the
announcement on the loudspeaker telling her this was the absolute
final boarding call.
First day on the job and you’re already
blowing it.
In her defense, she had been so comfortable
in the airline’s hospitality suite, and so engrossed in the
collective bargaining agreement between the NFL and the players’
association, she had tuned out everything else.
Now she was sweating bullets.
Spying a tall, well-built man striding ahead
of her, she relaxed. Another straggler, although he had it easy
with his long legs and absence of luggage. He wore tan slacks and a
brown leather jacket, and even from this view she could appreciate
his build. In fact, she appreciated it so much, she angled for a
view from the side and was rewarded with a glimpse of his strong
jaw. Dark sunglasses obscured the rest of his face, but the guy was
clearly gorgeous, or at least in Darcie’s imagination.
With no line to impede him, he approached
the gate attendant, who scanned his paperwork and wished him a
great flight. The woman was clearly drooling over him, which made
Darcie laugh. Apparently he was even better at close range.
As he disappeared down the ramp, Darcie
reached the gate, but the attendant ignored her, gushing instead to
a nearby colleague, “Did you
see
him? It was the Surgeon,
right?”
“He looks even better in person,” the other
woman confirmed.
Finally the ticket taker turned to Darcie
and asked in a clipped tone, “Boarding pass?”
Darcie held out her paperwork to be
scanned.
“You just made it,” the woman scolded.
Apparently Darcie didn’t rate a “Have a
great flight.”
Too bad you’re not a famous doctor,
she teased herself as she rolled her small suitcase down the ramp.
Thank God her new boss had booked her into first class. Didn’t that
mean they had to provide bin room?
Maybe even ply her with mimosas.
She couldn’t help wondering what kind of
surgeon the hot guy was. Some sort of triple-bypass innovator who
was so famous, his face appeared regularly on the news? Although
given their flight’s destination, he was more likely a plastic
surgeon to the stars.
Either way she assumed he’d be riding in
first class too, and so as she looked for seat 4A, she also
strained for another glance at him. Then she bit back a smile when
she spotted him in 4B.
Seatmates.
Just don’t tell him you’re a lawyer. A
lot of doctors hate that, especially if they’ve been sued,
she
cautioned herself as she lifted her case into the spacious overhead
bin.
Just say sports agent. It sounds more glamorous
anyway
.
After a mere six hours on the job, it still
seemed amazingly cool. And so unexpected, even though Patrick
Murphy had been recruiting her for years.
4B didn’t seem to notice her standing in the
aisle, most likely because of the headphones firmly installed in
his ears. Plus, his gaze was fixed on the screen of a tablet
computer. The good news? He had removed his sunglasses, and looked
as hot as she hoped, so she felt a surge of anticipation as she
murmured, “I’m so sorry to disturb you. But could I squeeze
through?”
He looked up but left the earbuds in place,
as though still considering whether to remove them. Luckily, he was
a guy, and so his indifference flickered into momentary interest as
his gaze moved from her face to her chest.
Then
stayed
on her chest.
A plastic surgeon for sure,
she
decided gleefully.
Thanks, girls.
She was tempted to pull her loose green
sweater over her head, reveal the lacy tank top underneath, and
unleash her two greatest endowments. But she prided herself on only
using them in emergencies, so she settled for giving him a casual
smile as he stood and stepped into the aisle, his lean body
towering over her despite her height of five foot eight. And while
she wasn’t thrilled with his disdainful expression, she had to
admit he was yummy. Steely eyes, jet black hair, chiseled
cheekbones and that strong, squared-off jaw.
What a hunk.
“Thanks,” she said brightly as she slipped
past him and into her roomy leather seat. After stowing her purse
under the seat in front of her, she glanced at him, prepared for
some small talk, but he was glued to his tablet again.
Whatever he was reading—or listening to—must
have been riveting. A revolutionary surgical technique? Or more
likely, a new line of expensive golf clubs.
Determined to imitate his cold-shoulder
treatment for the rest of the flight, she winced to see her
boarding pass on the floor under his foot.
Crap.
She didn’t actually need it, did she? But
knowing this guy, he’d find her slovenliness disgusting if he
discovered it on his own.
So she dared to speak again. “Excuse me,
Doctor. Sorry to be such a pest. But it looks like my ticket is
attacking your shoe.”
As he turned to her, his steel-gray eyes
registered a brand of surprise that could almost double as a smile.
Or at least renewed interest. Whatever it was, it seemed like a
breakthrough.
A very
hot
breakthrough.
Then he asked, his tone incredulous, “Did
you just call me ‘Doctor’?”
“Oh, sorry!” Her cheeks warmed. “I overheard
the ticket taker say you were a doctor. I’m not a stalker or
anything. Just a good listener.”
To her relief, the hint of a smile returned.
“Are you sure she didn’t say ‘surgeon’?”
“Isn’t a surgeon a doctor? I mean, ten times
better, obviously. But still . . .” Laughing at
herself for the gaffe, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Darcie. Darcie
Kildare.”
“Wyatt Bourne,” he replied, ignoring her
hand. “I take it you’re not a football fan?”
“Pardon?”
“I’m Wyatt Bourne,” he repeated calmly. “The
quarterback.”
“Oh, my God,” she blurted without thinking.
“What a coincidence! I’m a sports agent.”
He drew back as though stunned. “You’re a
sports agent? And you never heard of
me?”
“Hmmm?”
It was Darcie’s turn to be disdainful.
What a jackass
.
Eyeing him coolly, she explained, “I’m
fairly new. Sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
An attractive flight attendant interrupted
the drama, her voice perky and unself-conscious. “Would either of
you care for a mimosa? A cocktail? Sparkling water?” Her wide blue
gaze fell on Wyatt Bourne. “Anything at all?”
“I’ll take coffee. Black. And please bring
my companion a new career.”