Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (44 page)

What a pro
.

With their phones on extra-loud vibrate,
they made out for a while, then got to work. Darcie wanted the
press releases perfect, and Wyatt agreed. They had to leave certain
spots blank, since the details were still in flux, but they built a
solid draft for the ones from PMA, the Rustlers and the Jets, then
turned their attention to Wyatt’s personal statements, both the
written one and the inevitable press conference talk.

To his surprise, the process was
gut-wrenching, especially when he confronted his gratitude for what
the Jets had done for him. His pride in his teammates and their
shared accomplishments swelled, reminding him how he had felt going
into the Super Bowl. Even with his rocky ankle and his awareness
that the Lancers were on a God-given high, he had been so
sure . . .

And thanks to Darcie, he was able to let
that all out. Admit what they meant to him personally as well as
professionally. It wasn’t his usual style, but she forced him to
speak from the heart, and once he did, the words flowed easily.

After that, he had no problem describing his
desire for new challenges. Wasn’t it true? And the attraction of an
expansion team in terms of personal growth, team-building and
mentoring was almost self-explanatory. His only regret was not
mentioning Luke Stoddard by name. He wanted to praise the kid.
Predict an awesome future for him. Insist it was an honor to work
with him.

But Darcie nixed it and he knew she was
correct. If they didn’t get it just right, it might alienate the
kid even more. Wyatt couldn’t help being concerned that Stoddard
might misunderstand his motives, but Darcie assured him Murf and
Coach Spurling would take care of that behind the scenes.

And if all else failed? She’d take her shirt
off for the guy.

The only point of contention was Darcie’s
insistence he should mention the Bournes—specifically, that his
extended family lived in Southern Cal and thus, as a Rustler, he
could visit more often. He reminded her he had grown apart from
them for years—
neglected
them for years—and didn’t want to
exploit the connection now. And while she clearly wanted to argue,
she backed off easily and headed to the kitchen to make lunch,
promising she’d come up with something more creative than turkey
sandwiches this time.

Grabbing a few minutes to check baseball
scores, he was pulled back into real life when his phone buzzed
with the long-awaited call, so he shouted for her to come back,
then said into the speaker, “Hey, Murf, you’re on with both of us.
How’s it going?”

“Well, we knew they’d push back hard, didn’t
we?” he drawled. “My plan was to keep wearing them down and
dangling incentives. I even knew they’d try a Hail Mary. But this
one’s pretty rich, so I felt honor-bound to tell you about it.”

“A Hail Mary?” Darcie asked, apparently
charmed. “Isn’t that some sort of desperation move?”

“Unless it works,” her boss replied. “Then
it’s a
genius
move.”

“And you think I should take it?” Wyatt
asked, confused.

“Hell, no. They’ve got my Irish up now. And
like I said, I expected this, but it’s a corker, so I wanted to run
it by you first.”

“I appreciate that,” Wyatt murmured,
exchanging confused looks with Darcie, who was apparently thinking
the same thing: Unless the Jets were offering him Aaron Spurling as
a coach along with a chance to mentor Luke Stoddard, nothing had
changed.

Had it?

“They want one more year, during which
they’ll get you
anything
you want. Even bring you into
coaching decisions if that’s the price. Although you can imagine
how staff reacted,” he interjected dryly. “But they’re sincere.
They’ll bench guys, move guys, overhaul their basics—anything that
appeals to you in LA, they’ll figure a way to give you here. And
the money’s off the charts, needless to say.”

He gave them a moment to digest that, then
continued. “They don’t know the Stoddard angle, so that’s a
blessing. I’m sure they’d offer to trade for him so you could
mentor him here. They’re really pulling out all the stops, Wyatt.
In exchange for one year. After that, if you still want to walk,
they agree not to tag you again or do anything else to force you to
say. I told them the timing was crucial from your point of view,
but obviously, I had to ask.”

“And if Wyatt says ‘no,’ then they’ll let
him go?” Darcie asked.

“I can’t guarantee it. Because trust me, the
owner’s beside himself. But yeah, if it’s flat out ‘no,’ I suspect
we can break ’em. So, Wyatt?” His tone grew grim. “If you need time
to think, just say so. Like I said, this is huge. So if you want
it, grab it. We’ll all live happily ever after.”

“Give me a minute,” Wyatt said, then he
muted the speaker and eyed Darcie intently. “What do you
think?”

“Me? What do I know? It’s football, not
law.”

“It’s
us,”
he reminded her. “Awkward
for Murf, obviously, since John and I would face off again right
away. But if living in New York appeals to you, I could live with
this approach. I keep saying it’s not about the money, but at some
point,
you
need to weigh in on that too.”

She seemed shocked, then slipped her hands
behind his neck and stared up at him with those adoring eyes that
made him feel like he had won the galactic lottery. “I sat in Coach
Spurling’s dining room and listened to you and him and Jake build
your dream team. The Jets might give you the same components. But
they can’t give you that feeling, can they? And if you don’t get
that
feeling, I don’t get
this
feeling,” she gushed,
pulling his mouth down to hers.

He wanted to sweep her into the bedroom,
make love to her, beg her to spend the rest of her life with him.
And he might have done it if his hot-shot agent wasn’t waiting
impatiently for an answer.

So he unmuted the call and said, “Murf?
Sorry for the delay. Tell them I appreciate their offer, but they
can’t give me what I need at this point in my development.”

“Damn, you had me worried,” Murf said with a
frustrated chuckle. “I’d better get back. My whole argument is you
can’t be swayed. If they think they’re making inroads, we’ll lose
our only bargaining chip.”

“If it helps, tell them it didn’t sway
me
. Not for an instant. I just had to run it by my
girlfriend.”

Murf’s silence burned the airwaves, then he
said, “Yeah, that’ll work. Thanks, buddy. I’ll call when I’ve got
the verdict.”

Ending the call, Wyatt gave Darcie a wince.
“Did I just get you in trouble? I figured he knew.”

“He knows we’re dating. But getting my
personal approval on a zillion-dollar deal? That’s crazy, Wyatt.
Sweet but crazy. You barely know me.”

“I know everything I need to know,” he
insisted, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck.

“That’s sweet,” she repeated weakly.

Surprised, he asked her, “Did I say
something wrong?”

“Hardly. It’s so exciting, Wyatt.”

His chest tightened. Because she clearly
wanted more. And he wanted to give it to her. But veto power on a
“zillion-dollar deal” was so much easier to give than a declaration
of love.

Almost hoarse, he urged her, “Tell me what
you want.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I want you to trust
me. Not today. Not next week. But someday.” Kissing him gently, she
insisted, “After that, I’ll never ask for anything else.”

He wanted to scoff, but knew why she was
asking. He had said something the night of their first fight. The
“pull-out” fight. Something that hurt her to the core. And while he
was sure she had misinterpreted his actual words, her instincts had
been correct.

But for all the wrong reasons.

So now he cupped her chin in his hand and
confessed. “I didn’t want to trust you. So I told myself you were
playing me. That you had your breasts done to lure unsuspecting
clients. That your eyes couldn’t possibly be that green. That you
couldn’t possibly care about me, even though I saw it with my own
eyes. Saw the way you tried to fix things with the Bournes. For
me
. And even with the stupid surrogacy contract, you wanted
to save me from myself. Save our
kid
from me. If you only
knew—” He stopped to clear a lump from his throat. “I fell in love
with you when you kept arguing with me on the plane. No matter how
many times I put those stupid earbuds in, you wouldn’t give up on
us. God, you drove me crazy . . .”

“Wyatt—”

“Let me finish. I fell in love but I fought
it. Because I promised myself I’d never take that risk. So you’re
right. It’s not just about love with us. It’s about trust. And I
trust you. I swear I do.”

“Oh, God.” Her kiss told him she was
hot—
and
wet—and wouldn’t be denied. But still she murmured,
“We have so much work to do, but . . .”

“Yeah, let’s settle this first,” he agreed,
scooping her up in his arms and striding into the bedroom.
“Everything else can wait.”

• • •

As the hours dragged on without any word
from Murf, Darcie worried that the deal was falling apart. That
Wyatt would be crushed. From the moment on the beach when he
referred to himself as an LA Rustler, she had finally understood
what that meant to him. A new life. Maybe even a form of
redemption. And selfishly she knew it was the best thing for their
relationship too.

So ring, dammit,
she cursed his phone
as they lounged in bed and worked on the statement for his press
conference. They had had amazingly hot sex, but both had avoided
mentioning the elephant in the bed.

Had he honestly admitted he was in love with
her?

It was mind-blowing, not because she hadn’t
known it, but for him to admit it to himself, much less say it out
loud? She wanted to tell him she loved him too—that she had loved
him since the plane, and would always, always love him—but what if
he already regretted it? There was so much going on with him—the
baby contract, the Rustlers deal, the new agent, the re-building
with the Bournes—how could he trust his emotions?

Once things settled down, they’d talk about
all of it. Figure it out. And it would be glorious.

“I just realized something,” Wyatt said,
quirking a sexy eyebrow. “I told you
I
was in love, but you
never said it back.”

“I’m still on the fence,” she said
teasingly.

He grinned and pushed her into the pillows.
“Admit it. You fell for me on the plane. God knows why, but you
did.”

“It’s true.” She stroked his granite jaw.
“But I didn’t really realize it until I saw you in your natural
habitat.”

“The fundraiser?”

“The anniversary party. You were so
solicitous of every single family member. And so sweet with Tony.
How could I resist?”

He scowled. “In other words, you’re changing
the subject?”

She laughed ruefully, knowing that his
failure to mention the Bournes in his press release had been
nibbling at the back of her mind. Still, she hadn’t consciously
intended to change the subject.

But now that it was out in the
open . . .

“You said you had a great time with them
when you visited last week. So what’s the problem?”

“I told you. I don’t want to exploit the
relationship.”

“How is it exploitation? They
are
your family, and they
do
live in Southern California. So as
a Rustler you’ll see them more often.”

“It could create unreasonable
expectations.”

She stared, honestly blindsided for the
umpteenth time. “You’re saying you won’t necessarily visit them
more often? Even if you live here?
Why?”

“It’s complicated,” he replied woodenly.

Oh, Lord
 . . .

Thinking back, she pictured his face during
the storytelling segment of the party. So cornered. So suffocated.
So completely out of his depth.

Just like he looked now.

“I think I understand,” she murmured. “You
were out of the loop for all those years. So it’s going to take
time for sure.”

She wanted him to grab on to that. To agree
there was work to do, but eventually, the past and the future would
meld into one, single, indestructible bond.

But instead he just shrugged and said,
“Something like that. The point is, I’d rather not mention
them.”

“Okay.” She choked back her personal
feelings. Yes, the Bournes had welcomed her and she wanted to
return the favor. Even more, she believed Wyatt needed their love
on a primal level.

His mom and Aunt Jenny had some nasty
arguments,
she reminded herself.
And he’s siding with his
mom. Can you blame him? But still, we’re talking about the Bournes.
They’re like a love potion. How can he resist?

“How about this?” he asked suddenly. “I’ll
say my dad grew up around here. So it feels like coming home.”

Wow . . .

“It’s perfect,” she said, sighing in
relief.

“Are we gonna negotiate
everything
for the rest of our lives?”

She smiled at the teasing complaint. Then
she remembered the baby contract still sitting on her dining room
table and felt a twinge of foreboding. They were moving so fast,
caught up in the accelerated momentum of the Rustlers deal,
allowing the personal to blur with the professional in exciting but
dangerous ways.

“Will you promise me something, Wyatt?” she
blurted out.

“Anything you want,” he said firmly, which
would have worried her if not for the hint of reluctance in his
eyes.

“We’ve joked about revising the baby
contract, but now you need to promise me we’ll do it. Maybe on
Sunday? If the Jets cave today, and Murf closes the Rustlers deal
on Thursday, we’ll have forty-eight hours of pandemonium. Press
conferences, interviews, celebrations. But we can’t let this other
thing go forever. So please?”