Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (47 page)

Murf urged him on. “You found out when you
were seventeen? Four years after he died, right? So your mother
told you?”

“No.” Wyatt’s voice was calm again. “It came
out in the craziest way. When I was sixteen, there was a national
competition at Ohio State for high school quarterbacks.”

“I remember,” Murf interrupted him. “A
perfect seven of seven on the tire throw.” Touching Darcie’s
shoulder, urging her to turn back to the table, he explained, “They
had these kids throw the ball various distances, including a
whopping eighty yarder. Wyatt nailed them all. So the head coach
for Ohio State stormed onto the field and challenged him to hit a
moving
target at eighty yards. A tire rigged on wheels and
pulled at a fast clip. Wyatt made that throw—clean through, no
rim—and we all went wild.”

“You’re a sports encyclopedia,” Wyatt said
in an awed tone. Then he grimaced. “Someone else saw it too. One of
my mom’s old boyfriends. He noticed the resemblance. Not just my
face and build, but the way I dropped back, then stepped into my
throw.”

Darcie’s heart broke. “Oh,
Wyatt . . .”

“Yeah. So he came to town and they started
dating again. I thought he was just one of the many. Even when he
wanted to toss the ball around with me, I figured he was just
trying to get in good with her. She’s nice-looking,” he added
self-consciously. “Anyway, they got married. I wasn’t thrilled,
since he seemed like a flake. But she was happier than I’d seen her
since—well, since my dad left. So it was fine.”

Darcie just stared at him. What could she
say? It was a nightmare, but still . . . what could
she say?

“Don’t take it to heart,” he reminded her
gently. “It’s just how it was. They were obnoxiously happy, which
was fine. The awkward part was that he wanted to formally adopt me.
I said no, obviously, because I already
had
a dad. I still
worshipped Matt Bourne in those days. And apparently my mom made
Denny promise not to tell me the truth, so the charade continued
until my senior year. I was dealing with the stuff with Hannah, and
just counting the days until I graduated.” Glancing at Murf, he
added ominously, “By then, recruiters were coming out of the
woodwork.”

“No doubt,” Murf agreed.

“Denny wanted a piece of the action so he
tried shaking them down. The guy had no morals,” Wyatt assured them
dryly. “Not because he was greedy. More like an adrenaline junkie,
always looking for the next thrill. Mountain climbing, river
rafting, that sort of thing. Which takes a shitload of money.” He
paused for another breath. “He was a QB in college. Played at USC
when Matt Bourne played for UCLA. But he broke his collarbone in a
skateboarding accident in his junior year and never played again.
Which is pretty typical of how he lived his life. Completely
irresponsible.”

“Denny St. Claire,” Murf said
reverently.

“Jesus, you really
do
know
everything.” Wyatt rubbed his weary eyes. “Yeah, Denny St. Claire.
A loser with a death wish and a rocket launcher for an arm.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Murf insisted. “I’ve
seen the footage. He could have been huge in the NFL.”

“I’ve seen the footage too. And yeah, he was
impressive. But once he showed it to me—to prove he was my father—I
didn’t want to play anymore. If I wasn’t Matt Bourne’s son, what
was the point?” He grimaced. “Apparently, that’s why Matt left when
I was nine. Because that’s when the resemblance between me and
Denny started showing up. Until then, Mom thinks he still believed
I might be his. But apparently the signs were unmistakable.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Murf said gently.

“Why would he choose such a stressful time
to tell you?” Darcie murmured.

“He wanted the college recruiters to deal
directly with him, so he could score big bucks under the table. But
he was only my stepfather and I threatened to get someone else to
represent me. Someone I could trust.”

Murf’s eyes flashed. “So he blackmailed
you?”

“Exactly. If I didn’t let him represent me,
he’d get a paternity test. Tell the whole world he was my father.
Mom was furious. Protective of me, I’ll give her that. I didn’t
know what to do. Then Hannah and the baby were killed, and I
decided to quit football for sure. Give Denny one hundred percent
of nothing. I would have done it too, but when I told my coach, he
had a better idea.” Wyatt’s mood brightened for a moment. “He
really came through for me. And then two years later, Rutgers
scooped him up and he stayed there until he retired this year.”
With a rueful smile he asked Murf, “Care to guess his name?”

“Carter Emmanuel, right? Man, what a legacy.
For both of you.”

Wyatt nodded. “I told him the truth—in
confidence—and he took care of it. His brother’s a lawyer, and they
drew up this—well, this amazing contract. You’d appreciate it,
Darce,” he told her warmly. “It said if Denny promised to keep his
alleged paternity a secret, Coach Emmanuel would pay him twenty
thousand a year,
every
year, until the NFL drafted me. If I
didn’t get drafted, the obligation ended. If I did, I’d take over
the contract personally.”

“Twenty thousand a year? Straight through
college?” Darcie bit her lip. “In other words, your coach took on
an eighty-thousand-dollar obligation?”

“I promised to pay him back. And I did.
Although the contract only lasted a year.” Wyatt’s spirits drooped.
“Denny took the first twenty thousand and headed to Australia. He
wanted to photograph sharks off the Great Barrier Reef. What could
go wrong?” he added dryly.

Darcie half-jumped out of her chair. “Are
you saying a shark ate him?”

“I actually think he
wanted
to die
that way. In an epic battle against nature. But instead, his scuba
line got caught in a rotor when he was down deep. And swimming
solo. The poor slob never had a chance.”

They were all silent for almost a minute.
Then Wyatt said ruefully, “After that, only four of us knew the
truth. Me and Mom, Coach and his brother. And now the two of you.
So six of us. I’d like to keep it that way. My aunts would be
broken-hearted. And the whole family gets a kick out of being
related to the Surgeon, so . . .”

“Forewarned is forearmed,” Murf agreed, but
the lump in his voice promised much more. He would protect this
secret with his life. No Bournes would hear about it. Not on
Patrick Murphy’s watch.

“Thanks, Murf.”

The agent nodded. “Let’s take a break. You
two obviously need to talk. And I need to call home. But don’t
worry, I won’t tell my wife any of this—”

“I trust her,” Wyatt said flatly.

Murf seemed surprised, then he smiled. “Good
instincts, as usual. But it would just upset her. Anyway, let’s
meet back here at one. Darcie? Are you okay?”

She could only imagine how laughable the
concept seemed. She had sobbed so hard and so often, she must look
like a puffed pastry with a cherry on top.

Still, she assured him quietly, “I’m fine.
And you’re right, I need to talk to Wyatt.”

“Good deal.
Eat
something. Both of
you. And I’ll see you in a bit.”

• • •

As soon as Murf had left, Darcie went to
Wyatt and embraced him tearfully. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He pried her chin from his chest and gazed
into her eyes. “I meant what I said. It’s ancient history. The only
reason I asked you to stay was so you’d know I don’t blame Hannah.
Not for any of it.”

Darcie nodded. “You blame your mom.”

“At first, yeah.” His face flushed. “But the
pregnancy caught her off guard. And she was only twenty years old,
dating one guy who was responsible guy, one who was a flake. So she
did her best. That’s why I didn’t tell you, though. Not because I
didn’t trust you, but because of the way you reacted about Hannah
and the baby. I couldn’t do it to you again. But
now . . .”

“You
had
to tell me,” she insisted,
stroking his jaw and staring into his eyes. “Now I can help you
with it.”

“You can help by forgiving me. I said a
stupid thing and I’m sorry. It was the last remnant of an old, old
wound. Some vestigial fear that I would fall into the same trap my
dad fell for. But I swear, Darcie, I’d never ask for a paternity
test of
our
babies. It’s ludicrous.”

“If we ever had babies together,” she told
him gently, “I’d get them tested myself.”

“
Why?
I’m telling you I trust
you.”

“But I don’t trust
you
. I can’t,
Wyatt. Don’t you see?” A sob shook her shoulders. “If we didn’t
have them tested, you’d always wonder.”

“No, baby. Never.”

“Of course you would. Who could blame you?”
She took a deep breath, then stared into his eyes, willing him to
listen. “We got caught up in the excitement of the Rustlers deal.
It moved so fast, we let it drag our—well, our love affair along
with it.” She struggled not to sob again. “One short week ago, you
wanted me for your surrogate, remember? A nine-month obligation
then we’d never see each other again.”

“That was messed up. I admit it. I just
couldn’t sort out my feelings back then. But now—”

“
Now?
Six short days later? Do you
see what I’m saying?” She stroked his tensed jaw. “We care about
each other. I’m not questioning that. But we moved too quickly.
Ignored the warning signs. Or at least
I
did.”

“It moved quickly because we fell in love.
It’s got nothing to do with the deal. Or Hannah.
Or
my
screwed-up DNA.”

“It has everything to do with it,” she said.
Then she confided unhappily, “I have this image of us and it’s
killing me.”

His eyes shone with sympathy. “Tell me.”

“I’m sitting in our house. Cuddling our
first child in my lap. Nursing him. A little boy—tiny for his age.
Maybe even sickly. With two left feet. Or a baby girl with golden
brown curls and honey-colored eyes. Adorable, but she doesn’t look
a thing like either of us. I’d be so in love with those children.
So sure you loved them too. Then I’d look up and see you in the
doorway, and the look on your face—” She threw herself against his
chest. “I couldn’t bear it, Wyatt. Knowing you had doubts. Knowing
you couldn’t love them the way they deserved to be loved. Please
don’t ask me to do that.”

“Geezus, Darcie, I’d never do that.” His
gray eyes were damp with confusion. “Not to an innocent kid.”

“You know you would. And I don’t blame you.
It’s the same way Matt Bourne looked at
you
when he sat you
down and said good-bye.” She forced herself to get it together for
his sake, then said firmly, “It’s why you need a surrogate. Test
tubes and contracts and complete control. You
deserve
that
after all you’ve been through. I just can’t go through it with
you.”

“This can’t be happening. I
love
you.”

“And I love you. Now more than ever. I know
it sounds crazy, and I know I keep crying, but honestly? I
get
it now. It’s not personal. Not about contact lenses or
boob-jobs—”

“
Geezus
, of
course
it’s
personal. I trust you, Darcie
.
More than anyone I’ve ever
met.”

“But not completely. Which I understand.
It’s like you said. There’s a vestigial barrier that keeps you from
trusting
anyone
completely.”

“That’s not what I said.”

She looked up at him, waiting. Wondering if
he could honestly insist he loved her the way she needed to be
loved.
Trusted
her the way she needed to be trusted. Not for
herself, but for their children.

And when he hesitated, she knew two things.
First? He still had doubts. And more importantly, he was the most
honest man she had ever met. Because even now, with his happiness
on the line, the poor man couldn’t lie to her.

He loved her too much for that.

“Thanks, Wyatt.”

“For what?”

She looped her arms around his neck. “For
reminding me why I love you. I want to work this out, okay? But for
now, I need to stop crying every five minutes. It’s ruining my
shtick.”

“Yeah,” he said with a reluctant smile. “You
look pretty bad.”

“Thanks a lot.” She kissed him lightly on
the lips. “Order us some room service, okay? While I freshen
up?”

“And we’ll talk again tonight?”

“Not tonight, but tomorrow. After the deal
is done. I
need
that, Wyatt. And I think you do too.”

He nodded, then pulled her close and gave
her a warm, passionate kiss. And because she couldn’t resist him,
she kissed him back. It didn’t change anything, but it would help
them through the next few hours. After that, they’d get through the
night. Then the next day. And once Murf settled things with the
Rustlers?

She honestly wasn’t sure anymore. But one
thing was certain: When they finally broke up, they’d be friends
forever. She simply loved him too much—admired him too
completely—to ever let him go.

• • •

The hotel sent up a platter of mini
sandwiches and fruit. Wyatt and Darcie dove into it, and when Murf
reappeared, he joined right in, clearly ravenous.

She knew he felt bad for Wyatt. And for
Darcie. But still, the excitement of his victory in New York
couldn’t be repressed. And since it was contagious, they were soon
busily brainstorming the proposed deal.

Murf took the lead, but Wyatt was in the
thick of it too, his mood upbeat again. And Darcie knew why. After
dreading his return to the Jets—doing the same thing and expecting
a different result—he was bursting with optimism. And because he
knew football in general, and the Jets in particular, he could
guide Murf past the new stumbling blocks imposed by Coach Morgan,
assuring him that fifty percent of the asks were do-able.