Authors: Linda Wright
Copyright 2016 by (Dagny Rand) - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
A Bad Boy’s fake
Fiancée
A hardcore football romance novel
By: Dagny Rand
A Bad Boy Fake Fiancée
Jack stretched as he reached for the towel after his shower. The steam swirled around the bathroom, and he swiped his hand across the foggy mirror and tied the towel around his waist. The image before him was the one that he saw every morning as he gave himself a once over. Tall and lean, check. Shoulder length dark hair, currently stick to the back of his neck from the shower, check. Muscles, honed by football practices, daily workouts, eating habits and being the equivalent of a walking Mack truck on the field, check. Bright almost sky blue eyes, double check.
“Jack?” a female voice said from the next room. Jack paused in the mirror. Oh holy hell, what was her name? He had not even the slightest idea and that wasn’t going to go over well at all.
“I’m in the bathroom, babe. I just got out of the shower,” he said. Maybe it would be okay if he just avoided calling her anything concrete. Otherwise, she was what’s-her-name. Most girls didn’t like that. He needed to start making them wear name tags or something. It wasn’t like he had to keep it up for long anyway, he had to be at practice soon. That was why he’d slipped out of bed and gotten into the shower already.
“Are you leaving?” she cooed as she came into the room and slipped her arms around his waist.
“No, hon. But you are. I have to be at practice in an hour and I need to get ready,” he said. What’s-her-name froze.
“What? I have to go already?” she said.
“Yeah, I’ll give you cab fare to get home. There’s no point in you showering here anyway, you don’t have clean clothes,” he said to her through the mirror reflection.
“Well hell, you just brought me here to screw and put me out?” she said. Jack sighed and turned to face her. He hated it when women got the wrong idea.
“Honey, you met me literally thirty minutes before you left the club with me. You don’t know anything about me other than what you’ve heard from the media, and you introduced yourself by rubbing your hand against my crotch. Exactly what kind of deep and profound relationship did you expect this to lead to?” he asked. The woman took a step back, clearly outraged, reared back and smacked the hell out of him. Or as much hell as she could manage. Then she turned and stormed through the bedroom, out into the living room, got dressed and grabbed her clothes and slammed the door as she stormed out. Jack sighed and shrugged. Seriously, what had she been thinking?
He didn’t really have time to think about it right then, it was time for him to get dressed. Jack had a few reputations, one as a womanizer and a bit of a bad boy who partied nightly, the other was as a bit of a fashion plate. That meant that if he stepped out of the front door of his house, he was always dressed perfectly, whether it was jeans or slacks. It was one of the burdens and perks of being Jack Carson.
Jack walked out of the house in sun shades, since it was pretty sunny outside, and climbed into his Land Rover Evoque and the only baby girl that he was really worried about in this world, and pulled out of his driveway.
An hour later, after being given a once over and sent to the gym for a pre-practice work out, Jack looked up into the head coach, Ben Fontaine’s frowning face. That wasn’t really out of the ordinary, Jack was pretty sure that the man never got laid and was just back the hell up. What concerned him was the team’s PR head, Yasmine Peterson, and the General Manager, Kevin Bates, walking in behind him, all three of them with their eyes locked on him. He racked his brain trying to think if he’d screwed anything up recently, and came up empty. He was pretty sure that he was good. Pretty sure…
“Jack, can we have a word with you in private?” Coach Fontaine said. The look on his face said that Jack didn’t really have a choice.
“Sure. Lead the way,“ he said, setting his weights to the side and standing up.
“Have a seat,” Coach said, closing the door behind the four of them as they ducked into one of the small conference rooms off of the main hallway.
“What’s going on?” Jack said as everyone settled in.
“Jack, you realize that your contract is coming to an end next year, correct?” Yasmine said. Jack nodded and grinned.
“Yeah. Are you trying to talk about renegotiating already? It’s a bit early,” he said with a rather self-satisfied smile.
“We aren’t interested, Jack,” Kevin said. Jack’s cocky grin wilted around the edges a bit.
“Of course you are, I’ve carried this team on my back since I got here,” she said. Coach sighed heavily.
“Look, you’re a good player and you know the game well. The problem is all of the other bull that comes along with having you here. That’s what we aren’t interested in anymore,” he said.
“What?” Jack said.
“You’re a pain in the ass, Jack. Hell, other teams that know how well you play aren’t even interested because they don’t want to have to deal with your antics ending up in the news every other day. It’s not worth it to them anymore, just like it isn’t worth it to us,” Kevin said.
“We’ve already told your agent about this, but we decided to tell you think ourselves instead of leaving it to her. She’s under enough pressure without having to worry about you going off on her about something that you brought on yourself,” Yasmine said.
“I’m sorry about all this, Jack. I hope you get it together. You’ve got a year, that’s plenty of time,” Coach said. Jack was pissed. Super pissed. He stood and walked out of the room, his hand already dialing his manager.
“Paula, what the hell is going on?” he said as soon as she answered.
“Look, I’ve got a meeting, so I don’t have a lot of time. You need to redeem your reputation, Jack. Tone down the partying, maybe get yourself a girl or a kid. Preferably both. Something to show stability. I’ve got to go, think about what I said and we’ll meet later,” she said before hanging up on him. Jack stared at the phone for a moment.
“A kid?” he repeated.
Chapter 2
A month had passed. Jack was partying less now, not that he liked it. That also meant less women, which he really didn’t like. He would admit that his game had gotten better, or he thought it had. Who the hell knew anymore, he was bored. Paula had been adamant about him settling down. If he wanted to party, he needed to get one person that he partied with. Meaning, a steady girlfriend. Otherwise, once every two weeks, and he’d better not be caught drunk and stumbling out of anywhere or anyone on the news. Them’s the breaks, kid, she’d said. He didn’t like it, but he abided by it because Paula had never steered him wrong in the past. That, and he didn’t really want to leave his team in a year. He liked it where he was, he like the dynamic that he had with the guys when he wasn’t busy being a total prick. He was working on that too.
Tonight, he’d decided that he was going out, but not to party. He was going to a nice jazz club that he’d found out about a few weeks ago. Tonight was the night that they had a live band, and he could get down with that. You know, dressing nice, sipping something fancy like scotch instead of beer, and listening to something mellow and smooth. It wasn’t a party, so it didn’t count against his every two weeks, and it got him out of the house, so he was going. After he decided what to wear, he wasn’t going out without looking his best, as always.
An hour later, he pulled up in front of the club, a small but classy place that actually served a pretty impressive menu of food and had what he’d heard was one of the best bartenders in the city. He let the valet take is car and walked inside, to the chorus of whispered and looks that he always got when he went somewhere. It didn’t even affect him anymore, he was used to it.
“One, please,” he said to the girl serving as hostess who looked as if she may pass out. She stumbled through something that Jack couldn’t really understand, and then grabbed a menu and walked off. He assumed that he was supposed to follow her, so he did.
The table gave him a great view of the stage that the band would eventually be performing on, and the small dance floor set up for those who wanted a twirl. His waiter wasn’t quite as start struck as the hostess had been, and quickly came back with his drink and a small salad that preceded a surprisingly good chicken parmesan dish. He’d have to remember this place the next time he had cabin fever, this was turning out to be a good choice.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the young man serving as announcer said through the microphone. “Please welcome to the stage Moonlight, featuring Willow Jackson,” he said as the house lights dimmed just a bit and the band came out onto the stage. They began playing something low and soft that made Jack tap his foot a bit, but it was the sultry voice that was singing suddenly that made him look up again.
The woman singing was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was full and dark, hanging almost down to her waist behind her as she sang, her eyes closed. Her skin was a warm mix of gold and tan, and was fitted to a frame that probably had the attention of every man in the room. Her voice was so full that it almost felt tangible as she sang along with the band. Jack’s food lay forgotten in front of him as he watched her, enraptured.
“Hey, wait a second,” he said, snagging his waiter on his way past.
“Yes sir,” the kid said softly, so as not to drown out the music.
“The singer, Willow, right? Can you send her a drink from me when they finish their set?” he asked.
“Sure, what drink would you like to send?” the waiter asked. Hell he hadn’t thought about that.
“Does she have something that she normally orders?” he asked. The waiter grinned.
“It depends on how much they make in tips that night,” he said. Jack got it and smirked.
“Send her the more expensive one,” he said. The waited gave a curt nod, to demonstrate his understanding, and then scurried off.
Willow sang for a bit more, and then took a break. Jazz began playing again, but this time it was a track instead of the band, since this was their break. Jack saw when his waiter slipped up to the bar, where she sat alone, phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He sat the drink down in front of her and in response to her surprised look, leaned in and said something to her over the din of the restaurant. Then, he pointed to Jack and she turned with him. Jack offered a casual wave, and she smiled and nodded her thanks.
A few minutes later, he watched her put out her cigarette and slide off of the bar stool. She moved like a dancer, and that completely intrigued him as she walked through the place and settled herself across from him.
“Sorry, I was going to come over sooner, but then I realized who you are and I didn’t think you’d want to be around the smoke,” she said. Jack found himself appreciating that, most people wouldn’t have bothered caring.
“Thank you for the concern,” he said.
“Thank you for the drink,” she said, lifting it. Jack clinked his glass together with her and they drank together.
“So, I’ve never seen you in here before, and I’m pretty sure I would remember if I had. What brings you into this place? I always thought you were more of a base thumping, half naked strippers on poles kind of guy,” she said. Jack almost choked on his drink.
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” he said with a laugh as he recovered. She smiled and shook her head.
“I grew out of beating around the bush around the time I graduated high school. Short attention span,” she said.
“Okay, fair enough, normally, yes. But I’ve been told to tone it down and I wanted to get out of the house. I heard about this place a few weeks ago, and it doesn’t count as ‘partying’, so here I am.” He said. Willow laughed.
“Wow, that’s got to be the truth, I don’t think anyone would come up with that as a lie to get into my pants,” she said. Jack laughed with her.
“No, that would be a horrible lie,” he said. She watched him, a smile on her face.
“You’re interesting, Jack,” she said. Jack wasn’t really sure how to take that. This was a first.
“Thanks, I think,” Jack said with a grin. The sound of the band tuning up brought her attention back to the stage. She polished off the last of her drink and winked at Jack.
“It was nice to meet you, Jack,” she said.
“You too, Miss Willow,” he said, the charm on full blast but this point as she stood and glided back up to her place on stage. Jack was pretty sure that he’d found himself a bed warmer for the night, which was funny because he hadn’t expected that here. But, he liked surprises, and he was happy with the way the night had turned out.
A few hours later, when the band had finished their final set, the musicians left through a side door, toting their instruments with them. Jack watched as they all hugged Willow goodnight, and he got himself ready to go since the next step was he and Willow leaving together. Except, it wasn’t. Willow slipped the bartender some money, picked up her bag and made her way to the door without him. Jack was on his feet, following and catching up with her in the parking lot as she lip up another cigarette.
“Leaving without me?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“That’s the plan,” she responded.
“I thought we had something back there, something that would make you want to spend time with me as much as I want to spend time with you,” he said. Willow smirked.
“What you want is someone to keep you company tonight. Might I suggest the hostess, she’s cute and looks like she’s about to piss herself like a puppy over you being here. I, however, can’t provide you with what you are looking for, simply because I am not that easy. If you want to actually spend time with me, you know where to find me. Otherwise, it’s was wonderful meeting you, Jack,” she said, turning and gliding across the parking lot away from him.
Had she just turned him down? She had, hadn’t she? No one ever turned him down! That had been true since high school because he was good looking, and had become even more true since he was now good looking and rich, and yet here he was, alone. What the hell?!
Chapter 3
Jack had found himself thinking about Willow. He wasn’t sure if it was because she’d turned him down or simply that he was that interested in her. He’d settled on him being interested because she’d turned him down. It had been a month since they’d met, and he’d been back to the club at least once a week since then. He’d buy her a drink, sometimes dinner if she allowed it, but she always said the same thing at the end of the night:
“Good night, Jack,” In that sweet, sultry voice of hers.
It was to the point that when he caught sight of her, his heart rate increased and his back stiffened, along with… other parts of him. She was turning him into a wreck, and there was nothing that he could do about it, because she wouldn’t allow it. He’d taken to lifting weights to try and work out some of his sexual frustration, but all that had done was increase how much he could lift because he was always in there lifting.
“Back again?” she said softly, as she slid into the chair across from him, like she always did when he bought her a drink.
“Yes, again,” he said with a smile. She sighed.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because, you turned me down and I don’t understand it,” he blurted out before he really thought about it. Willow chuckled.
“Most men would have gone with something like, I can’t get you off of my mind, or something romantic like that,” she said.
“That too,” he added.
“Do you really want me? Or do you just want me naked?” she asked. Jack opened his mouth to respond, but stopped and closed it again. Then, he told the truth.
“I’m not really sure,” he said. Willow smiled and nodded.
“This is probably the most honesty you’ve given a woman, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Other than my mother, yes,” he said with a self-depreciating chuckle. Willow slipped two fingers into her cleavage and pulled out a pen. She pulled Jack’s hand towards her, and started writing on his palm.
“If you really want me, take me out sometime. I still won’t sleep with you, so don’t call me expecting that,” she said. Jack nodded, looking down at the felt tipped phone number on his skin like he’d just hit the lottery.
“Got it,” he said. She smirked, and got up as the band started to get ready for another set. Before she started singing again, Jack saved the number that she’d given him in his phone. Something told me that sweaty palms having erased it wouldn’t be an excuse that would have gotten him a second shot at it. Then, he turned in his chair to face the stage, and smiled as she started singing again.
Hours later, after she’d told him good night and he’d watched her sway off across the parking lot towards her gunmetal gray Dodge Charger, Jack lay in bed, staring at her phone. Finally, he hit send on the message that he’d been debating on for the greater part of the last thirty minutes:
Did you make it home safely?
He waited, almost holding his breath as the debate about whether texting her the same night that he got the number seemed desperate or not.
I just walked in the door, actually. I had to stop for ice cream.
Jack smiled. She’d answered, that was good, right? He hit the reply button and rattled off something about it being odd to stop for ice cream in the middle of the night. She responded that she had actually wanted this ice cream for the past week, and she’d finally broken down on her way home and gotten some. She said that she was eating it with a wine accompaniment, and didn’t even feel bad, which had made Jack laugh. He hit reply and responded again, grinning when his phone chimed with her response. What the hell, he didn’t have to be up in the morning. Staying up all night talking to her seemed like a lot more fun than sleeping anyway.