All In: Playing to Win (Gambling With Love Book 5) (4 page)

"Oh, sure, Ms. Adair. I thought you'd already left and I'd just missed you."

"I got held up waiting on a few players." One really, really late player.

"Oh, well, good luck with the auction. We'll see you on October eighteenth?"

"Yeah, I can't wait," I tell him with a smile. I have tickets to the game, and was embarrassingly selected to be part of the halftime event thanks to my wonderful friends. But I’d do anything for those free tickets.

I'll have to buy another player's jersey to wear to the game since I now flat out refuse to wear the jackass's behind me. Maybe Jonathan Meyers. He was a nice, polite Southern gentleman.

"How's it going, Zack?" Mr. Jones asks the arrogant man.

"Been better. How about you, Bill?" Zack responds, sounding almost sad, which makes me glance back over my shoulder at him in surprise. He's still just as gorgeous as he was thirty seconds ago.                                         

"I'm good. Ready to see you guys kick some ass and hopefully make the playoffs," Bill responds.

The Wildcats started the season oh and three, but all three games had been close, and with the toughest teams on the schedule.

"We don’t just want to make the playoffs, we're aiming for the Super Bowl." Zack laughs. "Although, Polly, I mean,
Miss
Adair here thinks Marshall might do a better job than me."

My face turns beet red at his remark. Only an idiot would really think such a thing, which is exactly what Mr. Jones's look conveys.

"What can I say, I'm an Alex Marshall fan," I respond with a shrug, hoping he'll buy the lie and let me leave.

"Right," both men say in unison, equally doubtful.

"Do you need some help getting the box to your car?" Mr. Jones asks.

"I'll take care of her box for her, Bill," Zack says, heavy with innuendo again. What was he, a fifteen-year-old boy? 

"Thanks again, Mr. Jones," I tell him as I head for the hallway and quickly make my way to the parking lot.

"So you're coming to the game October eighteenth?" Zack asks from behind me.

"Uh-huh."           

"Well hopefully Marshall won't have taken my job by then, and you can see me play."

"Uh-huh."

"Have dinner with me."

It sounded like I hallucinated him saying something about dinner. That's just ridiculous. 

"Natalie?" he asks.

"Huh?" I pull my keys out of my purse and hit the unlock button on the key fob as we approach my Carolina blue Honda Fit. The same color as the Wildcats team. Also the same color as UNC's, which is where Zack and I went to school.

"Nice color," he says as I raise the hatchback.

"Thanks. It's my favorite." I step back for him to lower the box then shut the hatch.

"Mine, too."

Wow, Zack Bradford and I have something in common. Who would've thought?

"Okay, well, thanks for your help," I say as I start for the driver's door.

"You didn't answer my question," Zack replies. Quickly moving his large body, he stands against my driver side car door, blocking my chance at a getaway.

Good Lord the man is huge this close up. He's so damn buff it should be illegal to brandish such massive guns in public. Not to mention he has the perfect, gorgeous face of a male model and smells like a warm day at the beach. I try to focus on the Wildcats' logo on the center of his t-shirt instead of his distracting face...or...entire body. He's too damn incredible to take in and it's making my head hurt just trying.   

"What question?" I ask. My mouth is so dry from practically panting with my tongue hanging out that it's hard to speak those two words.

"Have dinner with me."

A sudden burst of laughter escapes me, sounding embarrassingly similar to a girly giggle. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to try and get over the shock of those four words. It's also easier to think when I'm not looking at him. "That wasn't a question. It was a statement."

"Fine.
Will
you have dinner with me?" he amends. I gasp and my eyes fly open when one of his thick knuckles suddenly begins stroking its way up my neck until it's underneath my chin. Tipping it up I'm forced to look into his warm, brown eyes. His deep voice lowers when he says, "Or we could just go to my place and you could be dinner."

Oh God
. My knees feel wobbly like they're going to pull a fast one and embarrass me in front of Zack freaking Bradford, sending me down on my ass.
Use your brain, woman! He only wants to screw you, and basically just says as much!
  

I blink to break contact with his hypnotic gaze and take a step backwards so that his hand will fall away. "No, thanks. Hope you have a great season," I squeak out as I try to figure out a way to maneuver around his humongous body.

"No?" He jerks back against my car like I tasered him, using a word he's never heard before. Probably hasn't, which makes me even more confident in my response. And great, now there's probably a giant quarterback size dent in the side of my car.

"No. I decline. The opposite of yes. Could you please move now?" I ask with my hands on my hips while my cheeks begin to feel sunburnt.

"I'm unfamiliar with such a foreign concept. What exactly is this '
no
' you speak of?" he deadpans.  

That stupid girly giggle slips out again before I can respond. "Google it."

When the man still doesn't move I grumble and walk around to the passenger side. I'm sliding in and over the console to the driver seat before he realizes what I'm up to and yanks the driver's side door open. Shoot, I should've locked them after I got in.

"Are you seriously running away from me?" Zack asks with a deep chuckle, lowering to his haunches to get eye level. Oh and that just isn't fair.
Don't look at his face! Don't look at his face!
   

I put the key in the ignition, crank my car in response, and then reach for my seatbelt.         

"Fine, go ahead and drive your very sexy ass out of here, Polly Pocket, but I'm not giving up on you."

What does that mean and why do I feel so giddy that he asked me out? He didn't remember me from college, so is he actually interested in me? No way. Maybe he just felt guilty for being so late and doesn't want me to bad mouth him around town. Yeah right.

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Bradford," I tell him and he stands back up.                      

"Until next time, Miss Adair."

He finally shuts the door and I smile at his promise, trying to come to my senses as I drive away. I make the mistake of looking back at him in my rearview mirror, almost expecting him to have disappeared because I'd imagined the whole meeting. But nope, there he still stands. Zack Bradford is the hottest man alive, and he just asked out little ole me.

…

Zack

I shake my head in disbelief.
No
? A woman, one who's definitely not married because I did think to ask this time, flat out refused to have dinner with me? It was turning out to be a hell of a day.

I'm on the brink of losing my job, the first and only love of my life, unless I find a saint to pretend to be my girlfriend. Miraculously enough, I accidentally stumble upon the perfect woman, a woman who's not only gorgeous but actually works for a cancer organization for Christ's sake, and she turns me down. The one woman that is guaranteed to keep me in the league and she refuses to even have a meal with me. Hell. No.  

I pull my phone out of my pants pocket while I walk back into the stadium, Googling the local breast cancer office and calling it.

"Thank you for calling the Carolina Breast Cancer Foundation," answers a feminine voice.

"Oh, hi. I'm trying to reach Natalie Adair."

"Okay, just a minute." The woman puts me on hold and I listen to elevator music as I make my way to the locker room.

"Sir? Ms. Adair's not here. She had an appointment out of the office and was supposed to be back hours ago, but she's not. I hope nothing's wrong," she says, actually sounding concerned for her coworker. "Would you like her voicemail?" 

Yeah, I was what was wrong. I'd been so pissed after this morning's fun little meeting that I'd tried to burn off the anger by doing some heavy cardio up and down the stadium bleachers. Only when I'd gone back to the locker room hours later did I finally see the reminder of the missed appointment on my phone.

I'd still been seething in anger when I walked into that conference room. But then the sexy, blonde pixie tore into me, ripping me a new one for being late. I've never had a woman speak to me like that, treating me like I'm the biggest asshole in the world. I am, of course. She's just the first woman to actually call me out for it. The fact that she didn't hold back because I happen to be a famous football player was pretty damn amusing. It was a nice change of pace from all the flocks of gold-diggers worshiping me on their knees, and for whatever reason, maybe because I'm a glutton for more punishment, I have to see that ballbusting woman again.

Which is why I need her phone number.

Back to my phone call, I quickly come up with a lie and reply to the woman still waiting for my response. "Oh, well I'm calling from the Wildcats' stadium and I think she forgot her…paperwork. She just left, so if you could you give me her cell number, I'll try and reach her before she gets back to the office."

"Well sure, hang on," she replies and I hear paper rustling. "Okay, here we go. It's 614-1311."

"Great, thanks," I say, then hang up to text her before I forget it. Damn concussions.

I plug the numbers into a new message, and send,
Here's my number in case you change your mind about dinner - Zack (#14 NOT #16).

Next I dial up the player relations' office to try and do some damage control.

"This is Diane, how can I help you?" one of the assistants answers.

"Diane, hey this is Zack. Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Zack, anything."

"Could you put together a gift basket with one of my signed women's jersey, stuffed wildcat, and whatever else you can round up then have someone run it over to the breast cancer foundation on Trade Street for Natalie Adair ASAP?"

"Well, sure. I can have it out in about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, and will you put a card in it that says, 'Sorry I was late. Please have dinner with me, so I can make it up to you?'"

"Seriously?" She asks.

"Yes. Why? Too cheesy?" I cringe in concern. I've never done this sort of shit before.

"No, it's really sweet! It's just, I never thought Zack Bradford would have to go to all that trouble for a date." She giggles again.

"Yeah, me, either. Thanks, Diane," I tell her, and then end the call.                

Natalie is definitely unlike any woman I've ever met. Although, for some reason she looks so damn familiar. I know the paparazzi will love her, especially where she works and her looks. She's classically beautiful and flawless, like a less innocent looking, travel-size Barbie. I know her sexy, petite body is so light I can probably pick her up with one hand and carry her off to do all sorts of naughty things with her. But best of all is her perfect heart shaped ass swaying underneath her tight black skirt, the image of which was instantly branded into my brain. Just the thought of her amazing ass has my cock growing heavy.

Unfortunately, her big and beautiful jade eyes pull me in and see right through me at the same time. When she called me out for being late, and for basically being a self-important arrogant prick, it actually bothered me. Maybe because her unimpressed attitude reminds me of Lacy, the only other woman I've ever known, other than my own mother, that's worth a damn. I don't want to be an asshole anymore, and not just because my career is on the line. If I'm going to be a father, then I'm really going to have to get my shit together. I want to be a decent role model for my son or daughter, otherwise Lacy will never let me see him or her.

I keep telling myself that Lacy's baby isn't mine. I mean, we only had sex maybe five or six times around the time she got pregnant. I'm sure her and her new man were together a hell of a lot more times, making the baby likely his, or one of the other two guys she's fucked. I still can't believe the straight-laced, conservative woman had a freaking foursome. Goes to show that I guess you don't know people as well as you think you do.

Even after a year I really didn't know Lacy that well. We'd had a long distance relationship while I was traveling with the team and she was still in college. I'd cheated on her because it just didn't feel like we were really together, even though I'd wanted to just be with her.

Now I've been put on a short leash. And if this is what it takes for me to finally change my man-whoring ways then so be it. I'll just have to figure out a way to convince Natalie to date me.  

I'm actually looking forward to the challenge. It feels like a new game, bringing out my competitive nature that's gotten me to where I am in the league today. It's…exciting, to have to pursue a woman just to get her to have dinner with me. The first time in, God, maybe ever. And there's a lot at stake to get her to agree. Not just for one date but for the long term. I'm certain I don't want to have a pretend relationship with anyone else.