Playing for Keeps (21 page)

Would it happen the night before the Super Bowl? The night after? Did he expect to be friends thereafter, because she could assure him
that
wouldn’t happen. She was the worst ex-girlfriend ever. Always had been, always would be.

But in her heart, she knew how she wanted their talk to go. They didn’t need to make plans, they needed to
change
them. To give themselves more time together. Some way to explore their feelings without the pressure of the Super Bowl and Lager Storm. She didn’t pretend to know what would happen then. Maybe once the thrill of forbidden sex was gone, they’d get bored, or at least tired of slogging back and forth by plane. But it was worth finding out, and he seemed so hooked on her, as a person, not just for the sex, she had to believe he’d want to know too.

He’d have to face his father and sister-in-law if he canceled the blind date, reneged on his promise to find a domesticated bride, and took up publicly with some career girl. But he could explain he was just postponing things. If it didn’t work out with Erica, the blind date could be rescheduled. He was ready for marriage, and so she couldn’t expect him to romance her indefinitely. She just knew she’d always wonder.

And wouldn’t he wonder too?

Because in her heart she knew he was falling as fast, as hard, as she was. Would it last? She couldn’t know that. But it would be better than giving up without a fight.

• • •

She couldn’t sleep at all that night. Instead, she rehearsed in her head the conversation they would have at the cozy condo. It always went well at the beginning—the exciting, romantic part—but when it came down to specifics, things seemed to fall apart. Because it wasn’t just Lager Storm or the blind date or the Super Bowl that blocked their future. She would have more accounts, more clients, possibly even more demanding than Helmut. She would need to be in New York, working long days, including nights and weekends. Did she expect Johnny to move there? And then be completely neglected? When he had a gorgeous home overlooking two rivers? Family in Los Angeles? Friends everywhere?

No, he’d want to have an exciting off-season. Traveling, hiking, sailing. Partying with his buddies. He’d want his girlfriend by his side, and when she couldn’t make it, his thoughts would drift back to married, domestic bliss. A devoted wife who put him first no matter what.

How had he described it? That even when Beth was working, she had always been home before her husband? Wouldn’t that start sounding good again?

And even if they made it through the off-season, the games would start again. He would need to be on the West Coast. She’d need to be on the East.

It seemed doomed, but Erica had watched John Spurling in action and knew he could make the impossible happen.

He’s the QB. He’ll come up with a plan,
she promised herself.
He’s a player, remember?

And so he’d give it his best shot. And given the way he had propelled his crippled team into the playoffs, she just knew that would be enough.

• • •

By mid-morning on Thursday, the idea had taken shape. Her aunt confirmed by text that the spare key was in the same hiding spot where it had been for decades, and Erica had collected most of the necessary items for duplicating her childhood visits. A jigsaw puzzle, two decks of cards, some DVDs. Binoculars, just in case she couldn’t find her aunt’s. And a warm but sexy sweater, since it could get cold there in January.

She would wait until the last minute, then text Johnny the address and tell him not to ask questions, but just to start driving as soon as he got out of his meeting. It would be playful, mysterious, and dramatic. She would fly directly to Seattle, then rent a car and drive to the condo, stopping at a grocery store to buy ingredients for her aunt’s famous spaghetti sauce and a ton of junk food. And wine and Lager Storm, and anything else that caught her eye.

After a quick wrap-up with Steve, she went back to her cubicle to collect her things and saw that Johnny had called her on her cell. Probably impatient for the details, or at least for confirmation she wasn’t canceling again.

She couldn’t wait to assure him it was just the opposite. She was taking it to a whole new level. So she quickly cleared off her desk, then played his message on speaker but with the volume turned way down.

From the first word, she knew something was wrong. She had never heard him so stressed, at least not at the beginning of a call.

Hey, babe, sorry I missed you. I need a favor, and I’m guessing you’ll be hot to do it since it helps your career too. You’re full-service like Murf, right? And Deck’s falling apart. So I gave him your number. Can you spend the weekend with him instead? Work your magic. He needs it more than I do. And you can use Murf’s suite since he’s in Dallas.
He exhaled audibly, as though glad to have gotten the words out
. Thanks, Erica. I’ll check in with you later.

At first, she was simply crushed that they wouldn’t be seeing each other. And more important, having their talk. Planning their future in a cozy little hideaway.

But it was so much worse, wasn’t it?

Sinking into her chair, she replayed the message, her confusion growing. Was he actually handing her off to his friend? Because she was full-service? And hot to do
anything
to advance her career?

Was he actually
saying
these things to her?

And as bad as the words sounded, it was his tone that told her exactly where she stood with him. He wasn’t regretful or conflicted. Not even a little. It was so impersonal. Or at least distracted, like he had a million things on his mind—important things like the Super Bowl—and needed to get this situation with Decker wrapped up quickly.

After all his complaints about her career and the way it interfered with their precious time together, he suddenly
loved
the fact that she was a full-service girlfriend, hot to do favors. And not just for him, but for his lonely buddies too.

The knife in her chest started to twist, and hurt feelings morphed into slow, hot rage. On voice mail, no less? Like it was no big deal?

Because Decker needed her more than he did. And it was her job, wasn’t it?

Maybe he just wants you to talk to him,
she comforted herself, but it didn’t make sense. For one thing, it wouldn’t take the whole weekend. Just drinks, maybe dinner. And why couldn’t Johnny be there too? That was how normal couples handled things. Johnny would put them both at ease by telling stories and making connections. The new girlfriend meeting the buddy for the first time. Then she could murmur soothing platitudes and playful compliments about Decker’s adorable face and big muscles, knowing it wouldn’t be misunderstood.

Numb, she tried to imagine what the QB had said to his teammate. That he could borrow his girlfriend for the weekend? What kind of guy did that? And maybe he hadn’t even referred to her as his girlfriend. More like, “You should borrow this girl I’ve been fooling around with. Trust me, she’s full-service like Murf. She’ll do anything to make you feel great.”

And here she had thought—or at least hoped—she had a future with this guy. That they’d spend the weekend making romantic plans to stay together, maybe even forever.

By habit, her hand reached for her desk phone, ready to summon Jenna and May to active duty. But this was too humiliating to share. Especially with May, who had always had concerns about Johnny, mostly because of the blind date, which May referred to as “the expiration date.” And she had reacted badly to the diamond bracelet too, as though it were presumptuous of him. The kind of extravagant yet impersonal gift a guy gave a mistress.

Impersonal and presumptuous. Just like this voice mail message. And in some ways, even more insulting.

She had no idea how to handle this. Maybe just text him? Something simple, like:
Got your message. Found it inappropriate. Please don’t contact me again. Future business can be handled through your agent and my boss.

With shaky hands, she scribbled those words on a slip of paper, deciding she would look them over later, and if they still worked, send them. For now, she just wanted to go home and unpack. Staying at the office wasn’t an option. She had some diamonds to sell on eBay, for one thing. Reservations to cancel. And a bunch of football games to erase from her DVR.

In some ways,
that
was what really infuriated her. Because thanks to her review of those games, she actually
could
have helped with the Decker-Bannerman feud. She could have played counselor, charming the facts out of the kicker. Because clearly there was trouble. Probably over a girl. Someone they both liked, but Bannerman had asked her out first. That would fit, wouldn’t it, since Bannerman was supposedly a womanizer and Decker was supposedly shy?

So shy his QB had to pimp his own girlfriend out to him for the weekend.

She was still sitting in her cubicle, too unhappy to move, when her cell rang. At first she just cringed, but when Sean Decker’s name flashed across the screen, her vision cleared. Apparently he couldn’t wait to arrange this full-service weekend.

Time to give him more bad news. His best friend still hated him. And now Erica McCall did too.

Chapter 10

“Hello?” she answered coolly.

“Is this Erica? Hey, this is Sean Decker. John’s friend. He told you I’d be calling, right?”

“Yes, I got the message.”

“I know he put you on the spot, but don’t worry. We’ll just tell him we couldn’t connect, and that’ll be that. I appreciate it though,” he added, his voice solemn. “He told us you’re the best, and man, was he right.”

Keep your pants on,
she warned him silently, but she couldn’t help relaxing a bit. He sounded like the nice guy everyone said he was. Maybe she
should
spend a romantic weekend with him.

“You’re off the hook,” he explained further. “Thanks anyway.”

Now he didn’t just sound nice. He sounded respectful, like a gentleman. And a bit like a guy who had just lost his best friend, his career, and probably his self-respect, since his friends were now pimping out used girlfriends to him as though he couldn’t get his own dates.

And you can help him. At least with two out of three problems,
she reminded herself.

So she said quietly, “Hey, Sean? How well do you follow directions?”

“You mean, like on a map?”

“I mean like, I want you to listen carefully and do exactly what I say. Can you do that?”

“Sure.”

“Do you promise?”

He cleared his throat. “What’s going on, Erica?”

She smiled grimly, remembering Johnny’s words. This helped
her
career too. She needed the Lancers to advance to the Super Bowl, or at least as close as possible. Wasn’t it time to be as calculating as he was?

“I’m going to text you an address. It’s just outside Seattle. I want you to write it down, then turn your phone off. Don’t answer it, don’t check messages. Don’t talk to Johnny. To be safe, don’t talk to anyone. Not until you meet me at the address. Is that clear?”

“I guess so.”

“You’re not going to the strategy session with the coaches, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, then you’re on radio silence. Just meet me around four o’clock your time.”

“Listen, Erica—”

“This is important, Sean. Johnny
wants
us to do it, right? But we have to do it my way. Okay?”

He chuckled. “Will you let me take you to dinner at least?”

She wanted to warn him it wasn’t that kind of date, but why spoil the surprise? “We’ll see. Just meet me at the address. Is everything clear?”

“Crystal,” he assured her, chuckling again. “Mum’s the word, right?”

“Right.”

“He said you’d be fun, but I didn’t expect
this
.”

“Oh, I’ll be fun all right. See you at four o’clock. And don’t be late.”

• • •

She waited until her stopover in Denver before returning Johnny’s call, hoping the strategy session was just getting under way and he wouldn’t be able to answer.

If she was wrong, she’d hang up and try again later. Or maybe never.

But it rang through to voice mail, and she exhaled sharply, ready to recite her perfectly rehearsed script. Then she heard his cheerful, confident voice say “This is John, leave a message,” and she snapped.

Who did he think he was, sounding so happy at a time like this?

Her tone was sharp and condemning when she told him, “John? It’s Erica. I’m not sure why you thought you could pimp me out to your friends, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve decided to spend the weekend with Sean for my own reasons. But don’t misunderstand. You and I are through. In the future, if you need a cheap date, I suggest you fuck your
self
because I won’t be around anymore.”

It was crude, and she almost regretted it. Especially because she hadn’t made the dignified suggestion that any future contact should be via Murf and Caldwell. But at least she hadn’t sounded “sensitive.” Like her little feelings were hurt. She was barely keeping it together as it was, and if she started feeling sorry for herself, she’d lose it.

Just don’t think about it anymore,
she advised herself, but she couldn’t help it. Her mind continued to flash on the many, many warning signs. Signs she had completely ignored. Not just the blind date or the bracelet. Or the constant digs at her career. But she should have been more offended when he said his father pictured him running around with long-legged girls just like her.

But the most telling thing—the real clue—had been his complete failure to address, even slightly, where they were headed.

Because he already knew. And if she had just listened, instead of having dreamy fantasies, she would have known too.

• • •

Every time she doubted her plan, she reminded herself that it all made sense. That the alternative was to fly back to New York, sit in a hot bath and cry her eyes out over a guy who didn’t deserve it.