Playing For Keeps (16 page)

Samantha looked at the floor as Ryan and Jake made their way up to the stage.

The auction passed quickly and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, whooping and laughing at each bid. Everyone except Samantha, and if the tight smile on his face was any indication, Ryan. Hannah squealed in delight when she got Jake for twenty-five hundred. Then a couple of hundred dol ars here and a couple of thousand later and it was Ryan’s turn on the block.

Samantha held her breath before expel ing it in a whoosh. The woman who’d been sitting next to Ryan earlier started the bidding at a thousand dol ars. “Hannah, who’s that?”

“She’s my competition. Lily.” Hannah flipped her hair. “Sickening, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sickening.” Her stomach clenched.

“Remember, he left her sitting alone to claim you from that toad.”

“Two thousand,” shouted Teddy, a famous fashion designer.

From the stage, Ryan gave her a severe look. But she couldn’t bid for him. No way.

Lily screamed out, “Twenty-five hundred.” Then she smiled over at Samantha and mouthed, “He’s mine.”

Samantha itched with jealousy. She couldn’t let Lily have him - or any woman. “Hannah,” she pleaded.

“Three thousand.” A hush fel over the crowd at the highest bid of the night.

“Going once, twice, sold to Hannah Hahn,” shouted the auctioneer.

Samantha grabbed Hannah’s arm and whispered into her ear. “Thanks, Hannah. Ryan wil pay you back.”

“No. No. He’s my present to you. Do what you wish with him.”

“But that defeats the whole purpose.”

“No one has to know. But makes sure he knows he has to do everything you say for a whole night. Now let me go and claim my prizes. Jake doesn’t look too happy, does he? Oh, wel .”

Samantha hung back as Hannah sauntered up to Ryan and Jake, giving them both a hug and kiss before posing for a picture.

The rest of the night went downhil . Ryan seemed put off by Samantha not bidding. Jake seemed mad at Hannah for not only bidding on Ryan, but for paying a higher price.

While they waited outside for the limo, Jake and Hannah continued the argument.

“What’s the big deal?” asked Hannah.

“The guys are gonna think I can’t satisfy you. That you need two men.”

Hannah flipped her scarf over her shoulder. “Like you never had two girls at once.”

Samantha’s hand flew to her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh. But it wasn’t a laughing matter. Their fight was al her fault.

The limo pul ed up and she said good-bye to Ryan, said she was sorry to Jake and climbed into the limo. Hannah snubbed them both and fol owed Samantha without a word.

“Hannah, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how Jake would feel.”

Hannah examined her nails in the dim light. “Men can be such babies! He’l get it over it.”

The limo dropped them off. Samantha watched as the limo drove off, half expecting it to turn into a pumpkin. It didn’t. Either way her Cinderel a night was over.

***

The next day, Samantha stopped by the paper. The stares and snickers of her co-workers greeted her.
What
the hell was going on
? She dropped her purse on the desk with a thud and turned on the computer.

“Jameson, get in here, now!” Mike’s voiced boomed throughout the newsroom.

Samantha took a deep breath before heading to her boss’s office. “What’s up?” Sensing he didn’t summon her for a ‘you’re doing a great job’

pep talk, she closed the door.

“You tel me.” Mike handed her the morning edition already opened to the gossip page.

Her faced flamed and her hands shook slightly as she zeroed in on the ful -colored picture. The photographer couldn’t have picked a better opportunity. Ryan had just dipped her on the dance floor. He was smiling down at her and she was… wel … she was practical y fal ing out of her dress. She’d been so wrapped up in the moment she hadn’t remembered a flash.

Instead of the deep shame she should’ve felt, she almost giggled like a tween. She and Ryan looked hot. Like they belonged together. Like a couple.

She heard Mike clear his throat.

Samantha raised her head and met his eyes. “So, I’m dancing. What’s the big deal?”

“Didn’t you read the copy?”

“Um… ” Samantha looked down at the paper again.
Oh, my God.

Samantha James, a sports reporter with this paper and Ryan Terell of the NY Cougars cut a rug at the annual Tomorrow’s Children Benefit. It
seems Samantha puts in ‘Overtime’ - on and off the field.

Samantha should’ve been devastated, but instead she was pissed. “I can’t believe my own paper, the one that I got kidnapped for, would print this shit about me.” She threw the paper at her boss.

Mike took a step back. “I have no control over the rag branch of this paper. Besides, you’re in The Post, too.”

“My personal life is no one’s business.”

“But Terel ’s is. I can’t have my reporters becoming the news.”

“Look, my roommate dragged me to this thing, since we al know you don’t pay me enough to go on my own. Hannah goes out with Mil er, and where Mil er is, Terel is.”

“Fair enough,” admitted Mike.

“You bet it is.” Samantha turned around to walk out of his office, but turned back and added, “And by the way, when I was wasn’t putting in ‘OT’

with Terel , I found out Burner may be on steroids.”

“I’m impressed.”

Samantha didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She made Mike do a 180, and dance to her tune.

Chapter 11

“I’m home.” Samantha tossed her keys onto the glass dining room table. Clank. She winced, praying she hadn’t chipped it. Taking a closer look, she noticed among the mess laid the city’s top newspapers, al opened to the gossip pages. She sat down in the pink, velvet club chair before picking up the top one, reading the copy accompanying the photo. Then she picked up the next one.

Wearing a plush, white robe, Hannah breezed through the room on her way to the kitchen. “I bought al of them. I thought you could show your kids one day.”

“Kids?” Her eyebrows shot up.

Walking back into the room with two cups of coffee, Hannah offered her one and asked, “Are you okay?” She settled into the chair opposite her.

Samantha inhaled the scent and took a sip. Despite everything, she was okay. So what if people thought she wanted to score more than a story?

The people that mattered knew the truth. Her family. Her friends. Ryan. So what if her editor yel ed at her? No one got hurt. Nobody died. She was starting to put things in perspective. “I’m fine.” She took another sip. “You know what this means, don’t you?” she asked seriously.

Hannah frowned. “No.”

“That our little lesbian affair is over.”

Hannah dramatical y placed the back of her hand on her forehead. “The woman is always the last to know.” They shared a laugh. When the giggles subsided Hannah said, “I can’t believe there’s no photo of me in here. I bought not one but two total y hot footbal players.” She flipped through the pages. “No mention at al ,” she added with a sulk. “What’s a girl gotta do?”

“Become a sportswriter then promptly get caught dancing with the hottest guy on the team.”

“Second hottest. Thank you very much.”

Samantha smiled. “We’re not going to fight about this. Are we?”

“I’m just saying…” Hannah let the comment hang in the air. “He sent me a text at two a.m.”

“So you made up.”

Hannah tilted her head. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Wel , I got a deadline and I don’t need to give Mike another reason to fire me.”

“Let him fire you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What I mean is, sports writing is beneath you. With your experience you should be covering the UN or even the White House.”

She had no idea Hannah felt that way. Is that what her col eagues thought? Her family? Ryan?

“Besides, then it wouldn’t be a problem for you and Ryan.”

She should’ve known Hannah had an ulterior motive. Between her mother and her friend, Samantha couldn’t decide who was the Matchmaking Queen. Her cel ’s ring-tone fil ed the room. She checked the screen. Hannah’s opposition for the title waited on the other end. “Hi, Mom.”

“Why do I have to find out from the paper you’re dating Ryan?”

No - hel o Samantha. No - how are you? “Because we’re not actual y dating.” She mouthed the word help to Hannah, who smiled into her coffee.

“He took you to dinner.”

“We met there.”

“And the dancing?”

“Wel …” Yeah, that was a little harder to explain.

“Uh, uh, just as I thought.”

“Don’t get any ideas.” Needing fortification, she gulped down her coffee like a shot.

“I cut out the pictures, you can show your children one day. Hopeful y, in the near future.”

“Mom.” Samantha glared at her roommate. She put her hand over the speaker and whispered, “Have you been talking to my mother?” Hannah vehemently shook her head.

“When are you bringing him to dinner?”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Your father says there’s no game this week, so bring him Sunday. He can help the boys with the outside.”

“But--”

“One o’clock. In the meantime, I’l work on your father.”

The line went dead and she snapped the phone shut.

“Oh, she’s good,” said Hannah.

Samantha agreed, silently awarding the title to her mother. God help her if they ever joined forces. Her cel rang again. “It’s Ryan,” she informed Hannah, who was enjoying this way too much.

“Hel o.”

“Hey, babe. My agent has fielded cal s from reporters and I want to get our story straight.”

“Our story?”

“Yeah, are we sticking to the just friends crap?”

Babe? Our? Crap?
I suppose I should be happy he thought to call.
“How about, no comment?”

“Sure, if that’s the way you want to play it.”

Samantha heard a hint of disappointment in his voice, but then he continued, “Did your boss yel at you?”

She bit her lip, touched by his concern. “Mike’s a pussycat compared to my former editor.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know.”

“Good.” There was a slight pause. “Was Hannah serious about me being your slave for a day?”

“Quite serious, and I was thinking twelve on Sunday would work.”

“Where’re we going?”

“You’l see,” she added, a hint of mystery in her voice.

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Wear your work clothes.”

“My uniform?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I do.”

Samantha dared a glance at Hannah as she flipped the phone closed.

Hannah wore a smug look and then added her patented arched eyebrow. “Taking him to meet the parents, are you?”

“Cute. But Ryan’s been to their house a dozen times.”

“Can I design your wedding dress?”

Why did nobody listen to her? “You people are giving me a headache.”

Hannah hummed the wedding march as Samantha got up to go lie down. Despite the coffee, she desperately needed a nap. To hel with the deadline.

***

This isn’t what he had in mind. It real y wasn’t. The Jameson’s rambling, three story Victorian stood before him. The house was painted a cream white with green shutters and always made him feel welcome. Except now. Inside his head, the house screamed, ‘Get Out’, like he was in the middle of some horror flick.

He’d been there plenty of times over the years, but always as Patrick’s friend. Now he was here as Samantha’s boyfriend. At least, that’s what he thought he was here as. Then he noticed the huge oak trees in the backyard. Huge oak trees with no leaves.

“Are you coming?”

He looked up at Samantha, who was already halfway up the car-fil ed driveway. The brown jeans hugged her body like the chocolate shel of a hand-dipped ice cream cone. She could stil pass for a col ege student in the Notre Dame sweatshirt she wore. The devious twinkle in her eyes told him the real reason why he was here. The annual Jameson Autumn Work Party. “A smart man would turn tail and run.”

“And yet, here you are,” she said playful y.

He enjoyed the rear view as they continued up the driveway. “You pul ed the old bait and switch on me.”

“Oh, so you’d rather be playing Candy Land with that model…what was her name?”

“I think it was some kind of flower.” Like he could remember anything with her curvy hips and gorgeous ass swaying back and forth.

“Whatever.”

Samantha’s male relations leaned on their rakes and eyed him with interest. Did he get caught ogling? Samantha headed for the side entrance and he gripped her arm, swinging her into his arms. “Whoa, whoa. Where do you think you’re going?” Remembering their audience, he released his hold and took a step back.

“Kitchen duty.”

“That’s a bit sexist. Don’t you think?”

“Are you insinuating that cooking isn’t as hard as yard duty?”

“I wasn’t insinuating. I’m saying it straight out.”

Samantha put a finger to his chest. “Talk like that wil not get you a piece of my mother’s apple pie.”

“You real y know how to shut a guy up.”

“Go bond with the other males.” She pointed to her father and brothers who waved at him.

“Terel , get your sorry ass out here,” yel ed Patrick.

“Yeah, so he can kick it,” said Ryan to Samantha.

She turned toward the house, deserting him in his hour of need.

Thirty minutes later, he raked, while Samantha’s father and brothers supervised from lawn chairs while drinking beers.

“Be careful you don’t blister your hands, pretty boy,” said Patrick.

Ryan didn’t mind doing al the work. He didn’t even mind the ribbing. But he desperately wanted to be over there hanging out with them. Like he was part of the family.

“You missed a spot,” said Sean.

“Man, this beer is going down real smooth,” said Samantha’s father.

Ryan let it rol off his shoulders. At least they didn’t seem angry over the photo. Maybe, this was their way of punishing him. Or maybe they were setting him up for the bigger kil .