Tempting the Player (6 page)

He scanned it and breathed, “Shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, scratching his chin. “If you don’t agree to work with Miss Gore and do what she says, the Nationals won’t re-sign you—and could even let you out of your existing contract early.”

He was absolutely dumbfounded.

“This
is
in your best interest if you want to continue to play ball here,” Jack said.

Chad had no idea what to say. Anger and disbelief slammed into him with the force of a Mack truck, which ran him over and then backed up and did it again. Shit.

“I’ll take your silence as acceptance,” Miss Gore said. “We’ll begin working together immediately.”

“Really?” he grumbled.

“Really.” She reached into her purse again and dropped a freaking encyclopedia-size file in his lap, causing him to grunt. “This is my contract.”

“Jesus.”

“And you will see that in your Nationals’ contract you are required to sign this one.” She leaned over and flicked the stack open to page twenty. “This is the list of new lifestyle choices.”

Lifestyle choices? He wanted to laugh, but none of this was funny. His eyes darted over the list and he nearly choked. “Holy…” There were no words. Seriously.

No drinking in public. No late nights. No bars or clubs of questionable status. No women. He snorted at that. Women, as in plural, because he was a man-whore according to Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass.

Well, and according to his brothers, but whatevs.

“This is laughable,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old boy. I’m an adult.”

“Good. I agree.” She smiled again. “Now it’s time for you to start acting like one. I expect you to look over everything there, because you will follow those rules. My reputation depends on it, and unlike you, I actually care how the public sees me.”

He really didn’t like this woman.

“You need to do this, Chad. I know how much this team means to you and this city—your brothers,” Jack said, picking up a pen and offering it to him. “You need to sign this and just go with it. In a few months when things die down, it won’t be this bad.”

Chad stared at his agent, feeling like he’d just been betrayed. Then his gaze dropped to the two contracts in his lap. The thing was, he could say screw it and go free agent. The Yankees would grab him up in a heartbeat, but the publicist was right. Leaving this town and his brothers was the last thing he wanted. He and his brothers had a shitty childhood in their cold, sterile home. If it hadn’t been for Maddie’s family, God knew where any of them would be right now. Hell, it was Maddie’s dad who used to come to his Little League games.

Dammit. This city had a ton of bad memories, but the good ones…. Yeah, they outweighed the shit his father and mother dragged him and his brothers through. He needed to be close to his siblings or what he was doing now would seem like child’s play. Leaving wasn’t an option. Who was he kidding by even thinking he would? He just didn’t think he’d end up here, with a babysitter. The Club had him by the balls.

He tipped his head back and groaned. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Chapter Six

Every time Chase Gamble visited Madison at work, which was, like, every damn day since the two decided to admit their undying love for each other this past May, Bridget wanted to kick off her techno-colored pumps and crawl under her desk. Of course, she doubted her ass would fit in the space under the desk. Not that she was that big, but her desk was
that
small. After all, she was Madison’s assistant, which meant she got the leftover, no-one-had-used-in-forever type of desks. She probably needed to stop bitching because she was lucky the thing had four legs and hadn’t collapsed on her yet.

She’d spotted the tall, dark-haired club owner navigating his way through the cubicle farm outside their office before Madison did. A quick glance to the left and Bridget saw that Madison’s nose was buried deep in quotes for the winter fund-raising gala.

The winter fund-raising gala.

Le sigh.

There was still time to try to squeeze under her desk or at least pretend she was on the phone, but before she could grab the receiver, the doors swung open and Chase’s huge shoulders filled the gap. Big, door-busting shoulders—shoulders that reminded her of someone else, someone with a tongue and fingers to die for.

She really didn’t need to think about that right now.

Bridget fixed a bright smile on her face. “Hey, Chase.”

Over at her desk, her boss’s head jerked up and her lips broke into a wide smile as she spotted her guest. “Hey,” she said, standing quickly. “Is it lunchtime already?”

Chase sent Bridget a quick nod before turning his full attention on Madison. “Yes. You ready?”

Pretending to rearrange the pens on her desk, Bridget tried desperately to ignore the heavy and extremely long-lasting, PDA-filled meet-and-greet going on no more than five feet in front of her.

But Bridget looked up.

She always did, even more so now, because instead of seeing Chase and Madison, she saw Chad…and her. She was pathetic.

A sharp pang sliced her chest, ripping open a fresh wound that shouldn’t even be there. She sucked in a quiet breath as she watched Chase kiss Madison like she was the air he needed to breathe—and that’s when she looked away, blinking dry eyes.

It wasn’t Chase—God, no. It wasn’t Madison. Even though Bridget hadn’t been a big fan of Chase in the beginning, she was happy for them. No two people were in love with each other more and they deserved happiness. Being
in
love was the key, Bridget believed with every ounce of her being. It was different than loving someone—much, much different.

But her problem was who Chase was forever going to remind her of now.

Bridget picked up a red pen that matched her cardigan and placed it in the holder that contained colored-ink pens, a black pen with the non-colorful pens. So, she might be a tiny bit obsessive over where her pens were placed.

“Bridget.” Madison laughed softly. “Leave the damn pens alone and join us for lunch.”

Looking up, she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. No matter how tight she pulled her hair back, the damn pieces always managed to slip through. “Oh, no, you two lovebirds enjoy your alone time.”

Madison made a face as she spun and grabbed her jacket and purse. “I don’t want any more alone time with him. That’s why I’m inviting you.”

“Thanks.” Chase turned to her slowly. “My self-esteem just went through the roof.”

Bridget cracked a smile at that.

“But seriously, come with us.” Chase draped an arm around Madison’s slim shoulders. “We’re going to the new restaurant down the street.”

“The Cove?” Bridget asked. Her stomach was
so
in.

“Yes.” Madison grinned. “The one you’ve been wanting to check out. That boasts the best burgers in DC.”

Chase tugged Madison against him. Any closer and the two would be sealed together. “I’ve ate there and their burgers are the shit.”

Damn them and their knowledge of how much sway burgers held over her. Standing from her chair, Bridget grabbed her purse off the little cart beside her desk. “Well, how can I pass up such a glowing recommendation like that?”

Chase grinned as he pivoted around. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “No jacket?”

Bridget straightened her cardigan so the embroidered flower didn’t end up poised over her left breast like some kind of weird nipple. “I don’t like jackets.”

“She thinks they’re too bulky,” Madison interjected as he held the door open for them. “It can be snowing outside and she won’t have a jacket on but will be wearing a scarf.”

True.

Chase fell in step between them. “A scarf but no jacket?”

Bridget shrugged. “It keeps my neck warm and besides, unlike Maddie, I have a couple of extra layers worth of protection.”

Her friend snorted as she shrugged on a black peacoat. “You don’t have extra layers of protection, Bridget.”

Confusion crossed Chase’s features, and Bridget bit back a giggle. “I have no idea what you two are talking about,” he said.

“Trust me,” Bridget replied, grinning at Madison. “Keep it that way.”

Heading down the main cluster of cubicles, she vainly ignored how her friend slowed down to an ant’s crawl when they passed Robert McDowell’s desk. It was common knowledge that the numbers guy had a thing for Bridget. He was nice and good-looking, but Bridget was more turned on by her polka-dotted vibrator than Robert.

And Chad—she had been really turned on by him, which proved she had no common sense, but at least her vagina was still fully functioning.

Robert was missing a certain element. An element that even Bridget had a hard time naming, but knew it would speak to her when she saw it. Sad thing was when she met Chad at that damn club a month ago, it really had spoken to her with a bullhorn.

She’d taken two steps and Robert’s head popped out from behind drab gray walls. His blond hair was a bit shaggy, framing a boyish face. “Hey there, Miss Rodgers…” His gaze dropped. “New shoes?”

If only she was attracted to him, Robert would be perfect. He noticed things like shoes. “Why, yes, I got them a week ago.”

“Very nice,” he said, sitting back. “On the way to lunch?”

She realized he might’ve been hamming for an invite and so did Madison, who was already opening her big mouth. “Thank you,” she cut in quickly. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

She hurried past, feeling like one giant bitch for doing so, but she’d rather feel that way than lead the guy on or end up in an awkward moment where he inevitably asked her out and she gave some lame excuse like she was washing her cat’s hair that night.

In the elevator, Madison turned narrowed eyes on Bridget. “You could’ve invited him, you know.”

“I know.” She folded her arms.

Chase leaned against the wall, tipping his head back. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because—”

“Because Robert likes Bridget,” Madison explained, finishing up the buttons on her jacket. “And Bridget likes pens.”

“Pens?” Chase echoed.

Bridget rolled her eyes. “Pens are by far more stimulating than most people.”

“I’m kind of wondering what you’re doing with those pens,” Chase said.

Madison scrunched up her nose. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“My mind is always in the gutter around you.”

And there they went again, inching closer and closer, arms going around each other, kissy sounds and all. Bridget closed her eyes and let out a low breath. Being around them was like standing next to two horny teenagers.

Damn, she was jealous.

The elevator couldn’t move fast enough, and she was surprised Chase and Madison didn’t end up having sex in the thing. A bit of the glass walls were fogged up, though.

Brisk November wind cooled Bridget’s cheeks as they dodged businessmen carrying briefcases and tourists with fanny packs. Off in the distance, the Washington Monument rose like one giant…phallic symbol.

Men and their architectural toys…

Weird looks were sent their way, ones that either Madison or Chase ignored or didn’t see, but Bridget saw every one of them. A red cardigan typically didn’t go well with a pink-and-white-striped skirt and colorful heels and white tights, but Bridget’s oddball fashion sense wasn’t anything new. More like a reject from the eighties to be exact, but she’d always been this way, throwing clothes together, mix-matching designs like a trendy Euro-trash designer.

Her mother believed it was some kind of psychological misdirection enabling Bridget to protect herself from getting hurt. Eye. Roll. She just liked colors and really wished her mother were in any career, even stripping, instead of psychology.

Nothing beats getting diagnosed over Thanksgiving dinner.

Halfway there, Chase dug out his cell and chuckled, drawing both their attentions. He texted something back and then bent down, brushing his lips across Maddie’s forehead.

Two blocks down from the Mall, they dipped into the trendy new diner. Warm air greeted them, as did the faint smell of grease and pricey food. The place was crowded, which made squeezing between the round tables tricky.

“Are we going to get a seat?” Bridget asked, hoping the blister she was getting on the back of her foot wasn’t in vain.

Chase nodded. “I called ahead. We got a booth out back.”

A frown puckered Madison’s face. “I thought this place didn’t do reservations?”

He smiled.

Of course, Bridget realized, no establishment in town would refuse Chase or any of the Gamble brothers. Besides the politicians and drug dealers, the Gamble brothers ran this town.

The roomy booth in the back, caddy corner to a not so surprisingly busy bar, was big enough to seat six comfortably. Madison and Chase took up one side while Bridget slid into the opposite seat, thankful she loathed jackets as she watched Madison mutter under her breath, stand again, and then take off her jacket. A server swung by their table, dropping off plastic-covered menus and taking their drink orders.

“Can I get another water?” Chase asked, spreading an arm along the back of the booth. “We have one more person joining us.”

“Sure,” the waitress replied, smiling.

“We do?” Madison asked once the waitress dashed away to fill the order.

The strangest feeling washed over Bridget. Kind of felt like someone had poked her in the stomach a couple of times as she stared at Chase, praying to every God she knew that he wasn’t going to say what she was fearing.

Chase flipped the menu over. “Yeah, it’s a good thing Richard—”

“Robert,” Madison corrected.

“Didn’t get invited, because Chad texted me on the way here. He’s just a block down, and he’s going to grab something to eat with us.”

Bridget stopped breathing. And then she lost her appetite, just like that. Vanished, replaced by knots twisted more times than a Celtic loop.

Oh no, no no no…this could not be happening.

When she had dashed out of Chad’s luxurious apartment, sans panties, she figured that would be the last she’d see of him in person. They really didn’t run in the same circles, and she had sworn off sexy bars in her future.

She felt sick.

“Great,” Madison said, leaning back against the seat. “Let’s see how long he goes before he gets his picture taken or asked for an autograph.”

The smile that crossed Chase’s face was full of pride. “Hey, he’s the star. Recognize.”

Bridget stopped listening to them as she glanced back through the restaurant and eyed the door. She couldn’t be here. No way was she eating lunch with Chad. Panic blossomed in her belly and crawled up her throat. Good God, she hadn’t even told Shell about what happened, much less Maddie.

There was a good chance she was going to hurl.

What if he recognized her?

What if he
didn’t
recognize her?

She didn’t know which would be worse.

“Bridget, are you okay?” Concern radiated from Madison’s voice.

Nodding absently, she grabbed her purse. “Yeah, but I just remembered I had this phone call at the office. I…I better get back.”

Madison frowned. “What phone call?”

Uh, yeah, what phone call? “I need to check in with the catering company about desserts for the gala event.”
Madison’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we were waiting to hear back from them.”

Bridget started to stand. “Oh, yeah, but I wanted to call them—” She cut herself off. Her boss was giving her a look that said,
Sit down and stop acting weird
, and really, bolting on lunch would just look crazy.

“Never mind,” Bridget said, fixing a smile on her face. “It can wait.”

Madison stared at her a moment longer and then went back to chatting up Chase.

Life could be so unbelievably cruel.

For the last month, she had wrestled with what she had done and didn’t do with Chad. Part of her was glad she had left before the man wised up and regretted bringing her home, but the other part, the one that operated purely on memories, rehashed the way he’d kissed and touched her over and over again. For a straight month she replayed it, unable to shake the feelings he had awakened in her and wishing she had more memories to linger over.

God, she couldn’t even think about this right now.

When the drinks arrived, she swallowed a gulp, wishing there were some vodka in her diet soda. She needed to try to leave again. Had to. “Madison, I forgot—”

A low rumble from the front of the restaurant cut off Bridget and any hope she had of making a clean getaway. She didn’t have to look to know that he was there. All the commotion was for him. Ball players were like gods in their hometowns.

She dropped her hands to her lap and continued staring at the menu, but when Chase greeted his brother, she had no control over herself. Not looking was like going against nature.

Worn jeans hung low from a tapered waist and the long-sleeved shirt he wore stretched taut over a stomach she knew you could do a nation’s worth of laundry on. Like the other two Gamble brothers, he had shoulders a girl could hold on to. Shoulders that could bear the brunt of anything you threw his way. He had a body that was meant for sex.

She really shouldn’t think of sex right now.