Changing the Game
Page 24

“I’m surprised you’re here, Elizabeth, being as cutting-edge as you are. I would think you knew all there was to know about agenting. Of course you have suffered a couple of setbacks recently, haven’t you? So maybe a refresher is in order.”
Prick. How she’d love to dig one of her stilettos deep into his balls. “Oh, I’ve more than made up for anything I might have allegedly lost, Don. But thank you for your concern.”
“Always need to stay on your toes. And look over your shoulder.”
She offered up a smug smile. “So should you.”
He gave her a condescending laugh. “I don’t have anything to worry about. I keep my clients happy.”
She patted his arm. “You keep thinking that, Don. Lovely talking to you, as always.”
She brushed past him, not interested in playing the game of one-upmanship with him. He’d taken more than enough of her time already, as well as her clients. He could be as smug as he wanted to be, but payback was a bitch and Elizabeth had a long memory for those who had screwed her over. Granted, Mick had fired her, and he had a right to select another agent. But did he have to go with the one person Elizabeth hated the most?
Mick had done that on purpose.
“Elizabeth!”
She heard her name and turned, searched across the crowded hotel lobby and waved at Victoria Baldwin, one of the few other female sports agents she knew. She waved at Tori and they headed toward each other.
“Ugh. This place is a nightmare of testosterone,” Tori said. “I’m barely surviving with my uterus intact.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. Do you have time for lunch?”
Tori pulled out her phone and punched a few buttons, checked her calendar, then lifted her gaze back to Elizabeth. “Yes. The next workshop I want to attend isn’t until one. I’m starving and my feet are killing me.” She looped her arm around Elizabeth’s. “What I wouldn’t give to do this conference in my sweatpants and bunny slippers.”
Elizabeth arched a brow. “Somehow I can’t see you trading in your Louboutins for pink bunny slippers.”
Since the lunch crowd hadn’t yet piled in, they were seated right away at a table. Tori fell into her chair and kicked off her shoes. “Oh, honey, you’d be surprised how schlumpy I am when I work at home. I was serious about the fluffy slippers. You, on the other hand, probably live in heels.”
Elizabeth offered a sly smile. “I do love my heels. Probably because I’m always on the defense and have to prove that I’m a woman.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Tori smoothed back tendrils of her mink brown hair and tucked them behind her ear.
The woman was absolutely gorgeous. In her early forties, she’d sacrificed a husband and family for her career. When she came on the scene as a green college graduate, Elizabeth had done her best to emulate Victoria Baldwin’s drive for success. Even though Tori worked for a competing agency, she’d taken Elizabeth under her wing and shared many secrets about being a woman working in a predominantly male field.
Elizabeth adored her.
“God forbid we should dress comfortably around these sharks. We have to work three times as hard as they do to be taken half as seriously. It’s a jungle and getting worse all the time. But in sports agenting and attracting the young up and comers, at least the boobs come in handy.”
Elizabeth snorted. “And you certainly have those.”
Tori accepted the glass of iced tea the waiter brought. They ordered their lunch, then Tori leaned forward. “Look, honey, I’ve got almost ten years on you, age wise, so I’ve got to use whatever is in my arsenal to secure the talent, you know?”
“Tori, you’re also one of the most savvy agents I know. You paved the way for women to get into this business. You showed us how to bully our way in and force the men to accept us, showed us that sports was a field we could master and that it wasn’t owned by the men.”
Tori shrugged. “Thanks, Liz, but it’s still a battle. A lot of the young guys still want to sign with a man.”
Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. “Oh, come on, Tori. You must need a nap because that’s the biggest line of bullshit there is, and you’re the one who taught me that. Athletes want to sign with an agent who’s going to get them the best deal. And we’ll get them the best deal. Besides, we’re prettier and we smell better. And then there are the boobs.”
Tori laughed. “You’re absolutely right. I’m just having a hellish day. I should be having a cocktail instead of an iced tea.”
“I can fix that.” Elizabeth signaled for the waiter, and they ordered martinis. “We’ll drink to women agents kicking ass. I’ve had a particularly hellish few months myself.”
“I heard that as**ole Don Davis took some clients from you.”
“Well, one was my own damn fault because I was blind and stupid. The other followed because of Mick’s name, I’m pretty sure.”
“Hmmm.” Tori tapped a long, manicured nail on the table, accepted the cocktail the waiter provided, and took a sip. “Do tell. What did you do to screw up?”
“I got too greedy with Mick Riley, and I messed with his nowfiancée who was his girlfriend at the time. I didn’t think she was good for him, and I tried to intercede.”
“Oh. Bad move, princess. Never mess with a client and his woman.”
Elizabeth raised her glass. “Amen to that. Lesson learned the hard way. I figured out I don’t know everything. Imagine that.”
Tori laughed. “Well, our egos do get the best of us sometimes, and we like to think we can walk on water, cure cancer, negotiate the best contract for our client, and do it in killer high heels.”
“When will we learn we can’t have it all?”
“Why can’t we?”
Elizabeth shot Tori a direct look. “Do you? Do you really have everything you’ve ever wanted?”
“Of course. I have a career I love, tons of money, a great apartment in New York, incredible clothes, amazing friends, and I take ridiculous vacations. What more could I want?”
“So you don’t feel like you sacrificed a husband and kids to get what you wanted?”
“No. I date fabulous men all the time, have great sex, and then I boot them out the door when I get bored with them. And I don’t have a single maternal bone in my body. My younger sister has three beautiful children whom I adore and can visit in Connecticut whenever I feel the need to cuddle little ones. Believe me, that cures me of any feelings I might have ever had that I was missing something. And men have about a six month shelf life in my world.”
Elizabeth laughed. “So you’re perfectly content.”
“Perfectly. But it sounds like you’re not. Biological clock ticking?”
“I never thought so before. I was always happy with my life.”
Tori took a swallow of her martini. “That must mean there’s a man in it who’s making you think of husband and babies.”
“Oh, hell no.”
Tori laughed. “Liar. It’s written all over your face. My God, Elizabeth. You’re in love.”
“I am not. I’m in lust.”
“Lust never makes you think of babies, Liz. Maybe you’d better reevaluate this relationship you’re in.”
“I’m not in a relationship.”
“Again. Liar. Written all over that beautiful face of yours. Time to sit back and figure out what you really want out of life. Maybe a career as a sports agent isn’t it.”
“God, Tori. Sometimes I hate you.”
Tori smiled at her over the rim of her glass. “No, you don’t. You love me because I never lie to you like you lie to yourself.”
Shit. She was going to have to work harder at keeping her facial expressions in check, or the next thing she knew Gavin would find out how she felt.
And that could never, ever happen.
ELIZABETH FELT BOTH PENSIVE AND REENERGIZED after her lunch with Tori.
How could she have ever thought that she didn’t like women or that she put more value on her relationships with men than with women? She could have never had a conversation with a man like she’d had with Tori today. No man could understand the drive and ambition and sheer willpower it had taken to rise to the top like Tori did. Nor could any man ever understand the yearnings Elizabeth had. Yet with one look at her face, Tori got it. She may not have the same cravings Elizabeth had, but she identified.
There was nothing like a little female empowerment to spark the creative juices, as well as a cold slap of reality across her face to make her realize that maybe she couldn’t have it all.
She loved her career, had loved it since the moment she’d stepped foot through the agency doors as a green newbie not knowing what the hell she was doing but knowing this was the only thing she’d ever wanted to do with her life.
She’d loved sports, had always loved them. She loved contract law and marketing, and the marriage of all three meant being a sports agent was a win on all counts. She couldn’t see herself doing anything else for the rest of her life.
Until the night she’d slept with Gavin. And every night since, she’d felt a tug in her priorities. Her wants and needs were starting to shift, and she was beginning to think of other things besides her career.
And she wasn’t certain if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
All she knew was she’d been at this conference for three days and she was missing Gavin. He was on the road, too, and had texted her and called her.
Like it or not, they were in a relationship, for whatever that was worth.
It was starting to feel like it was worth a lot.
And that scared the hell out of her because her world was tilting on its axis.
EIGHTEEN
GAVIN HAD A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS IN HIS HAND WHEN he went to Elizabeth’s condo. It had been almost a week since he’d seen her, and he missed her so much he ached inside.
Now he stood at her door with flowers in his hand. How ridiculous was that? He wasn’t a flowers kind of guy. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s, maybe, especially if there was going to be some hard partying involved. But flowers? Not unless it was Mother’s Day and he was going to see his mom.
He thought about going back to his car and tossing the flowers in the backseat. She’d laugh.
Fuck it. He rang the doorbell.
She answered a few seconds later, a bright smile on her face.
God, she looked good in a black sundress with tiny yellow print on the fabric. High heels of course. And her hair was down.
She glanced at the bouquet and her smile brightened. She lifted her gaze to his. “You brought me flowers.”
“Yeah.”
She grabbed his free hand and pulled him inside, shut the door, wrapped her hand around the nape of his neck, and put her lips on his, sending him into a quick buzz of arousal. All he’d done for the past week was think about her—her smell, her taste, the way her lips and her body moved against him. He thought about her smile, her laugh, the way they argued with each other, and how much she irritated him.
She tasted like mint and wine, and he sucked in a breath at the same time he was gut punched by how much he’d missed her. He swept his arm around her and pulled her close, his body and his mind swamped with sensation and emotion.
When she pulled back, she licked her lips and took the flowers from his hand, laid them on the table next to the door and wound both her arms around him.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but all I’ve done is think about you.”
He liked hearing it. “Why shouldn’t you tell me? I’ve thought about you, too. I think you probably have about fifty text messages from me.”
She shuddered out a sigh. “I know. I saved them all. I feel like a teenager. How pathetic am I?”
“I should probably just dump my balls into your hand.”
“I should hand over my feminist card because they’re going to kick me out of the club.”
He laughed, swept her into his arms, and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. It was still early enough that sunlight streamed in through the gauzy curtains at her windows. He stood her in front of them and admired the halo of light around her hair.
God, he was poetic now. If he didn’t f**k her soon, he might cry like a girl.
“I know you dressed all pretty for me, and you look great, but I’m going to strip your dress off and get you na**d and messy.”
She moved closer, wriggled against him. “Oooh. Can’t wait.”
He pulled the straps of the dress down her arms and reached behind to unzip it. It floated to the floor and she stepped out of it.
It was a good thing he was a young guy with a strong heart, because she wore a black and yellow bra with matching panties. Christ, even her shoes matched. She fell onto the bed and spread her legs, leaving those dangerous heels on.
Gavin stepped forward and skimmed his hands along her calves and thighs, lifting her legs to get a look at her shoes.
“You buy underwear to match your shoes now?”
She giggled. “Sometimes.”
“You never fail to surprise me, woman.”
“I hope not.”
He swept his hands down her legs, so smooth and soft, then laid them back on the bed, spreading them apart so he could stand between them. She planted her heels in the side slat of the bed and lifted her h*ps to him.
He slid his thumb over the bright yellow and black silk of her panties, found her clit. She hissed as he brushed his thumb back and forth over the hard bud; she let out a soft cry when he tucked his fingers under the lace to touch her soft flesh. When he moistened his fingers with her juices and circled her clit, her hand shot around his wrist.