Game For Love
Page 48
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It wasn't until she got behind the wheel of her car that she realized that her hands were shaking. Now only two items were left on her to-do list. Figure out a way to save her business and convince Ty to give her another chance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ty walked into his agent's posh office unannounced. By the time Jay's pretty young assistant figured out how to operate the intercom, Ty had already made himself comfortable on Jay's suede guest chair. Quickly masking his surprise, Jay flicked off the split-screen horse races on his Bang & Olufsen sixty-inch plasma and yanked off his earpiece. "You winning?" Ty asked. Frankly, he wouldn't be all that surprised to find out that his agent was knee-deep in bookies or debt. He and Jay had never been friends. No one could argue that Jay was a master at making the deal, and the money had always been incredible. But although Ty had never confirmed his suspicions about Jay's predilections for hookers and drugs, he wondered if he'd been wise to let someone just this side of legal represent him for so many years.
Jay tightened his tie and grabbed a folder off his desk.
"Glad you're here. I just got the contracts for Buzzed Cola. Ever wanted to buy a French chateau?"
"That much money, huh?"
Jay smacked his lips. "The royalties are going to be pouring in for years." He was practically dancing at the prospect of closing this deal. And no wonder: Ten percent of ten million was a million. Someone had to pay for Jay's big-screen TVs, prime location in Union Square, and gambling debts. But he wasn't going to be the one doing it anymore.
Ty flipped through the thick contract Jay handed him. No question, the numbers looked good. But he already had more money than he could spend. Especially since a French chateau wasn't on his need-to buy list.
"You really think this is a good move? Won't a lot of kids be getting wired on this crap?" Jay snorted. "So what? Trust me on this, it's a hot product and you're perfect for it."
"I hear what you're saying. There's only one problem."
Panic lit Jay's eyes. "Nothing that can't be solved. You just let me know what you want changed and I'll take care of it."
Ty stood up, picking up the contract to ensure it got disposed of properly. "We've had some good years, Jay, but it's time for me to take my business elsewhere." Jay scowled. "You would have been nothing without me, you little trailer park punk." Ty headed for the door feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Maybe, maybe not." The next agent he hired was going to be someone he liked hanging out with. Jay clearly couldn't resist a parting shot. "You should be thanking me for hooking you up with that f**k-bunny. I bet her pu**y was nice and tight and wet."
Ty dropped his hand from the silver doorknob. He was this close to doing a diving leap onto his ex-agent and crushing his skull with a few quick hits. He nailed Jay with his gaze. "Say whatever you want about me—I don't give a shit. But if anyone even hints that you've said something about Julie, you'd better think about installing an impenetrable security system at your house. And never going outside again."
Ty left the building and jammed a baseball cap onto his head on the sidewalk. What had Jay meant by "You have me to thank"? Hadn't hiring an image consultant been Bobby's idea? At the time, Ty hadn't thought too hard about how quickly Jay had agreed to Bobby's demands. Maybe he should have. Something was definitely up. But before he figured out what it was, he had a favor to call in. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed the NFL headquarters. "Steve, it's Ty Calhoun." Steve Villers, the vice president of press relations, was a good friend of his, back from his rookie year in Pittsburgh. Steve had retired from the game a couple of years after Ty went pro and had been working for the NFL ever since.
"Dude, your ears must have been burning."
Any other time, Ty would have assumed good things were being said. At present, he'd rather not hear the word on the street.
"I've got a favor to ask you, Steve."
"Always happy to help out a friend."
"I don't know if you heard, but I've been working with an image consultant. A great image consultant. Julie Spencer."
Saying her name aloud brought everything back in a rush. The way she smelled. The taste of her lips. Her curves soft and yielding beneath him.
Steve chuckled. "Trust me, the situation would have been impossible to miss." Ty got straight to the point. "I think she's been a huge asset to the NFL." He wasn't even sure that Julie would appreciate him putting in a good word for her with the league, but he was willing to try anything at this point. Besides, if she got this gig then at least he knew he'd see her every once in while. She'd probably act like he was dead, but he'd just keep working on her until she folded under the pressure and gave him another chance.
"No shit," came Steve's reply. "After we saw how good she made a f**k-up like you look, we knew we needed her. She's thinking over our offer."
What an ass he was. Of course the League had noticed what an incredible job Julie had done manipulating—and fixing—his image.
"How about you do me a favor?" Steve said, and Ty knew exactly what was coming.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to screw things up for you by telling her I think it's a good idea."
"Are you kidding? She spoke so highly of you, I was going to ask you to put in a good word for us." Ty nearly blurted, "She spoke highly of me?" but it sounded too pathetic, even inside his own head. Instead he said, "Sure thing, Steve."
He'd never escaped that night with Julie on the boat, not in ten long years of beautiful women. Too bad he'd been an eighteen-year-old chicken-shit weasel, scared by the thought of her dumping his ass because he was just a poor jock. He'd never even tried to make her understand how intensely he felt about her. He'd thought it was easier to let her walk away.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
The next time he saw Julie, he was going to risk his heart, even though he knew the likelihood of getting it crushed was damn high.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Julie stood in the back of the NFL pressroom, more nervous than she'd ever been in all her life. When she thought about what she was about to do, she had to fight the urge to run fast and far. Oddly, even though she hadn't known the first thing about football just weeks ago, she wasn't nervous about fielding questions about her new role. Since she'd signed on as a League-wide image consultant two days ago, she'd done her homework with how-to videos and a stack of game tapes and interviews with the best players in the game. Of course Ty was among them. No one had to know that she'd watched his segments over and over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ty walked into his agent's posh office unannounced. By the time Jay's pretty young assistant figured out how to operate the intercom, Ty had already made himself comfortable on Jay's suede guest chair. Quickly masking his surprise, Jay flicked off the split-screen horse races on his Bang & Olufsen sixty-inch plasma and yanked off his earpiece. "You winning?" Ty asked. Frankly, he wouldn't be all that surprised to find out that his agent was knee-deep in bookies or debt. He and Jay had never been friends. No one could argue that Jay was a master at making the deal, and the money had always been incredible. But although Ty had never confirmed his suspicions about Jay's predilections for hookers and drugs, he wondered if he'd been wise to let someone just this side of legal represent him for so many years.
Jay tightened his tie and grabbed a folder off his desk.
"Glad you're here. I just got the contracts for Buzzed Cola. Ever wanted to buy a French chateau?"
"That much money, huh?"
Jay smacked his lips. "The royalties are going to be pouring in for years." He was practically dancing at the prospect of closing this deal. And no wonder: Ten percent of ten million was a million. Someone had to pay for Jay's big-screen TVs, prime location in Union Square, and gambling debts. But he wasn't going to be the one doing it anymore.
Ty flipped through the thick contract Jay handed him. No question, the numbers looked good. But he already had more money than he could spend. Especially since a French chateau wasn't on his need-to buy list.
"You really think this is a good move? Won't a lot of kids be getting wired on this crap?" Jay snorted. "So what? Trust me on this, it's a hot product and you're perfect for it."
"I hear what you're saying. There's only one problem."
Panic lit Jay's eyes. "Nothing that can't be solved. You just let me know what you want changed and I'll take care of it."
Ty stood up, picking up the contract to ensure it got disposed of properly. "We've had some good years, Jay, but it's time for me to take my business elsewhere." Jay scowled. "You would have been nothing without me, you little trailer park punk." Ty headed for the door feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Maybe, maybe not." The next agent he hired was going to be someone he liked hanging out with. Jay clearly couldn't resist a parting shot. "You should be thanking me for hooking you up with that f**k-bunny. I bet her pu**y was nice and tight and wet."
Ty dropped his hand from the silver doorknob. He was this close to doing a diving leap onto his ex-agent and crushing his skull with a few quick hits. He nailed Jay with his gaze. "Say whatever you want about me—I don't give a shit. But if anyone even hints that you've said something about Julie, you'd better think about installing an impenetrable security system at your house. And never going outside again."
Ty left the building and jammed a baseball cap onto his head on the sidewalk. What had Jay meant by "You have me to thank"? Hadn't hiring an image consultant been Bobby's idea? At the time, Ty hadn't thought too hard about how quickly Jay had agreed to Bobby's demands. Maybe he should have. Something was definitely up. But before he figured out what it was, he had a favor to call in. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed the NFL headquarters. "Steve, it's Ty Calhoun." Steve Villers, the vice president of press relations, was a good friend of his, back from his rookie year in Pittsburgh. Steve had retired from the game a couple of years after Ty went pro and had been working for the NFL ever since.
"Dude, your ears must have been burning."
Any other time, Ty would have assumed good things were being said. At present, he'd rather not hear the word on the street.
"I've got a favor to ask you, Steve."
"Always happy to help out a friend."
"I don't know if you heard, but I've been working with an image consultant. A great image consultant. Julie Spencer."
Saying her name aloud brought everything back in a rush. The way she smelled. The taste of her lips. Her curves soft and yielding beneath him.
Steve chuckled. "Trust me, the situation would have been impossible to miss." Ty got straight to the point. "I think she's been a huge asset to the NFL." He wasn't even sure that Julie would appreciate him putting in a good word for her with the league, but he was willing to try anything at this point. Besides, if she got this gig then at least he knew he'd see her every once in while. She'd probably act like he was dead, but he'd just keep working on her until she folded under the pressure and gave him another chance.
"No shit," came Steve's reply. "After we saw how good she made a f**k-up like you look, we knew we needed her. She's thinking over our offer."
What an ass he was. Of course the League had noticed what an incredible job Julie had done manipulating—and fixing—his image.
"How about you do me a favor?" Steve said, and Ty knew exactly what was coming.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to screw things up for you by telling her I think it's a good idea."
"Are you kidding? She spoke so highly of you, I was going to ask you to put in a good word for us." Ty nearly blurted, "She spoke highly of me?" but it sounded too pathetic, even inside his own head. Instead he said, "Sure thing, Steve."
He'd never escaped that night with Julie on the boat, not in ten long years of beautiful women. Too bad he'd been an eighteen-year-old chicken-shit weasel, scared by the thought of her dumping his ass because he was just a poor jock. He'd never even tried to make her understand how intensely he felt about her. He'd thought it was easier to let her walk away.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
The next time he saw Julie, he was going to risk his heart, even though he knew the likelihood of getting it crushed was damn high.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Julie stood in the back of the NFL pressroom, more nervous than she'd ever been in all her life. When she thought about what she was about to do, she had to fight the urge to run fast and far. Oddly, even though she hadn't known the first thing about football just weeks ago, she wasn't nervous about fielding questions about her new role. Since she'd signed on as a League-wide image consultant two days ago, she'd done her homework with how-to videos and a stack of game tapes and interviews with the best players in the game. Of course Ty was among them. No one had to know that she'd watched his segments over and over.
