Chapter 11

CHAPTERELEVEN

Lucy handedLondon a glass of water before sitting down on the ottoman. London was propped up against some pillows, resting on the sofa in her living room. Thankfully, her mother was no longer fussing over her. She’d taken Chuck to the airport so he could return to Canada. Neither parent felt comfortable being far away from eight-year-old Kyle. London had hoped for some quiet downtime while her mother was gone so she could process everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

Instead, Lucy showed up to take over babysitting duties.

“I’m so glad you are okay.” Lucy smacked London on the thigh. “But I’m pissed at you for not calling me.”

“Hey!” London rubbed her leg even though it didn’t hurt. “I didn’t call you because it all happened so fast. It felt like a stitch in my side for most of the day. Then suddenly it wasn’t. Honestly, I thought it was anxiety. I wasn’t looking forward to dinner with Trey.”

“And that’s another thing.” Lucy lifted her hand again, only to slap her own thigh when she encountered London’s scowl. “How could you not tell me you were going on a date with Trey Van Horn? I can’t believe you’re still holding out on me about him.”

“Because it wasn’t a date,” London insisted. “It was a dinner to discuss the Gunther account.”

“Yeah, right. Since when do you get your hair done for a business dinner?” Lucy reached across and tugged on a strand of London’s hair. “Rosalind did an awesome job, by the way. Even with what you’ve been through, you still look ahh-mazing.”

London sighed. “I think I just wanted to look my best so I’d feel like I had on some protective armor, you know?”

“Ooo, let him see what he walked away from. I love that plan.”

“Yeah, well, he was punking me with his interest in the Gunther account. He has no intention of signing the contract. I just wanted him to know two could play at that game.” She sighed again. “Fat lot of good it got me. I threw up on the hood of his car. Real glamorous.”

“Yet he still carried you in his arms into the ER.” Lucy donned a goofy smile. “And he spent the night with you.”

“Ohmigosh, you are beyond ridiculous.”

Lucy smiled smugly. “Alek Bergeron is going to be so jealous when he finds out.”

“Alek isn’t going to find out. Nor will he care. I’m focusing on me, remember? Alek is remaining in the friendzone.”

“Ooo! Friends with benefits. That works, too.”

Thankfully, the sound of the intercom put an end to their ridiculous conversation.

“That’ll be Bennie. He insisted on coming by to check on me in person. Can you buzz him in?”

A few minutes later, Bennie ambled into London’s condo, his arms laden with flower arrangements and shopping bags.

“Seriously, Bens, this isn’t a wake. She’s still with us,” Lucy teased as she took one of the bouquets from him.

His booming laugh echoed off the high ceilings. “I come bearing sustenance to nurture her back to health.” He pulled a Swansons Bakery box from one of the bags. “Gretchen sends her love in the form of champagne cupcakes.”

London moaned. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but she’d have to be dead to resist one of Gretchen’s cupcakes.

“I’ll get the forks.” Lucy headed for the kitchen.

“How ya feelin’, kiddo?” Bennie settled into the leather recliner Chuck had insisted she buy for when the family visited.

“A lot better than twenty-four hours ago.”

His face softened. “You should have said something.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Lucy called out from the other room.

“Although, suffering through a major illness to win over a spokesman is pretty rad,” Bennie teased.

Lucy carried in a plate of cupcakes and some forks. “No one says ‘rad’ anymore, Bens.”

“They don’t?” He swiped a cupcake and began peeling back the wrapper. “Here I thought I was being hip.”

“Yeah, they don’t say that either.” Lucy shook her head at London as if to say, “this guy.”

“Well, I don’t recommend the appendicitis tactic,” London said. “It doesn’t work. I’m so sorry, Bennie.” The pain from her incision was nothing compared to the guilt she felt for letting her boss down. She knew how much he wanted to make the merger with Nolan and Hemphill come about.

Bennie mumbled something before pulling a sheet of paper from one of his bags. He handed it to London.

“What’s this?” She unfolded the paper.

“You might want to walk back that part about it not working,” he said.

London skimmed the page. It was the spokesperson agreement she’d sent to Trey’s agent last week. And it was signed. The room grew fuzzy as she traced a finger over Trey’s name, boldly sprawled on the bottom line.

“Is this really his signature?”

“Uh, huh,” Bennie replied. “His agent called me first thing. Said Trey was all in.”

“Holy snot.” Lucy moved so she could read over London’s shoulder. “He didn’t tell you last night?”

“No. He was gone when I woke up.”

Not really. The first time she’d woken up, Trey was conked out in the chair, his head resting on the bed. In his sleep, he looked so easy-going and approachable. Much like the Trey she’d fallen in love with. It was hard for her to reconcile the man gently comforting her by holding her hand in his with the cold, hard machine he’d become. She’d ached to reach over and brush the hair from his forehead. But she didn’t dare risk waking him and having him let go. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the sensation of his skin against hers after all these years.

“Seth is promising to name a cheese after you,” Bennie was saying. “And Evan wants you to direct the new commercials. He liked what you did with the other ones you shot so much he’s giving you carte blanche on the campaign, kiddo.”

Her boss beamed at her proudly.

“Huh.” London was still having trouble wrapping her head around this sudden change in events. She continued to stare at Trey’s signature on the white page as though it would disappear if she looked away.

“There is one caveat,” Bennie added, sheepishly.

London crumpled the paper. “I knew it.”

“Oh, course there is,” Lucy said. “Let’s hear it.”

“It’s minor.” Bennie gently pried the contract from London’s fingers. “Because we’ll be filming during training camp, he’d prefer to do it here rather than Chicago.”

“Well, of course you’d film here,” Lucy said. “Why the heck would you do it in Chicago?”

London was careful to avoid Bennie’s eyes. “Oh.” She nodded. “That makes sense.”

“I told you it would work out.” Lucy leaned down and hugged London. “Now all you have to do is figure out how to make a man who professes to avoid all snack foods look like he loves Gunther’s cheese.”

That wasn’t the part London was most concerned about. She was worried how she was going to spend more time around Trey and still keep her sanity—and her heart—in one piece.

* * *

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

Trey lowered the volume on his cellphone so everyone in the gym wasn’t subjected to Marty’s colorful tirade. Fortunately, the place was nearly empty. The summer heat and humidity typically turned Palm Beach into a ghost town during July.

That didn’t mean one of the college kids surreptitiously stalking him around the leg machines wouldn’t overhear. Hell, they could fund the rest of their summer on this type of gossip. The last thing Trey needed was another shoutout on TMZ this week.

“I swear,” his agent roared on. “You and Collin are going to give me a second heart attack before I get over the first one.”

Trey didn’t doubt that given the way the man was carrying on.

“Collin had nothing to do with my decision. In fact, he advised me against it.”

As much as Collin annoyed Trey, he wasn’t going to throw him under the bus. Too bad his defense of the turd didn’t calm his agent one iota.

“He never should have shown it to you in the first place!” Marty bellowed. “You always give me a song and dance about how you can’t take on any endorsements during the season because it will screw up your vibe or something. Then, pow, you sign a deal the minute my back is turned. Explain that to me, will ya?”

Trey sighed as he picked up his towel and headed toward the locker room. He had no intention of admitting to his agent that his decision had been a kneejerk reaction. A way to make things right with a beautiful woman he’d wronged. The man would blow a gasket.

“Marty, it’s done already. You really need to dial it down a notch. You’re getting all worked up over nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing! Of course, I’m getting worked up about nothing. That’s because those weasels at Gunther got away with one and are paying you nothing to hawk their damn cheese! You, who doesn’t even eat damn dairy!”

Trey loaded up his gym bag, opting to shower back at his mom’s place. With seven bathrooms, there was a lot more privacy and less chance of someone eavesdropping. “Actually, I allow myself some dairy now and then during the offseason. This whole thing about my diet has been blown out of proportion because of that article.”

“That’s another thing! That damn article!” Marty made a gasping sound.

“Marty! Are you okay? Is someone there with you?” Trey debated texting Collin before his agent came back on the line.

“Of course there is someone here with me,” Marty snapped. “My wife won’t let me take a crap without a nursemaid hovering over me. Look, Trey, this Gunther guy lowballed you. It’s okay if you want to do something for charity, but Mr. Cheese just torpedoed every other endorsement deal in your future. No one is going to pay you what you’re worth now.”

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion, Marty. Gunther’s is a privately held company. Therefore, the terms of the deal are private.”

“Except when the arrogant jackass is blabbing to everyone and anyone who will listen that he got you for a song!”

Well, fuck.

Trey plopped down onto one of the benches. He should have seen that coming. From what he could decipher from London’s ramblings in the ER, Seth Gunther had thrown a temper tantrum to get Trey to endorse his cheese. The ink on the contract was barely dry when the man started hounding Trey, texting him multiple times a day like they were golf buddies. Just this morning, Gunther sent a text regarding the annual bike ride to open training camp.

The bike parade was a tradition dating back to the team’s formation nearly seventy-five years earlier. Local kids decorate their bikes and wait outside the Growlers’ stadium, hoping one of the players will pick theirs to ride the near mile around the parking lot to the practice facility. Players navigate the two-sizes-too-small bikes along the route crowded with cheering fans. The kids get the honor of carrying the player’s helmet while they walk, run, or skip beside them.

It was the best tradition in professional sports and Trey loved everything about it.

Right up until he had to bow out when he earned his first MVP four years ago.

After receiving the honor, the pressure from outsiders for Trey to choose their kid rose exponentially. Not only that, but kids began showing up from all over the country hoping for some facetime with Trey. No matter what he did, some kid was going to be hurt and an advertiser or well-connected fan pissed off. Knowing what it felt like to be ten years old, and the last kid chosen in gym class, Trey began skipping the bike parade. It pissed him off that he had to miss one of the most unique experiences a pro-athlete could have. At the same time, he recognized it was the price he paid for being the best.

Seth “suggested” in his text that Trey select one of his two grandsons for the first day of practice bike ride, and the other one later on in the week. As if. It was all he could do not to call the man and tell him in no uncertain terms why that wouldn’t be happening. Except he didn’t dare do anything to jeopardize London’s career. So, he foisted the problem off to Collin to take care of instead. It was about time the guy did something to earn the large percentage he and his father took from Trey’s paychecks.

The one positive to come out of the situation, however, was the follow-up phone call he had received from Bennie Westbrook. London’s boss was quick to reassure him that Seth wouldn’t be making any further demands of Trey’s time other than what was stipulated in the contract. More importantly, the call had given him an in to ask about London without looking too obvious.

It had taken everything he had to leave her in that hospital room, much less to hop on a plane and fly fourteen hundred miles away from her. Which was ridiculous because she was in good hands with her guard dog mother watching over her. The only thing he added to the situation was a truckload of guilt.

Trey had hoped taking the Gunther Cheese deal would alleviate the weight of that guilt. Only it hadn’t. When he should have been getting his mind and body ready for the upcoming season, he’d been too busy obsessing over London.

The idea that she would never trust him again ate at him day and night. The image of her helpless in that hospital bed kept him from a decent night’s sleep. The breathless way she’d described his kiss had him in a constant state of semi-arousal. Which was ridiculous because she’d made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with him. And she was right to want that.

The night he’d left her alone in the boathouse, he’d given up any right to have her by his side. He’d been a fool, listening to poison gossip and not his heart. Losing London was the painful price he had to pay for his idiocy.

For his part, Bennie felt guilty about what went down the night Trey and London were supposed to have dinner. It was obvious the guy adored London as if she were his own daughter. Bennie was sick about encouraging her to go out with Trey when she was ill. He heaped on the praise, thanking Trey for rescuing her when he did. Thankfully, he’d told Trey, she was recovering remarkably and would be ready for the first commercial shoot on schedule.

The news should have quieted Trey’s endless thoughts of her. It didn’t. He needed to find a way to stop wanting something—or someone—he could never have.

“Are you listening to me?” Marty’s aggravated voice cut into Trey’s wandering thoughts. “Christ, you’re getting to be as bad as your airhead father.”

“Hey,” Trey admonished his agent. He grabbed his gym bag and headed to the hot parking lot to retrieve his mother’s Bentley. “I’ve heard every word you’ve said.”

“Yeah, well, as soon as I’m allowed out of my home jail, we’re going to come up with a course-correction for your endorsements,” Marty announced. “And if the cutie whose life you saved the other night can make America believe you eat fucking cheese, I’m hiring her, pronto.”

“I didn’t save her life. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. And she already has a pretty good gig lined up after this campaign.”

“Semantics, Trey, semantics. Any way you slice it, it was the perfect rebuttal to that bullshit article claiming you lack feelings for anyone or anything except football. If Gunther were paying you what you’re worth, it would be a win-win.” Marty sighed dramatically. “I guess it’s in the genes. Your father was always a sucker for a pretty girl. If I had to guess, I’d put money there’s a woman behind him dropping out of the Cup race.”

Trey’s fingers froze on the key fob. “What are you talking about?”

“He hasn’t reached out to you, either?” Marty mumbled something. “They were in contention near Cape Horn three days ago when Jay abruptly notified officials he was pulling out. Your grandfather is in the dark about what’s going on, too. I’ve got four sponsors riding my ass wanting to know what the hell is going on with your old man. The yacht is docked in Cape Town but there’s no sign of Jay.”

Trey turned the AC up to full blast in an attempt to dry off the sweat forming on the back of his neck. His father often made decisions with the wrong body part, but Jay was as competitive as Trey. He’d never leave his yacht and crew in the middle of a race. Not even for a woman.

At least Trey hoped so.

“You’ve tried reaching him by email? Or on the satellite phone?”

“I’ve tried everything but carrier pigeon, Trey. All I’m getting is radio silence,” Marty said. “I’ve got a PI looking into it.”

“A private investigator? That seems a little dramatic.”

He steered the car out of the parking lot. Marty was overreacting, as usual. Still, Trey was suddenly anxious to get back to his mother’s place and check in with Pops. Surely Jay had left word with someone about his whereabouts.

“I’m sure it’s something having to do with the yacht,” he insisted. “You know how Jay likes to keep everything about his toys top secret. If there’s anything that needs to be fixed, he won’t want to give his competitors an advantage in the next race. It’s likely he is hiding out somewhere, throwing people off the scent while the repairs are being made quietly elsewhere.”

It’s exactly what Trey would do.

“Or, like I said, there’s a woman involved,” Marty argued. “Either way, he owes his sponsors an explanation. Let me know if you hear from him. And, please, don’t agree to any more damn deals before running it by me first.”

Trey called his grandfather from the car. As Marty mentioned, Pops had nothing to add about Jay’s whereabouts. Unlike Marty, his grandfather wasn’t all that concerned.

“You know your father, Trey,” Pops said. “He always lands on his feet. That man has more lives than a cat. He’ll be in touch with one of us soon. No need for anyone to worry.”

Pops’ reassurance only marginally settled Trey’s nerves. What he needed was a long, hot shower and an evening in his mom’s home theatre studying film. It was well past time he began focusing on the upcoming season. As for his father, Pops was right. Jay was a big boy and could take care of himself.

He parked the car in the garage and cut through the pool area toward his suite. With luck, his mother would already be headed out for a cocktail party or something. The last thing he wanted tonight was to have to make small talk with another socialite who simply wanted to hang on his arm in front of the paparazzi.

“There you are,” his mother drawled from one of the chaise lounges strategically placed beneath a large Banyan tree. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Her use of the word “we” had Trey’s gut clenching until he spied the gorgeous blonde reclining on one of the chaises next to his mother.

“Hello, Bree.”

It had been a few years since he’d seen the realtor-turned-reality-star. He smiled fondly remembering the two weeks several years ago they’d spent ensconced in a bungalow on Key West exploring each other’s bodies. Despite her mild-mannered demeanor onscreen, Bree was enterprising between the sheets. Best of all, she kissed and did not tell. There was no revealing article detailing every aspect of their fling for all the world to read when Trey walked away.

The corners of Bree’s artistically full lips turned up slightly and her cheeks grew pink as though she were recalling their affair with the same appreciation.

“Oh my gosh, Trey. I’m so glad you’re here.” Bree’s husky voice was normally a Bat Signal to his crotch. Not today, however. Which pissed him off because she would be the perfect diversion from his daily fantasies of London.

Bree slowly rose from the chaise, allowing her flimsy cover-up to float to the ground. Trey was treated to quite the show when she sauntered toward him wearing a skimpy leopard print bikini that likely set off her brown eyes were he looking up that high. The smell of coconut oil reached him seconds before she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. Her skin was warm from the sun beneath his hands, but her contact didn’t arouse any corresponding heat within him.

Well, damn.

“I need your help,” she murmured against his chest. “Your mom is standing me up tonight so she can have a spa night with her cousin.” She lifted her face and fluttered her lashes at him.

Trey was the one who needed help. He had a sure thing in his arms and his libido had hightailed it to Siberia. Swearing beneath his breath, he untangled himself from her embrace and put a few inches between their bodies. “I’m sure if you ask her nicely, she’ll take you with her.”

Behind her, his mother shook her head.

Bree swatted his chest. “I don’t want a spa night. I’m expected at the Polo Club. I’ve already got a gown to wear. I just need someone to escort me.”

She trailed her palms up his chest to rest on his shoulders before executing a perfect pout. Trey’s brain tried to remind his body what those lips once did to him, but nada. Bree rocked up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

“Pretty please,” she murmured against his lips. “I promise to make it worth it.”

His mother shot him a pleading look over Bree’s shoulder.

Ahh, what the hell. He was a male, after all. And a professional athlete to boot. His body couldn’t withstand cold storage forever. Once he used the willing woman in front of him to jettison his erotic dreams of London from his system, he could get back to concentrating on football.

“Okay, okay. I’ll take you to dinner.”

“Yay!” Bree was already bouncing back to her chaise where she retrieved her things. She blew a kiss to his mother before calling over her shoulder. “Pick me up at seven!”

His mom clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Now you don’t have an excuse to hole up in my theatre again tonight and watch football. You’re a young man in your prime. You should be out having a good time at night. You’ve only been out twice since you’ve arrived. And dinners with me don’t count.”

“Watching film is part of preparing for my job, Mom. Training camp opens next week. I don’t have time to be out partying every night.”

She kissed his cheek. “You always were that kid who studied more than anyone else. But if you don’t want the reputation of being a stick-in-the-mud robot everyone believes you to be, you need to let loose more often. It will do your image good to show up in photos with a beautiful woman on your arm.” She actually winked at him. “I’m sure Bree will be very grateful.”

For fuck’s sake.

And just like that, his mother killed any hope of getting his libido in the game tonight.

“I’m headed back to Milwaukee tomorrow,” he announced.

“So soon?”

His mom’s pout was nearly identical to the one Bree had just treated him to. It was probably something women practiced in socialite school.

“You promised you’d take me to the Breakers before you left.”

“Next time. I added a last-minute endorsement that’s going to take up time during the pre-season. I’ve got to rearrange a few things in my schedule to make room for it.”

She wandered back to her chaise to retrieve her drink. “Oh. Well, of course. You don’t want to let the fans down.”

He sighed. “I get paid a lot of money not to.”

“You already have millions in your trust fund. I cannot believe I’m saying this but maybe you should take a lesson from your father and not be so uptight about things. You put too much pressure on yourself. I worry about you.”

It was familiar refrain from his mom. Although the reference to his father was a new tactic.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’m perfectly happy. But speaking of Jay, have you heard from him?”

She appeared momentarily perplexed. “Why would I?”

Trey debated whether to tell her about Jay’s abrupt withdrawal from his latest yacht race and seeming disappearance. But on the off chance one of her friends might have heard something, he decided to mention it.

“He seems to have dropped out of his race and then out of sight. Do you know if anyone here in Palm Beach might have heard from him? Or is there someone here he might reach out to?”

If he hadn’t been already staring at his mom, he might have missed the sudden pallor in her cheeks. She recovered almost immediately.

“Why would it matter?” She scoffed and sliced her hand through the air. “I’m sure he’s fine. You know him. He’s probably chasing some woman he couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah. That’s Marty’s theory, too. Still, if you hear anything, will you let me know?”

Trey looked more closely at his mom. She blinked several times. He wasn’t sure but he thought her eyes might be damp. Dammit. He cursed himself for bringing up the man who still seemed to have the power to hurt her.

She reached her sunglasses on top of her head and dragged them down to obscure her eyes. “Of course, darling,” she said before disappearing into the nearby cabana.