Chapter 6

SIX

The next two weeks went by quickly for Carly. Her usual duties assisting Hank in the Blaze front office had been fairly light, it being the off-season. Still, between monitoring Shane's media blitz and dealing with Gabe Harrelson's crazy new wife, Carly had very little extra time to help Lisa plan for her gala—which the team was cohosting—now only a week away.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of Asia's office, Carly carefully stuffed engraved tickets into envelopes that she then neatly stacked in assigned piles beside her.

"I can't belief Gabe is giving the team such a hard time about his signing bonus," Asia said from her perch on the sofa behind Carly where she was monitoring media reports about the team on her iPad. "He's out for the season, if not for good, and it was his own fault. He's an idiot for going hang-gliding."

"Actually," Carly said, "Gabe hasn't been in contact with the team at all. Neither has his agent. It's just crazy Chloe. Between emails and phone calls, she's averaging fifteen rants a day."

"She's been very effective using the media, too. What do either of them need the money for? Gabe must be set for life and Chloe should be making a mint on the residuals from her days on that sitcom. According to Daily Variety, her show is broadcast every day on hundreds stations around the world."

Carly brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Don't believe everything you read." It was an axiom she lived by. The matter of Gabe's signing bonus was beginning to annoy Carly, however. Chloe demanding money from the team just didn't make sense. Asia was correct; Gabe didn't need it. Most likely, the situation was a case of the young actress trying to kick-start her career through her marriage to a sports icon. Carly wondered if Gabe even knew of his wife's efforts.

Several times these past weeks, Carly tried to contact the injured quarterback, but he wasn't returning her phone calls, texts, or emails. She thought they'd been friends. Gabe's sudden reluctance to talk was a mystery. Video of him rehabbing his injured hip in Southern California appeared on TMZ a few days ago, but there was no sign of his young bridezilla accompanying him. Carly thought back to the times Maxim had been injured, when she'd become invisible to the soccer star as he rehabbed his body to get back to the one thing he loved most. She almost felt sorry for Chloe. Almost.

"Well, at least our new quarterback is behaving himself. His interviews seem to be going well," Asia said. "You've done a great job running him through the media circus, Carly. I don't know what I would have done without you." Asia let out a hiss as she tried to maneuver her leg to a more comfortable position.

Carly jumped up from the floor to help her friend, adjusting the pillows beneath Asia's brace. "It really hasn't been too bad. I'm pretty anonymous among the sports press here in Baltimore, so no one even notices I'm there. It's kind of nice doing a job I'm comfortable with. I guess journalism is in my blood." Carly smiled down at Asia before resuming her place on the floor.

She was telling Asia the truth; working as a publicist again was kind of fun. Working with Shane wasn't too difficult, either. All she had to do was accompany him to his various interviews and stand back and watch. Shane was a natural at navigating his way through an interview. He was knowledgeable about the game of football and patient with those who weren't. His candor was appreciated by both the interviewers and the fans who called into the radio talk shows Shane appeared on. When questions got too personal, Shane expertly steered the conversation back to football. Carly couldn't help but be a little envious of such a well-honed skill.

For the most part, Shane was relaxed and charming during the interviews. Except when the questions were about his father. Whenever the topic shifted to Bruce Devlin, Shane's whole body language changed. He became tense and his answers more curt. The change in his demeanor was subtle, making it almost indiscernible to most people. But Carly had spent enough time with Shane these past weeks to pick up on the tension.

She was curious about Shane's relationship with his famous dad, but not enough to ask him directly. While the sexual tension still hummed between them, Carly and Shane managed to carry on the guise of "friendly coworkers" by keeping their interaction to a minimum. It was working just fine. So far.

"Oh, puh-lease! Like you could ever be anonymous with those looks." Asia's comment brought Carly back to the conversation. "I've had at least three calls this week alone from guys at the radio and TV stations asking who you are and if you're single," Asia practically snorted.

Carly jerked her head up. "Tell me you didn't let on who I am?" she pleaded.

"No way!" Asia said. "You know I'd never do that, Carly. Besides, I finally got that dweeb Joel Tompkins reassigned. We don't need some other pest from the media creeping around after you."

"Thanks," Carly said with relief. "And thanks for taking care of the Joel situation for me. It's been nice not to have to check around corners every time I walk around the building."

"No problem." Asia tossed her iPad onto the table next to the sofa. "Donovan said he wasn't getting a good vibe from the guy. It wasn't easy getting him out of here, though. Apparently, his grandfather owns the television station. Despite that fact, Joel doesn't have too many friends there. He obviously makes a habit of creeping people out. No one actually wants him working for them. It took some doing, but Donovan and I persuaded them to transfer Joel to covering the Orioles. Let him bother some baseball players."

"You and Donovan, huh?" Carly grinned. She carefully placed the last of the envelopes into a cardboard box. "Should I scratch the ‘and guest' off his ticket to the gala?" she asked.

Asia smiled serenely. "He offered to take me. Obviously he's not afraid to be seen with an ungraceful, gimpy woman."

"Oh puh-lease," Carly mimicked her friend. She stood and brushed off her pants and glanced at the clock on the Asia's desk. "Wow! Four thirty already. I promised to do Emma's hair for the dance tonight. I'll drop these off with Amy before I go. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?"

"You can answer a question for me," Asia said.

Carly gathered the box under an arm. "Sure, anything."

"Do you ever do anything for you?"

She looked at her friend quizzically, unsure of what Asia wanted her to say.

Asia reached out to grasp Carly's free hand. "You're always running around here doing for everyone else. Or at Matt and Lisa's doing for them or the kids. Even if Hank hadn't butted in on your trip to Cabo, you still wouldn't have spent it as a vacation. You would have been doing for Julianne."

When Carly didn't answer, Asia squeezed her hand. "All I'm saying is you don't have to do so much for everyone else. You can say no once in a while. Instead of trying to make everyone else happy, why not do something that makes you happy? You're allowed. The media won't crucify you. I promise."

"I am happy," Carly pushed out through her suddenly tight throat.

Asia stared at her a moment before finally releasing her hand. "Go. Make your beautiful niece look more beautiful. Just remember what I said, okay?"

"Sure," Carly said. It was unlikely she would forget.

In fact, Carly spent a restless night pondering Asia's words. Was she happy? Staring at the ceiling as sleep evaded her, she ticked off the things in her life she was happy with: Her family. Or her half sister's family, to be precise, definitely brought her joy. Lisa was alive thanks to her bone marrow, and Carly couldn't be more thrilled.

Money wasn't an issue, thanks to a generous trust fund left to Carly by her mother. In spite of that, Carly had a job she enjoyed, one that felt purposeful. It was certainly better than the life of a party girl the media expected of her. And she had friends. Carly had a few left who wouldn't sell her out to the paparazzi.

All that was left in the happiness department was her love life, which was currently not bringing her much joy. Damn Asia. Carly tried to rationalize with herself that she wasn't necessarily unhappy with her lack of a love life, but her close encounters with Shane Devlin pretty much negated that argument. This thing—this pull—she felt for Shane made her aware that she missed the intimacy she shared with her former fiancé. Fortunately, she no longer missed Max .

Which left her where, exactly? A fling with Shane was out of the question for so many reasons. He was a public figure, for one; what's more, he was a professional athlete.

Maybe Asia was right. Carly should do something to make herself happy. She needed to start by actively searching for her Mr. Right. Only, thoughts of an accountant or podiatrist weren't exactly torching her body the way a single look from Shane Devlin could.

The following morning, standing next to a tangle of utility cords off to the side of the set of the Good Day, Baltimore show, Carly watched as Shane bantered with the program's perky female host during a cooking segment. To the amazement of the host, and everyone else in the studio, he was actually whipping up a plate of strawberry crepes. Shane laughed at something the woman said, his killer dimple appearing on one side of his mouth. Carly rocked back on her heels, his handsome smile nearly knocking her off her feet. He was definitely oozing charm this morning.

Shane was dressed in a Blaze golf shirt, which stretched handsomely over taut pectoral muscles and broad shoulders. He'd declined to wear the show's logo apron, instead draping a pink breast cancer towel over his right shoulder. His fashion statement did nothing to diminish his masculinity. Carly tried not to drool as his strong hands whipped the wire whisk in the metal bowl. Her stomach growled. She wasn't sure if she was hungry for the delicious-looking food or the more delicious-looking man.

"You certainly know your way around the kitchen, Shane," the woman said, slithering a little closer him .

"I make it a point to be good at whatever I attempt, Cindy," Shane replied with a wink at the now blushing TV host.

He's definitely good at kissing, Cindy.

As if he'd read her thoughts, Shane looked up past the TV camera to where Carly stood and shot her a quicksilver grin. Carly felt her blush to her toes. She stepped back farther into the wings so as not to distract Shane. Or, more likely so she wouldn't run on camera, douse him with whipped cream, and lap him up.

Moving away from the glare of the bright television lights, Carly was forced to close her eyes momentarily, allowing them to adjust. When she opened them, she slapped a hand over her mouth to avoid interrupting the show with her shriek. Joel Tompkins was standing in the shadows, blocking her path.

"Hey there, Carly," he said quietly.

Carly tried to take a step back, but she was pinned in by a huge teleprompter. The only way to escape Joel was back across the live set where Shane's cooking segment was being filmed.

"Joel." She straightened her spine. Joel was a pest, but so far he'd been basically harmless. It wouldn't hurt to be nice for a few minutes. There was no need to panic.

Joel closed the space and reached over to push a piece of Carly's hair behind her ear. Carly flinched. "Please don't touch me," she said, trying not to let her voice betray her now quivering nerves.

"The Blaze's badass security dude isn't around to interrupt us. Maybe we can take a ride and grab some breakfast. Or something."

No way were they grabbing anything. Carly looked around for reinforcements, but everyone was still fascinated with Shane's cooking skills, their backs to her and Joel. She would not panic. They were in a crowded studio. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Carly figured she could stall Joel until the commercial break. One look into his eyes, though, and she realized reasoning with him might not be easy. He was high as a kite. She was sure of it. Years spent at a prestigious boarding school for the rich and unwanted had exposed her to all kinds of addicts. Joel was exhibiting all the classic signs of the stoned.

Now, it was time to panic.

Just as she was about to speak, the alarm bell sounded, indicating the show was no longer live. People started to mill around and, not wasting an opportunity, Carly made for the set. Joel reached out and wrapped his fingers around her arm, but before he could do or say anything, a voice rang out.

"Tompkins! Get that teleprompter moved over to Studio B now!"

Joel hesitated, seemingly weighing his options. Carly pulled her arm from his grip. With a menacing smile, Joel grabbed the handle of the teleprompter. "Don't worry. We'll get our time, you and me. You'll see." And with that he left the studio.

Carly's stomach was no longer growling. It was rolling with waves of nausea.

The hot, tungsten studio lights right along with Shane's megawatt smile. He'd outdone himself this morning. No one in the Blaze organization had better dare complain he wasn't giving the media blitzkrieg his best. Christ, they ought to give me a freaking Academy Award .

Tossing the hand towel onto the countertop, he looked around the set for Carly. The show's host—Candy, Cindy or whatever the hell her name was—rubbed her hip next to his, leaning across him to drag her finger through the bowl of whipped cream. A seductive smile on her face, she stuck her whipped-cream-laden finger into her mouth and sucked on it dramatically, her bright red collagen lips bulging.

Seriously, lady? Shane looked around the studio in disgust. He hated these television segments. Why did anyone care what he was like off the field? Wasn't his job to win football games? And where the hell was Carly? It was her job to run interference with the overly made-up television hostess. Usually, Carly jumped right in at the end of each interview, graciously but effectively untangling him from fans and interviewers and herding him out the door to his next gig. Right now, Candy-Cindy was being a bit too playful as she shoved her business card in the back pocket of his jeans, her hand lingering on his ass just a little too long.

"Call me if you want someone to show you around Baltimore, Shane," she said, tossing her hair for effect.

He gave her a noncommittal smile before quickly heading off the set to find Carly. She'd be hard to miss. Dressed for the spring weather, she'd arrived at the studio in a clingy blue dress, showing off toned, bare arms and legs. Normally, Carly wore her hair done up in some conservative style, but today she'd left it cascading down her shoulders. Every man with a pulse stopped to stare as she wandered about the set offering a cheery hello to the show's staff.

Shane wasn't immune, either. His pulse had been racing since he'd laid eyes on her earlier; the effort to keep their relationship strictly business was making him testy. In fact, these last few weeks as "friendly coworkers" had been torturous for Shane. As much as they both tried to will it away, the sexual tension still burned between them. By sheer will, Shane kept it professional. He couldn't afford any distractions. He had records to break.

Despite the daily punishment of looking but not touching, Shane was grateful for Carly's help "working" the media. In fact, he was a little in awe of her skill. Putting aside her tenuous relationship with the reporters, Carly managed to carry out Asia's media plan without any glitches, always remaining poised and professional. Her tactic seemed to be to kill them with kindness, ingratiating herself with everyone she met. Shane found himself looking forward to his scheduled interviews—if it meant he could spend time with Carly. The "no touching" rule was still in place, but he discovered that on the occasions when she gifted him with a smile, it was almost as good as a touch. Almost.

Searching the studio, he finally found her standing alone back against one of the movable set walls, her arms wrapped around her midsection.

"Hey, the Hostess with the Mostest was coming on to me with the whipped cream. You wanna go take her down? You know, take one for the team?" Shane teased.

Carly looked up at him then, her blue eyes wide and frightened.

"Whoa, Dorothy, that was a joke," he said, bending down so he could peer into her face more closely. She was trembling. Jesus! Gently taking her by the elbow, Shane steered her off the set and out into a blessedly empty hallway.

"What gives?" he asked, reluctantly releasing her elbow. As soon as he did, she turned and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her without conscious thought.

They stood there for a few moments, her taking deep breaths against his instantly aroused body, him slowly rubbing her back as he breathed in the distinctly sunshiny scent of Carly. His lips itched to brush over the top of her head, but he knew not to go there.

What the hell had happened to her in there? Had someone said something about her past? Her ex-fiancé? Whatever had happened, Shane was going to kill the offending sonofabitch with his bare hands.

Releasing a breath, Carly took a step back. She patted her hands against his chest—almost as if to assure herself he was real—before slowly raising her eyes to meet his. Instead of being wide with fear, they were now tinged with the same smoky passion he was sure was reflected in his own eyes.

God, he wanted to kiss her. Right there in the hallway of the Channel Three studios. At that moment, he didn't care about his career with the Blaze. Or about breaking Bruce Devlin's remaining records. All Shane cared about was sinking into her luscious mouth. Carly gnawed on her bottom lip and Shane would have kissed her had she not taken another step away from him. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from dragging her back into his arms.

"Do you wanna tell me what's got you so upset?" Shane hadn't intended for the question to sound so terse, but he was feeling pretty charged up.

Carly took another step back, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the studio behind them. "It was nothing," she said, lifting her chin up a notch.

Nothing my ass . Shane arched an eyebrow at her, his hands now on his hips. "Carly . . ." he said. But she was backing away from him.

"I need to get my bag out of the station manager's office and you need to be back at the training facility for the mandatory conditioning session," she said as she backed down the hallway. "I'll see you back there." With a wave, she disappeared around the corner, leaving Shane standing there wondering—not for the first time with Carly—what exactly had just happened.

Kids were running amok in the Blaze offices. Shane watched from his table as Carly shepherded a group of toddlers through the Blaze commissary, clutching their tiny hands as another Blaze staffer dispensed frozen yogurt into cups for the kiddies. Their precious treat in hand, Carly led them to a table overlooking the Blaze practice field. The chairs—built specially for large athletes—were so enormous, she and her partner had to lift each child into a seat, their stubby legs dangling precariously above the floor. The sight looked as ridiculous as the time he and some teammates struggled to fit into the tiny chairs in a kindergarten class his former team had forced Shane to visit.

Leaning back on the two rear legs of his chair, Shane took in the scene. Carly was dressed in khaki shorts and a fitted Blaze golf shirt, her hair neatly pulled back in some kind of braid. He hadn't seen her since the incident at the television studio earlier in the week. The remaining media commitments were national and Asia was handling them now that she was back at work full-time. Fortunately, the major sports writers focused most of their questions on the x's and o's of football, steering clear of his personal life. The final stages of the Blaze media campaign had been easy for him, in more ways than one.

Carly was all smiles dealing with the rugrats, handing out napkins and dispensing spoons and sprinkles. She looked like she was actually enjoying catering to the little ankle-biters. Shane wasn't much for kids. His agent, Roscoe, had a pair of twin boys aged somewhere between diapers and kindergarten. The few times he'd been around them, he'd ended up with some sort of food product or worse stuck to his clothing. Shane shuddered at the thought. Although, watching Carly gently stroke her hand over a little towheaded boy stirred something inside him. Probably just feeling jealous of the little bugger. Shane took a pull from his protein shake as Carly walked over to his table.

"Can I grab this chair?" she asked .

He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. You running a day care now?"

"Well, after working with you for two weeks, how hard could an afternoon with seven preschoolers be?"

"Nice one." He saluted her with his drink.

Carly grinned at his compliment. "We do this most Fridays, especially during the season."

"You bring in kids to play? Here? During the season?" he said, not bothering to hide his unease.

"Not just any kids. Children of the players and coaches. We also have a family dinner on Wednesday nights. The coaches and players spend so much time here during the season that we try to give them an opportunity to see their families, too. It makes for a stronger team. One big, happy family."

In Shane's experience, families weren't generally happy, but he wasn't going to tell her that. She looked so proud of the concept that he figured it had to be her idea.

"It works pretty well, if I do say so myself," she said, notching her chin in the air.

Yep, definitely her idea. One thing he'd learned about her these past few weeks: Carly would do anything for her family. In fact, her life outside the office pretty much revolved around helping out her half sister, Coach, and their kids.

"As long as I don't have to play the family game," he said.

Carly tilted her head to the side, studying him for a long moment. "What's your problem with the concept of family?"

Shane thumped the front legs of his chair back down. "I don't have a problem."

Placing her palms flat on the table, she leaned in front of him, giving him an excellent view down her shirt. His junk grew tighter beneath his workout shorts.

"Okay, then, if you don't have a problem with families, why do you clam up every time an interviewer asks you about your father? Or your brother?" she demanded.

Shane's eyes shot from her breasts to glare at Carly's face. He was so not having this conversation with her. His father was not up for discussion with anyone. Period.

Bruce Devlin may be his father, but he was not Shane's family. The man everyone was so interested in was on the upside of life again. He'd landed on his feet after conquering his addiction, and was now regarded by many as one of the top coaches in college football. After dragging himself from the gutter, he'd found religion and was now leading his alma mater to bowl game appearances while lecturing at faith conferences for athletes across the country.

Further aggravating Shane, Bruce Devlin also managed to acquire a hot new wife half his age. A former Miss South Carolina, Lindsey Devlin was everything Shane's own mother had never been. Beautiful, well educated, and possessing enough social graces to charm the shit off a man's shoes, Shane had taken an instant dislike to the green-eyed, statuesque brunette who was his father's young wife. The few times Bruce and Lindsey had invited him to visit when he was a teenager, Shane took every opportunity to demonstrate that his soul was beyond redemption—including propositioning his father's wife.

Looking back, Shane was ashamed at his childish behavior. Bruce and Lindsey—especially Lindsey—had treated him with extreme patience. She continued to invite Shane to family events despite his staunch refusal to attend. He chalked it up to her doing her "Christian duty." Making the effort to include Shane probably allowed her to sleep at night. He assumed his father was glad he stayed away so as not to poison the character of his other son.

The one Bruce Devlin stuck around to raise.

When Shane continued to glare at her, Carly stood up crossing her arms under those problematic breasts. "Seriously, Shane? Not even a smart comeback to my question?"

"I'll answer your question when you answer one of mine."

She annoyingly arched an eyebrow at him, refusing to back down.

"What was the problem at the television studio the other morning?" he challenged.

For a moment, he didn't think she'd answer. In fact, he was counting on her not answering and stalking back to her charges and leaving him the hell alone. Instead, she surprised him, sinking down into the chair next to his. He watched her, curious, as she picked up the wrapper from his straw and silently twisted it around her finger. After a quick glance over her shoulder at the little ones still enjoying their yogurt, she finally looked at him.

"That guy who was outside my home a few weeks ago when you and Donovan ran by—Joel Tompkins—he works at the station. He's very . . . eager . . . for a date with me, even though I've told him no a couple hundred times," she said.

From the look on Carly's face, Shane knew there was more to it.

"What. Did. He. Do?" he demanded.

Carly took exception to Shane's tone, stretching back in her chair to put some space between them. The move made Shane angrier.

"I'm serious, Dorothy. If the guy's a problem, you need to let Donnie or Coach know. One of us can handle him."

Rolling her eyes at him, she let out a huff. "Donovan has already handled him. He and Asia had Joel reassigned from the Blaze complex, but Donovan has no jurisdiction at the television station, although he's tried." A chagrined smile quickly came and went from her face. "Donovan had him banned from my neighborhood. Now that I know where he works, I'll definitely boycott Channel Three. Problem solved."

Shane banged his head back on the wall behind him and closed his eyes in frustration. "I hadn't figured you to play the victim."

"Been there. Done that. Got the T-shirt," she said quietly. "Don't worry, I don't plan to play the victim ever again."

Opening his eyes, he looked into her determined face. He sighed. "Just promise me you won't be a hero?"

A slow grin spread across her face. "I promise."

They sat there staring at each other like two idiots for who knows how long, until Asia hobbled up. She thumped something that looked like a seating chart onto the table between them.

"Just the two people I've been looking for," Asia huffed, pushing her crutches aside to slide into the other empty chair. "I need to finish this seating chart for the gala tomorrow night and you two are the last singles I need to seat."

Shane bought his ticket for the thousand-bucks-a-head gala, but he didn't actually plan on attending, so he really didn't care where Asia sat him. Looking at the faces of both women, Shane decided it was best to keep his planned no-show a secret.

"I'm sitting at the kids' table," Carly said, pointing to a spot on the chart.

"Shocker," Asia said.

"There's a kid's table?" Shane asked.

"Yes, Shane, there is," Carly said. "Since this is a foundation for kids, Lisa and Matt want their children there for the fund-raising launch. They want to share the moment with their fam-i-lee." She shot him a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, and you'll be the babysitter." Asia rolled her eyes at Carly. "And, to make your evening more enjoyable, I'm putting the punter, Tom Rakowski, next to you since he's coming stag. Seriously, you guys are professional athletes. Why is it you can't get dates?" she asked, looking up at Shane.

"Kickers are dweebs," Shane said. Still, he was a more than a little bothered by the fact that the Blaze's punter would be spending tomorrow evening making nice with Carly.

"While you, Shane Devlin, have star quality. I'm putting you at one of the big spender tables. Most of the men are in their seventies, but their trophy wives will appreciate the view you bring," Asia said. Something about her tone gave Shane the feeling she might not be joking.

"Hey, why can't Rakowski man the cougar table?" Shane asked.

"Dweeb, remember," Asia said, penciling something on one of the circles on the chart.

Carly laughed, her eyes sparkling at Shane.

"Or . . ." What was he doing? He wasn't even going to the damn dinner. "Carly and I could sit together and Rakowski can sit with the Richie Riches."

Both women stared at him.

"It wouldn't be like a date, really," Shane bumbled. "Just ‘friendly coworkers' going to a team function together."

"So not a date, then," Asia said with a perplexed look. Carly continued to stare at him.

"Well, sort of like a date, but not. A safe date," Shane said.

"Ah, a safe date," Asia drawled. "Hmm. Well, Carly, what say you? Do I pencil the dweeb kicker at the money table, leaving Mr. Safe here with you at the kids' table?"

Shane tried not to shift uncomfortably in his chair as Carly just stared at him. If she said yes, he was going to the gala tomorrow night. He didn't want to go. So why did he desperately want her to say yes?

"Sure," Carly finally said. "It's a date. A safe date."