Chapter 6

SIX

The happy hour crowd at Devlin's had thinned out by eight-thirty that evening. Noah sat on his usual stool at the dark end of the bar, closest to the kitchen. The regulars were used to seeing him parked there on Friday nights before a home game. After all, he'd been sitting in that same spot every football season for the past seven years.

It was tradition for the starting quarterback to take the offensive line out for a pricey steak dinner before the season opener. For years, that dinner happened at the bougie steakhouse owned by the Blaze MVP quarterback, Shane Devlin. It wasn't customary to include the backup QB, but Devlin wasn't one for rules and protocol. He'd always insisted Noah join them.

"To soak up whatever knowledge you can," he'd explained.

Those preseason dinners evolved into regular Friday night dinners between the two quarterbacks during the season, the veteran baller quizzing Noah on every play in the playbook just in case he'd have to come into the game for Devlin.

"I don't want you blowing a lead if I get sidelined," he'd grumble.

When Devlin finally hung up his cleats, everyone on the offense just assumed they'd continue going to his restaurant for the annual dinner. So did the former QB. He lorded over the meal like the elder statesman he was, before drilling Noah one-on-one on the game plan after everyone left.

Noah's father believed his son would have an easier time with fans and the media had Devlin left Baltimore and not cast such a long shadow over his replacement's career. There were days when Noah agreed. Other days, however, he was grateful for the wizened quarterback's guidance.

Today was not one of those days.

"After months of trying to keep your image afloat, you have to go and do something that gets you to the top of every damn search engine in the world. Why would you be such a dumbass as to get caught kissing the owner's sister?" Devlin hung a dishtowel onto his shoulder before leveling a "give-it-to-me" stare at Noah.

The questions had been flying all week. From his teammates, the media, even his family. For the most part, Noah had no trouble redirecting everyone back to the topic of football and the upcoming game. If he were being honest, he was glad to have everyone's attention on something other than last year's disastrous season. Come Sunday, he would prove himself on the field and everyone would forget about the past. And his infamous kiss with Charlotte Davis would be dubbed old news.

"Unless you have some game strategy to impart, I'm out of here." Noah guzzled what remained of his beer.

Devlin shook his head. "Damn, man, you are like a crypt about your private life." He sighed. "My only game pointers are to test their right corner early on. I've been watching his preseason film, and Bailey doesn't look fully recovered from his knee injury last year."

Noah thought the same thing. "Of course, Bailey could be playing all of us."

"That's why you better be sure to test him with a ball he can't pick." Devlin turned toward a commotion at the other end of the bar. "Speak of the devil."

"Bailey's here?"

Devlin was suddenly wearing a shit-eating grin. "Even better. Your girlfriend is here."

The ma?tre D was leading Charlotte right to Noah, giving him no chance to escape.

"I told you Mr. Devlin was still here," the ma?tre D said. "And someone else you will be glad to see." The guy winked at Charlotte.

Noah wouldn't exactly describe her expression as glad. Irked would be more like it. He was pretty sure she hadn't expected to find him there. She recovered well, though, a dazzling smile forming on her lips.

"Shane," she gushed. "It's so good to see you. And I couldn't leave town without enjoying one of your fabulous Ni?oise salads."

Devlin came out from behind the bar and wrapped his arms around her. "I would have been insulted if you had."

The smile she gave the ex-quarterback was genuine. "How are Carly and the kids?"

"Powering through the first week of school," Devlin replied.

"And Troy?" she asked. "It must be hard sending your little brother off to college."

Devlin laughed. "You must not spend much time around know-it-all teenagers." His face softened. "Don't you dare repeat this, but I miss having him around. He's settling in nicely, though. And he's barely two hours away. In fact, I'm heading there with a care package tomorrow."

Noah long suspected his mentor was a big softy when it came to his younger brother. Troy had been a fixture in the locker room since Noah's first season with the Blaze. Despite the former quarterback's bluster, everyone knew how much he adored the kid.

Devlin narrowed his eyes at Noah, then gestured at a vacant stool that was too close for comfort. "Hudson has been saving you a seat. I'll get your salad ordered. You want a glass of Prosecco with that?"

Charlotte didn't move. Neither did Noah. Devlin appeared to be frozen, too, his gaze shifting back and forth between them like he was watching some invisible tennis match.

A gentleman stands when a lady enters the room , his mother's voice admonished his conscience.

Noah got to his feet. "Actually, I was just leaving."

"Interesting," Devlin murmured.

Charlotte ducked her chin and slid onto the barstool next to the one Noah had just vacated. "There are a few paps outside. You might want to go out the back."

Christ.

Devlin cleared his throat. "Too late. There are already a few cellphones aimed this way. I'll make the rounds and ask them to put them away." He clapped Noah on the shoulder. "But it might be a smart play to stay and give the people what they want for a few."

Seriously? Hadn't the dickhead just been riding his ass about getting involved with Charlotte?

Noah's frustration must have shown in his expression, because a rare smile settled on Devlin's lips.

"I'm going to have to revoke your man card if you leave this beautiful woman to eat her dinner alone."

Shooting his mentor a WTF grin, Noah sat back down. He waved the bartender over. "Prosecco for the lady and sparkling water with lime for me."

"I didn't know you were here," she murmured to the bar top.

"Yeah, your face said it all."

She whirled her chin around to glare at him. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she faced forward again. The bartender placed their drinks in front of them. Charlotte snatched hers up, clinking it against Noah's glass.

"Here's to the end of a shitty week," she said before taking a gulp.

"I'll drink to that." Noah took a sip. "Although my week has been pretty stellar."

"You enjoy dodging cameras and ignoring insinuating headlines?"

He shrugged. "Comes with the job. Although Bucky Kincaid has been abnormally quiet, so I'll take that as a win."

She pondered the inside of her glass. "He has, hasn't he? Well, at least one good thing has come out of this situation." She cocked her head to the side and shot him a smarmy grin. "You're welcome."

"Why is it that you're always demanding I thank you? Especially since you're the reason we're in this mess."

"Excuse me? You were the one doing the kissing." Her gaze dropped to his mouth, lingering there for longer than necessary.

His junk was suddenly painful against the zipper of his pants.

"You didn't seem to mind," he drawled, mentally slapping himself for staying with the provocative subject.

Her eyes shot back to clash with his just as Devlin returned with her salad.

"Thank you," she said to their host.

Devlin leaned across the bar and kissed her on the cheek. "On the house. But next time you're in town, don't wait until the last minute to stop by. I'm headed home." He looked between them both. "You two behave now. Charlie, I'll let your security team know you'll be exiting through the kitchen when you're finished."

"Give my love to Carly," she called after him.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Charlotte pushed her salad around on her plate. Noah looked around the bar. Everyone was still sneaking glances at them.

"Will you hurry up and eat that," he said gruffly. "We're going to have to leave here together, and I haven't got all night."

This time, when she turned to glare at him, Noah really looked at her. Taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the pinched line of her lips, he instantly felt like a douche. A strand of her hair had escaped her ponytail and was stuck to the side of her face. Instinctively, he reached for it, gently settling the silky strands behind her ear. He wasn't sure, but he thought Charlotte might have stopped breathing. He was sure he'd heard one of the waitresses sigh, though.

"Tell me about your sucky week," he asked quietly.

She blinked a few times before absently licking her lower lip. Noah bit back a groan. He snagged one of her olives and popped it in his mouth to keep from touching her again.

"I've been interviewing potential CEOs for my company," she announced with a heavy sigh before spearing some lettuce with her fork.

Her words surprised him. In London, she'd been so animated about Truly You. She was about to take it global. And he could easily see how thrilled and proud she was about the prospect. Had she gotten bored playing businesswoman?

"You don't want to run it anymore?" He hated how he instantly thought the worst of her. Except her track record spoke for itself.

"The last thing I want to do is hand it over to someone else," she replied sharply.

He deserved her pique for being so judgmental. "Then why do it?"

Her gaze remained focused on her salad. "Because I'm not good at running it."

Something snapped inside his chest at the sorrowful way she uttered the words. "Bullshit."

She whipped her chin up to meet his gaze.

Noah stopped fighting his body and lifted his palm to her face. "Look what you've done with it so far? Christ, little girls are buying my jersey because they adore you and the company you created. You did that."

Charlotte leaned into his palm. Her eyes were shiny. "Maybe. But there's so much more to it than simply creating a product. I don't have the skill-set necessary to keep it all afloat."

There was dejection in those beautiful blue eyes of hers and Noah suddenly wanted to punch someone.

Or kiss her until she forgot all about her troubles.

He dropped his hand from her cheek and nicked a cherry tomato from her plate instead.

"So, you hire someone with those skills. A CEO willing to teach them to you."

She smiled and the hardness in Noah's chest relaxed.

"You sound like Bridgett."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He popped the tomato in his mouth. "She's pretty badass."

Charlotte ate her salad with a bit more gusto after that.

"I know I'm being too picky," she said when she slid her empty plate forward. "It's hard, though. I keep thinking I've failed by handing Truly over to someone else." She laughed softly. "You're the only person I've admitted that to."

A warm feeling replaced the tightness in his chest. "My Meemaw always says everything looks better when you put your fears out into the world."

"Meemaw?"

"My grandmother." He knew how lucky he was to have a grandparent still in his life. His father's mother, Meemaw, had been as involved in his upbringing as his parents.

"Huh. I didn't know my grandparents. My dad's parents were long gone before I was born. And my mom was the black sheep of her family. I only met her father right before he died. Tell me, what's this Meemaw of yours like?" she asked wistfully.

She's a lot like you, he wanted to say. Able to hold her own in a world that constantly wanted to knock her down. Creative and street smart.

"You'd like her. You're both tall," he said instead.

Charlotte laughed. It was a lovely sound. He had the sudden vision of her laughing in bed, her hair a riotous mess against the pillows, and her body flushed with passion. Shifting in his seat, he remembered their audience, their attention all discreetly focused on the two of them.

"She sounds lovely," Charlotte said.

"Mmm. Except she thinks this—" He gestured between them. "—is real, and she is insisting I bring you to her eighty-fifth birthday party."

Her joy evaporated. "Oh."

Noah was suddenly angry at himself for thinking any part of this was real. For thinking she'd jump at the chance to show up on his arm at a dear old lady's birthday party. They were worlds apart. He needed to remember that.

He got to his feet. "I need to study some film tonight."

"Oh," she repeated. "Of course." She began to rummage through her purse, presumably for a tip.

"I got this." He left a fifty on the bar and reached for her elbow.

She shot him a haughty look.

"Cameras," he whispered through his gritted teeth.

That got her attention and had her hustling into the kitchen.

"This way," she said as they wound their way through the prep area and back to the cold storage.

Noah had to wonder how many times she'd escaped through restaurant kitchens and hotel bars. They turned down a narrow hallway. A red exit sign blinked above a steel door. He put his hand on her back to propel her forward.

Of course, she stopped.

Before he could even react, her arms were looped around his neck and her body was pressed against his.

"Thank you for listening back there," she said right before her lips crashed into his.

She tasted like lemon and sparkling wine. His hands were on her hips, pulling her closer without him even realizing it. She dug her fingers into his skull, angling his mouth to give her better access, and he was here for it. For all of it.

For all of her.

He leaned his back against the wall and let her have her way with his mouth. In the meantime, his hands explored the curves of her body ruthlessly. When he palmed one of her breasts, a keening sound rose from deep in her throat. His own chest rumbled at her responsiveness.

Christ, she was perfect.

Charlotte kissed him with such reckless abandon it turned him on as much as it scared the shit out of him. He wanted her with a fervor like he'd never wanted anything else. His desire was all-consuming, almost making him forget where they were and how vulnerable they were to having their every move documented.

A pot clanging in the kitchen behind him brought him back to his senses. He gently threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged her mouth from his. Her lips were swollen and wet. Letting out a groan, he traced his tongue over them before shifting her body away from his. He couldn't think while they fitted together like that.

She adjusted the collar of his shirt. "There. Now you can't accuse me of never thanking you."

Noah smacked his head softly against the wall. It looked like it was taking her effort to stop her hands from touching him, but she finally managed it. Her smile was wily as she backed toward the exit door.

"And, for the record, I had every intention of thanking you in London," she was saying.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Hard to do when you ghosted me."

"Only temporarily. I didn't want you to get caught with me in your room."

His breath hitched. He hadn't even considered that.

"I came back later," she continued. "With scones."

The roaring was back in his ears, but this time it had nothing to do with passion.

"I overheard you talking to your teammates."

Oh, no. No, no, no.

He wracked his brain, trying to recall exactly what he'd said. It wouldn't paint him in a good light, that was for sure. But he'd been angry. He'd felt betrayed by her disappearance. Christ. He was an idiot.

"You heard that?" he pushed out through the Sahara Desert that was his mouth.

Her chin wobbled a bit, then she nodded. This conversation was costing her, but still she soldiered on.

"Charlotte—" he choked out.

She held up a hand. "No worries. I get that I'm not everyone's cup of tea. And with you, I'm ‘not even close.'"

Had her words been fists, they would have hit him squarely in the jaw.

"Goodbye, Noah. Have a great season. You deserve it."

With that, she slipped out the exit door. It took Noah a moment to pick up his balls from the floor and stagger after her. One of her bodyguards was already closing the door to a black SUV by the time he made it outside.

Let her go, he heard his father's voice say to his subconscious. You need to focus on Sunday's game.

He was still breathing hard when the SUV drove away. No wonder she'd looked straight through him all these years. All because his ego had taken a blow when he woke up to find her gone. He kicked at the ground, scattering pebbles into the air.

His father was right, though. Noah couldn't afford the distraction of a sexy mouth and come-hither blue eyes, no matter how much guilt he was carrying. Not when his career was on the line. If he continued to be a pariah in the media or stink up the playing field, his days were numbered with the Blaze. And very likely all of football.

And, as much as his body wanted to argue differently, Charlotte Davis was too complicated, too sophisticated, too much of a whirling dervish to fit into the quiet life he needed to concentrate on staying in the game. Now all he needed was a long, cold shower to convince his body of that fact. He stormed toward the valet stand at the front of the restaurant, grateful when he saw the paps had dispersed for the evening.