Risky Game (16 page)

The red-eye back to Baltimore was subdued. Brody easily found a secluded spot on the plane since most of his teammates were giving him space. It wasn’t unusual for a player to have an off game. It was just unusual for Brody to have one. Most of his teammates didn’t know how to handle it. Neither did Brody, frankly.

Midway through the flight, a chorus of snores permeating the cabin, Devlin slipped into the empty seat beside him. Stifling a groan, Brody turned to stare at the lights on the plane’s wings through the small window.

“I never can sleep on a plane. I don’t know how these big lugs can even get comfortable in the seat.” The quarterback gestured to the offensive lineman slumbering across the aisle.

Brody didn’t bother responding, hoping Devlin would give up and go away. It was no use, though. After a few moments of silent reflection, he said something Brody never expected to hear.

“Quit pouting, Brody. Every player has an off game. The great players put it in the past and move on. You’re the best tight end in the game and the first guy I want catching a pass I’ve thrown, so get over it.”

Taken aback by the rare show of praise from his quarterback, Brody just gave a noncommittal grunt.

“It’s not like you to get worked up over tabloid or, in this case, Internet, trash,” Devlin continued. “You gotta let it just roll off you and keep your head in the game. Nobody believes that bullshit anyway.”

Brody’s curiosity got the better of him. “So that’s how you handled all those tabloid firestorms throughout your career? By just ignoring the lies they print about you?”

Devlin settled back into his seat with a melancholy grin. “Actually, I considered each and every one of those sensational stories a badge of honor. Remember, I was in the business of blackening my pedigree, destroying my old man’s good name.” He closed his eyes for a moment before going on. “I didn’t care about the collateral damage, because I honestly didn’t think there’d be any. I was a one-man show.”

He turned to look Brody in the eye. “In my case, ninety-nine percent of it was bullshit anyway. That had better be the case here, or I’ll throw you out the exit door.”

Brody flipped him off.

Devlin laughed. “Anyway, Shay seems pretty tough. If you two are going to make a go of it, she’ll need a pretty thick skin.”

Brody looked back out into the dark night. Shannon was tough, all right. And there was a connection there—at least there had been before the incident at the inn. But right now, he wasn’t sure of his own future, much less one with Shannon. The only thing he did know was he couldn’t have another game like today. Everything he’d done these past months to keep his blood sugar under control would be for nothing if he couldn’t keep his mind where it was supposed to be: in the game. Shannon didn’t need him to fight her battles. She didn’t want him to, either; she’d made that perfectly clear. He was better off forgetting about her, the blogger, and the whole mess. Instead, he would just concentrate on his current goal of a contract extension.

Devlin had thankfully buried his nose in a Dean Koontz novel when Brody turned his head from the window. Unfortunately, the quarterback was proficient at multitasking because he spoke without taking his eyes off the page.

“Just to be on the safe side, you and I are going to take a few extra reps every day this week. Starting tomorrow. Be at the facility by one.”

Seeing as it was already tomorrow, Brody figured he’d better get some sleep before they landed.

Shay noticed everyone in
the Blaze facility seemed a little more on edge after the trip to Phoenix. The team’s second defeat had been another nail-biter and the competitive athletes didn’t take it too well. Fortunately, the loss took a lot of attention off the poisonous blog about Brody, especially now that the blogger was spewing her venom at the Minnesota Vikings and a supposed homosexual player.

“If her intent is to rattle all the players in the league, she’s going about it the right way,” Julianne remarked that Wednesday afternoon. She and Carly Devlin had stopped by the aquatic center where Shay taught, joining in her water aerobics class. “Brody was like a deer in the headlights out in Arizona.”

Carly reclined in the resin lounge chair, resting a bottled water on her pregnant belly. “The poor boy’s been shagging more balls than our dog, Beckett, this week. It’s a wonder Shane’s arm can take all the added reps.”

Shay eyed the clock. While she was flattered the two women had sought her out, she needed to get Brody’s dinner made and into his kitchen before he got home from practice at seven. It was already five. Besides, she knew Julianne’s real purpose in dropping by the pool wasn’t just to sign her and her son up for mommy-and-me swim lessons; the woman wanted to know the status of Shay’s relationship with Brody. Which meant Brody wasn’t talking, either, because he and Julianne seemed to have a special bond. Obviously, the woman had no clue that Brody and Shay’s relationship was a cover.

“We’re going to brunch before Sunday’s game, Shay. Why don’t you join us?” Julianne asked.

Shay had hoped to avoid this weekend’s home game, but Maddox couldn’t stop talking about being a ball boy with Troy Devlin. Brunch with Brody’s friends was too much of a risk, though.

“Actually, I’m tending bar on Saturday night, so I’ll probably want to get as much sleep as I can that morning.” While it wasn’t as much fun working on a night the players couldn’t come and act as a buffer—especially after the provocative blog—Shay couldn’t forgo the money she earned at Celtic Charm. In fact, her recent notoriety had resulted in a spike in tips.

“Oh, that’s right! You work at that mega bar on the Inner Harbor. Shane and I are pretty much homebodies, but I’ve been dying to see what it’s like. Maybe we should have a ladies’ night there on Saturday night. We’ll get a bunch of the Blaze wives,” she looked at Shay, “and girlfriends. We’ll have a little party there. That way Shay can still be a part of it. What do you think, Jules?”

Julianne smiled conspiratorially at her childhood friend. “That sounds perfect, Carly.”

And just like that, the two women had boxed her in. It seemed Shay would be playing the part of Brody’s girlfriend a little longer. After arranging to meet at the bar on Saturday night, she was finally able to make her escape.

An hour later, Brody’s vegetable lasagna ready for the oven, she entered his kitchen only to find Bridgett seated at the breakfast bar.
Dang it!
When would she learn to pull her car around to the parking pad in back of the house to avoid such surprises?

“Still dutifully making his dinner, I see,” his sister said. “Obviously, he’s not paying you with sex, which moves you up in my esteem.”

“I’ll certainly sleep better tonight knowing that.”

Bridgett laughed. “Seriously. I like you, Shay. There aren’t too many women I say that about.”

Shay placed the lasagna in the fridge along with the fixings for salad to go with it.

“So, what are you getting out of this? Is this really your job?”

Brody’s sister was fishing. She was sharp as her daddy’s spurs and she already suspected something was up with her brother. A little bit of the truth might just keep her satisfied enough that she’d leave Brody alone.

Shay leaned against the countertop. “I really am a PhD student in nutrition. Brody is one of the subjects I’m using for data to confirm my thesis. He eats a certain amount of carbohydrates at specific intervals and I analyze his vital statistics when he’s playing at his peak level.”

“Interesting,” his sister said. “And what enticed him to participate in your study?”

This was the part that required a little slight of hand. Shay shrugged. “Free food that he didn’t have to prepare? Or maybe the novelty of being included in a PhD study? Who knows?”

“Both are likely.” Bridgett got up to retrieve the whistling kettle off the stove and Shay nearly sank to the floor with relief that his sister had bought it.

“And what will you do once you have your PhD, Shay?”

“I’d like to keep working to optimize athletes’ performance. But initially I’m going to be working in a state prison near my home in Texas. I’ll be supervising the overall nutrition of the prison population.” Unfortunately, the job didn’t sound any cooler the more times she explained it.

Bridgett looked at her wide-eyed, her hand stilled in the process of replacing the kettle on the stove. “Did you say a
prison
?”

Shay smiled at the look of complete wonder on Bridgett’s face. “I need to help my mama out for a year or so and pay back my student loans. After that, I’ll be able to do what I want.”

Coming to stand in front of Shay, Bridgett blew on her tea. “I take that back about liking you, Shay. Like doesn’t cover it. I truly admire your determination. It’s not easy to sacrifice what you want for someone else.” A wistful look passed over her face. “Trust me, I know.”

Shay felt uncomfortable under Bridgett’s lawyerly gaze. “Well, there’s plenty of lasagna if you’re staying for dinner. The cooking instructions are on the top of the container.”

“So you really don’t stay and eat with him?”

Not since the time I embarrassed myself in his bedroom.
“No, the whole couple thing is just a ruse to throw off his teammates.”

“Not all of it,” Bridgett challenged.

“Pardon?”

Brody’s sister gestured toward the Sub-Zero. “Whatever you two were doing against the fridge that night was real. And I’ve seen the way you both look at each other. Some of it is definitely real.”

Tears stung the back of her eyes and Shay had difficulty speaking around the lump in her throat. “Sorry to disappoint you, Bridgett, but you’re mistaken. I’m not Brody’s type. Nice to see you again.” Her hand was on the door handle when Bridgett spoke.

“Interesting.”

Shay turned to stare at her. Brody’s sister had a smug smile on her face as she spoke. “Most women would have saved face and claimed Brody wasn’t
their
type.”

 • • • 

The monsignor’s homily was
droning on. Brody fidgeted on the wooden pew while Sister Agnes sat still as a statue. The Blaze were playing the Tennessee Titans at home this afternoon. The mild fall weather had given way to a blustery cold wind off the Atlantic, and Brody felt like the air around him: as if he were in the middle of a squall.

Bridgett had become the houseguest who wouldn’t leave, saying she was sick of staying in the hotel her firm had booked her in for the duration of her trial prep. Worse, she’d seemed to develop a fast friendship with Julianne and the other Blaze wives, ending up at a party at Celtic Charm last night. Not that Brody believed any of it was a coincidence. Julianne was up to something and she wouldn’t stop until she decided everyone is happy. Which of course meant Shannon’s happiness. Unfortunately none of the women seemed to understand Shannon was happier without him.

He sucked in a deep breath, reminding himself that he and Shannon weren’t anything more than science fair partners at this point. Clearly, she wanted nothing to do with him other than to use him as a lab rat for her thesis. It was time to move on. Once he got his mojo back on the field, Brody was going to get his mojo back in the bedroom with the first willing woman he could find. It had been way too long.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block his wayward thoughts out and just listen to the mass. He needed to focus on the game this afternoon. He and Devlin had worked on every pass play this week, and Brody hadn’t dropped the ball one frickin’ time. Last Sunday’s game would seem like a figment of everyone’s imagination once he took the field today.

Sister Agnes waited until the end of the homily to get her two cents in. “Was someone else wearing your uniform last week, Brody?”

“Nope. No one to blame but myself.”

She shook her head. “It was a horrible loss.”

“What are you upset about? We got beat by the Cardinals. At least you nuns should be happy.” Brody was the only one laughing at his own joke.

The sister sported a grim look and Brody felt like he was back in the fourth grade.

“And that awful story on the Internet? Was that you, too, Brody?”

“Hell, no—ow!”

Sister Agnes rapped his thigh with her rosary beads.

“No!” Brody whispered hoarsely. “None of that was me. None of that was even true.”
Except for the destruction of a two-hundred-year-old door at an estimated one thousand dollars in damages.
Brody’s mother had been mortified, the rest of the wedding guests looking at him like he had ’roid rage. He’d made up a story about the bathroom door somehow locking itself with Shannon trapped inside. Shannon had disappeared early that morning with Will and Julianne before anyone else became aware of the situation, so there was no one to dispute him.

The sense of shame he felt angered him, though. His family, his teammates, and the Blaze organization disregarded the blogger’s article as untrue. But the average person, like Sister Agnes, would always doubt him.

“It didn’t happen the way that blogger wrote it,” he reiterated, hating the disillusionment he saw in the nun’s eyes.

She nodded. “I never pictured you as an abuser of women. I don’t always approve of the women you go out with, though, Brody. You should be more serious in your relationships.”

Shit.
There was nothing like censure from a nun to discourage him from going out and finding a willing woman to help him rediscover his mojo.

“No time for women anymore. I have to concentrate on my game.” Which was the truth. The goal was to get a contract extension. He’d just put Shannon and all women out of his mind until he had that sewn up.

Sister Agnes actually snorted, startling Brody into nearly laughing before he remembered they were in church.

“Hmm. I don’t know if I believe that,” she said. “But we can discuss that next week. Today, you’d best be concentrating on the Titans.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Not bothering to tell her he was only agreeing to the second part of her statement. Because there was no way he was discussing his love life—or lack of one—with the nun.

Four hours later, Brody was standing midfield in his sweats as the wind swirled around him.

“It’s like a damn wind tunnel in here today,” Devlin moaned as he tossed a few blades of turf in the air to see how they’d float. “We’re gonna have to keep this game on the ground.”

“Does that mean you’re not gonna be throwing Brody any passes, Mr. Devlin?”

The quarterback rubbed Maddox’s head. The kid seemed to have grown an inch since Brody’d seen him last, three weeks ago.

“Nah, it just means Brody’s gonna have to work a lot harder to catch ’em,” Devlin told the boy as he pierced Brody with his drop-it-and-I’ll-kill-you glare. “Come on, boys. Let’s get you out of the wind before you both get ear infections.”

Maddox laughed.

“Don’t laugh at the butthead, Maddox,” Troy said as they trudged toward the tunnel leading back inside. “Ever since Carly got pregnant, he’s become like a grandma with his overprotectiveness.”

Devlin playfully cuffed his half brother on the back of the head, which only made Maddox laugh more. A crowd was gathered outside the locker room. Connelly was rocking a fussy Owen, while Julianne dug in her oversized bag for a bottle. Carly waddled over to her husband, who proceeded to stroke his hand over her belly.

“I am so not looking forward to that,” Troy whined as Maddox plugged his ears.

“My sister cries like that all the time,” Maddox said before both boys disappeared into the locker room.

DeShawn laughed loudly, focusing Brody’s attention on the woman he was joking with: Shannon. She stood behind the tailback, her long legs decked out in a pair of skinny jeans tucked into her cowboy boots with a sleek, puffy down jacket keeping the rest of her warm. Brody was hard just looking at her legs.

“There you are, Brody,” DeShawn was saying. “Shay was going to sneak off, but I kept her here so you could get a proper good-luck kiss. We’re not taking any chances today.”

Shannon’s smile dimmed and her face became even paler, if that were possible. Those ever-present dark circles were beneath her eyes, the telltale sign she was working herself to death, as usual.

“Don’t pin my bad game on Shannon,” Brody growled.

“You gotta admit, Brody, you’ve got some bad karma hanging around you. You need to do whatever you can to shake it off, man,” DeShawn pleaded.

Shannon muttered something beneath her breath before closing the distance between her and Brody. Something in Brody’s chest squeezed as this proud, strong Texas wildcat raised her chin before gently placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Good luck,” she whispered, her eyes avoiding his.

“Dang, Shay, is that the best you can do? The dude played like crap last week,” DeShawn was saying.

It had been exactly two weeks since she’d crept out of their room at the inn. Two weeks when Brody ached to make things right with her, only he didn’t know how to. Still, she’d been in his house during that time, breathing the same air as he did and he’d taken solace eating the food she’d prepared. He’d caught glimpses of her at the practice facility, tamping down on the longing in his body in an effort to give her space. But right now, he was done giving her space.

Before DeShawn finished his sentence, Brody had tangled his fingers in Shannon’s hair pulling her in for a deep, searching kiss. The sweet taste of her on his tongue and the feel of her body against his were intoxicating. Instantly, the storm that had been brewing inside his head calmed and he sank in farther to enjoy the warmth of her welcoming mouth. Her response was immediate; fisting her hands in his sweatshirt, she angled her head to allow him better access. Desire, dark and thick, lapped at both of them before Shannon suddenly tensed in his arms. Pulling away abruptly, this time her eyes did meet his; they were bright and damp.