Intercepting Daisy Page 3

  Catherine reached out to grab the teakettle they kept on the stove to fill it with water. “How about a cup of tea?”

  “That would be great,” Daisy said. She grabbed a pear out of the bowl and reached out for a napkin to blot up the juice. “How was London?”

  “I didn’t see much of it this time. I went to Harrods Food Hall, though.” Catherine turned to face Daisy, waving a plastic-wrapped box of tea bags in the air. “How’s the best-seller list?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Catherine’s voice dripped with playful sarcasm. “I checked it on my phone. Number five. And you’re beating Nicholas Sparks.”

  “At least the people in my book don’t die at the end.”

  “You could say that.” The teakettle on the stove whistled. “Did you talk to him on the flight home today?”

  She didn’t have to spell out who “him” was. They both knew.

  “Just a little convo,” Daisy said.

  “Ask him out for a cup of coffee.” Her roommate put a mug of tea on the table in front of Daisy. “Tell him you’d like to rip his clothes off and do unspeakable things to him.”

  “He’s probably heard that one before.”

  “Not from you, he hasn’t,” she said. “You’ll rock his goody-two-shoes world.”

  “He’d probably tell me he was praying for me.”

  “He’ll need some prayer by the time you’re done with him.”

  THE STORM RAGED on outside but Grant really didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening cooped up in his condo. He’d actually played two quarters in today’s game after Tom Reed had been injured. He was torn between happiness he’d gotten to play for two quarters and concern for a teammate he liked and respected.

  Maybe he should go downstairs to one of the restaurants at the base of his high-rise building, have a late dinner at the bar, and see what developed. He wrenched off the tie he still wore from his flight earlier, unbuttoned his collar, and grabbed his jacket as he slipped his cell phone and keys into his pocket.

  The winds were so strong outside he felt the elevator car swaying in its shaft as he descended. It occurred to him that staying in his condo might have been a better idea. If the power went out, he’d be climbing fourteen stories worth of stairs on already-tired legs.

  He could handle it. The elevator opened onto a lobby packed with those who’d sought shelter from sideways rain and winds. The milling, talking crowd didn’t seem to take much notice as he wound through them and headed toward one of the restaurants claiming to offer gourmet comfort food.

  The hostess standing next to the front door (and the bustling lobby) gave him an apologetic smile. “Hey, Grant. How are you doing tonight?”

  “I needed to get out of my place for a while. Is there an available table inside?”

  “We’re slammed,” she said. “The power is out at several other restaurants, and everyone came here instead.” She bit her lower lip. “There might be a seat at the bar. Will that work for you?”

  The bar was fine. He wasn’t going to attempt to try to find food anywhere else.

  “I’ll take it,” he said.

  “Follow me, then,” she said.

  She reached out to grab the door and motioned him inside the dimly lit restaurant. He’d noticed before that she didn’t wear a ring. He’d never made a move on her, despite the fact that he ate here at least twice a week. She was attractive, but there was something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on that warned him away. She was friendly but not flirtatious. In other words, she wasn’t into him.

  He didn’t bother with women who didn’t show interest. If there was one thing he had in common with his teammates, it was that he really didn’t chase. Why put himself out there when there were so many others who were happy to let him know they wanted him?

  He elbowed his way into the bar area and slid onto an empty barstool. He’d have something to eat, enjoy a couple of drinks, and go back to his place to sleep it all off.

  After a game, most of his teammates went out to dinner with their agents or their families. He knew he would be invited if he expressed interest. The other guys on the team had formed a tight connection, but he hadn’t made much of an effort to join in. Most of the time, this suited him just fine. He really didn’t need a bunch of people in his face all the time. Not hanging out with his teammates also ensured he wasn’t questioned about his personal life. Things were great until he woke up at three AM alone and wondering why he didn’t seem to make the easy friendships with others that most people valued in life.

  He was probably still shaken by his experience earlier—the idea that he could be gone and he should have made more of an effort in life to expand his circle a bit. He didn’t want to think about people crying over his death, but he’d like to think that a few people might miss him.

  Maybe it was a function of getting older, or maybe he was tired of the superficial relationships he seemed to have with everyone else in life besides his parents. It felt weird to admit that he was sometimes lonely.

  He wasn’t going to start putting notes in his teammates’ lockers (“Do you like me? Check yes or no,”), but he could start by inviting a few of the guys out for a beer or some type of get-together more often. It would be nice to know he had a few friends in the area. If he’d made an overture or two before tonight, he might be enjoying some time and dinner with a friend. Or friends.

  It also wouldn’t hurt to date a woman more than once. He’d already checked his phone three times to make sure he still had Daisy’s number. He should have called her the minute he got home from the flight. He wanted to talk to her. Talking to her, however, wasn’t the problem. He was having trouble with the asking-her-out part. What if she said no?

  She probably thought he didn’t notice that she blushed when she talked with him or that her eyes strayed in his direction while she was interacting with some of his teammates.

  He pulled his hand out of his pocket so he wouldn’t check to see if her number was still in his phone again. If Daisy turned him down for a date, it was actually going to hurt.

  He caught the bartender’s eye.

  “I’d like a dinner menu, please.”

  “Got it,” the bartender said. He moved off down the bar.

  Grant knew the guy recognized him as living in the condos upstairs. Right now, though, he saw several people waving twenties in the bartender’s face so they could get a drink. It might be a while before he got that menu.

  He glanced around and spotted an attractive woman. She sat alone at a table several feet away. She was tall, blonde, and alluringly dressed. She wore a bit too much makeup. She caught his eye, raised one eyebrow, and nodded at the empty seat across from her. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t figure out where he’d met her before. He got up from his barstool and made his way to her table. If he talked with her a little, he might be able to remember why he knew he’d seen her before.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Hi. Want to have dinner with me?”

  “I think I will.” He pulled the chair out and sat down. She shoved a menu across the table to him. “I’m Grant,” he said.

  “I’m Harley,” she said. She cocked her head to the side, and her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. She managed to recover from whatever seemed to startle her, however, and held out her hand. He reached across the table to shake her hand briefly. “My friend was supposed to be here. She probably decided not to leave the house when she found out how bad the weather is.” He heard the faint chime of a text received on the smartphone she’d left face-up on the table. She hit it with one finger and squinted at it. “Yeah. She just cancelled.”

  “I didn’t want to leave either. You must have driven here before it got so bad.”

  “I live upstairs,” she said.

  He glanced up from the menu and looked into her eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d met her before. Maybe she’d moved in rece
ntly. He spent so much time at the facility during football season that he didn’t keep close tabs on the people in his building.

  “You didn’t have to go outside, then.”

  “Nope,” she said.

  He wasn’t exactly a dazzling conversationalist right now, so he was surprised to watch her slip her cell phone inside what he knew was an expensive handbag. She must have wanted to chat.

  The server arrived to take their order.

  After handing his menu to the server, he sipped the ice water another server put in front of him. The woman across the table from him caught his eye.

  “I think you know my friend,” she said. “The one who didn’t show up tonight.”

  “Is that so?” he asked.

  “Pretty much,” she said. “You spent the night together a few months ago.”

  He reclaimed his glass and took another swallow while he tried to figure out what to say in response.

  “I’m not going to make a big deal out of this,” she said.

  “Okay,” he said. He wondered if the restaurant would be willing to box up the macaroni and Gruyère cheese he’d ordered in case he needed to make a quick retreat. If she wasn’t going to “make a big deal out of this,” why had she brought it up in the first place? Something was wrong.

  “I have a question, though,” she said. Another server dropped off a basket of warm bread and butter. The scent made his stomach growl. It wasn’t like he hadn’t eaten already today, but he’d happily down the whole thing.

  Harley pushed the bread away from her like it was contagious.

  “Shoot,” he said.

  “She told me that you made quite a speech before you had sex with her. Something to the effect that this was one night only, she shouldn’t expect to hear from you again, and you weren’t changing your mind.” She watched him pull a piece of bread out of the basket she’d pushed to his side of the table, smear some butter on it, and put half of it in his mouth. “Do the Sharks know you’re this sexually active?”

  He managed to swallow before he choked on the bread.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve heard you’re busy.”

  He was so shocked at her comments he wasn’t sure how to respond. “As long as I’m doing my job, I don’t think they care,” he said.

  “Isn’t it a bit risky to engage in so many one-night stands?” she said. “Do you often forget the women you’ve slept with before?”

  “I don’t forget them,” he said.

  “If the Sharks’ PR group’s campaigns are any indicator, they seem to believe you’re not having sex a lot. They also want other people to believe it as well.”

  He pretended like he didn’t feel the hair rising on the back of his neck and took another bite of delicious bread and whipped butter with a hint of sea salt and truffle oil. This was a bit more than a sticky situation. He eyed Harley across the table. She wasn’t making small talk; she was asking questions for a reason. And he was missing something.

  “What’s your point?”

  “Why not be honest? Why are you lying to people?”

  He finished his slice of bread and hoped his entrée would arrive soon. He didn’t want to spend five more minutes with the woman across the table from him, but right now, he wasn’t interested in causing a scene in front of a hundred people who so far were ignoring him.

  “Most people see what they want to see,” he said. The server arrived with their entrées and asked Grant if he’d like another beer. “Not right now,” he said. “Thanks.”

  He waited until the server left and looked into Harley’s eyes. “Are you honest about yourself with everyone you meet?”

  She took a small bite of her salmon. “What about the people who’d like to get to know you as a person, not just as a football player?”

  “They’re really not interested. They want an autograph or a picture with me.” His baked macaroni and cheese with a crispy panko bread crumb crust was waiting for him. “I’m used to it.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little cynical?”

  “You never answered my question. Are you honest about yourself with people you meet?”

  “Of course. Most people are—at least the ones who don’t have something to hide.”

  Despite his best efforts to remain unruffled, anger swelled inside him. He didn’t need to justify himself or his life to someone he didn’t know, but he realized he had no graceful way out of this. At the very least, he could make it quick. He caught a server’s eye and nodded. The woman quickly approached his table.

  “Would you please box this to go?” he said, handing his still-steaming plate to the server. He grabbed the credit card out of his wallet. “This is for the check.”

  Harley’s mouth dropped open. “You’re leaving?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. He gave her a nod. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “I guess you don’t recognize me,” she said. “I’m Harley McHugh, the new sports reporter at KIXI-TV.”

  Shit. For a minute there, he thought he’d slept with her and forgotten about it. So she was pissed because he didn’t recognize her from her job. Of course, she had looked familiar. He’d probably met her at practice before and didn’t make the connection. He reached out his hand to shake hers again. “Good to see you,” he said. She didn’t shake his hand. He rose from the table. “Have a nice evening,” he said.

  It took him less than five minutes to sign the credit card slip, make his way across the still-crowded lobby, and get into an empty elevator car with his to-go bag. A minute and a half after he walked back into his apartment, the power went out. Luckily, the building had generators and his cell phone still worked. He sat down on his couch with a bottle of beer and stared out at the view of Lake Washington as he dialed his agent. He could see the whitecaps buffeting the 520 Bridge from here.

  Blake answered on the third ring. “Hey, Parker. My flight got delayed, so I’m still at Sea-Tac. Is everything okay?”

  “No,” Grant said. “It’s not.” He kicked his shoes off and swung his feet up onto his coffee table. “I think I need your help.”

  Chapter Five

  GRANT COULD THINK of a lot of things he’d rather be doing right now. None of them involved unburdening himself to someone he had a professional relationship with. He had a tough time sharing his thoughts and feelings with a friend. Thinking about doing so with someone paid to represent his interests wasn’t fun. He’d gotten a little attention from the media over the years, but something about his conversation with Harley had every nerve ending tingling. It wasn’t from desire. Sheer terror might be a better description of what he felt.

  She knew something. Or, she wanted him to think she knew something so she could trick him into revealing something stupid she could report on. Whatever. Maybe Blake had an idea of how to fix this.

  “What’s up? Want to talk about today’s game? You looked sharp.”

  “Thanks,” Grant said. “Maybe we could talk about the game later. There’s something I need to tell you about.” He let out a nervous-sounding laugh. “I don’t know how to say this.”

  “You’re not pregnant, are you? I thought we had that talk,” Blake said.

  “Nope, not pregnant.” Grant took a deep breath. “It’s my social life.”

  “I heard you’ve had a few dates.”

  “Just a few.” Grant took a swallow of his beer. “Actually, more than a few. And they weren’t quite what the team thinks they are.”

  His agent went silent for almost a minute. Grant could hear flight announcements in the background. “Okay. One question,” he said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “They are all of age, right? You’re not dating anyone who’s not legal.”

  “No. Everyone I’ve been with is a consenting adult,” Grant said.

  “Great. We can deal with this,” the agent said. “And no judgments on sexual orientation, either.”

  “I’m straight,” Grant said.

  “So, what’s
the problem?”

  “They’re not the good Christian girls the team says I’m out with.”

  “Please tell me money is not changing hands.”

  “No. No money. Well, no money until I broke this woman’s e-reader last month. I left a hundred bucks for a new one before I took an Uber home from her place.”

  “At least you’re responsible.”

  “Yeah. Uh, Blake?”

  “Yup?”

  “I’ve slept with a lot of women who I don’t see again.”

  His agent let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, no! That’s never happened in the history of the league. Are you some kind of manwhore? I’m shocked.”

  “Come on—”

  “I’m giving you shit, Parker. Truthfully, I’d be more shocked to learn you weren’t sleeping with every woman who made herself available. What do you think the rest of the team is doing?”

  “Most of them are married now.”

  “Yeah, okay. If you think the single guys are going without, you’re nuts. So what’s the issue?”

  “One of the local sportscasters seems to have found out about it. Harley McHugh—are you familiar with her?”

  “Sportscaster Barbie? Who isn’t familiar with her? What did she say to you?”

  “I saw her downstairs earlier. She started asking some nosy questions about my social activities.”

  “How many women you’ve slept with?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “You’re using protection, you’ve been tested for STDs, and you haven’t fathered any children, right?”

  “Yes. And no on the kids part.”

  Blake let out another long sigh. “Okay. I’m aware the Sharks’ front office fell in love with you because they thought you’d never have the kind of issues your predecessor had in Seattle. You’ve let them think you were playing along while you were doing something else. It’s not great, but you are an adult, and your social life is really not their business to begin with. Here’s the deal: we’re going to have to figure out how to minimize the damage if Sportscaster Barbie—oops, Ms. McHugh—actually stumbles onto something. Are you dating anyone right now?”