"You're nothing to him," Dominic said. "Nothing more than just another fuck."
She felt so cold, as if her blood had all drained away, leaving ice in its wake.
"I get it," she said. "I can't believe it took me this long to get it." A harsh laugh escaped. "Don't worry, I don't want anything from you, Dominic. In fact, I was going to tell you tonight that we're through. Done."
"Shit, that came out all wrong. I'm not talking about us. Being with you has been much more than just a screw."
She laughed bitterly. "I don't believe you."
He was shaking his head, but she was sick and tired of his endless power over her. She put her hand on her doorknob and yanked it open. "Get out."
He remained standing in her foyer. "I love you."
She hated him then, hated him for pulling the one card out of his deck that could break her. "No, you don't. If you loved me, you wouldn't have come into my house and said those horrible things."
Remorse filled his face. "I do love you, Melissa."
"Leave me alone."
An eternity passed, then she watched him walk out of her apartment, out of her life.
Before he went down the hall, he stopped and spoke. "You are my true soul mate, Melissa."
Her tears dropped onto the floor; she wanted to cover her ears and block him out. Couldn't he see that he wasn't being fair?
"One day you'll see it. And when you do, I'll be waiting."
He closed the door and was gone.
She slid to the floor. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she rocked back and forth as sobs twisted her inside out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
During a game, when Dominic screwed up, he didn't waste anyone's time apologizing; he just made it clear to his teammates and coach that he'd make the necessary changes to get the next play right. Making a mistake was human. Making it again was pathetic--and unforgivable.
After fifteen years, he had it all figured out on the football field. But he was an idiotic fuck-up when it came to Melissa. One image after another assaulted him as he got into his car.
Melissa sitting on the bar stool at Barnum's, tipsy and sexy.
Losing control in his living room and taking her incredible naked body up against the window.
The way her face fell the next morning when he told her it was just an aberration.
In Jason's restaurant, where she blew his mind again, with an incredible morning following closely.
The clanging of metal in the locker room as he thrust against her.
The policeman knocking on his fogged-up window after one of the most explosive sexual experiences of his life.
The hatred on her face as he accused her of acting like a whore with JP.
Dominic had never felt like such an asshole. Driving as if on autopilot, he blindly made his way home. He stepped into his condo and it fell cold. Empty. Sure, he was a rich, famous, good-looking man. But without Melissa, his life would be nothing more than a string of empty one-night stands with women who couldn't hold a candle to the one he loved with all his heart.
Somehow, someway, he needed to figure out a way to make it up to her. To convince her that he really and truly loved her, and would never behave so poorly again. Winning Melissa back was all that mattered now.
And unfortunately, he needed JP to get back into her heart.
When Melissa finally fell asleep that night, she dreamed she was living in a castle under attack by marauding bands of outlaws and Dominic was an avenging warrior, willing to give up his life to save hers. As he plunged his sword into the final outlaw, then swept her up into his arms, his lips so close to hers that she could already taste him, she woke up.
It was no use. How could she sleep when he'd finally said the three words she'd longed to hear all her life: I love you? And used those words as a weapon, to get her to forgive the horrible things he'd said and agree to fuck him some more.
Today she had to join the McKnight clients on the practice field for the Outlaws' annual summer scrimmage. It was her job to keep an eye on the players during the off season, to note who looked tired, who needed more rest, who should put in more hours at the gym to build up his strength.
She used to wait all year long for this because it was her one chance to stare at Dominic openly, fantasizing about being with him. Now she questioned everything.
Had she been too easy on him? Had she been so infatuated with the image he presented that she hadn't wanted to see the real man beneath?
Guys like JP and Ty Calhoun didn't hide their arrogance, their womanizing. On the contrary, they almost seemed proud of their flaws.
Suddenly it seemed like Dominic had tried too hard to be the perfect guy.
She took a cab to the practice field, dreading every second to come. Somehow, she needed to keep her shit together when Dominic ran out onto the field.
"Melissa," JP called out as she walked onto the grass. "Thanks for hooking me up with this gig. It'll be good to play a little, show everyone my stuff."
How did he look so fresh, so energetic?
She tried to return his grin and failed.
He moved closer, his expression growing uncharacteristically serious.
"You don't look so good. Something happen last night after I dropped you off?" He looked over his shoulder at the players stretching on the field. "Did dirty Dom finally make a move?"
She shook her head. "Of course not. I just slept poorly. It's been a long time since I danced like that. I'm pretty sore."
Turning back into the JP she expected, he looked her up and down appreciatively. "If you need a rub-down, let me know." He held up his hands. "These babies are magic."
She managed a real smile. Who'd have thought she'd actually like him? He was a fuck-up, but at his core he was a nice guy. To a girl like her, who just wasn't attracted to him, he was harmless.
"I'll have to take your word for it," she said, knowing it was her job to build up his ego. "I'll be taking notes on your performance today, then we'll sit down and discuss everything Monday morning. How you play today means a lot. Don't blow it."
JP picked up a football. "All of a sudden you're reminding me of my ninth-grade math teacher." He whistled. "She was tough. And hot."
Melissa had to laugh as he ran onto the field. If she could figure out a way to channel JP's erotic-humor into a mainstream market, they'd be turning away endorsement offers in droves.
Melissa's father called out her name and she headed to the shaded seating area on the sidelines.
"Good morning," she said coolly when she reached his side, still angry with him for the way he'd talked to her yesterday.
"I thought I made myself perfectly clear yesterday," he said in a hard voice.
Her heart plunged into her shoes. Shit. He knew about last night. On the heels of the news clipping, no wonder he was angry.
"Word spreads fast in this business. I'd be careful whose invitation to go dancing you accept in the future."
"Melissa doesn't need to apologize for her behavior," Dominic's deep, sexy voice said behind her.
When had he crept up on them? Shooting a glance at her father, she noted the red splotches staining his cheeks.
"You should be praising Melissa for the excel lent job she did of entertaining her two clients last night," Dominic said.
Tom's eyebrows drew together. "You were there, too? I thought JP and Melissa had..."
How could her father possibly think she'd fall for a slick horndog like JP? She was way smarter than that.
And if Dominic hadn't barged into their conversation, "rescuing" her, she'd have had the satisfaction of giving her father a piece of her mind. Instead, he'd swiped it right out from under her.
And that's when it hit her: Dominic and her father were two of a kind. Neither of them trusted her to make the right decisions. Neither of them thought she was capable of taking care of herself.
She held up her hand. "Enough. I've heard more than enough. I'm here this morning to take no
tes on how my clients are playing." She gave Dominic a hard look. "They're waiting for you on the field."
His dark eyes were unreadable. With a curt nod he headed onto the field, his helmet gripped tightly in his hand.
Then she met her father's eyes. "Here's the deal. For one week, you aren't going to second-guess me. You aren't going to lecture me. And you aren't going to jump to conclusions. I'm going to work with my clients however I see fit. If JP hasn't signed with a new team by the end of the week and you deem my performance unworthy of the McKnight Agency, you can fire me. No hurt feelings. No recriminations."
A muscle in her father's jaw jumped in anger. "I'm trying to figure out why I shouldn't just fire you right now. If any other agent spoke like this to me, he'd be history."
Melissa shrugged. "You certainly could do that." She wasn't afraid of her father anymore, and wondered why she ever had been. "But then, you might risk losing your best agent."
He blinked once. Twice. "One week," he said, then walked to the group of agents over by the doughnuts and coffee.
Melissa's mouth curved into a smile. She'd finally surprised him. For the first time in his life, it seemed he didn't recognize the woman standing before him. Maybe he'd never really known her at all.
And maybe she hadn't known herself.
She took a seat and tried to focus on JP's blocking and pass routes, but she was continually distracted by Dominic.
Though not for the usual reasons.
Dominic had always been one of the most consistently excellent players in football. Where most guys had their share of down games--even a down season, if things were really rotten--Dominic earned his salary every single outing. His plays were inspired, finessed, and rarely outmaneuvered by the defensive line.
But this morning he was a bona fide disaster, with a bad case of the drops. He couldn't hold on to anything thrown his way. She winced as he was crushed beneath a linebacker. She'd have been embarrassed for him if she hadn't been so worried about the pain he had to be in.
Her father's words came back to her: He's getting close to retirement.
After one bad play too many, Dominic limped over to the sidelines and JP moved in to replace him. Come Monday morning, no matter how much pain Dominic was in, as his agent she'd have to lay down some hard truths. If he continued to perform so far below his usual level--especially if he took this crappy performance into the start of the new season--future endorsements, not to mention lucrative new contracts, would be very hard to come by.
But under no circumstances would she run to his side to make sure he was okay. Because that was something a girlfriend--or a wife--did. Not a three-day fuck buddy like her.
The Outlaws' physical therapist pushed and flexed Dominic's arms and legs and chest. "Anything hurt?" Dominic grunted. Everything did, just like always. But although his body had taken a real beating on the field today, it was his pride that hurt like hell. He'd been asleep out there, a total liability.
Seeing Melissa look so pale and so sad had shaken him deeply. He'd never meant to cause her such pain. When she'd walked into the stadium that morning, he'd been struck again by the fact that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. But his reaction was more than sexual. Her beauty went deeper than her face, her skin, her body.
She radiated goodness from within.
And she didn't trust him, didn't believe that he loved her.
And why the hell should she? he wondered as the therapist pulled his foot into his glutes to stretch his quads. He'd rejected her, seduced her, then lost his mind in her foyer and acted like a complete ass.
Dominic grunted at the painful stretch. Post-scrimmage had always been a time for reflection, but his thoughts usually centered on the game.
Today, the only thing he could focus on was Melissa.
"I've never seen you so tight," the therapist said. "Been doing anything out of the ordinary lately?"
Oh, just nonstop sex and guilt-induced insomnia.
"A couple of late nights," he finally said.
Matt began to work his torture on Dominic's other leg. "You sure are lucky," he said enviously. "Regular guys like me have to work our asses off just to get a pretty girl's attention. You must have to turn them away like crazy."
Matt was right. The easy part was getting a girl into bed. The hard part was knowing when you had the right girl.
And making sure you didn't screw it up.
Fucking up in high school had made him shut down the wildness inside, allowing it to be unleashed only on the field. Had he turned into an emotionless scrooge? A man who couldn't recognize love when it slapped him in the face?
It had taken Melissa only three days to uncover a part of Dominic that he'd kept hidden nearly his whole life, to realize that his childhood had been all about responsibility. Without his telling her anything about his shithead stepfather, and the crushing guilt he'd lived with for two decades, somehow Melissa had tapped directly into Dominic's deep, dark core.
He'd always thought that passion was a weakness and had never allowed himself to feel this way about anyone else. But with Melissa, he'd had no choice.
He loved her. Passionately.
Somehow he needed to make up for the callous way he'd treated her. He needed to tell her he loved her again--the right way, without jealousy and possession clouding every word. He was going to admit all his sins.
And then, for once he'd sit the fuck back and listen to what she wanted, rather than what he thought was best for both of them.
He sat upon the massage table and flipped open his cell phone, then made the Hail Mary phone call that was his last chance to win Melissa back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Monday morning, Melissa walked into the conference room and locked the door. She was still recovering from the barbecue at her parents' house on Sunday. All afternoon, they'd pressed single men on her. Boring, balding, conceited men of all shapes and sizes brought her glasses of wine and told her how pretty she was. But mostly they admired her father's top-of-the-line outdoor grill and kitchen, knowing that if they married her, one day it would all be theirs. She couldn't wait to leave.
The telephone in the center of the conference table stared at her, daring her to call JP and tell him he was nowhere near ready to play for a new team. Because after seeing him play on Saturday, she'd known with utter certainty that she couldn't shop him yet--if ever.
JP was a train wreck: fast when he should have been taking his time, catching the football either a moment too early or a millisecond too late. He had a great physique, but it didn't take much to get him panting.
Sure, she could run him until he dropped, make him start the day with weights and end it doing push-ups and sit-ups until he cried out for mercy. But it was more than conditioning that JP lacked. And frankly, Melissa wasn't at all sure that he had that special something.
The special something that Dominic had in spades.
She shouldn't think about him--it was pointless. She'd always love him beyond words, but she couldn't be with a man who wanted to control her.
Forcing herself to focus, Melissa picked up the phone and dialed JP's house. He wasn't home and didn't answer his cell phone either.
Great. Instead of working his ass off to become the best damn wide receiver in the country, he was probably out spending all the money he didn't have in expectation of a multimillion-dollar deal.
If JP hadn't been her only real client, she'd have fired him so fast his head would have spun.
The rest of the day, she made calls and sent emails to all the wide receivers the agency had ever worked with. She asked them what they thought set a great wide receiver apart from a good one, and the information they gave her was golden.
JP needed to run precise routes, have breakaway speed, and make catches even when he was double teamed. By the end of the day, Melissa had a plan for success. Now all she needed to do was find JP. And shove her plan down his pretty throat.
She had less than one wee
k to transform JP from a crap client to solid gold. Four and a half short days to work a miracle. If she pulled this off, her father would have to kiss her feet.
Although suddenly her father's opinion didn't matter nearly as much as it used to.
The phone rang, and when she picked up, Angie got straight to the point: "Your father needs to see you. Now."
Hadn't she told her father to leave her the hell alone for the next week?
"Fine," she said, ready to give her father a piece of her mind.
Her father pushed back in his seat when she walked in. "I've got some strange news. Bad news."
Her heart thumped. "Mom?"
"No. Your mother is fine. It's about Dominic."
She paused, her heart in her throat, trying to brace herself for her father's revelations. "What? What is it?"
"I just got a call from my friend at Sports Illustrated. One of their writers was doing a piece on the greatest heroes in football, and Dominic's name was on the list." Her father rubbed his hand over his face. "Evidently the writer unearthed some dirt on Dominic. Something from his past."
Dominic had been hiding something from her? From all of them? Her heart ached for him, even as she worked to bury her hurt at not being confided in.
"Did your friend say what it was?"
"No. And given that Dominic's on the verge of retirement, this is the time for him to be thinking about autobiographies, speaking tours, and motivational visits to high-school auditoriums. We all stand to lose big here, but Dominic most of all. You need to find out what the hell he's been hiding, and fast. Then fix it even faster."
Sweat dripped into Dominic's eyes and he pushed it away with the back of his hand. For the past forty-eight hours at seven thousand feet in Lake Tahoe, where the air was a hell of a lot thinner than it was at sea level in San Francisco, he'd pushed his body to the limit.
But he'd pushed JP harder.
JP was squatting on the grass, bent over his knees, dry-heaving. He'd thrown up everything in his system by noon. By late afternoon he was sniveling.
Though to be fair, JP hadn't cried uncle yet. He couldn't--not if he wanted to keep his pride intact.
Dominic grinned. Training JP had been a hell of a lot more fun than he'd expected. He was getting great pleasure from watching JP suffer.