“Sort of. Even before, I’ve always donated to various charities.”
“Can I ask you something? Did you ever have a serious relationship?”
“Not exactly. For the longest time, I went with the flow, you know.”
She gave me an easy grin. “Hot soccer player surrounded by women? Can’t see why you wouldn’t. I can only imagine how much work you gave PR.”
I grimaced. “That’s an understatement.”
“Now I’m curious.”
“I don’t remember every incident, but there was a memorable one where someone wrote to the club saying she was pregnant, that it was my kid and she’d go to the press if they didn’t give her my contact info.”
“Jesus!”
“Yeah. Took us a while, and Hailey’s help to prove it was a lie. I didn’t even know her.”
“Is that what made you want to change your partying ways?”
&n
bsp; “No. It was before that. About a year ago, I decided to turn over a new leaf.”
Brooke pouted. “From your tone of voice, it sounds like it didn’t quite work out.”
“I started going out with this teacher. She seemed genuine... turned out she wasn’t. She’d just been hoping for a break into the music industry, and that she’d get it through me. I introduced her to a contact of mine. They hit if off real well. In the studio, and in bed.”
“Jace, I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“But now I have you, so none of that matters.”
She smiled shyly, kissing my jawline. “Shall we head back outside? I promised Paige I’d let her pick my brain a bit more.”
“Sure. We can go wherever you want afterward.”
She tilted her head, smiling. “Well, somewhere we can be alone so I can help you get rid of all that stiffness I saw today, as I promised, Mr. MVP.”
Fuck, could she be any sweeter? Brooke made to move, but I kept her in place, bringing my lips over hers, kissing her deeply, until she arched her hips forward, pressing herself against me. I tore my mouth away.
“Let’s get back out there, hot stuff, and hurry up with Paige. Countdown starts now.”
Chapter Eighteen
Brooke
Between the renegotiations with sponsors and helping out the events team, I was working overtime.
But then, so was everyone else. No one knew their elbow from their ass. Which was why, Monday morning, when a bouquet of flowers was delivered to my desk, Sheila and Veronica didn’t notice at first, despite their desks being close to mine. Then they pounced on me.
“Wait a second. These weren’t here earlier,” Sheila mentioned.
The girls from PR a few tables away also looked up from their computers, having noticed the commotion through the glass partitions.
“You’ve got an admirer—”
“Oh my God, you’ve got a guy who sends you flowers? Who is he?”
Before I could say anything, Veronica snatched the card.