Game for Anything (Bad Boys of Football 1)

She had taken the job, gone to his house, let him take her clothes off all because she wanted to be with him again. She'd been so desperate for more sex with him that she'd been perfectly willing to give up all of the principles by which she lived her life. Just like the first time.

How was it that five seconds with Ty made her lose hold of everything she was? Everything she'd worked so hard to build?

And worse, why did she want nothing more than to have him here with her, in her bed, making her call out his name? Especially when she'd vowed never to be in the same room with him ever again?

Ty was bored. Strip clubs had been a lot of fun when he was twenty-one, but as the years went by, he felt more and more like a dirty old man watching young dancers shimmy in their G-strings and tassels. He'd had more than his fair share of groupies, stuffed twenties into countless G-strings. The women's faces all started to blur together after a while.

Still, he tried to look like he was having a good time. After all, that was the whole point of tonight. He'd called his friends and told them to meet him at the Hustler Club. It was imperative that he be surrounded by a party and plenty of naked women, that people got drunk enough to whip out their cell phones and take pictures of him.

Somebody would try to make some money off the shot, and then he'd have Julie right where he wanted her.

Until then, he supposed he'd have to keep stuffing dollar bills into the dancers' G-strings, maybe even get a lap dance or two, make some personal sacrifices just to keep up the ruse.

He grinned, already looking forward to seeing her bright and early tomorrow morning in Bobby's office.

The phone rang at 7:00 A.M., waking Julie out of a deep sleep. Saturday was the only day she allowed herself to sleep later than sunrise. But since she hadn't actually fallen asleep until what felt like a few minutes ago, she was completely disoriented when she picked up the phone.

A southern drawl was the last thing she expected. "Ms. Spencer?"

She quickly sat up in bed, pushed her hair back from her face. No way could the new owner of the Outlaws calling her bright and early on a Saturday morning be a good thing. She swallowed past the sawdust in her mouth.

"Speaking."

"I believe I hired you to reform the finest player on my team?"

What had Ty done? Because whatever it was, she had to hand it to him: He'd gotten the big guns to come out shooting.

Right at her chest.

"Yes, sir," she said. "Mr. Calhoun and I met briefly yesterday to go over our preliminary plan."

"Did your plan include late-night visits to strip clubs, my dear?"

Strip clubs? Oh, God! Shock and hurt hit her square across the chest. He'd gone from her nearly naked body straight to a stranger's naked body.

She knew she didn't mean anything to him, but it hurt to have it slap her in the face.

Before she managed to get her brain around a reply, he said, "We're in my office waiting for you. Aren't we, Mr. Calhoun?"

From a distance, she heard Ty call out, "Hey, Julie. You missed a real fun time last night."

His nerve was almost as enormous as his ego.

"I'm on my way," she bit out, but the phone was already dead in her hands.

While she set a speed record for showering, getting dressed, and putting on makeup, Julie imagined all the different ways she could murder Ty. But nothing she could think of was either gory enough or involved enough prolonged torture to suit her.

She wanted blood and by God, she was going to get it.

CHAPTER NINE

Good morning, sunshine."

The smile that Julie pinned on her face nearly disintegrated in the face of Ty's cheerful,

too-gorgeous-for-his-own-good-and-hers-too greeting.

After a night of carousing, it just wasn't fair that he should look so good. He was still an irresistible bundle of muscles and heat, his long tanned fingers stroking the arm of his chair, as if he wished he was caressing skin rather than cold leather.

At least she presented a pretty picture in front of her nemesis and the very powerful, rather unattractive man who'd hired her to perform a miracle. She'd known plenty of men like Bobby Wilson--men who prided themselves on wielding power in the most distressing way possible. Without fail, the women who bested these men were not simply beautiful to a fault, they were feminine and ever-gracious as well.

Her blouse was appealing without being overtly sexy, and if ever there was a time for the little pink skirt that swished around her knees and the shoes with the cute bows on the back of the heel, this meeting was it.

"I sure hope I didn't disturb your beauty sleep, Ms. Spencer," Bobby said.

Julie didn't believe him for one second. He would love to know that he'd wrecked her entire life with his phone call.

"It was a pleasure to hear from you," she said, letting her hand be enveloped by his damp one.

Bobby's handshake was limp, like a dead fish. Lovely.

She turned her smile up brighter, confident in her ability to charm the team's owner. Ty wasn't the only one with charisma in his corner. The difference was, she carefully chose who to dole it out to.

"Please, have a seat," Bobby said, gesturing to an upholstered seat that was far too close to Ty for Julie's liking. But then, the same state was too close for comfort where he was concerned.

She sat down and crossed her legs, far more pleased at the blatant appreciation in Ty's eyes than she should have been. Although she'd dressed to impress Bobby, she wasn't averse to Ty drooling over her--and all the things he was never going to get to touch and kiss again--as well.

Bobby looked between Julie and Ty. "Well, if the two of you aren't the prettiest pair outside of a Miss America contest."

Julie was disconcerted. Was there any way to graciously deflect that?

Ty said, "Come on now, boss, we both know I don't hold a candle to Julie."

Damn it, he wasn't supposed to compliment her, defending her from his horrible boss as well.

Bobby sat on the edge of his antique desk, which creaked beneath him. "Too bad I couldn't have met you under nicer circumstances, Ms. Spencer."

Her heart thumped in alarm, but Julie was a pro at presenting an outwardly calm demeanor. With quiet patience, she waited for Bobby to continue.

"You see, pretty lady, I believed that hiring you as this young stud's image consultant meant that my days of dealing with his embarrassing public displays of affection for well-endowed young ladies had come to an end."

She nodded. "Of course you did."

"I'm nothing if not a fair man," he said. "That's why I'm happy to give you a chance to explain what caused these pictures to be taken last night."

He handed her a stack of

pages printed from various internet gossip sites. In each and every one of them, Ty was cavorting with women with impossibly large breasts and small waists.

Ty leaned over the arm of his seat to look at the pictures. "My hair is getting kind of long, don't you think? Might need to get a trim soon."

Was he fucking kidding her? She'd nearly let him have sex with her yesterday at his house, and now that she was looking at pictures of him with other naked women, did he truly expect her to calmly sit there and comment on his hair?

Fine. Two could play that game. "I'm sure these women could give you tips on how to deal with unwanted hair."

He sat back looking extremely smug. "I've always appreciated a good Brazilian."

Julie's face flamed before she could stop it. There was no point in making excuses to her new boss; it was always better to tell the truth in impossible-client situations like this. "I'm afraid, Mr. Wilson, that Mr. Calhoun is a bit of a wild card."

Bobby nodded, clearly pleased by her pronouncement. "Why don't you just say what we're all thinking? He's a disaster."

Ty interrupted. "We're not all thinking that."

Julie smiled sweetly and looked at Ty. "Oh yes, we are."

"Now, darlin'," Bobby continued, "if you don't have the skills to keep this wild child of mine under control, then you might as well resign right now."

Never. Julie had always completed each and every assignment beautifully. No problem was too big, no personality too outlandish for her to shine up and present to the public as a new man or woman. But she knew simply stating her case wouldn't matter to a cretin like Bobby. She'd have to utilize her "pretty" card.

She slowly re-crossed her legs, letting her skirt hike up a slight bit, then moved her ankle up, then down, doing her Christian Louboutin heels proud.

She let her voice go a little breathless. "Now, Mr. Wilson, we both know I have no intention of resigning from this account."

Unsurprisingly Bobby's eyes didn't make it much farther than her thighs.

She continued, "From this moment forward, you can count on me to be personally responsible for Ty's reputation. I will guard it as if it were my own."