Game for Anything (Bad Boys of Football 1)

Bobby waved away her offer. "A lovely offer, but unnecessary. Why don't you both sit down."

Julie was amazed by how quickly Bobby took control of everyone around him. She felt like an intruder in her own house, like she should see herself out when he was done reading her the riot act.

She sat down on the hardest chair in her living room and primly crossed her legs, keeping her expression warm but closed. She wasn't stupid enough to frame herself for high crimes and mis-demeanors. Ty, of course, flopped down on her sofa and kicked his legs up.

Not a care in the world, that was always his game.

Bobby looked utterly at ease. "It's come to my attention," he said, "that you are no longer a man about town, Ty."

Ty grinned. "Julie's making an honest man out of me."

Julie bit down on the inside of her lip. Anything she'd say now would only make it worse. Maybe if she just sat here and smiled, everything would play out fine between Ty and his boss.

And maybe cows would start flying soon.

"Hard to believe a smart gal like you would fall for a pro ballplayer," he said to her. "Especially my number one boy over here."

"You must not know Ty very well," she retorted, unable to toe the party line for the first time in her career. "He's more than just a ballplayer. More than just a commodity."

Bobby looked back and forth between the two of them and smiled widely.

"True love is a blessed thing."

Julie glanced at Ty, shocked to find him nodding, even though he'd sworn his love to her just twelve hours ago.

"Sure is," he said and Julie forced herself to smile.

Bobby stood up. "I feel much better about everything now that I've confirmed the rumors about the two of you."

Julie stood and smoothed her skirt, more than happy to see Bobby to the door. That hadn't been bad at all. He hadn't yelled at her or fired her.

He stepped out into the hallway, then turned to face her with one final thought.

"But I hired you to clean up my boy's reputation, not to use him as your personal boy toy. Couldn't be better timing, making an honest man out of him before the season starts. I'll expect to see the announcement of your engagement ASAP."

Julie watched him walk away, trying to catch her breath.

In one short week, her entire world had imploded. Then again, she'd never been in such an intense relationship, one that overshadowed everything else.

The last thing she expected to see upon returning inside was Ty on her living room carpet doing an impossibly fast set of push-ups. She'd watched him work out in the gym for a week now, but he'd never moved with such intensity and speed.

He was panting loudly and his shirt was soaked with sweat, but he didn't let up, didn't stop moving even though his lungs and muscles had to be on fire.

Sweet Lord, he was the sexiest thing to ever drip on her carpet.

Ty glanced up at her. "Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One hundred." He rolled over onto his back and curled his legs into his chest as he sucked in air. "I'm afraid the push-ups didn't work. I'm still going to have to kill the bastard."

Julie had to ask, even though she didn't really want to know the answer. "Why?"

Ty rolled out of the fetal position and grabbed her hand, pulling her down on the rug with him.

"I don't give a shit if he treats me like a two-year-old. But like hell if he's going to ever disrespect you again."

Julie shook her head. "It doesn't bother me," she lied. "Sometimes clients like to feel like they're smarter than you, like they have the upper hand. It's no big deal."

But it was. Julie never would have put up with this kind of treatment from anyone else. The worst part was, deep down she knew exactly why she was letting herself play doormat: because the only other choice--resigning from the account with her pride intact--wasn't a choice at all.

Not if it meant sending Ty back to his old life and returning to hers.

"We're not going to get married because some power-hungry ass wipe told us to," he said.

Julie tilted her head down, stared at a piece of lint and worked like hell to fight back the sudden tears pooling behind her eyes.

"Of course we're not. He's just talking crazy."

They weren't going to get married. Not this week or next year. She knew that, had always known it. So why was she getting so upset about it?

Ty ripped off his damp shirt, balled it up, and threw it on the coffee table.

"I'm saying this all wrong, Julie."

Desperate to lighten the tension in the room, she said, "You did the right thing, not killing him. I don't know how much football they let you play in prison."

He grinned, but it was gone in a flash. "I don't give a crap about football right now. We need to talk about us. About getting married."

Her breath caught in her throat.

"When I ask you to marry me, it sure as hell isn't gong to be because my boss made me."

When I ask you to marry me? Thank God she was sitting down.

"You and 1 need to settle this, figure out what we're doing," Ty continued. "Bobby's right about one thing: We need a game plan."

He was right. They needed a game plan not only for their private relationship, but their public one as well.

She needed to start working things out on paper. Which media outlets to call, which writer to give an exclusive to, an emergency meeting with her staff to fill them in and let them know the official comment.

She jumped up. "Before you or I talk to anyone else, I need to draft a press release and get it out."

Ty smiled. "Looks like the image consultant I love has found her way back into the building."

"I'll be in my office." How could she have forgotten for one second that she had the skills to turn things around? "Be sure to make a list of everyone who leaves you a phone message this morning."

Ty grabbed an OJ out of the fridge, his cell phone up to his ear as he checked his voice mails. "Strange days when people go crazy about me dating a nice girl," he said.

In any other case, Julie would have agreed. But she was no ordinary nice girl, just like he was no regular bad boy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ty punched in his voice mail access code. He hadn't recognized the number on the screen, but he wouldn't put it past most of the journalists he knew to call for a firsthand scoop on his new relationship.

The canned voice said, "You have three messages," and he took a long swig of juice. He was looking for a pen to start making Julie a list when he realized a kid was talking, not an adult.

"Urn, hi, this is a message for Ty. He said I could call him if I needed to. This is Jack, from camp. I really need to talk to him."

Message two: "Urn, I really need to talk to Ty. Bad. This is Jack from camp. I'm in big trouble."

Message three was mostly sniffles along with, "This is Jack again and I'm at the hospital in Palo Alto and I really need Ty. They told me I can't call him again."

Ty scrolled through his cell phone's menu to access the number Jake had called him from, but it was listed as "Withheld."

He grabbed a clean shirt and jammed it into his jeans, then stepped into Julie's office.

"I gotta go."

She barely looked up from her computer.

"You can't. Not until I send this out and we go over our official press statement."

"That kid from camp, Jack, is in the hospital in Palo Alto. I told him to call me if he needed help. He called. I'll bet they can't find his drunk-ass dad."

Julie stood up. "I'm coming with you."

"I don't need a babysitter. I'm not going to do anything that'll get more bad press."

"I know you don't need a babysitter," she said in such a gentle voice that Ty felt like a jerk. "I was thinking you might need a girlfriend instead."

He pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't." She pressed a kiss onto his lips. "Let's go."

The thirty-minute drive felt mo

re like three days, and Ty got some insight into what it must be like to be a parent. He hoped like hell that Jack was okay and that his father hadn't already shown up to make things worse.

Inside the hospital, Julie scanned the map on the wall. "Let's check pediatrics first."

He followed Julie onto the elevator, keeping his head down. No eye contact with strangers was crucial; he didn't have time to sign autographs and bullshit about football.

Jack was sitting in a blue chair in the corner of the pediatric waiting room, his head hung so low his chest was crammed up against his chest.

"Hey, buddy."

Jack looked up at the sound of his voice, then he wiped away a tear running down his cheek. "You came."