Faery Surprising Read online

  “Aw, that’s sweet.”

  If it was so sweet, why did her toothy smile resemble that of a feeding shark?

  Her hand left his thigh. Whatever he said that made her remove it, he wished to hell he could take it back. Her delicate fingers danced over the keyboard and she hit enter with a perfunctory clack.

  “Did you need me for anything else, or did you just want to tell me how much you enjoyed getting into my pants?” he asked.

  Flora leaned back in her chair. He caught the flash of her tawny inner thigh as she crossed one long leg over the other. A few more inches and that snug little skirt would have shown him a much more appealing wedge.

  “Ian Tate, you’re flirting with me. Isn’t that cute?” A patronizing smile lifted her wine colored lips. “Deeks has rules about dating within the franchise.”

  “Harper! You’ve got Tilden scheduled for a meet and greet the same day I have him for a photo shoot.—Oh hey, Tate, whatcha doing up in the glassworks of the building?”

  Ian half turned on his perch. Bobby Sterling invaded the office. His bulldog body was the most subtle thing about him.

  After years of shouting plays on the field, his roughened voice still hurled words like they had to cross vast distances.

  Flora stiffened.

  Delicacy wasn’t Bobby’s strong suit. With the way Ian propped on her desk, he’d not only think she was fucking the talent, but he’d talk himself into being certain of it before the day ended. The wariness in her eyes told Ian he needed to speak sparingly until he’d worked things out or wind up with a pissed off raven-haired beauty.

  He followed her gaze and noticed that she chose to watch the swinging red lanyard and silver whistle as it bumped across Bobby’s pregnant gut. The reluctant smile that smoothed her lips made him wonder what she was thinking. Whatever it was, the change in her expression was endearing.

  “Hi, Bobby,” Ian answered, keeping his eyes trained on her.

  “I see you’ve met the resident beauty queen. Or has she asked you to her office for a private introduction?” Bobby quipped, chuckling at his own joke.

  Her nostrils flared slightly, but otherwise her expression held bored caution.

  “Leave the nice lady alone,” Ian soothed. “I think you’re wrong about her.”

  “Don’t let her looks fool you. She’s a vulture.” Bobby Sterling slapped a fax on her desk, pyramiding his fingers on the paper as though to hold it down. “Move him,” he told her.

  Flora leaned forward, her chair clicking as she changed positions. She looked down at the fax, then disregarded it. “No.”

  “Move him. He’s scheduled for a fucking photo shoot with Dorian Gray.”

  “I assume Dorian Gray is important from the emphasis you place on his name?” she asked.

  Bobbie nodded. “Yeah, fucking damn important.”

  “More important than the charity auction for St. Jude’s hospital?” she asked. Ian detected the patronizing lilt. Bobby saying yes would make him a dickhead.

  “A photo is forever, Harper. Fucking forever. You wouldn’t have a charity auction worth shit if I didn’t promote the sonofabitch in the first place.” Bobby almost whined his retort. He seemed to know he’d lost this one.

  “Reschedule,” Flora said on a shrug. She turned her attention to the computer. “If Dorian Gray is such a big shot, he’ll get to say that he magnanimously moved his schedule around to accommodate children’s cancer research. Celebrities eat that up.”

  Bobby grunted. He stood, leaving the fax. “Take Tate with you instead of Tilden. Give him exposure.”

  “I’ll go,” Ian said, easily. “I like kids.”

  Flora eyed him suspiciously. “You have kids?”

  “No.”

  “Nieces? Nephews?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “You spend a lot of free time with kids, do you?” she asked.

  Ian shifted uncomfortably. “Well…”

  “I see. You like the bedroom sport scrimmages for making kids, so long as the seed doesn’t take. Sorry, Tate, that doesn’t qualify you.”

  “He doesn’t need to qualify. He’s a new player and it will show goodwill to the community,” Bobby argued.

  Flora sighed. “I’m not getting either of you out of my office anytime soon, am I?”

  “No,” Bobby and Ian said simultaneously, then bumped each other’s fists.

  “First you want me to pull Tilden. Now you want me to add Tate,” she said.

  “Tate doesn’t have a photo shoot,” Bobby argued.

  “There’s a reason for that. Tate hasn’t earned local trust. He played for the Gimlets, our rival team. Tilden is a hero around here. The representatives from St. Jude’s need the kind of turnout he’d bring.”

  “I have fans,” Tate said. He didn’t like the defensiveness of his words, but the way her eyes flicked over him, licked across his lips, was worth it.

  “C’mon, Harper. Do me a solid and I’ll return the favor sometime,” Bobby promised.

  She looked at Bobby. “No.”

  “Tate needs to get seen.”

  Ian could almost see her thinking. Flora Harper certainly wasn’t a pushover. Ian not only crowded her space on one side, but Bobby’s dogged presence and scowling face wasn’t easy for most men to stare down. But was she a blackmailer?

  Flora calmly checked her watch. Her phone rang mutedly four times before likely being transferred to voice mail. She didn’t flinch and barely blinked.

  Ian folded his arms over his chest. There was something innately sexy about Flora’s confidence. She didn’t have to flaunt it, although the cut of her clothes certainly delineated every one of her luscious curves to perfection. For a moment, he imagined her sitting in that chair, naked but for her high heels.

  His cock hardened.

  “I have a win-win suggestion for you,” she said to Bobby, finally.

  Bobby’s shoulders tightened. Ian could tell her considering silence had shaken the older man’s nerve a little. His expression no longer held certainty, but seemed more submissive to whatever she would finally concede.

  “I’ll take Tate and Tilden to the charity event. Tate will get seen with Tilden and a positive association will be derived from their joint and amicable partnership for St. Jude’s. And you can get Dorian Gray to write off the missed appointment as a charitable donation for the benefit of St. Jude’s and reschedule him in the process. Everyone looks good. Take it or leave it.” She folded her hands over her keyboard, her expression stony.

  Ian grinned, feeling his chest expand with pride.

  Bobby frowned. “Include Tate in every public appearance throughout pre-season and it’s a deal.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you up to, Sterling?”

  “Goddamn it! I’m fucking doing your job for you, Harper. I just fucking gave you one of our guys for limitless use and agreed to let you keep Tilden. Fucking mastermind that one for me and see what motive I might have. I’m the damn promotional guy! I’m promoting them!”

  “And giving you additional access to the team for the fundraisers. I can practically smell the new locker room. Can’t you?” Ian teased, reminding her of the last time they’d met.

  “Community welfare, first,” she told Ian. Her gaze met Bobby’s. “I’ll take Tate. You keep Tilden free for Saturday. Tate is mine throughout pre-season and while he’s getting adjusted to the new fan base, you free up a first-string for each meet until I decide he’s good on his own.”

  “Fucking chess player,” Bobby muttered. “Fine. Fucking fine. First-string, first born, first anything else?” he spat.

  “Oh. Sterling, you charmer. You’re too old for a first-born,” she tossed back. “Stop your barking and get out of my office. I have a meeting in ten.”

  Bobby’s face reddened and his eyes bulged, still he managed to keep his tongue in check. He left the office looking angrier than when he arrived. Ian waited for his steps to fade before he blew out a pent up breath.

 
; “Wow. I’ve never seen anyone face that man down like you just did. That was amazing.”

  Flora’s brows raised and she dipped a look at his lap. “Oh, honey, I’m way out of your league. Why don’t you run along and go tackle something you have a chance at catching.”

  Chapter Three

  Sweat stung his eye. Ian blinked, cleared his vision. The sound of his labored breathing echoed within the confines of his helmet, and despite the wide upper curve, his peripheral vision kept him from seeing his teammates.

  They were there. He trusted it. He knew it.

  Focusing on the defensive team, Ian crouched along the line of scrimmage. He leaned in, hands at the ready.

  “Forty-two, hut, hut!” he shouted.

  Filsguard snapped the ball neatly and Ian jogged backward into the pocket, assuming the offense were doing their job. Ball at his chest, Ian looked for the opening. Johnson hooked to the right. Bing went long, his legs stretching, eating up the field with Holland close on his back.

  Ian cocked his arm, ready to throw. Out of nowhere, grubby fingers grabbed the black bars of his faceguard and jerked him roughly to the side. Ian’s head followed. A steamroller barreled into his side and took him to the ground.

  His head was still ringing when Valstet crawled off him, helped him up, and smacked Ian’s ass in a stinging camaraderie.

  “Facemask, Schwartz. How many times do I have to tell you? If you’re going to risk a fucking penalty, don’t get fucking caught with obvious shit like that!” Coach Wilks blew his whistle, again. “Ten yards, first down.”

  The defense grumbled. One of them yelled at coach for a five yarder.

  “Fifteen and first. Any more complaints? Want to make it twenty?” Coach demanded. “This is my field.”

  From the seats, a flash of dark red caught Ian’s attention. Damn. A man couldn’t concentrate with Flora Harper watching. Not in that slip of a something. If he pulled the tail of the ribbon on her hip, it looked like her whole dress would fall open. All that golden, smooth skin spread out on deep red—

  “Tate! Get your ass back on the line! Coach ain’t gonna be chattin’ for long with Sterling,” Bing warned.

  “Sorry. That woman can make me forget anything,” Ian joked with a glance at Bing.

  Bing looked toward the seats and gave Ian a strange look. “What woman?”

  “Harper,” he answered, nodding to where he’d seen her last. She’d disappeared. “Hnh. She was there a minute ago.”

  “Yeah, man, sure she was.” Bing’s white teeth flashed against his dark skin. He shoved the tooth guard into his mouth and took off for the line of scrimmage.

  Ian jogged with him, shooting looks toward the empty stands. She’d have had to sprint in her heels to reach either exit. Somehow he couldn’t see her doing that. Where had she gone?

  Coach blew the whistle. Ian crouched in position. He’d think about it later, when he had time to imagine her body wrapped in a red, ribbon-tied dress. Right now he had several tons of muscle itching to put him on the bottom of a pile.

  “Hut! Hut!”

  ———

  Flora teetered as the floor changed under her feet from stadium concrete to cheep flooring. The elevator doors dinged open. She clutched her handheld computer and walked shakily toward her office. At least she’d transported back to an empty elevator.

  Thinking about the meeting she’d just finished with Mr. Deeks, team manager, and the scheduling of his players had unavoidably meant she was thinking about Ian Tate. His schedule was wide open for the Gladiators Make a Difference program. It was either great news or terrible news. It meant Tate shadowing her on the job would happen simply by emailing him an appointment time and location. He’d have to show up.

  Sterling had gotten to Baxter already. He’d made sure the whole thing was official. Binding, in fact.

  Flora cringed. The document-happy manager had drawn up the agreement. Flora had acknowledged that she would utilize Tate as frequently as possible in order to increase his likability in a market hostile to his former team.

  So she’d signed. Right underneath Ian Tate’s stretched signature.

  Sterling sure had snapped up the deal. The speed at which he worked almost made her suspect that he’d gained the upper hand in her scheme when she was pretty sure she had. Still, first-string support throughout the pre-season and Tilden at the meet and greet in two days was a coup.

  Sterling could chuckle about his win all he wanted. She had exactly what she needed to show the board: an amazing compilation of charity work and fundraising opportunities. She could expect a healthy bonus.

  Flora wiggled the mouse to wake up her screen, and pulled up her calendar. Several new alerts blinked at her for attention, but her mind returned to puzzle out Sterling’s potential for a hidden agenda.

  Using Tate didn’t pan out badly for Sterling, either. The new guy would get great promo by working with her.

  Flora shook her head, distractedly. What did he have to gain from it? Why did Sterling care about the success of one player over the others? Time had shown that the acquisition of a single player didn’t hurt the overall game attendance, so long as the team stayed in the forefront of the fans’ minds.

  Tate was an aging quarterback. In football years, thirty-six was at the tail end of his career. So why fuss over him? They still had Bristol as the primary quarterback. Tate should have been an afterthought.

  She accepted an appointment for the following week and sent a confirmation email to her mother’s party invitation the following Sunday. She’d promised to show up. Both her sisters had too.

  Her eyes settled on Tate’s publicity shot, obviously dropped off while she’d stepped away. Why Tate?

  Then again, there was the team animosity. Sterling had to look out for potential threats to their publicity. Picking up a quarterback from the Gimlets would qualify.

  Flora sat at her desk. Leaning over it only made her feet and back ache. She had nowhere to be for a while, either, so she might as well settle in. Dragging open a drawer, she reached inside for a hair clip. Catching her hair at the nape, she twisted it up and clipped it against her head. Cooler office air touched her nape and she sighed.

  The day turned to dusk as she worked. She barely noticed when the stadium lights dropped from bright to security level. She had a few more offers to work through and then she could call it a night.

  “Goodnight, Ms. Harper,” someone called as he passed her office.

  “Goodnight,” she answered automatically.

  Co-workers came and went. The elevator dinged. Flora kept working, rearranging events and researching requests for support. Silence lengthened the minutes until she began composing her last email.

  “Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?”

  Tate’s voice washed over her like warm sunshine. Her fingers froze over her keyboard in much the same manner as her brain froze on the thought she had meant to type.

  He slipped into her inner sanctuary. She was certain that if she looked up, he’d be smiling at her in a way that would charm every womanly cell in her body.

  “I’m busy, Tate,” she said, keeping her eyes on her screen.

  “I saw you in the stadium this afternoon. Taking a break, or looking for inspiration?”

  “Neither.” Actually, she’d been riding down the elevator from the top level of office suites and thinking about the impressive rise in his pants.

  Then, wouldn’t you know it, she popped out. It had been quick, transporting a second time within seconds of her first. She didn’t have flashbacks often, but the double risk of exposure kept her on edge. As if disappearing weren’t bad enough, but popping up in another area far away and then popping back in again was a hazard she’d rather not have.

  “You disappeared,” he said, softly.

  Flora’s breath caught. He’d seen that?

  “I looked away for a second and, by the time I looked back, you were gone. Must’ve been in a hurry.”

&n
bsp; Relief flooded her, released the captive breath. “Mm-hm.”

  What was the name of the organization I wanted to reference? She stared at the blinking cursor. He needed to leave. She’d never get home at this rate.

  "So where’d you disappear to?” he asked.

  “The elevator,” she muttered. “Mr. Tate, is there something I can help you with? I’m trying to end my work day.”

  “Nope. Just saw the light in your office from the field and thought I’d catch you before you go.”

  Flora mustered a guarded smile. “Do I need catching, Mr. Tate?”

  “Somebody ought to be lucky enough to catch you, Ms. Harper.”

  “And that someone is you?”

  “Might as well be.”

  “Do I strike you as the kind of woman who needs a man to catch her?” she asked.

  “I’d certainly like to be there when you decide to let go,” he murmured huskily.

  She couldn’t help but smile in earnest. Discretely, she crossed her legs beneath her desk and lowered her hands to her lap. The look he gave her oozed sexual promise and knowledge. Her body recognized it and wanted it.

  The Beastmaster had been an unsuccessful attempt, and since then, she couldn’t touch herself without remembering the way Ian’s gaze had lingered on her pussy. That one memory made her come too quickly every time.

  Her feminine flesh tickled as moisture seeped into her panties.

  “Letting go would get me fired. As good as you seem to think you are, it isn’t worth my job,” she said.

  “Fraternization within the franchise,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Then why don’t I wait until you’re done here and at least walk you to your car?”

  Flora stood and moved around her desk. She reached for his biceps and steered him toward the door at a slow, congenial rate. “Mr. Tate, I realize that you’re a big strong man and therefore it’s a foreign concept to you that a woman can take care of herself. However, I’ll give you two guesses about what suspicions might be drawn from a late night walk to my car.”

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

  Her jaw tightened and she felt an answering throb to her temples. “You are making nothing out of my urgent desire to keep my job.” They reached the threshold. “Goodnight.”