Chapter Eight
“Hello, sweetheart.” His mother swept into his office and kissed his cheek. “Where did you find that gorgeous man outside your office?”
“Hayden’s my new PA.”
“So I’ve heard.” Her eyes danced. “Aren’t you smart? Makes coming to work so much more pleasurable.”
Cheeks burning, he snorted. “Mom, that’s ridiculous. First of all, didn’t you divorce Dad because of his affairs with all his secretaries? And second, Hayden is more than just a gorgeous man. He’s smart, quick, and—” At her smirk, he realized he’d fallen into her trap.
“All that and he’s been here how long? And while your father’s eyes wandered, along with the rest of his body parts, his affairs weren’t with the women who worked for the Kings. He had a weakness for cocktail waitresses, cheerleaders, and strippers. But back to you. I am glad to see you’ve decided to get some help. You need it.”
A knock at the door saved him from answering, and Hayden walked in with their lunches. “I have grilled chicken and fries for you, Mr. Winters, and grilled salmon over a salad for you, Mrs. Winters.”
“It looks delicious, Hayden. Thank you,” his mother answered with a smile. “Would you like to join us?”
Hayden shook his head. “Thank you very much for the invitation, but I have a lunch date. Enjoy.”
“Thanks, Hayden.” Armi took a fry and dipped it in ketchup…which promptly dripped on his pant leg.
“Dammit,” he swore. “I’m such a klutz.”
“Don’t worry,” Hayden rushed to reassure him. “I brought stain remover to the office just in case it happens to me. It’s not a big deal.”
Which Armi knew was a lie. Hayden wasn’t clumsy, and Armi had yet to see him less than perfectly put together, even at the end of the day.
Except that night in his apartment. Hayden writhed under him, a sweaty, disheveled mess, his mouth all swollen and his dick out.
Unaware of Armi’s filthy thoughts, Hayden busied himself.
“Let’s put some club soda on it until you give me your pants after lunch for the dry cleaner.” Hayden took a bottle from the refrigerator in the corner of the office, and after wetting the napkin, dabbed at the spot on his thigh. Their faces were close enough that Armi could see the faint shadow of Hayden’s stubble and count the constellation of freckles dusting his skin, making him look younger. Softer too, than the tough, hard image he projected.
Electricity sizzled in the air between them. Hayden’s eyes met his, and desire smoldered in those green depths. Armi’s breath hitched, and his heart thundered. Perhaps Hayden had realized he’d strayed too close to dangerous territory because he jerked his hand away.
“That’s good enough for now. I’d better get to my lunch date. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Winters.” Without waiting for a reply, Hayden fled.
“Well, that was quite a show.” His mother gazed at him thoughtfully.
“What does that mean?” With a napkin fully covering his lap and shirt up to the knot of his necktie, he cautiously cut his chicken breast and ate it.
“It means that your PA is as smitten with you as you are with him.”
He started laughing—and he couldn’t remember laughing so long and so hard. “I didn’t know you decided to become a comedian, Mom. Please, don’t lie to make me feel good. Hayden works for me. He’s paid to be nice.”
Talking about his shortcomings to his mother always brought out her anger, and today was no different. Her eyes flashed fire. “You’re a wonderful man who doesn’t realize everything he has to offer. You’re good-looking, intelligent, but most importantly, you’re a kind person who deserves someone who loves him to pieces.”
“And you’re prejudiced.”
“Why, because I’m your mother? I’m happy to list your faults as well.” Her eyes twinkled. “You’re disorganized, a little forgetful, and too free with your time and affection in the hopes that people will like you.”
“Gee, thanks. In other words, a patsy. Don’t worry. I already know.” His appetite fled, and he set his fork on the plate.
“Not a patsy. It’s never a negative to care about people, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. But a little too trusting and free with your heart? Yes.”
“Not lately. I haven’t had time for anything except learning the ropes here.”
She ate a bit of salmon and salad, before patting her lips with the napkin. “How did you come to hire Hayden?”
“Trevor. He and I talk every week, and I’d mentioned being overwhelmed. He reached out and said he knew of someone who could help me. Hayden became available because his former employer’s new wife took over his position. He came with stellar recommendations, so I decided why not?”
“Doesn’t hurt that he’s fabulous to look at either,” she murmured, and his face flamed.
“Mom,” he warned. “We have a strictly professional relationship.” He averted his eyes, and of course, his mother pounced.
“But there’s something else, isn’t there? I can tell you’re holding something back.”
As close as he and his mother were these days, Armi had no intention of revealing what happened.
“No. There’s nothing between us. At all. Can we eat our lunch, please?”
“Very well.” She picked up her fork, and Armi narrowed his eyes. Eloise Winters didn’t give up easily, but she kept to her word, and instead they discussed her charity work and his garden. He spoke of the path he was focusing on for the team, and she listened carefully. “That’s very altruistic, but you have to consider the bottom line.”
He huffed and tossed the napkin to the table. “Really? I thought you would understand what I’m trying to accomplish.”
She remained unperturbed. “I do, and I commend you for it. But you do need to remember that at the end of the day, this is a business. The team needs big names, not only from free agency, but from college players. While I love the idea of giving underserved colleges a chance, the focus needs to be on big names.”
“I understand. But there must be unknowns who are doing great in their schools and not getting the recognition.”
She thought a moment. “Find them, then. Send out junior scouts to those schools and have them report to you. But don’t ignore the moneymakers.”
“Father taught you well,” Armi noted with a smile. “You sound like Russell.”
“Well, they were attached at the hip. I often joked with Russell that he was closer to Randolph than I ever was.”
Recalling the odd signals he’d thought Russell had been sending him, Armi decided his mother would know better than anyone. “Let me ask you something.”
“What is it? And by the way, those roses are beautiful. Are they yours?”
“No, Hayden read online that I love roses and brought them for the office. Anyway,” he hurried on, seeing the gleam in her eyes, “was Russell ever married, or engaged?”
She cocked her head, seeming intrigued by his question. “No, not in the forty years I’ve known him. He was a serial dater—loved the chase but got bored once he caught them. I think he’s a confirmed bachelor.”
Which fit with his idea that Russell might be gay or bisexual but too afraid to admit it in the macho atmosphere of professional sports.
“Why?” she asked.
“No reason.” It wasn’t his place to comment on a feeling or hunch about someone’s sexuality. If Russell was in the closet, it was his decision when or if to open the door. “And I’ll take your opinion under advisement.”
“Oh, my. Such corporate speak. Looks like you’re acclimating pretty well to the position after all.”
He made a face. “Very funny. I hate to rush you out, but I have an interview tomorrow with a newspaper reporter. I need to prepare for it, plus I need to finish reading through the scouting reports.”
“I’ll leave you, then.” She gathered up her purse and rose to her feet. “Come by the apartment soon.”
“We never spoke about you, Mom. Are you getting out? How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He held his mother’s defiant gaze. “Anna.”
“Because she was pregnant? I didn’t care. Your father and I have been divorced for over thirty years. What he did had no bearing on me.”
“I just want you to know that you can talk to me, like you want me to talk to you.”
“That’s sweet, but I’m fine.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
Hayden wasn’t at his desk. Armi couldn’t help noticing the surface remained pretty bare of any personal items, and he wondered why.
He kissed his mother at the elevator, and while he wasn’t vain, he had to admit it was nice to see his name and not his father’s on the wall.
In his office, he dumped the remains of their lunch, and even with all the work waiting for him, he plugged Hayden’s name into his browser.
“Two can play this game, Hayden,” he muttered to himself. “You’re a puzzle I’d like to find all the pieces to.”
The usual résumé and connection to Kunoff Shipping popped up, but that was about it. Strange, as it seemed Hayden was a person who should’ve had a much more vibrant social-media presence. Instead, the opposite proved true. No funny posts or pictures with friends and family.
Nothing.
He searched a bit deeper, looking for public records, and came up with only a high school graduation date. Armi chewed his bottom lip. “Could he not have gone to college? Maybe he dropped out?” His mind worked fast and furious.
“Does it matter if he doesn’t have a degree?” Not to Armi. He knew what people called him behind his back, or when he gave money to the homeless on the street—trust-fund baby, bleeding heart, sucker—but he couldn’t unsee the great divide and knew how damn lucky he was. Maybe Hayden had climbed that ladder out of poverty and wanted to start fresh and clean.
“He has the right to live his life as he wants.”
Armi shut down the computer and picked up his phone. “Trevor?”
“Don’t tell me you’re calling about getting together for dinner this weekend?”
Dinner? Shit, he had forgotten. His gaze lit upon the sticky note on the side of his computer screen. “Yeah, of course,” he said a little too heartily, and Trevor snickered.
“That’s not what this call is about, is it?”
“Saturday night? How’s that sound?”
“Good. So what’s up?”
“It’s Hayden Porter. The PA you recommended?”
“Yeah, sure, what about him?” Trevor sounded surprised. “He’s working out, isn’t he? I heard he’s one of the best.”
“No, he’s doing great. Really helpful.” How to put this without sounding creepy or stalkerish… “Just, I never bothered to call any of his references because I hired him on the spot. I was wondering how much you knew about him.”
Papers shuffled in the background, and he heard the phones ringing. “Not much, actually. I took the info from Janice, whom I trust. Give her a call. Here’s her number.”
Armand jotted it down. “Thanks. I’m sure it’s all fine.”
“I am too. See you Saturday night. Seven thirty. Don’t forget,” he warned.
“I won’t. I promise.”
The call ended, and he stuck the sticky note with Janice’s number into his pocket and wrote one for dinner with Trevor, then tossed the other one out. While waiting for Hayden to return from his lunch, he pulled up articles Martin Price had written, but in the back of his mind, something about Hayden’s past didn’t sit right.