Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” Diana Jenison asked, staring at the marketing director like he’d just asked her to take a dive over Niagara Falls.
Without the barrel.
“Head down to the practice field, get some footage of the new linebacker. Put together a press release and get it sent out. You know, your job.”
She didn’t take offense to his tone. They were friends as well as coworkers.
He had played professional ball for six years before retiring and putting his college degree to use by taking a job on the admin side of the game.
And she knew this had traditionally been a man’s sport, on the admin side as well as out on the field.
Jeff Sandusky was used to talking gruffly with guys who sometimes needed their heads knocked together for them to do their jobs.
She waited one, two…
Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head over his desk. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“Sorry. You’re damn good at what you do, Diana. I would never question that.”
“I know. And anyway, that’s not what I’m talking about.” She shook her head. “I need you to tell me the name of the new linebacker. Again.”
“Amil Halsted,” he said with a quick glance at his computer screen. “Trade with the 49ers. We gave them Cooper Hamilton and a draft pick, and we got the guy who famously caused Jalen’s fumble.”
Cooper Hamilton was a wide receiver. Decent stats but nowhere near as good as Jalen.
The 49ers had probably wanted Jalen, and honestly, that would have made this trade a thousand times easier, since everybody knew Jalen and Amil did not get along.
The number of reels and clips out there on social media, snippets of their smack-talking on the field, was becoming the stuff of legends.
Clips of Jalen’s first fumble of his professional career? Even more so.
Luckily for the Mountain Lions, Jalen was convinced his success was tied to Dante Kelley’s throwing arm, so prying him away from the team would have cost more than the 49ers would have been willing to offer.
Honestly, it made sense to recruit Amil. He was damn good at his job. One of the best in the industry right now. He was also far, far too good at getting under Jalen’s skin.
Jalen, in return, disliked the man with the heat of a thousand suns, and Diana did not think that animosity would dull just because they were suddenly playing for the same team.
Especially since she was all too aware of the reason behind that animosity.
Diana had zero interest in anything remotely resembling a long-term commitment. She liked the rule she’d had since the first time she had sex. She had zero reason to change and every reason to maintain the status quo.
And the guys she slept with had also been happy with the status quo.
Until she and Jalen had gotten drunk at Jillian and Pedro’s Las Vegas wedding and had tumbled into bed together. It had been exactly like every other one-night stand she’d ever had.
Except she’d been so drunk, she’d forgotten to lay out the ground rules up front. She’d not made it clear to Jalen that she did not do repeats.
When she woke up the next morning with a raging headache and Jalen still in her bed, she’d realized her mistake and tried to gently explain that it had been fun, but that was all it was—a temporary good time.
What happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas, right?
Not according to Jalen.
Apparently, he had been crushing on her for a while before they hooked up, and he’d viewed their tryst as the potential starting point of a wonderful relationship.
Diana didn’t do relationships, a tidbit of information Jalen had not appreciated hearing. Since the wedding, he’d simultaneously tried to convince her to give him a shot, a real shot, while also being jealous every time her gaze happened to stray in some other man’s direction.
The fling with Amil five months later should have been a secret—sleeping with the enemy and all that—except when he left her hotel room the next morning, she decided she wanted a coffee from the station in the lobby, so they hopped into the elevator together.
And maybe they sort of lost control and started making out like they hadn’t just banged themselves silly for most of the previous night.
When the door slid open, Jalen had been standing there, a coffee in his hand. The moment his gaze fell on Diana’s swollen lips and face rash from Amil’s stubble, he’d known.
He’d known.
And he’d been fairly fucked up since.
Probably because Amil had used that moment as a weapon out on the field, baiting Jalen, getting into his head. Messing with his mojo.
The worst part—even worse than videos of Jalen’s fumble being viral internet fodder—was the fact that Diana wished she could go out with Amil again.
That man had mad skills in the bedroom, and two years ago, she’d reveled in every single one of them. The best one-night stand she’d ever had, hands down.
Too bad that was all it would ever be.
She didn’t do seconds, although with Amil…
No. Stop.
Staying away from Amil, she supposed, was likely a solid first step in helping the two men create the sort of bond needed to set them up for a Super Bowl win.
Back-to-back Super Bowls. Yeah, it had a nice ring to it.
Two rings, haha.
Sighing, she made her way out to the practice field, phone at the ready to capture video and still footage of their new linebacker.
The team was already practicing when she arrived.
She’d be able to put off what was sure to be a very awkward greeting when she and Amil came face-to-face.
She was well aware that she could not avoid him forever, but she’d be okay with a few more days.
Maybe by then she would figure out how to tame her absolutely feral hormones.
Watching him sprint up and down the field, getting sweatier and sweatier, his leg muscles becoming sharper right before her eyes was certainly not helping her plight.
Damn it, why did he have to be so good in bed?
More to the point, why had the owners decided to make this trade so that he now was part of the team she worked for?
She interacted with most of the players on this team on a daily basis.
She hung out with them socially. One of her besties from college, Allison Holt, was engaged to Dante Kelley, the team’s quarterback.
Royce Kacey, their starting center, was engaged to Morgan Gentry, a famous actor and also one of Diana’s dearest friends.
Jillian Stanton, who was married to Pedro Torres, their top offensive tackle, was also a bestie.
Not to mention the guys themselves. Broderick, Callahan, Gunner—yeah, she had a lot of friends on this team. If Amil started hanging with any of them—and get real, he would if he intended to bond with his new team—that meant she and Amil were going to hang…together.
At least there was one silver lining. Given their one-night stand was two years ago and Amil hadn’t once tried to get in touch with her since, that meant he wasn’t anything like Jalen. He wasn’t hoping for more.
Hell, he probably didn’t even remember her. While the idea stung on the surface, honestly, it was the best-case scenario.
There was a cluster of administrative folks hovering together near where the team photographer was lying on the ground behind his camera, presumably grabbing action shots of the team practicing.
She could have just used some of his shots for her social media announcements, but he was protective of his photography and didn’t like to share.
Which was definitely weird, because weren’t they on the same team?
Wouldn’t he prefer her to use his super-awesome shots instead of her own more candid and less sharp images?
Not to mention, what was the purpose of him getting paid to take pictures if not to share with the public?
She tucked herself behind the folks who were standing there discussing Amil’s moves, Jalen’s receiving abilities, Dante’s throwing arm.
Hopefully, she could hide out back here for a bit, grab a few pics, then head inside.
She had Amil’s bio and the official press release that had already gone out.
She could pull whatever she needed from those documents.
She didn’t need to actually talk to the man to post about him on social media.
She knew how to hype the new guy. She’d been doing it for nearly six seasons. Ever since this expansion team started.
Sprints were done and the guys moved on to sit-ups while the coach counted down.
She ought to move, get a close-up of Amil clenching his teeth, sweat rolling off his muscles as he kept a steady pace and showed no exhaustion whatsoever, but by the time she worked herself up to doing it, they’d moved on.
Coach was splitting the guys between offense and defense and special teams.
And damn it, the quarterbacks and receivers were here on the field closest to her.
She needed to move to the middle field, where the defensive players were practicing with the tackle dummies.
A couple of shots of Amil beating the shit out of a tackle dummy and she could call it good and take off before practice ended and he (possibly) attempted to speak to her.
She reminded herself that he probably wouldn’t. That he viewed their tryst as exactly what it was: a one-night stand. A hell of a spectacular one, but still, a one-night stand.
Yeah, maybe they spent far more time in the wee hours talking about personal stuff than she ever had with any other guy she’d hooked up with.
And it was true that, since that night, she’d thought about him far more than she was willing to admit out loud.
And some of those thoughts had danced along the line of I want to hook up with him again.
Which was alarming. She didn’t go back for more.
Ever.
If Jalen hadn’t been in the lobby that fateful morning after, she was absolutely certain she would have invited Amil back upstairs for one more round.
Since he hadn’t yet left, it was still considered a one-night stand.
“No more players,” she muttered like it was a mantra.
The backup quarterback, Jeremiah Short, caught her eye as he lobbed a ball in Jalen’s direction. Wait. Jalen was over there and the ball was heading…right for the cluster of people she was standing with.
“Heads up,” Diana called out, in case they weren’t paying attention.
Everybody except the photographer moved.
She heard someone say, “Oh shit!” and a split second later, Jalen was running, watching the ball, which had not been thrown anywhere near him.
But he seemed determined to catch it anyway, which meant he was charging for the sideline—where the photographer was still sprawled on the ground with his camera in front of his face.
Apparently not trying to capture a shot of Jalen, since he wasn’t moving out of the way.
“Watch out,” someone shouted, but it was too late.
Jalen’s shin hit the camera and he twisted, trying to avoid trampling the photographer, who rolled, probably to avoid said trampling.
Except he rolled right into Jalen’s foot, which came down on top of the guy’s knee.
Jalen curled himself into a ball, which no doubt saved his own knees, and the photographer started shrieking while clutching his damaged knee.
“That can’t be good,” someone muttered nearby, but Diana was too busy watching the photographer to glance over to see who it was.
“You look good, Diana.”
Attention officially diverted. She swung around to face Amil Halsted in all his sleek, sweaty, and far, far too hot glory. Those dark unruly curls were plastered to his head. His manicured beard was still heavier and thicker than pretty much anyone else’s she’d ever dragged her fingers through.
His eyes were so mocha, she swore she could smell coffee and chocolate even though she knew damn well there wasn’t a drink other than Gatorade and water within a hundred yards.
And his muscles—Lordy, his muscles. The man had held her with his hands cupping her ass in the middle of her hotel room and fucked her to a glorious orgasm without needing the wall for support.
She clenched her inner muscles and was grateful for her sunglasses, which hopefully hid the blatant appraisal she was doing right now.
“Um, Amil. Welcome to the Mountain Lions.”
He smirked and did a deliberate sweep of her person with those beautiful eyes.
She clenched again. If he kept it up, she was going to have an orgasm while standing there.
“Thanks. Anything I need to know? Should you and I get together for a private meeting?”
“What for?” she asked, her brain clearly not functioning at full capacity.
“I’m pretty sure there are a few positions we didn’t get to last time we saw each other.”
Her mouth fell open. No doubt her cheeks were dusky too. They certainly felt hot. Like fire, all over her skin.
And especially between her legs.
Out of nowhere, somebody barreled between them with such force that Diana stumbled backward and might have fallen if Amil’s arm hadn’t shot out and grasped her bicep to keep her upright.
“Thanks,” she said, glancing over to see who had charged between them like that.
Jalen was stalking off the practice field.
Oh, shit.