“It’s not the season yet.”
“But you’ll be reporting to training camp soon, correct?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes and he laughed.
“You have to get out and have some fun. The serious business starts soon.”
“And what—you don’t have any fun once the season gets under way?”
He set his glass down on the table next to the sofa and took a seat. “I didn’t say that.”
She followed, sitting next to him. “And the articles, of course, imply otherwise.”
“Of course. According to the media I’m out partying every night, including game nights.”
“Which couldn’t be true, because of team curfews.”
He picked up his drink and took a long swallow. “Don’t believe everything you read about me, Peaches. Most of it is hype.”
“Don’t you have PR people?”
He shrugged. “Here and there. I don’t really like the kind of PR they do, so I avoid them.”
“So you’ve fired them, or they’ve left you because of the kind of bad publicity you garner? Can’t be good for their image, either.”
“Yeah, it’s my fault.”
She sighed. “I’m only trying to help you, Cole.”
“Not the first time I heard that. A lot of people tell me they want to help. Sometimes PR does more damage than good.”
“Elizabeth is a very good agent. She can put you in touch with some great public relations firms who can do so much to help your career. You can trust her.”
“Trust is a hard thing to come by.”
“And yet you trust your first-name-only friends at the club so easily.”
“They haven’t screwed me over.”
“That you’re aware of.”
He set his glass down again and turned to face her. “So what am I supposed to do, Savannah? Live in a bubble? Hide out at home and never go out? Put my trust only in you professional people who all claim to know what’s best for me and my career? I’ve done that before—I’ve put my career in the hands of the experts who said they’d guide me. I’ve been with three teams so far and it’s not going so well. I’m not about to stay home and hide. And I do have friends—people I know on a first-name basis. When I come home, I hang out with them. If I don’t know their last names, what’s the big deal?”
She laid her hand on his arm. “The big deal is that it seems to me you haven’t forged any friendships with teammates, with anyone you feel close enough to invite over to your home. You’ve never had a long-term relationship with a woman, have you?”
He frowned. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“A lot, I think. Do you even date?”
“Hey, I was out on the dance floor tonight with a bunch of women.”
“That wasn’t a date. That was an orgy.”
He stood and walked to the front window. “My personal life has nothing to do with this.”
She rose and followed, stood next to him. “Your entire life has everything to do with what we’re doing here. Your background, your feelings, relationships you’ve built, both personally and professionally. It all ties into your behavior on and off the field. It’s all part of your image. Image isn’t just surface, Cole. It’s who you are not only as a football player, but as a man.”
He didn’t say anything for what seemed like the longest time. Then he turned to her. “I don’t need a goddamned psychologist, Peaches. I don’t need you delving into my personal life and my relationships.”
“I’m not a psychologist. I’m far from it. But in order to work on your image, I need to know who you are, what shaped you into who you’ve become to this point. Then we work out from there.”
He turned, held his arms out. “You want to know who I am? This is who I am. I never hold anything back. What you see is what you get.”
She didn’t believe that. He was holding back a lot and they hadn’t even begun yet. “If we’re going to work together you have to be honest with me.”
He laughed. “I haven’t lied to you. You’re the one who lied to me.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve never lied to you and I never will.”
“You lied to me when we first met. You didn’t tell me who you were.”
“I was observing. It was Elizabeth’s job to introduce us.”
“That’s bullshit. And what about tonight?”
“What about tonight?”
“Dancing with me?”
She swallowed. “I don’t understand the question.”
He moved in closer and her heart picked up a rapid beat.
“You and me on the dance floor. You felt it.”
“It was just a dance, Cole. Nothing more.”
“Was it?” He grabbed her remote and turned on the television, found one of the music stations. He held out his hands. “Prove it.”
“What? I’m not dancing with you.”
“Afraid?”
“Not at all. This isn’t part of my job.”
“Not part of mine, either, but you left before we were finished earlier.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s not a good idea. We need to keep our relationship professional.”
“I didn’t say I was going to f**k you up against the wall, Savannah. I just want to dance.”
Savannah’s body went up in flames at Cole’s words. Up against the wall? Heat flashed through her and her mind filled with the visuals.
Be a professional. Ask him to leave.
Emotion warred with common sense and she knew what needed to be done here. Cole needed a firm hand, someone who wasn’t going to take any of his shit. But he was bullheaded and if she pushed too hard this early, she’d lose him. She had to give a little, too.
She walked into his arms. “One dance. Then you need to leave.”
He grinned. “Sure.”
She loved jazz music, and the slow, sexy saxophone eased into her bones, making her want to melt against Cole’s body. But that would be a very bad thing. Instead, she held herself rigid, refusing to get close.
She wouldn’t make eye contact, either.
“Peaches. Look at me.”
She tilted her head back to meet his gaze and was lost. His eyes were like the ocean in Mexico. Staring at them mesmerized her, and his off-kilter smile made everything in her lower regions clench in anticipation.