It was just the way he operated. He knew what it was like in the NFL. You went from one team to another. No sense in making close friends. And a lot of those guys were ass**les, anyway. He got a lot of media attention and they resented it. What was the point in him trying to explain it was part of his job? He owed nothing to them.
“Look. Everyone’s out for their own game. That’s the way it is.”
She arched a brow. “Really. That’s how you see it?”
“Yeah. You do your job and leave it on the field. You want best friends, you find them elsewhere.”
“Like at the clubs?”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t think even you believe that, Cole. Those people at the clubs aren’t your friends. Not the kinds of friends you get close to.”
“How would you know? You don’t know who my real friends are.”
“Then show me. Introduce me to them, and to your family. Let me see who the real Cole Riley is.”
“Is this how you want to do your job? Just follow me around and talk to my friends and family?”
“That’s part of it. I told you already that part of me reworking your image requires me to know who you are.”
“So you can change me.”
“I don’t intend to change you.”
He stood, raked his fingers through his hair, and paced in front of the television. He stopped and faced her. “I don’t get this. I thought maybe you were going to change what kind of clothes I wore or something like that.”
“That’s not the kind of image we’re talking about and I think you know it. This is going to be a deep evaluation into who you are. It’s a journey, a discovery not just for me, but for you, too.”
“See. You are some kind of shrink.”
She laced her hands together in her lap. “I already told you I wasn’t hired to psychoanalyze you. I’m here to help.”
“You don’t need to meet my family and friends.”
“Do you have something to hide?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There isn’t one, except I like to keep my personal life separate from my business life.”
“That’s an odd statement coming from someone whose picture has been on so many magazine covers.”
“With women I party with? Sure. At the clubs? Fine. But with my family? Other than that paparazzi who stalked me when I took my parents out, I keep that life separate.”
“But it’s part of who you are.”
“No. We’re not going there.”
“That’s your choice. But holding a part of yourself away from me isn’t going to help me figure you out.”
He gave her a sly grin. “Just redo my image as Cole Riley—man of mystery.”
Savannah sighed. “More like Cole Riley—major pain in the butt.”
“Hey, call me whatever you want. I’m used to it.”
“Then we might as well get started with part two, and I’ll have to wing it.”
“You’re the pro. I’m sure you can handle it.”
“Fine. We’ll get started tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
He wasn’t going to enjoy this. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone and let him do his job? Why wasn’t his performance on the field ever enough?
SIX
SAVANNAH HAD MADE ARRANGEMENTS FOR THEM TO meet the next night around seven. She told him to dress decently, because they were going out to dinner.
He had no idea if they were going to meet with some PR people or not, but he wore a pair of black slacks and a button-down shirt, figuring he should be ready for anything.
He picked her up at her place. She opened the door, taking his breath away with her simple summer dress—strapless, to show off her shoulders. It hit her just above the knee, too, and she wore heels, accentuating her sexy, beautiful legs. He was stunned at all the available skin she showed.
It was going to be a long night.
She smiled. “Hi. You look nice.”
“Thanks. You do, too.”
He focused on her legs as he led her to his car and helped her in.
“So where are we going?” he asked as he started the car.
She gave him the name of a downtown restaurant.
“Fancy.”
“Yes,” was her only reply.
“Are we meeting someone there?”
“No. Just the two of us.”
He frowned. “Is there something I should know?”
“I’m winging it, remember?”
“Okay. Wing away.”
When they got to the restaurant, he pulled up to the curb and gave the keys to the valet, then led Savannah inside.
Sure he was about to be blindsided by some marketing or PR gurus, or even worse, the media, he was surprised when they were taken to a quiet table in the corner of the dark restaurant.
Near the windows, the restaurant gave a great view of the St. Louis arch and the riverfront.
“Nice place for tourists,” he said.
“I chose it because the food is great, and so is the extensive wine list. You like steak, I assume.”
“You assume right.”
When the waiter brought the wine list and laid it on the table, Savannah picked it up.
“Would you like to go over the wine list with me? We could make a selection together.”
Cole arched a brow. “I’m not much of a wine guy.”
She nodded. “I can teach you. Wines are fascinating.”
He shrugged. “What if I’m not all that interested?”
“It would probably help if you learned at least a little bit about wine. That way, if you take a woman out who does like wine, you can make suggestions, or even order for her.”
“Is this a date?”
Her lips lifted. “No. But if it were, and I were your date, it’s possible we could be selecting wine from this list.”
“No. If it was a date, we wouldn’t be at this restaurant.”
“Really? Why not?”
He shifted to face her. “Not my kind of place.”
“Really. And what kind of place is your kind of place to take a woman on a date? The club you took me to?”
“What’s wrong with the club?”
“Other than your groupies hanging all over you, your bartender-slash-waitress friends acting like bodyguards to make sure no woman gets within a mile of you, no quiet time for talking and getting to know each other via conversation, and the fact that the media knows it’s a place you hang out and party so they’re more likely to be there to take your picture, there’s nothing wrong with it.”