Heart's Choice Read online

  “I hold glasses at parties very well. I seldom drink.”

  “Is that by choice or by design?” he asked.

  “If you’re talking about AA, then it’s definitely by choice,” Jazz said, moving away from the outside door and going back to sit at the counter. Devon followed. “When I was fifteen I went out partying and drinking with my brother. He was celebrating a movie wrap, and I was celebrating my third season wrap. I begged him to take me with him. He finally said yes. I was thrilled. He let me have whatever I wanted. So I drank tequila shots. It was big mistake. After the third one I got really sick. I think he expected that.”

  Devon smiled and nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  “Now I can’t even look at a bottle of tequila without nightmares.”

  Devon chuckled. “Your brother was teaching you a lesson.”

  “It was well learned, I assure you.”

  “That’s what big brothers do. They impart wisdom.”

  “It sounds like you’re a big brother, too. Are you?”

  He nodded. “I have two younger sisters. I’m pretty hard on them, too, particularly when it comes to the men in their lives. One of my sisters actually stopped bringing them around me.”

  “Why did she do that?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” he said innocently.

  “What did you do?”

  “Well, it might be because I asked my defensive line to introduce themselves to her last boyfriend.”

  “So you got five or so burly football players to introduce themselves to a prospective suitor. I don’t suppose that went over well.”

  “Go figure, right?” he joked.

  She chuckled. “Yeah, go figure. So, why did you do it?”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said.

  “No, why did you really do it,” she asked.

  He looked at her and nodded. “I needed to send a message.”

  “To the boyfriend? Why?” she asked.

  “I’d heard things about this particular guy, and I wasn’t impressed. He was a player. I needed him to understand my position.”

  “Did he understand?”

  “Yes, very well. He never called her again.”

  “Imagine that,” she said sarcastically.

  He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a large platter. “Is seafood okay for dinner? Any allergies?” he asked.

  “No allergies, and seafood sounds great,” she said. “Do you know what you’re doing, ’cause I’m not about to be rushed to the E.R. with ptomaine poisoning.”

  He laughed. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

  “Famous last words,” she muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

  He laughed again. “So, do you cook at all?” he asked.

  “Me? No, not very often. I eat out, mostly.”

  “What about when you’re in the mood for home cooking?”

  “Then I just go home,” she said. He looked at her, surprised by the statement. He knew of course that her mother had died years earlier. “I visit my grandmother and grandfather. They moved to my mom’s old house in Alpine, New Jersey. It’s a small community about twenty miles from Manhattan. They’re incredible cooks. They’re always in the kitchen cooking together. My grandfather says that it keeps the spice in their marriage.”

  Devon laughed. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “My grandmother’s always after me to get in the kitchen and cook. She says that you learn a lot about a person when you’re cooking together.”

  “She’s right. I think I’m gonna I like your grandparents.”

  “Don’t say that. They’re huge sports fanatics. I’m sure they already adore you.”

  “Okay, now I know I like them. I guess then I just have to convince their granddaughter to adore me, too.”

  She tried to ignore his last statement, but she couldn’t. “They’re old-fashioned in a ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’ kind of way.”

  “How long have they been married?”

  “To quote them accurately, ‘Since the dawn of time.’”

  “Well, in honor of your grandparents, you’re going to be my sous chef tonight.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she said.

  “No. Seriously, you can do it. Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through each step. You’re going to be in charge of stirring and tasting. Think you can handle that?” he said patiently as if talking to a novice.

  She looked at him and laughed. “You asked me if I cooked,” she explained with precise terminology. He nodded his agreement. “I answered that I didn’t cook, not that I couldn’t cook.”

  “Oh, so you think you got skills?” he said, chuckling.

  “About as much as you, probably,” she boasted proudly.

  He nodded. “Okay, let’s do this, then,” he challenged.

  She walked over to the sink and began washing her hands. While she was sudsy, he came up behind her with an apron. “May I?” he whispered too near her ear. She nodded and took a step back. He was too close. Their bodies bumped intimately. “Was that good for you, too?” he joked. She didn’t respond and tried not to smile. He reached around slowly, exaggerating every move, and wrapped an apron around her waist. His large hands lingered at her sides and back just seconds longer than necessary. “A little protection is always a good idea, don’t you think?” he whispered while reaching around to hand her a towel.

  His innuendos were clear. She turned while drying her hands. He was still too close. “Thanks. So, where do you want me first?” she asked simply, but then realized that the innocent question could be taken very differently than she intended.

  He smiled rakishly. “Now, that sounds promising. What options do I have?” he asked, giving her the sexy look that had nearly taken her breath away the night before.

  “Are you finished?” she asked.

  “Actually, I’m just getting started,” he said even closer.

  “Okay, enough,” she said, smirking, then pushed him back and tossed the towel at him. He anticipated and caught it effortlessly while they both laughed easily. When the laughter died down, they stared into each other’s eyes, much like they’d done from across the room the night before. But now they were close, too close, and their bodies were too tempted. Heat permeated the room.

  All she had to do was reach for him and she knew they’d be making love right there. Her heart pounded thunderously, and every nerve ending in her body seemed to quiver. His eyes never faltered or wavered. He looked straight at her as if searing her to his body. She knew exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing she was thinking. They wanted each other, but being with him would only complicate her life more than it already was. There was no question but to—

  He leaned in and kissed her quickly. Then he leaned back and smiled. The slight, unexpected peck was innocently playful, but seemed to profess everything they were feeling. It was the certainty of their passion and the uncertainty of going further. She smiled, too, and then something in his eyes told her that he was waiting for her to make the next move. She did. She walked away. He took her hand and held tight. She turned and looked into his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Those simple words were more than a question. They were a plea, a promise of something that could be. Jazz took a deep breath and then looked at her watch. “Okay, I don’t know what’s keeping Melanie. Did she say how late she’d be?” Jazz asked, hoping that a change in conversation would cool their heated bodies.

  Devon was just about to remark on what was happening between them when his cell phone rang. Impatiently, he picked it up from the counter and looked at the caller ID. “I need to take this. Why don’t you walk around, have a look at the rest of the house? I won’t be long.”

  “Sure,” Jazz said, and then quickly left the kitchen.

  Chapter 6

  INTERIOR—DEVON’S HOME

  She’d never been so thankful to hear a cell phone ring in her life. Her body was o
n fire and her head was spinning in every direction. She wanted him, and the only thing stopping her was the knowledge that this would be a disaster just like every other relationship in her life. But there was no denying the heat between them. One glance across the room had started it; now she was nearly out of control with desire.

  She headed back down the open hallway toward the foyer. Her heart was still pounding. She stopped, closed her eyes and walked to the hallway’s marble-topped table. She placed her hands on the cool, hard surface and looked up at her reflection in the bevel-trimmed mirror. She looked exactly the same except for the slight added blush in her cheeks.

  Leaving right now was the perfect solution. She was a runner and proud of it. Conflict, stress, anxiety, drama—she ran from them all. Why should now be any different? Then just as quickly the answer came: because it is.

  “Baby steps,” she repeated. “You can’t keep running all your life,” she chided her reflection. “Chill.” Moments later she reached up and adjusted her hair, her earring and necklace. Then, just as she was about to walk back into the kitchen and excuse herself from the evening, she saw the reflection of a painting. She turned.

  Curiously she walked into the living room and looked around. The room was long and stately, much more stylish than she’d imagined it to be when she first breezed by. For some reason she expected chrome, glass and black lacquer, a typical bachelor pad. What she saw was far from it. The furnishings were exquisite, and the priceless antiques scattered about would make any dealer green with envy. It was an eclectic mix of traditional, modern, antiques and beach-house comfort.

  Seeing the painting that first got her attention, she walked over and stared up at it. It was secured to the wall above the fireplace. It wasn’t exactly a painting, but instead a photograph on canvas with multimedia effects. It was beautiful and truly remarkable. Its brilliant colors were breathtakingly fluid and rich and seemed to melt onto the canvas.

  Done more in a modern style, the seascape was vivid and dramatic. The brushstrokes against the photo were lavishly, freely flamboyant. They intensified the high, foam-laced waves that crested and exploded against the rocks in a crescendo of vibrant colors. She looked at the signature, but couldn’t make it out.

  Now curious, she continued her tour. She looked around, poking her head into any open door she found but staying on the first level. She saw the game room, dining room, library and gym. The last room with the door open was obviously the office. She walked in and looked around. It was definitely a man’s office, with large leather chairs and dark rich mahogany furniture.

  There was a desk and credenza, bookcases and curios with dozens of trophies. Sunlight streamed in from the skylights above and massive palm trees with wide-fingered leaves arched high toward the ceiling. Dark wooden beams divided the ceiling, matching the floors, large coffee table and desk.

  She walked over to the large curio to see the trophies and then to the fireplace mantle to check out the framed photos. She picked one up and looked closer. Devon smiled happily, with two women on either side of him. She presumed they were his sisters. She replaced the photos then turned to leave. That’s when she saw the massive fish tank on the opposite side taking up nearly half the wall. How had she missed that?

  She walked over to examine it more closely. The blue water was crystal clear. Miniature coral reefs seemed to grow along the sides with cascading hues ranging from dark purple to vibrant yellow. The gravel at the bottom seemed to almost shimmer, reflecting the tiny jewellike stones freely tossed across the watery terrain. Everything in the tank seemed perfect, except there were no fish.

  Devon took a moment to regroup before he picked up the cell to answer. It had stopped ringing, but he knew his agent would call back almost immediately. In the meantime he took a deep breath and released it slowly. Jazz had rattled him again. Resisting the need to touch was more difficult than he imagined. He had kissed her, but he wanted so much more. It wasn’t all about sex right now. Yes, he wanted that, too, but being with her, talking to her, had surprised and delighted him.

  The instant he saw her that need started all over again. He needed her. He wanted her. Maybe if they just had sex, he could get her out of his blood. The thought instantly brought the dream back to mind. His cell rang again. This time he grabbed it up quickly, knowing who it was. “Yeah, what do you have for me, Reed?”

  “Devon, it’s Melanie,” she said through the chopped static connection.

  “Melanie, we have a bad connection. I can barely hear you.”

  “I know. My phone keeps going out. Listen, I’m stuck here in the city tonight. There’s a bad storm, and the roads and highways are insane. I heard there’s major flooding on twenty-seven just outside of Queens. Did Jazz get there?”

  “Yes, she’s here.”

  “Good. Give her my apologies.”

  “Sure, no problem, be safe. See you later,” he said, but the signal had already been lost. He put the cell down and walked toward the hallway to Jazz. The phone rang again. He backtracked and picked it up. “Reed?”

  “Devon, I’ve got good news, and I’ve got great news. First of all, the Stallions front office recognizes your caliber of talent and your commitment to the team. That said, I’ve got several options, including a big fat contract,” he said.

  “Yes,” Devon exclaimed as he smiled and laughed. “Excellent. So they went with everything we wanted?”

  “No, not quite. The Stallions front office wants to extend your current contract and give you twenty million dollars this year and twenty-five million dollars next year. They’re also putting five million dollars in incentives on the table.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No, there’s more. They definitely want you here when you decide to end your career. They’re willing to cut you a deal right now, putting you in the front-office after two years. So that’s fifty million, plus a guaranteed front-office job. The position is substantial, all inclusive even up to retirement options down the road.”

  “What’s the other news?” Devon asked.

  “New York wants you now, and they’re willing to match your numbers one hundred percent. That’s a brand-new contract just like you wanted. We’re talking sixty million with incentive options, signing bonus, the whole package.”

  “New York,” he whispered. “New York. I can’t play for New York. There’s no way they want me for first-string quarterback. I’m not backing up some newbie, not with my career numbers.”

  “Devon, they recognize your talent. So what if you cruise or sit out a few games? You’ve earned this time to take it easy.”

  “Reed, you’re kidding me, right?”

  “Look, Devon, cards on the table. They’ve seen you take the hits. The concussion two years ago, followed by the broken wrist and your knee surgery. They’re looking at everything. It’s a good offer.”

  “You’re saying that they’ve lost faith.”

  “I’m saying that you need to look at this like the business it is. Truthfully, word is they’re looking around. Penn State, USC and Alabama, they’ve got some incredible QBs on the roster this season. I’m not going to sugarcoat this, and I don’t know any other way to say it. You know this is a business. My opinion, New York is a good deal. They’re willing and ready to take care of you and give you exactly what you want. They also want to lock this up right now.”

  “Reed, I’m a six-time Pro Bowler with ten years in. I’ve spent all that time in a Los Angeles Stallions jersey. I’ve taken them to the playoffs the last seven years in a row. I’m an all-time leader in passing yards. I’m a franchise player. I want to end my career in L.A. I’m not leaving.”

  “I got your back,” Reed said. “Let me figure a few things out. I’ll call you in a few days. But listen, the papers, the media are gonna do their thing. Nothing’s final until you sign your name.”

  “Yeah, I got that. Thanks.” Devon hung up and placed his cell on the counter. The idea that his abilities were in question was a serious
blow. He’d been with the team for over ten years, and there was no way he intended to leave now.

  He looked around the kitchen, seeing Jazz’s hat and sunglasses on the chair. He took a deep breath, grateful for Reed’s interruption. Not that he particularly wanted to talk to his agent at that moment, but he needed some time to regroup. And their conversation had gotten Jazz off his mind, at least for a few minutes. He left the kitchen looking for her.

  It took him a few minutes to find her. She was in his office, standing in front of the fish tank. He spared a few seconds just to observe her. It was obvious she had purposely dressed down tonight. She wore a loose-fitting sweater that was at least two sizes too big and unflattering pants. And if she thought that would quell his excitement, she was very wrong. He knew she was beautiful no matter what she wore, or didn’t.

  He saw the desire in her eyes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. But something held her back. She needed time. He decided to take a step back and allow her to lead. She was obviously skittish, but the knowledge that their time would come was a certainty. “There you are,” he finally said. “I thought you ran off and left me.”

  “No, I’m still here.”

  “Melanie called. There’s a storm. She’s stuck in the city until morning. She sends her apologies.” Jazz nodded. “So, you got a chance to look around. What do you think of the place?”

  “It’s beautiful, very cozy and comfortable. It’s big.”

  “Unofficially it’s about eight thousand square feet or so. It has five bedrooms, seven fireplaces, a three-car garage, gourmet kitchen, salon, greenhouse, and…”

  “…a really big gym,” she added.

  “Yeah, it’s my sanctuary.”

  “And this room is wonderful. But what does a professional football player need with a home office this elaborate? You have everything a work office needs.”

  “Football isn’t my only career.”

  “The endorsements, right?”