Page 4

Chapter

Four

T he office was too small, the air too thick, and the tension suffocating. Two other people crowded into the space, but Stacia only had eyes for Jason.

He sat across from her, his large frame somehow making the chair look too small. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but Stacia knew better. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, fingers curled slightly like he was gripping invisible restraints. His expression—hooded eyes, unreadable features, a mouth set in a hard line—was carefully composed, the practiced indifference of a man used to the spotlight.

But Stacia had spent years reading people, and Jason Friar was far from bored.

His jaw clenched, a flicker of something—irritation, maybe even frustration—crossing his face before he locked it down. A muscle ticked in his cheek, the only betrayal of emotion.

Her stomach fluttered, a tight knot of anxiety and something dangerously close to anticipation tangling in her gut before she forced it down. What if they found out?

If anyone in this room knew how she really knew Jason, it could unravel everything. Could she lose this job before she even started? Would Jason say anything?

She forced herself to take a slow, calming breath, wishing she had thought to bring her antacids.

The businessman standing next to Jason stretched out his hand. “Scott Thomas, Jason’s agent. Thanks for coming on short notice.”

Stacia shook his hand firmly, careful to keep her expression neutral. “Of course. I appreciate the opportunity.”

Miranda, who had been standing near the desk with her arms crossed, gave a tight smile. “Stacia, my assistant, Maggie, is at your disposal. Let her know if you need anything. I’ll talk with you later.”

She turned to leave, but not before giving Jason a final, assessing glance. Stacia had no idea what that look meant, but she filed it away for later.

The moment Miranda left, the air seemed to shift, thickening with an unspoken tension.

Jason’s gaze locked onto hers.

The oxygen seemed to escape the room with Miranda, leaving Stacia struggling to draw a steady breath.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing his next move.

Before he could speak, she stretched out her hand, ignoring the way her fingers trembled slightly. “You must be my client. Hi, I’m Stacia Kendall.”

She saw the hesitation in his eyes before he reached for her hand. Good. He was thinking this through, same as her.

His palm was warm, his grip strong but not crushing, and she felt it—the unmistakable jolt of electricity that shot straight up her arm, the same spark that had ignited between them before.

Jason felt it too. His hand tightened for the briefest moment before he released hers as though she had burned him.

Last night was no fluke.

There was something here.

Definitely.

And that meant she absolutely could not work with him.

She pulled her hand back and smoothed it over the front of her blazer, walking around the desk to sit in the high-backed chair. Jason and Scott took the two facing ones, but it was Jason she felt most acutely.

He wasn’t just in the room. He filled it, his presence commanding, unshakable.

She folded her hands in front of her. “I think it’s only fair to let you know I am only consulting on this case initially. I think it would be best to hand this off to another one of my colleagues.”

Scott frowned. “I’m not sure I understand, Ms. Kendall. Your boss led us to believe you have no prior engagements and accepted this role. Is there another?—?”

A look of horror flickered across his face.

His head whipped toward Jason, face turning red. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

Jason barely reacted, only exhaling through his nose.

“No, no. Nothing like you’re thinking,” Stacia cut in quickly, her voice smooth but her pulse racing.

She crossed her fingers under the desk, praying she could keep the lie from showing on her face.

“I just finished a grueling campaign, crisscrossing the state with a representative, and I’m worn out. I don’t think it would be right for me to take this job on when I’m running on fumes.”

Scott’s face relaxed slightly, and he nodded, seeming placated.

Jason, however, stared at the wall, his profile tense, his expression unreadable.

Scott rubbed his chin. “Actually, I think you might be perfect. As Ms. Callahan probably explained, we’re not looking for a lot of publicity—quite the opposite, in fact. A few well-placed stories, a few interviews, some coaching guidance. You’d hardly have to travel at all.”

Stacia forced a smile, even as her stomach turned to lead. “I can’t take your money for such an easy job. I’m sure Mr. Friar can handle himself.”

Scott snorted. “Mr. Friar is the reason we’re in this predicament. An image consultant is a condition of his contract, so he actually has no choice in the matter.”

A voice from the doorway cut through the conversation.

“Exactly.”

Stacia turned just as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside.

He was early thirties, handsome, but sharp-featured, and carried the air of someone who had been cleaning up professional messes for far too long, even for his young years.

Jason stiffened.

Scott exhaled sharply.

“I know Ms. Callahan spoke with you, Ms. Kendall,” the man said, “but I would like to be very clear on the contract and what we need you to do with Mr. Friar.”

He extended a hand. “Cole Hammonds. Team general manager and responsible for this contract.”

Stacia shook his hand firmly, noting the way Jason’s lips pressed into a hard line.

Cole turned his sharp gaze back to her. “Ms. Kendall, I trust Miranda briefed you on the expectations?”

Stacia hesitated. “The details of the contract were not relayed to me prior to this appointment. I’ll need to assess the situation and determine if I am the best fit.”

Jason leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers, as if pleading with her to reconsider.

“Ms. Kendall, I’m not happy about this either,” he said, voice low and measured. “But you were recommended to me by a highly reputable person, and I feel obligated to use his suggestion.”

Her breath caught, but she kept her face smooth.

Someone recommended her?

Her mind raced. Who the hell?—?

The only connection that made sense was last night.

She swallowed, nodding slowly. “As I said, I would need to review the situation before making any suggestions on how we proceed.”

“Fair enough,” Hammonds said. “Let me review the expectations of you and Mr. Friar.”

He all but sneered Jason’s name, and Stacia fought the sudden, irrational urge to slap him.

Hammonds had already written Jason off. That much was clear.

And that would only make Jason fight back harder.

She had seen it before—the defiance, the resistance to being controlled. Hammonds was pushing him into a corner, and Jason would push right back.

Jason’s lips thinned further, his fingers pressing into the arms of his chair.

What had happened between him and the team to make him this on edge?

Stacia suddenly realized that this wasn’t just about PR.

It was about control.

And Jason Friar didn’t like being controlled.

This job just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

J ason barely listened as Cole droned on about the terms of his contract, his voice an irritating buzz in the background. He should be paying attention. He needed to be paying attention. But all he could focus on was the woman sitting across from him—the woman he had spent the previous night tangled up with in a hotel bed, her lips on his skin, her nails dragging down his back.

Thank God this contract hadn’t been in place yesterday, or he would already be in violation.

His body responded instantly to her presence, muscles tightening, a low thrum of awareness settling deep in his gut. He clenched his fists under the table, trying to keep himself in check, but then—her tongue peeked out and wet her lips.

He nearly groaned.

It was an innocent gesture, a nervous habit, but it sent his brain straight to those memories. Those lips on his mouth, his stomach, wrapped around his?—

He shifted in his seat, subtly adjusting his position to hide the effect she had on him.

Definitely not the time.

Scott, his agent and arguably the only person in his life who still gave a damn about him, shot him a sideways glance. Scott had stuck by him through all of it—his fall from grace, the media circus, the blacklisting. He must have been wondering what the hell was going on, and more importantly, when Jason was going to blow it.

Jason was wondering the same thing.

Cole kept talking, hammering home the importance of keeping Jason’s cock in his pants—his words, not Jason’s—and making sure he looked like a choirboy come Sunday morning.

Stacia kept darting him nervous glances, her shoulders tense, her fingers flexing against the polished wood of the conference table. She was just as rattled as he was. And that was interesting.

Maybe this could work to his advantage.

She had as much to lose as he did if anyone found out about last night. The media would spin it into something dirty, scandalous—probably say she had been infiltrating the team’s front office, cozying up to him for dirt.

Either she would steer clear of him altogether—easier said than done, since they were stuck together—or he could find a way to… influence the situation.

He hadn’t gotten her out of his system, not even after last night. Now he had a chance.

But he needed to play this carefully.

This wasn’t a fastball down the middle. It was a changeup, a breaking pitch he needed to track carefully before swinging.

He schooled his features into a slow, predatory smile and caught her eye.

Her breath hitched.

Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

Scott elbowed him under the table, a not-so-subtle knock it off, and Jason realized Cole had stopped talking.

Cole’s stare was sharp, assessing. Jason smiled back lazily, leaning back in his chair. “You were saying?”

Cole’s mouth flattened. “Ms. Kendall is in charge. If you need anything, you go through her. Ms. Kendall, if you need anything, anytime, contact me.”

“She’ll be busy, Cole,” Jason drawled, deliberately holding Stacia’s gaze. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Cole’s face twisted like he had swallowed something rotten.

Scott groaned beside him, clearly resisting the urge to strangle him. Jason knew he needed to rein it in—Scott was counting on him, believing in him—but sometimes, he just couldn’t help himself.

Cole leaned in, his voice quiet but cutting. “Remember, Friar. I never wanted you here. You’re washed up, a train wreck just waiting for impact. I won’t let you drag this team down with you. I’ll be watching you.”

Jason started to stand, his anger flaring white-hot, but Scott’s hand on his arm restrained him.

He settled back into his seat, locking eyes with the GM. “Stay out of my way. I know my job; I don’t need you telling me how to do it.”

Cole gave an unimpressed sniff and stalked out, slamming the door for emphasis.

Jason turned to Stacia and Scott. “That was pleasant.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “So, when do we start?”

Stacia looked pale, a little unsteady, probably still processing the shock of him being her client. He wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

She was the last tie to the old Jason Friar, the one who had been reckless, self-destructive. He needed to make sure she would keep quiet.

And judging by the way she was gaping at him, keeping her mouth shut might be harder than he thought.

Though there were other ways to keep that mouth occupied…

He gritted his teeth. Not the time.

“Scott,” Jason said smoothly, standing from his chair, “I think I’ve got it from here. Why don’t you head out? I’ll meet you for dinner later.”

Scott hesitated, clearly skeptical, but Jason didn’t give him time to object. He guided him out of the office and shut the door with a firm snick.

Then he locked it.

The sound echoed in the small room.

When he turned back, Stacia was staring at him, her lips parted slightly, her hands braced on the desk as if she was debating whether to bolt.

He sauntered over, propping a hip on the desk corner, deliberately invading her space. “So, we have a fine mess here, don’t we?”

She straightened, her expression smoothing into cool professionalism. “Do we? I didn’t even know who you were last night. Besides, you asked for me, didn’t you””

He shrugged, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “If I have to be walked around on a leash, at least I could enjoy the person holding the other end.”

She let out an exasperated huff and jabbed a finger into his chest. “That’s not happening again.”

He grinned, slow and lazy. “Really? Then why is there a desk between us? Afraid to get too close?”

Her eyes flashed, and before he could blink, she rounded the desk, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “Absolutely not. We’re going to be working closely together. I have no problem with you. My job is to make you more fan-friendly.”

“Honey, I’m already fan-friendly.” His voice was low, teasing, but he caught it—the flicker in her expression, the slight hitch in her breath.

She smelled too good, a warm mix of vanilla and something spicy, something uniquely her. And beneath it, faint but undeniable, was something else.

Arousal.

She was as affected as he was.

Damn it.

“Yes, well, that attitude is exactly what got you in this mess.” She pointed to the chairs across from her, but he wouldn’t budge. Sitting here made her nervous and he wasn’t about to let her regain control in this negotiation.

“I’m fine right here.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His grin only broadened. How far could he push her? He leaned forward, his breath tickling the strands of auburn hair that had escaped her French twist, and whispered, “So much for a one-night stand.”

She jumped like a virgin at a drive-in movie with the town bad boy. He was definitely the bad boy, but she was no virgin. She knew how good they were together and he was determined to remind her of it.

He straightened and slid over to one of the chairs. “I don’t need an image consultant.” He held up a hand to stop her sputtering. “However, it’s in my contract that the soul-sucking Hammonds and Callahan made me sign, so I have no choice. You can schedule press releases and do all the puff pieces you want. Tell them I dance with unicorns and puppies for all I care. Just don’t interfere with baseball.”

“So, you’re willing to do interviews and photo ops?”

He laughed. “Weren’t you listening? All of that interferes with baseball. I do interviews after the games and that’s it. I have a lot to catch up on with my new team and I don’t have time to save the world.”

“Weren’t you listening? Doing the same old thing is what got you here in the first place. We need to fix that perception so people will leave you alone.”

“I never had a problem when I was hitting three-forty and driving homers. I need a week or two to get my swing back and no one will remember anything but that.”

She eyed him dubiously. “I don’t think you understand how serious your problem is. I’m looking at your record right now. Bad press.” She slid her laptop out of her bag and booted it up. She typed his name into the search engine on her laptop then turned the screen to show him. “Look at this. Ten million responses and the top twenty? All negative. Selfish player, bad attitude, hates the fans, steroids, sex addict.”

He grinned at the last one. “You can testify to that.”

She squirmed in her seat, looking away. “Yes, we should talk about that.”

“Wait, let me guess. Last night was a mistake. It can never happen again because we work together .” He parroted in a falsetto voice, then dropped back to normal. “That’s bullshit. Typical morning after one-night stand talk.”

“You would know. What do you want anyway, a relationship? Oh please.” She laughed.

He shook his head, taken aback by her scorn. “I don’t know. One thing’s for sure, it has to be kept quiet. You don’t want the team to find out that you tried your damnedest to ruin the image of their newest player the night before he signed, do you?”

“And you don’t want them to void your contract,” she countered. She stood and leaned across the desk for emphasis. “You can’t win this one. No, we have to pretend that night never happened. And it can never happen again for both of our images.”

“I’m glad one of us has faith. Life and experience has taught me that faith rarely stays. You’ll have to pardon me, if I don’t trust you.” In reality, could he trust himself? He had to or his last chance would go up in flames.

“Look, Jason, I have as much to lose as you do if word of that escapade gets out. So just shut up and forget about it.”

He leaned across the desk, forcing her to tilt her head to look up at him. “I wish I could forget this.” He bent down and crushed her lips under his in a bruising kiss designed to punish, but it backfired when she groaned, wrapped her arms around his neck and responded, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips. He gripped her arms, pulling her closer, one arm sliding down her arm then back to cup her backside.

A loud noise from outside the door interrupted. Stacia pushed away and he released her all in one motion. She patted down her clothes, straightening her jacket and gathering composure. Jason adjusted the front of his pants, thanking whatever gods were looking after him that he was wearing dress slacks instead of denim.

She walked around the desk and sat in her chair, obviously putting distance between them.

She took a shaky breath. “That can never happen again, got it?”

“Afraid someone will catch us? Your boss? Hammonds?” He couldn’t resist the taunt. He was never very good at rules and taking orders.

“Please.” She dismissed the GM with a wave of her hand. “I don’t care about him. A relationship wouldn’t be in our best interest.”

Jason sat down and crossed his foot over his knee. “You know, Hammonds did say for you to do anything to keep me out of trouble.”

She folded her hands primly on the desk, but they twisted and held tightly. “I highly doubt he meant for me to sleep with you. That would void your contract, wouldn’t it?”

He considered her words. “I don’t know. The contract didn’t specify. He was very specific on your role, however. The only way to keep me out of trouble might be to be with me 24/7.”

“That’s not what he said.” She shuffled some papers on her desk, while trying to act business- like. “This whole fiasco was dumped on me a few minutes ago. First we need to announce your signing to the media then figure out a way to keep you out of the limelight. I’ll need some time to devise a strategy, but in the meantime, don’t kiss anyone or do anything that might get you in trouble, okay?”

He smiled, a picture of innocence. “Of course, Stacia.” He stood up and walked out of the office, whistling an off-tune song, confident he had made his point.

Oh yeah. She remembered everything.

Jason wasn’t going to let her forget.

Not now.

Not ever.