“Yikes. How does your husband feel about that?”
Her lips lifted. “That’s why I don’t have one, at least not yet. Maybe when I find a man willing to put up with the craziness that is my job, I’ll cut the travel back some. And then again, maybe not.”
“You need to marry a baseball player. They’d understand that travel schedule, plus you wouldn’t be leaving a guy at home all the time. At least not until the off season.”
She smiled, showing white, even teeth. “Is that a marriage proposal?”
He choked on his drink. “You move fast, Miss Stafford.”
She picked up her own drink and took a sip, then crossed her legs. Gavin had been around enough women to know that was a sign of interest.
She was drop-dead gorgeous, she smelled good, and she was throwing off signals that a guy would have to be blind not to notice. She was smart and fun to talk to, and if he played his cards right, he could have Judith Stafford in his bed tonight.
The problem was, a certain feisty redhead kept entering his mind. She was the only one he wanted to take to bed, the only one he wanted to think about.
What the fuck was wrong with him anyway?
“And what about you, Gavin Riley? How does your wife feel about you traveling all the time?”
“No wife.”
Her eyes positively sparkled now.
“But there is a woman I’m seeing. I’ve been seeing a lot of her the past couple of months, actually. She’s on the road a lot, like you, so she understands the whole travel thing.”
And just like that, the light went off in her eyes. She uncrossed her legs and slid them under the barstool. A sure sign that screamed hands off, even though her smile was still friendly.
Friendly and polite, but she was making it clear that their fun conversation was over.
“She’s a lucky woman. And I think I’m going to head upstairs, get out of my professional clothes, and watch some television. Nice to meet you, Gavin.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Judith.”
After she left, Gavin finished his soda and paid his bar tab, then headed up to his room. He took out his cell phone and scrolled through the names, smiling when one came up.
He had a sudden urge to talk to Elizabeth.
THERE WAS NOTHING THAT FIRED UP ELIZABETH’S COMPETITIVE spirit more than a roomful of other sports agents.
The conference on networking, negotiations, and social media was right up her alley. Everyone in her industry was here, and this was her chance to get caught up, to fill two days and nights with nothing but what drove her.
She and her fellow sports agents didn’t get together all that often other than maybe seeing each other at the drafts and banquets, and they were usually too busy with their clients to say more than a brief hello. Of course there were her peers from the agency she worked at, but they were still competitors. Her goal was to be the top of the upper echelon, even within her own company. And so far she was doing just that.
Plus it was a great learning experience. She was on top of social media, had a Twitter presence and her own Facebook page where she listed the goings-on of all her clients. She wanted prospective clients to know what she was doing and who was on her client roster. Young players today were all online, and if they wanted to find a sports agent, that’s where they looked. She was no dummy. She knew how to play the game. It was all digital. College players weren’t going to drag out the Yellow Pages to look for an agent.
But there were valuable workshops to attend on salary caps for rookies, improving your negotiation skills, waging the war on arbitration, and dealing with labor relations. There was so much more to being a sports agent than just signing and keeping great players. Often it was like maneuvering in a minefield, and a good agent stayed on her toes and made sure he or she kept abreast of all the current legal and contractual ramifications.
Of course her agency had great lawyers to sort out the legal aspects of a player’s rights and contract. But Elizabeth wanted to be as knowledgeable as possible, so these annual meetings were essential.
“Soaking it all in, Elizabeth?”
She gritted her teeth, turned, and put on a professional smile for her arch nemesis, Don Davis. “Don. How nice to see you.”
He flashed his oh-so-white-and-no-doubt-capped teeth, adjusted the cuffs of his perfectly tailored shirt under his impeccable dark and ostentatious suit that went with his very expensive tie. His slicked back black hair made her think of some mobster out to threaten her to pay up in three days or she’d be found in a dark alley missing a few fingers. Or maybe he resembled a high-class pimp. She couldn’t decide. Even his tan looked expensive. And spray-on.