Playing to Win

She grinned. “Something like that. Claud will fix you up. Let’s go.”


He wanted to balk. He didn’t want to do this, but he needed her to understand that just because they were having sex didn’t mean he was going to use that to have his own way. Cooperation was part of the deal, so he followed her to the tux shop, where he met Claud, a very tall, skinny dude who looked more like a mortician than a tailor. He was pale and creepy, with long icy-cold fingers. His monotone sent chills down Cole’s spine. And this guy was in the service industry?

Savannah chattered away with him, seemingly unbothered by Lurch. He gave Cole the heebie-jeebies.

Claud, who made Cole stand in front of the mirror and try on different jackets, apparently had a wife and two children, based on the conversation he was having with Savannah. Cole bit back a shudder at the thought of some poor woman having to see Claud’s rail-thin, stark-white body naked.

They got through the fitting and left after Claud promised to have the tux delivered to Cole’s place by five.

“I can’t believe you use that guy,” Cole said after they walked outside.

“Why?”

“He’s like something out of a horror movie.”

Savannah cocked her head to the side. “Really? Claud is one of the finest tailors in town. He’s very sweet, though he’s a little on the shy side. I like to bring him customers.”

“Shy? You think he’s shy?”

“Yes. That’s why he doesn’t talk much. And he has the sweetest wife. Diane has a very bubbly personality. Two adorable little girls, too.”

Adorable? They had to take after their mother, then. He walked Savannah to her car. “Do you want me to pick you up tonight?”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

Wasn’t she being polite? And distant. “Sure. What time?”

“Six thirty? Cocktail hour is at seven.”

“I’ll be at your place at six thirty, then.”

She got in her car and drove off, leaving Cole standing on the curb.

He didn’t like this wall she constantly shoved up between them. Tonight, he was going to work on that.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER COLE AND SAVANNAH HAD entered what would surely be the dullest night of his life.

The event was being held at some fancy schmancy gallery in West County. But the benefit was for the American Cancer Society, so he had no problem chunking out some money.

Maybe Savannah would take pity on him since he was in obvious misery. Sure, the tux fit fine, but the shoes were uncomfortable as hell. He was more of a tennis shoes or boots kind of guy, not shiny black pointy shoes. Maybe he could write a big fat check and they could get out of here early.

Though he had to admit, he could stand to spend a couple hours with Savannah. The silver dress that clung to her curves and sparkled in the overhead chandeliers was as much of a work of art as all the doodads being auctioned off tonight for charity. She’d worn her hair up in some kind of twisty thing, had put diamond studs in her ears, and wore no other jewelry. And she had on sexy silver-and-crystal shoes that made her legs look a mile long. He wanted to be alone with her, have her wear those shoes and nothing else.

He wondered what she wore under the dress. Maybe she could wear the shoes and her underwear.

Yeah, and maybe he needed to get his fantasies under control before his dick got hard.

She threaded her arm through his and pulled him aside, straightening his tie. “Okay, let’s go through this.”

“I got it. Play nice. Don’t insult anyone. Don’t hit anyone. Don’t cuss. I pretty much have the basic manners thing down. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She cocked a pretty blonde brow at him. “It’s my job to worry. Your image is at stake and this is a very high-profile event. In case you haven’t noticed, several sports figures will be at this event tonight, along with the media.”

“I already told you I’d be on my best behavior.”

“Don’t engage the media. If you’re asked a question, be benign.”

Now it was his turn to raise a brow. “How, exactly, does someone act benign?”

“You can answer football questions, or questions related to being with the Traders this season. Behavioral questions you need to avoid.”

“Avoid…how?”

“For example—Cole, do you think the reason Green Bay dumped you is because of your behavior?—how are you going to answer that?”

He scratched the side of his nose. “I don’t suppose you’d let me tell them to fuck off?”

She looked horrified. “Definitely not. You’ll tell them you enjoyed your time with Green Bay, and you think they’re a great organization, but it wasn’t a good fit for either you or the team. Now your focus is on the upcoming season with St. Louis.”

“So you want me to deflect.”

She nodded and patted his tie, raising her gaze to his. “Exactly. Don’t engage in a pissing match with the media. You’ll never come out ahead. Only give them positive, quotable remarks. Never denigrate your former teams.”

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