Double Team: A Menage Romance Read online

  "Because you're going to go hang out with her at your ranch."

  "Because I don't have some kind of weird need to seduce her with blow-up dolls," I say. "And yeah, because I'm going to go hang out with her at my ranch. Alone.”

  “You mean with a million kids running around? At the ranch you just told her you donated because you were doing her a favor? The same ranch she just told you that you could stick up your ass?”

  "Yeah, the ranch that - oh, screw you, Aiden," I grumble. "We're professional football players. There are plenty of girls throwing themselves at us on a daily basis. We don't need to go after the same damn woman."

  I turn to storm out of the kitchen, every part of me on edge. Fuck this and fuck him. I don't need to compete with him when it comes to a woman. What I need to do is worry about negotiating a contract and staying out of trouble. Laying low is my priority. Chasing after the President's daughter is the opposite of laying low – and it's profoundly stupid. It's the last thing on earth I need to do if I take my career seriously. And I take my football career very seriously.

  "So that means you're definitely not interested in her, then?" Aiden calls after me.

  "Not talking about this anymore, Aiden."

  "That's what I thought," he says, laughing. "All right, then. May the best man win."

  I storm upstairs. There's no way on Earth that Aiden Jackson is the best man for a woman like Grace Sullivan.

  And you think you are?

  I try to shove the thought out of my head, even as I hit a session at the gym. But Aiden's words still linger, replaying over and over on a loop. “May the best man win.”

  This isn’t a competition. That girl is mine.

  "Do I need to search you?" the Secret Service agent asks the question, her expression cold.

  "Do you usually search people who have meetings with Ms. Sullivan?" I ask. I actually don't know the answer to that question. Maybe the agents do search everyone Grace Sullivan comes into contact with at the foundation. I feel a sudden pang of sympathy for her. That would be a hell of an awkward way to go through your life, with everyone around you being patted down before they even get close to you. But I guess she’d probably be used to it by now.

  The agent raises her eyebrows, the rest of her face unmoving. "She doesn't usually meet with people who have been involved in public incidents with her."

  Heavy emphasis on the words “public incidents”. As if I was going to forget what happened at the charity event – or in front of my house, although that really was Aiden's fault, not mine.

  I don't point out the fact that I don't exactly have an appointment with Grace.

  It's too late, because her secretary notices that for me. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ashby. I just don't have you in her appointment books. But I'd be happy to pencil you in for –"

  The office door swings open before the secretary finishes speaking and Grace Sullivan stands in the middle of the door. She's wearing a conservative suit – a plain black jacket and skirt with a white Oxford shirt – with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. On anyone else, it would look businesslike – professional and unflattering, even. But the suit seems to be made for Grace Sullivan, cut to cling to her hourglass figure, the stark color of the suit somehow managing to set off the green in her eyes.

  When she sees me, those green eyes go wide for half a second and her lips fall open slightly. I think I hear her inhale sharply, but those are the only reactions of surprise she exhibits before her jaw clenches and a veil of disinterest falls over her face.

  "Noah Ashby." Her tone is frosty. "I'm surprised to see you here. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than do me any favors by dropping by the foundation."

  Okay, so she definitely hasn't forgotten about what I said. I clear my throat, suddenly self-conscious in front of her secretary and the Secret Service agents, far too aware that I was a shithead, telling her I was doing her a favor by donating the ranch. I came across as a spoiled celebrity, one of those assholes who demand a dressing room with only blue M&Ms in the candy dish.

  "Wait. I know I don't have an appointment, and you probably have other things to do." Probably? Of course she has other things to do. She runs a foundation. "Shit. I don't mean ‘probably’. You definitely have other things to do. But I wanted to come here and apologize."

  Grace raises her eyebrows. Okay, she's definitely not having any of the apology.

  I clear my throat. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I can't remember the last time I apologized for something. "I know, you're probably wondering what exactly I’m apologizing for. Am I apologizing for the comment about doing you a favor? Or the whole blow-up doll incident? Or the ”

  Grace's face pales. "You know, outside of my office isn't really the place for –"

  Her assistant clears her throat. "Ms. Sullivan, if you'd like, I can pencil Mr. Ashby in for another time."

  "I didn't mean to come in here and talk about blow-up dolls."

  I think I hear the Secret Service agent chuckle, but Grace's face flushes pink. I can't tell if she's mad. Are her nostrils flaring?

  "Stop talking," she says, her voice tight.

  "Shit. None of that came out right. I'm really not normally an idiot, even though I seem to be when I'm around you." I exhale heavily. "You know what? Yes. Pencil me in for another time."

  "Excellent, Mr. Ashby. If I can just –"

  Grace's expression softens as she looks at me, and she puts her hand up, stopping the secretary. "Janice, could you hold my next appointment?"

  "Ms. Sullivan, you know how –"

  Grace gives her a look. "Just for a few minutes."

  "Absolutely, ma'am."

  I follow her into her office and start talking as soon as the office door closes behind me, oblivious to anything else. "Look, I'm man enough to apologize when I say something out of bounds.” I don't know why, but I'm driven by a need to have this girl not think I'm a total moron – or a narcissistic celebrity jackass – even though I seem to wind up acting like both when I'm around her. “And I don't know why I said I was doing you a favor by donating the ranch, because it's not true..."

  "Noah, I think you should know that –"

  “Grace.” I cut her off before she can continue because I know that if I don't spit my apology out right now, I'm going to be so distracted by the fact that she's standing here less than a foot away from me, looking up at me the way she's doing right now with her wide eyes and plump, perfectly kissable lips, and… Oh hell, what was I doing again? That's right. I was apologizing. "You're really doing me a favor, letting me donate the ranch. I need the good publicity."

  Shit. Why did I say that?

  I do need the good press, that's true. It's why my agent suggested I do something with a charity right now. But my ranch is my refuge during off-season. I can count on one hand the number of visitors I've had there. Even Aiden knows not to bug me when I go there to hide out. When I found out about the summer camp that Grace's foundation runs, I wanted to do it because it was a cool cause.

  Except now this girl thinks I'm an asshole who only cares about his public image.

  Grace blanches. "The good publicity. Right. You're up for contract renewal. Of course."

  "That's not what I meant, exactly. Fuck, I'm not saying what I mean here."

  "It's okay," she says. "Aiden already explained."

  "Explained what?" Aiden talked to her already?

  Grace's cheeks flush pink, giving her this glow that automatically makes me think of sex. Hell, everything about this girl makes me think about how much I want my hands on her.

  "I explained that you're in the middle of negotiating contracts." Aiden steps into view from where he's apparently been standing on the other side of the office.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  "So you explained that I'm donating the ranch to help my contract negotiations?" I have to ball my hands into fists at my side to keep from slugging Aiden. I swear, if he weren't my best friend, he'd