Unlike many of the wealthy, privileged clients she worked with, he had done his best to make up for the problem his brother had caused. She felt a squeeze of regret that she wouldn’t have any further dealings with him. It had been a surprise to find a streak of genuine decency behind the polished facade.

Not to mention experiencing the full force of that famous dimple up close and in person. As the memory of her breasts crushed against the muscled wall of his chest lit up her insides, she decided it was fortunate that she wouldn’t see him again. She was a struggling assistant concierge from Smalltown, New York, and Luke Archer was a superstar as well as a client.

But none of that mattered anyway. Luke would go back to his penthouse far above her little office and never think of her again.

She just prayed Orin never found out about the VIP box.

Chapter 6

By the time the PR director released him from the meet and greet, Luke was sweating from the agony in his side. In case someone was watching, he strode down the hall to the trainers’ office with his usual smooth stride, but it took all his willpower to do it. Reaching the door, he swung it open, stepped through, and slammed it behind him before he sagged against it.

“Jesus, it hurts like a son of a bitch,” he said as Stan hurried around the desk to help Luke to a chair.

“It could be a cracked rib,” Stan said. “Where’s the worst of the pain?”

Luke pointed to the place where D’Olaway had connected with his rib cage. “I can’t have a cracked rib. Not now.”

Stan gently prodded at the spot, making Luke wince at what felt like daggers slashing into his flesh. The trainer shook his head. “You have to get an X-ray for this. If there’s a broken bone in there, it could slice through a blood vessel or puncture a lung. You don’t want to die for football.”

“Maybe I do,” Luke said, trying to get comfortable in the chair. “Go out in a blaze of glory.”

Concern clouded Stan’s eyes. “What’s going on, son? Why are you talking crazy?”

Luke scrubbed his palms over his face, sending another bolt of agony into his side and making him hiss. “I’m not crazy. Just tired and pissed off that I let Rodney get to me. Davis was out of position, and I was so focused on making the pass that I forgot to check my blind side.” In fact, he’d been coddling his shoulder so he didn’t tweak it again with a misthrow, and that’s why he’d neglected to keep an eye on his opponents. That pissed him off even more.

“If you don’t get an X-ray, I’m going to sic Doc Tyler on you, and then Junius will know about your injury.” Stan lifted a hand when Luke opened his mouth to object. “The X-ray is nonnegotiable. We’ll find a private doctor who won’t rat on you.”

“Where do we find a doctor like that on short notice?” Luke asked. “Your closemouthed buddy Colangelo retired, and I’m not exactly hard to recognize.”

“Let me think. I used to know another guy who would keep his mouth shut for cash, but I think he moved to Florida.”

Luke started to lean back in the chair, but his side spasmed again. He gritted his teeth. Then he remembered Miranda Tate. Concierges had connections everywhere, so she might know a doctor who could keep secrets. Furthermore, discretion was her religion.

Except today was her day off, and she was with her family. Not to mention that he had no idea how to reach her. Maybe Doug would know, since he often worked out of the condo at the Pinnacle. Luke gingerly eased his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and hit Doug’s speed dial.

His assistant answered instantly. “That was a major pass, Boss Ice. You are the man.”

A smile tugged at Luke’s mouth. “Thanks, buddy. I had to make up for losing to the Patriots.”

“Ha! The Pats caught a lucky break with that one.”

“You’re not biased or anything,” Luke said. “Listen, I need to get in touch with Miranda Tate at the Pinnacle. You have any idea how I can do that?”

“Was there a problem with the works? Sheldon swore he delivered everything to her personally.”

“No problem at all. She brought her nephew to the game today. The kid had a blast.”

“That’s cool.” He could hear the relief in Doug’s voice before his assistant said, “I think you could reach her through the main concierge desk. Let me check out the listing online . . . yeah, here it is. I’ll text you the number and her extension. The website says it forwards to her cell phone if she’s not in the office.”

“Thanks, buddy. You deserve a raise,” Luke said, amused by the young man’s cheerful energy, even as it made him feel ancient.

His assistant laughed.

“I’m serious, Doug. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“You don’t need to do that. It’s an honor to work for you.”

“Never tell your boss that. It undermines your negotiating power.”

Luke disconnected and swiped to the text screen. Should he ruin the rest of Miranda’s day? He looked at Stan’s expression of implacable resolve and dialed the number.

Lulled by the rocking motion of the train carrying her home to Jersey City, Miranda drowsed in her seat while images of her amazing afternoon spun through her mind. Of course, most of them involved a broad-shouldered, blue-eyed quarterback with a dimple that sent waves of desire surging through her.

When her cell phone rang with the tune that indicated it was a concierge call, she sighed. Sofia was on duty today, and she wouldn’t bother Miranda unless it was either a problem or a special request.