Bad Boys of Football #3 - Game for Anything - Bella Andre Page 0,3

that guy is a major dickhead. He made some money in oil and now he thinks he can take over the hottest team in the league. But just because he's taking a conservative line with his players doesn't mean we should do something rash." Ty raised an eyebrow. "Rash would be pulling his heart out through his throat." Jay held up his hand. "Under other circumstances, I'd be first in line to beat the crap out of this guy-"

"But?"

"The Outlaws have the best chance I've seen in decades to win back-to-back Super Bowls." Jay was talking sense. Another Super Bowl would make him a lock for the Hall of Fame. As if he could sense Ty softening, Jay added, "Plus your friends are all here. I know how you love this city."

Unbidden, the thought She's still herepopped into Ty's head. He couldn't believe that a woman he hadn't seen in more than a decade actually figured into his plans to leave.

"Besides," Jay continued, "I hear Julie Spencer is the best in the business. I'm thinking it wouldn't be too bad to have her hanging around for a few weeks."

Ty blinked hard. Julie Spencer? He knew she was an image consultant, but it had never crossed his mind that they might work together one day.

Jay drooled. "And I hear she's sizzling hot too."

They should be playing hardball with Bobby Wilson right now, but a sudden image of Julie's long, silky legs wrapped around him and her perfect br**sts in his hands pushed aside all rational thought.

"Fine. I'll do it," he said, tossing his empty cup into the trash. "But she's the only image consultant I'll work with. If she won't do the job, I'm heading out of town—permanently. Let the Outlaws know for me, will you?"

CHAPTER TWO

Julie stood on the front steps of her newly purchased office building, feeling proud yet nervous. As she blew on the steam rising from her nonfat latte, she gazed at the Bay Bridge, the fishing boats motoring into their docks, the new mothers pushing strollers along the Embarcadero, and smiled. She was going to have to work like hell to make the astronomical monthly mortgage, but buying the narrow, stone-faced building along the water had been the right decision. She felt it down deep in her gut.

She'd just have to be a little less picky about which clients she took on for a little while, and take on as much work as she could handle. No big deal. She'd done it before and she'd do it again. Julie knew how lucky she was, loving her job so much. She thrived on the challenges of being an image consultant; got a huge rush from growing her company. She'd just hired two more part-time assistants and she planned on being a fixture in the big leagues inside of ten years. Amy, her soft-spoken best friend from Stanford— and first hire five years ago—poked her head out of the bright red double doors. A feng shui consultant— a gift from her mother—had recommended the color to bring extra business energy to Julie's door. Julie was a sucker for letting her mother feel included in her life, and fortunately she liked red.

"Sorry to bother you before you're even in the door," Amy said, "but I think you should take this call."

"One of our clients?" Julie asked. "No," Amy said, clearly excited. "Not yet, anyway." Big clients meant big money! Maybe her financial worries were going to be put to rest.

"The general manager from the Outlaws is holding for you on line one," Amy finished. Unease shivered through Julie. Even though her office was just blocks from the new stadium beside the Bay, she'd never gone to an Outlaws game. She couldn't—not when her biggest mistake was the team's star quarterback.

The latte curdled in her stomach with a sick premonition. She'd have had to be blind to miss Ty's failures with the media.

Julie stood beneath the safety of her door frame as if taking cover from an earthquake, unable to think, to move.

She could only remember the most important— and disastrous—night of her life. It was high school graduation night, and Julie's teachers had all congratulated her on beinghonored as valedictorian. She would be attending Stanford University in the fall; and even thoughshe'd be less than two hours from home, she was excited about the chance to get away, to becomesomeone new.

Somehow she'd made it all the way to eighteen without ever being really kissed. Sure, a drunkguy at a