Coach Thompson was on the field outside, looking up at the sky.

“We had a good season start,” he said, when I walked up next to him.

I nodded. I hadn’t been a part of it, but I’d followed the scores. We’d won some, and we’d lost others. We were somewhere in the middle of the league right now.

“You ready to get back on the field, Hanson?” Coach asked me.

I nodded. “Ready as ever, Coach. I’ve been keeping up my training and everything.”

Coach nodded, turning to look at me. “I saw that, but it’s not that simple.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Coach sighed. “Do you want to explain to me how the paparazzi got a hold of photos of you and two women?”

Oh, shit. The photo in the hotel.

“It was just a guest, following me around. You know how those maniacs can be. They all want their shot of fame by taking a selfie with me or selling something to the press.”

Coach nodded. “I do know, but that means you have to be careful. Not that your actions are justifiable.”

I groaned. “Everyone does it. Everyone else can have fun.”

I knew I sounded like a five year old, but I didn’t care.

“Everyone else isn’t on national TV.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to be honest with you. We need you on the team. You’re one of my best players, and you were selected for a reason. But your reputation stinks, and it’s going to affect the team.”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“I’m saying that if you want to get back on the team and stay there, you’re going to have to clean up your image.”

I shook my head. “Because everyone else thinks I should be different than I am?”

“You’re a brand, not just a person. You knew this when your career took off. If you want to be up here at the height of your success, the top of your game, with the best of the best, then there will be sacrifices.”

I jammed my hands into my pockets. He was right. I did know that it was going to happen. I had just told myself that if I carried on doing my own thing, it would become part of this “brand” of mine and all would be forgiven. Bad boy makes good on the football field and all that. I suppose I had a false image in my head all along, and now Coach was bursting my bubble.

“Let me give it to you straight,” Coach said. “You have to work with a PR Manager if I’m going to put you back on the team at all.”

I groaned again.

“Like a babysitter?” I asked.

“No, like someone who will help you clean up your act so you’re really worth something on my team.”

I shook my head. “I’m not doing it. I don’t need someone to tell me what to do.”

Coach nodded. “That’s fine, Hanson. You do what you think is best. But realize that I’m not going to let you play unless you’re working with a PR Manager.”

“You’re giving me an ultimatum?”

Coach shrugged. “I’m just trying to help save your career. Take it or leave it.”

“You can’t do that to me. I’ll go to the Board.”

“Go ahead,” he said.

I looked out over the field. I missed being in the game. I missed being part of the team. Football was my life. I had played it all through high school and college, and being scouted as a pro player had been my dream since I was a kid. I was twenty-four and at the peak of my career, DUI aside.

I couldn’t lose all that now, not even because I didn’t want to be treated like I needed supervision. Especially because the DUI was such a bullshit charge to begin with. I know everyone thinks that, but in my case, it was the truth.

“You’re not going to let me negotiate on this?” I asked Coach.

He shook his head. “Your negotiating days are over. It’s a manager or nothing at all. I think it will be good for you. You can get yourself sorted out a little bit.”

My image didn’t need sorting out. I was happy with who I was. Yes, the suspension had been shit, but other than that, I knew who I wanted to be.

“What will it be, Hanson?” Coach asked me.

I didn’t have a choice. I realized that. “You’re forcing me to say yes,” I said.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything. You put yourself in this position. Not me.”

I nodded “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

Coach smiled and clapped me on the back. “I knew you would come to your senses. Come on. She’s waiting in my office.”

“What? Already? My suspension isn’t even over yet.”

Coach nodded. “I want you to get started as soon as possible. The quicker you pull yourself together, the better it will be for the team.”

Coach turned and walked back toward the facility. I followed him. I didn’t have a choice. I was reeling. I had just been told I would have to get my shit together if I wanted to play at all, and now she was already here to tell me what to do. Not only did I have to have a PR manager, but it had to be a woman who would be in charge of telling me what to do .

Fucking fantastic.

We walked through the corridors. We passed the cafeteria where my team-mates were eating. They sat around the table, talking and laughing. I thought about the incident earlier. They didn’t like me. That much was clear. I knew they were pissed off about me being suspended, but they were being childish about it.

We passed them and walked on. I wouldn’t be joining them today. At this rate, I wouldn’t be joining them anytime soon. I felt like an outsider with my own team.

Coach turned to me before we walked into his office.

“Just behave, okay? I don’t what you being rude to her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You don’t have to keep lecturing me on everything.”

Coach looked at me long enough that I fought the urge to squirm before he opened the door.

“Miss Townsend,” he said with a broad smile.

I followed him in. I didn’t know what I’d expected to see, but it wasn’t this. When she turned to us, I stopped and stared.

The first thing I noticed were her eyes. They were the clear blue color of a newly-formed icicle and looked just as piercing. Her eyes were offset by jet-black hair, short and styled around her face. Her look was fierce. And hot.

I slid my eyes down her body. She was athletic and curvy in all the right places. Her legs and arms were more slender, but not in a reedy way. She worked out. I liked it.

“Hello, Mr. Bell,” she said, holding her hand out to me. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Oh God, that couldn’t be good.

I took her hand. Despite her strong appearance, her skin was soft and her handshake feminine.

“I haven’t heard anything about you, Miss Townsend.”

“Lacey, please,” she said.

Her name didn’t suit her. It was a tame name for a woman that looked like she could be wild behind closed doors. I could just imagine what she would look like naked. Her body was in perfect proportion, her stomach flat, her tits the perfect size.

She cleared her throat. I glanced up at Coach Thompson. His eyebrows were raised, arms folded over his chest. It was like he knew what I was thinking. But he had to be thinking something along the same lines when he looked at her. She was a walking orgasm.

“We’ll be working quite closely together,” she said. “I expect you to make time for me. I’ll need you to send me your schedule so we can set a time every day in which we’ll be able to meet.”

“You jump right into business, don’t you?” I asked.

“It’s what I’m here for, Mr. Bell.”

“Hanson, please,” I said, mimicking her.

She nodded, her face an expressionless mask. She was so serious, so uptight. It just made me want to crack her and get her to relax.

God, the things I would do to her.

Too bad I couldn’t. Because she was here to reform my image, not let me fuck her.

Except, something told me I could change that.

Maybe it was the way she cocked her eyebrow to stare back at me as I continued gazing at her. That one little movement showed me all I needed to know: she was up for a challenge.

Perhaps I could challenge her to see which one of us is better at oral sex. As an athlete, I was used to making everything a game.

We could make a bet to see which one of us would come first: her, from the rapid circles my tongue would make all around her clit, or me, from the strength of her cheek muscles sucking on the head of my cock while her hand moved up and down along my shaft.

I could already picture it in my mind. Now I just had to make it a reality.

Even though I knew the coach would kill me if I so much as touched her, I couldn’t help but follow my basic instincts. Looking at the cleavage poking out at me from her blouse was enough to cement my decision to go after my brand new PR rep, no matter the consequences.

Game on.