The next morning, Sadie went for a run, took a quick shower, and then checked her email. Beyond work-related updates, there was nothing. Nothing from Barbi or Erika, and nothing from Carson—which surprised her. Before she dismissed the team yesterday, each player had received a folder containing materials they’d need for the first half of their class, including her resume and contact information.
After the way he left her hotel suite last night, she expected him to ramp up his efforts to reconnect with her. At least dinner tonight was a chance to share her timeline for what she expected to accomplish with the team. She’d need Carson’s help as a captain to get the rest of the guys on board with the program. Football players were a different breed altogether, unlike the beta males she usually worked with.
She opened the closet and looked through her clothes. Today required something bold. After Carson’s visit, she needed to make a statement, to let him know he couldn’t just show up and seize control. Though she nearly lost it in his arms, she had to admit it felt right, like they’d never been apart. But that feeling passed as soon as he left. Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah, in my wildest dreams.
Choosing a red Rag & Bone Windsor blazer and matching fitted pants, she dressed quickly and then checked the time. At home, she got up at six thirty, ran for a half hour on her treadmill, made coffee, showered, dressed, and then headed to the office. There wasn’t any reason why she couldn’t keep her routine here—if Carson hadn’t kept her up late.
Just as she buttoned her blazer, someone knocked on the door.
“Good morning, Ms. Reynolds,” the hotel server said, ushering in a wheeled cart. He set it up in the sitting room, in front of the French doors that opened up to a private balcony.
Stunned by the extravagance of a crystal vase containing at least three dozen long-stemmed roses and a bottle of Champagne, she hardly noticed when the server lifted the polished stainless steel dome cover from her breakfast plate. Until she smelled bacon and pancakes, her favorite morning food.
“I didn’t order room service,” she informed the man dressed in a blue uniform.
“You are Ms. Sadie Reynolds?”
“I am.”
The server pulled a guest receipt from his jacket pocket and scanned it. “Everything is in order, ma’am.” He smiled and headed for the door.
“Wait.” She followed him, confused. “I honestly didn’t order breakfast, and I certainly wouldn’t pick flowers and Champagne for myself.”
He turned in the open doorway. “I believe everything is compliments of the hotel.” He gave her a final nod and hurried down the hallway.
She stepped back inside and closed the door. What in the world was going on? Did Leonard do this to make up for cutting her holiday short? It seemed like the kind of thing he’d do to make her feel better. Though she received a generous per diem on the road, the roses and Champagne were too much. Convinced Leonard was being sweet, she grabbed her cell phone before she sat down at the table to eat.
She fired off a quick text, thanking Leonard for his generosity.
Champagne? Flowers? What—or who—have you been doing, Sadie? The winking emoji in his reply made her wiggle in her chair. His text confused her. Now he thought she was fraternizing with a player?
Honestly, nothing. And no one.
You’re slacking off, woman. If I was surrounded by all that man flesh, I’d do someone.
Sadie rolled her eyes. Leonard appreciated men and women equally. So, you didn’t send the breakfast and flowers?
No.
Unable to resist the aroma of bacon any longer, she snagged a piece off the plate and took a bite. She closed her eyes, chewing slowly, appreciating the burst of maple flavor. As for the pancakes…She poured a generous amount of syrup over the short stack and ate several bites before she eyed the Champagne flute containing strawberries and raspberries. Okay. Leonard wouldn’t do that. It was too thoughtful, too romantic.
Carson.
This had his name all over it.
Suddenly the bite of pancakes in her mouth felt gravelly as she struggled to swallow it down. The unexpected visit was one thing, but making arrangements like this—spending a ridiculous amount of money and infringing on her privacy, well, it was unacceptable. She set the fork aside and stared at the beautiful, plump roses. Fragrant and flawless, she reached for one, pulling it from the vase. She rolled it between her fingers and sniffed. The asshat had always known how to spoil a girl. Of course, it helped he came from a wealthy family.
She remembered their first prom. The limo, red roses, and the diamond bracelet he gave her to wear with the gown he’d bought her because her parents were too broke to buy her one. The only way to show Carson she wasn’t going to swoon over a fancy breakfast was to just act like nothing had happened this morning.
When she finished eating, she pushed the cart back into the hallway, minus the flowers. Those, she’d keep. The suite already smelled like her patio garden back home in South Carolina. She’d always had a weak spot for roses.
It took a few minutes to brush her teeth and style her hair. Then she put on some black eyeliner, mascara, and red lipstick. Checking herself a last time in the vanity mirror, she smiled. A woman in a red power suit smiled back. She was ready to deflate his infuriating ego and set him straight.
Typically, during training camp, Carson’s day started at six thirty sharp. However, since he was required to attend Sadie’s session after breakfast, his regular schedule wouldn’t resume until ten thirty. He waited in the hallway outside the classroom for Sadie to arrive. Every few minutes one of his teammates shuffled into the room, looking unhappy about having to attend class.
Carson shoved a hand through his hair as Sadie entered the hallway looking well-rested and completely edible in her red suit. It pissed him off that she didn’t even acknowledge him as she started to walk into the classroom.
“Sadie,” he called out.
She paused and turned. “Good morning, Mr. Savage.”
“Really?”
“I prefer to be punctual, Carson. I have three minutes to set up. Are you joining us today?”
Scared he could completely push her away by pressing her about last night, Carson decided to let it go for now. She obviously wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything personal. The only hope he had? Dinner, tonight. He followed her inside the classroom and shut the door, then took a seat.
After a few minutes, she was ready to go. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said. “Zachary Abate, a journalist, wrote a piece last year about the five reasons fans are losing interest in the NFL. Number four on the list is the no cameras allowed policy. Are you familiar with it?”
Several guys nodded, including Carson.
“I’m glad to see at least half of you know about what many owners, players, fans, and analysts consider a Draconian policy. For those of you who aren’t acquainted, I’ll give you a brief intro. The rule simply states that players can’t take video footage or photos between kickoff and an hour after the game. This makes league-controlled content off limits for every franchise. And just to demonstrate how serious it should be taken, the punishment for a first-time offense is twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“How does this affect us?” Ty asked
“To put it simply, Mr. Baxley, deeply. Those indiscreet photos taken in the locker room or on the sidelines fall under the no cameras allowed rule—technically, anyway.”
Ty turned in his chair and stared at Carson, mouthing what the hell?
Carson shrugged and gestured for him to pay attention to Sadie.
She grabbed a piece of paper off the desk and continued. “Additionally, gentlemen, all of your contracts state that if a player has engaged in personal conduct reasonably judged by the club to adversely affect or reflect negatively on the club, then the club may terminate your contract.”
“Pretty sure that’s a matter for our coach, the team owner, and our agents to worry about,” Sam, one of the tackles said, sounding irritated.
“Mr. Gronig, I’m aware this is a very sensitive subject to discuss with an outsider. But I’ve been given full authority to review your individual profiles, records, and any other pertinent information. In essence, many of you have violated league policy, team policy, and the moral clause in your contracts.”
“Jesus Christ.” Solomon Webster shot up from his chair. “Tight-assed little bitch. Do you know what’s at stake here?”
Carson stood and quickly planted himself between his teammate and Sadie. “Knock it off, Solomon.”
“Or what?” Solomon fisted his hands at his sides, then looked over Carson’s shoulder at Sadie. “Tryin’ to tap that?”
“Sit down,” Carson gritted out, his patience waning. “This is a battle you’re going to lose, really quick.”
He gave his teammate a few seconds to consider his next move before Carson would physically remove him from the classroom. He sighed in relief when Solomon sat down and slammed his fist on the table.
Carson shot Sadie a concerned look, and she nodded in appreciation.
He returned to his seat.
“Mr. Webster, I’m aware what’s at stake here—your reputations and livelihoods, for starters. That’s why I want you to consider me an ally, not the enemy. I’m here to find solutions, not to condemn you.”
“You have a jacked-up way of showing it,” Solomon said.
“I’m on a very tight schedule, Mr. Webster. I have six weeks to rehabilitate twenty-three very public profiles.”
“I’m not a goddamned drug addict or criminal,” Ty said. “Find another word to use.”
“All right,” Sadie said calmly. “Do you prefer rebuild or relaunch over rehabilitate?”
Ty waved his hand. “You pick.”
Sadie nodded and reached for a stack of papers on her desk, then offered it to the first player at the closest table. “Could you hand these back, please?”
Carson didn’t like the tension in the room, especially who it was aimed at. But somehow, Sadie had managed to keep her cool. She’d always been gracious under pressure—intelligent and fair-minded. It didn’t surprise him that she’d found success early in her career. But he’d be damned if Solomon or anyone else threatened her again. That he couldn’t allow.
Once the papers were distributed, Sadie addressed the group again. “The worksheet in your hands is a personal questionnaire. Please take your time and answer all of the questions honestly. Anything you share will be kept strictly confidential.”
A couple of the players snickered.
“I intend to use these as guidance tools during our one-on-one sessions, which will begin tomorrow. Once we complete the exercise, the worksheets will be shredded.” She cleared her throat. “The final topic we’ll cover today focuses on regional publicity. National and international news outlets and larger social media resources will be discussed another day. The first step in reinventing a public profile is concentrating on local media—where your greatest fan base is located.”
“Sweetheart,” Haakon Wolfson said, “I’m an international sensation.”
Sadie laughed along with everyone else.
“That may well be, Mr. Wolfson, but we need to start somewhere, right?”
“Makes sense to me,” Haakon agreed.
“How many of you know Simon Fuentes?” she asked.
Every player in the room raised their hands.
“Simon owns and runs the most successful party gossip forum in the state of Alabama. Almost all of you have been featured on the Real Alabama website. Which brings us to an even bigger site, Southern Swank.”
“Makes Girls Gone Wild look amateurish,” Solomon offered.
“Yes,” Sadie said. “If you like angry people submitting revenge pieces—like risqué pictures of half-naked, drunk women hanging off the arms of celebrities.”
Sadie cocked her head after a few players mumbled their acknowledgment of the site. “Remember the first rule: the internet doesn’t forget. No matter how many positive features on you are out there, it only takes one bad moment to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to build.”
“What’s the point?” Carson asked.
“Simon Fuentes has agreed to visit us next week.”
That made everyone pay attention.
“With the public outcry against violence and fake news, he’s sincerely interested in launching a new project that highlights local heroes. I think it might be worth our time. A chance to feature some of you doing what you do best, playing football and giving back to the community. Please take the rest of the class time to complete the questionnaires and turn them into me before leaving.”
Carson waited for everyone to fill out the sheet and then leave, staying in his chair until the room was empty.
“Thank you for earlier,” Sadie finally spoke.
Carson gazed at her.
“Solomon Webster is a little intimidating.”
Carson couldn’t disagree, at 6′5″ and 275 pounds, the man was a sonofabitch, on and off the field. “He has a hair-trigger temper, Kitty Kat.”
She frowned.
Sadie’s mere presence challenged him in every way—made him feel things he shouldn’t, like wanting to beat the shit out of Webster for just looking at her wrong. But that was on Carson. He’s the one who couldn’t get over Sadie. From what he could see, she’d gotten over him—though their sexual chemistry was painfully still intact.
He rose and walked to the front of the room, standing a couple feet away from her. “I need to get to a meeting, sweetheart. But we’re still on for dinner tonight, right?”
“Only if you promise that this dinner thing is about building our partnership to make my time here successful. It’s a win-win for both of us, Carson.”
He couldn’t disagree about the win-win scenario, but he also couldn’t tell her the truth behind his motivation. Before he dropped her off at the hotel tonight, he planned on kissing her thoroughly. Because Sadie had loved his kisses, and if anything remained of the couple they used to be together, then he needed to remind her.