There was one highlight, however. Blue ran the ball in for the first quarter’s only touchdown. She cheered so loud she nearly shattered the armored window in front of her.
And okay, all right, fine. That wasn’t the only highlight. Blue was sexy as hell in his black and gold uniform, and she was beyond turned on.
Like that’s anything new.
It was just, she’d never met a man like him, and doubted she ever would again. He wasn’t just beautiful on the outside, a fallen angel in an otherworlder’s skin. Or something out of a fairy tale. Like a prince/villain hybrid. He was beautiful on the inside. He treated her with respect, even when she didn’t do the same to him. He protected. He amused.
She wanted him. Naked. In her bed. Not just for hand play, or oral, but straight-up sex. Hard. Fast. Rough. And then, when the first frantic wave of need was finally sated, she wanted him slow and soft.
Why wouldn’t he give it to her?
And why did she want it from him and him alone? Why couldn’t she just let him go and pick someone else? Tomorrow he might have to do things with Tiffany, in public . . . and in private.
No. No. Not this time. He hated that part of his job. Hated taking things so far.
That kind of crap stopped now.
She wanted him, and he wanted her. Therefore, she would have him—not Tiffany. He could get answers from the girl another way.
Evie would talk to him. He would either agree, or not. One way or another, she would have a solid answer, and she could decide her next move.
A one-time seduction . . . or more.
Because, at the end of the day, she trusted him. And, wow, what a difference a few weeks had made. They’d gone from hate and disgust to . . . whatever this was.
“I know!” a female voice proclaimed.
“Just isn’t right,” another said.
The voices snagged her attention. Behind her, a gaggle of the players’ spouses and girlfriends talked and ran the gamut of emotion. Each female was tall, thin, and gorgeous, dressed in skimpy clothing meant to lure and tempt men famous for their feminine conquests. Somehow all of the girls were the “bestest friends ever.”
Oi. Because Evie graduated so early, the only female friends she’d ever had were Claire and Eden, and as family they’d had to like her. She’d never made a friend on her own. Besides Blue. But he didn’t have boobs so he didn’t count. The mechanics of female bonding utterly baffled her.
At least she had the best seat in the box, the only one directly in front of the window. The rest of the women were squeezed behind her in rows of six.
“The entire situation is just so uncool. But I talked to Pagan last night and she told me they’re just taking a break,” one of the girls said in a stage whisper.
“Well, she lied. Her neighbor was interviewed this morning,” another replied, using the same loud-hush tone, “and the guy told reporters he heard Blue tell Pagan they were finished forever.”
“So brutal!”
Evie remembered how terrible Blue felt when it was over. No way he’d been brutal.
“Good riddance, I say. I never liked her.”
“Me neither. Talk about sleazy. That girl would do anything with a penis. Supposedly, the day after Blue dumped her, she was seen making out with three different guys at Club Joy Ride.”
“I can believe it. I caught her eye-stripping my man once. As if he would ever be desperate enough for the likes of her.”
There was no response, and every moment of silence caused the air to thicken with tension.
Uh-oh. Bet her man had done Miss Cary at some point.
“What?” the girl demanded.
“Uh, nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Well, I think Pagan had every right to seek comfort from other men so quickly. How many times did Blue cheat on her? Countless.”
Evie’s hackles rose. These women . . . they didn’t know Blue. They didn’t know his thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams. They didn’t know the situation or what happened behind the scenes. And yet they acted as judge and jury, as if they’d never made a mistake.
Once, I was just as guilty. But no more.
Besides, lovers went to Blue with their eyes wide open. They knew what they were getting. He told them. Just like he’ll tell me.
The conversation tapered into another subject, saving her from having to throw a pimp hand around. After a while, even the newest topic lagged into silence. The girls turned their attention to the game. Unfortunately, the reprieve didn’t last long.
“So, Evangeline. It’s nice to see you here.”
She turned to meet the gaze of the only redhead, and offered a tight smile. Though the girl’s tone was friendly, there was a speculative gleam in her brown eyes. This was a gossip hunt, no question.
“Thanks.” What was Red’s name? The girlfriends came and went so frequently, Evie never bothered to learn.
The speculative gleam deepened. “I feel so bad that so many of the players want out of their contracts now that Michael is gone. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you personally, though. I wouldn’t worry.”
What a sweet little backhanded compliment. Passive-aggressive behavior at its finest. Better to combat this head-on. “Anyone wanting out of his contract has only to ask. He’ll be cut and replaced within a single day. And, actually, that’s why I’m here. Now that I’ve taken over Black Industries, I want to give the boys a look-see.” Then, just to be contrary, she added, “Might be fun to restructure and use new starters, don’t you know.”
Red flushed and said nothing else.
Break time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” Evie stood and walked through the spacious room, past the long L-shaped bar surrounded by multiple padded stools. In the far corner, hidden in the dark wood-paneled walls, was the entrance to a private bathroom. She stepped inside, locked the door, and—even though she told herself not to do it—cranked the volume on the concealed mics in the box, multiple conversations filtering inside as she washed her face. She concentrated on one.
“—should take bets on Blue’s next conquest,” Red was saying.
A catty laugh sounded. “Whoever she is, she’ll be blond and stacked.”
Great. Like Evie really needed the reminder about Blue’s preference—everything she wasn’t!
“So, what do you think of Evangeline? I’ve never been a fan. She’s such a bit—”
Okay. Enough of that. She cut the feed.
Bracing her hands against the sink, she leaned her forehead against the mirror. I’m in way over my head, aren’t I?