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Melissa shrugged. "You certainly could do that." She wasn't afraid of her father anymore, and wondered why she ever had been. "But then, you might risk losing your best agent."
He blinked once. Twice. "One week," he said, then walked to the group of agents over by the doughnuts and coffee.
Melissa's mouth curved into a smile. She'd finally surprised him. For the first time in his life, it seemed he didn't recognize the woman standing before him. Maybe he'd never really known her at all.
And maybe she hadn't known herself.
She took a seat and tried to focus on JP's blocking and pass routes, but she was continually distracted by Dominic.
Though not for the usual reasons.
Dominic had always been one of the most consistently excellent players in football. Where most guys had their share of down games—even a down season, if things were really rotten—Dominic earned his salary every single outing. His plays were inspired, finessed, and rarely outmaneuvered by the defensive line.
But this morning he was a bona fide disaster, with a bad case of the drops. He couldn't hold on to anything thrown his way. She winced as he was crushed beneath a linebacker. She'd have been embarrassed for him if she hadn't been so worried about the pain he had to be in.
Her father's words came back to her: He's getting close to retirement.
After one bad play too many, Dominic limped over to the sidelines and JP moved in to replace him. Come Monday morning, no matter how much pain Dominic was in, as his agent she'd have to lay down some hard truths. If he continued to perform so far below his usual level—especially if he took this crappy performance into the start of the new season—future endorsements, not to mention lucrative new contracts, would be very hard to come by.
But under no circumstances would she run to his side to make sure he was okay. Because that was something a girlfriend—or a wife—did. Not a three-day f**k buddy like her.
The Outlaws' physical therapist pushed and flexed Dominic's arms and legs and chest. "Anything hurt?" Dominic grunted. Everything did, just like always. But although his body had taken a real beating on the field today, it was his pride that hurt like hell. He'd been asleep out there, a total liability.
Seeing Melissa look so pale and so sad had shaken him deeply. He'd never meant to cause her such pain. When she'd walked into the stadium that morning, he'd been struck again by the fact that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. But his reaction was more than sexual. Her beauty went deeper than her face, her skin, her body.
She radiated goodness from within.
And she didn't trust him, didn't believe that he loved her.
And why the hell should she? he wondered as the therapist pulled his foot into his glutes to stretch his quads. He'd rejected her, seduced her, then lost his mind in her foyer and acted like a complete ass.
Dominic grunted at the painful stretch. Post-scrimmage had always been a time for reflection, but his thoughts usually centered on the game.
Today, the only thing he could focus on was Melissa.
"I've never seen you so tight," the therapist said. "Been doing anything out of the ordinary lately?"
Oh, just nonstop sex and guilt-induced insomnia.
"A couple of late nights," he finally said.
Matt began to work his torture on Dominic's other leg. "You sure are lucky," he said enviously. "Regular guys like me have to work our asses off just to get a pretty girl's attention. You must have to turn them away like crazy."
Matt was right. The easy part was getting a girl into bed. The hard part was knowing when you had the right girl.
And making sure you didn't screw it up.
Fucking up in high school had made him shut down the wildness inside, allowing it to be unleashed only on the field. Had he turned into an emotionless scrooge? A man who couldn't recognize love when it slapped him in the face?
It had taken Melissa only three days to uncover a part of Dominic that he'd kept hidden nearly his whole life, to realize that his childhood had been all about responsibility. Without his telling her anything about his shithead stepfather, and the crushing guilt he'd lived with for two decades, somehow Melissa had tapped directly into Dominic's deep, dark core.
He'd always thought that passion was a weakness and had never allowed himself to feel this way about anyone else. But with Melissa, he'd had no choice.
He loved her. Passionately.
Somehow he needed to make up for the callous way he'd treated her. He needed to tell her he loved her again—the right way, without jealousy and possession clouding every word. He was going to admit all his sins.
And then, for once he'd sit the f**k back and listen to what she wanted, rather than what he thought was best for both of them.
He sat upon the massage table and flipped open his cell phone, then made the Hail Mary phone call that was his last chance to win Melissa back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Monday morning, Melissa walked into the conference room and locked the door. She was still recovering from the barbecue at her parents' house on Sunday. All afternoon, they'd pressed single men on her. Boring, balding, conceited men of all shapes and sizes brought her glasses of wine and told her how pretty she was. But mostly they admired her father's top-of-the-line outdoor grill and kitchen, knowing that if they married her, one day it would all be theirs. She couldn't wait to leave.
The telephone in the center of the conference table stared at her, daring her to call JP and tell him he was nowhere near ready to play for a new team. Because after seeing him play on Saturday, she'd known with utter certainty that she couldn't shop him yet—if ever.
JP was a train wreck: fast when he should have been taking his time, catching the football either a moment too early or a millisecond too late. He had a great physique, but it didn't take much to get him panting.
Sure, she could run him until he dropped, make him start the day with weights and end it doing push-ups and sit-ups until he cried out for mercy. But it was more than conditioning that JP lacked. And frankly, Melissa wasn't at all sure that he had that special something.
The special something that Dominic had in spades.
She shouldn't think about him—it was pointless. She'd always love him beyond words, but she couldn't be with a man who wanted to control her.
Forcing herself to focus, Melissa picked up the phone and dialed JP's house. He wasn't home and didn't answer his cell phone either.
Great. Instead of working his ass off to become the best damn wide receiver in the country, he was probably out spending all the money he didn't have in expectation of a multimillion-dollar deal.
