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Troy Marshall was a hazard to her mental health. He was handsome, charming, self-confident. His warm sienna skin, intense ebony eyes, and wicked goatee could make a woman stupid. Andrea had done stupid. She didn’t intend to repeat the act. Now she carried her self-control like an American Express card. She wouldn’t leave home without it.
She shifted her weight and crossed her arms. “I don’t work for you, Troy. I’m not a member of the Monarchs’ publicity team. I’m a reporter.”
His heavy black brows knitted. “And you’ve had open access to the players and coaches. Until now.”
Was he threatening her job? Andrea wouldn’t be intimidated. She’d survived more dangerous challenges than this one. Barely. “I’m the only reporter who pays any attention to your team.”
Troy shook his head. The room’s dim lighting moved over his short, wavy black hair. “Not any more. We’re getting more column inches in the Times, the Daily News, and the Post. This morning, I had a call from the Cleveland Plain Dealer.”
“Will you cut them all off if they don’t give the Monarchs positive coverage?”
Troy pushed his hands back into the front pockets of his gray suit. The gesture opened his jacket, exposing his burgundy shirt and calling more attention to his broad chest than seemed necessary. “I’ll do whatever I need to do to protect the team.”
Andrea blinked. His mask had fallen to reveal the steely determination beneath his calculated charm. “Does that include ignoring a player who’s in crisis?”
Troy’s gaze wavered. His square jaw tightened. “Barron’s fine.”
She studied his chiseled features. “What’s changed, Troy? This isn’t the first article I’ve written that hasn’t been completely glowing about the Monarchs. Why are you jumping down my throat this time?”
“Nothing’s changed.”
That wasn’t true. In the past, he’d flirted rather than fought with her. “You’ve never threatened my access to the team before.”
“You’ve never attacked a player’s character before.”
Andrea’s temper bristled. She hooked her hands on her hips. “That story wasn’t an attack. It called attention to Barron’s risky behavior, which, by the way, is getting worse.”
“Barron’s always been disruptive.”
“This isn’t ‘Barron being Barron.’ If you don’t know what’s wrong with him, you need to find out.”
Troy cocked his head. “And then what? Should I schedule an interview with you?”
“I won’t lie to you. I’d like to cover the story. But it’s more important that someone find out what’s wrong with him.”
Troy tore his hands from his pockets. “Why are you so focused on Barron?”
“Why are you so determined to ignore him?”
“I’m not going to allow you to ruin a good person’s reputation to sell a few papers.”
“I don’t do sensationalism. You’ve read enough of my work to know that.”
Troy dragged his right hand over the glossy curls crowning his head. Andrea’s palm tingled as though it were her hand touching his hair.
Troy seemed to regain his self-control. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I want you to stop writing negative stories about the team.”
Andrea shook her head. “I don’t take requests, Troy. You should know that as well.”
He straightened from the conference table. “You have plenty of other things to write about. This is the first time the team has made the play-offs in four seasons. You don’t have to write about Barron.”
“You should be concerned about Barron, too. His attitude will infect the whole team.”
Troy stared at her for several silent moments. He scratched his chin. Andrea visually traced his neatly trimmed moustache and goatee. She wasn’t given to fantasies, but she could come up with several for Troy.
“I don’t need your advice on taking care of the team.” Troy started toward the door.
Andrea moved into his path. “You were a reporter. Are you holding me to the same standards you set for yourself ?”
