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5
Taran sighed and leaned against the closed door. The smell of Obsession for Men floated across her entry way, leaving a hint of Corey Matthews behind. Nothing was working out the way she wanted. And she was done with it.
Last night, it had seemed like a great idea to bluff her way into some time with the great Corey Matthews. This morning, it was clear it was a bad idea. Taran had no idea what he’d been talking to Clayton about on the phone. She had only caught the tail end of the conversation—something about rain, and then Corey cursing Clayton out for making fun of his bad third inning. Truthfully, she didn’t know what Clayton had said about the third when she agreed with it. But she saw an opportunity, and she’d taken it.
She’d hoped Corey would take her home with him, and when Marc said she’d done a great job on her article about him, Marc would suggest she do one about Corey. Corey Matthews would listen to his trusted friends and end his long protest about any personal interviews. He’d let her do an article since she was a reporter the family trusted. That’s what she’d thought would happen because she saw what everyone else in the country saw in their favorite pitcher. The agreeable good old boy, the sweet awe shucks boy of baseball.
However, a few minutes with Corey Matthews told her he was neither agreeable nor trusting. He might play good old boy with the public, but he had a darker side. A depth she could see forming behind that shiny exterior. Not that the shiny exterior was anything to turn her nose up at. A body of steel, a mane of gorgeous dark blond hair set off by deep brown eyes slightly lighter in the center, and a chiseled jaw covered with a sexy scruff.
There was no denying Matthews was a mouth-watering piece of male perfection. But she had always known that about him. But she hadn’t realized he wasn’t boy-next-door sweet like he portrayed himself in every public thing he did. In fact, he was an asshole. And now that she knew, she couldn’t see the true man agreeing to an article. And the fact that her boss was demanding she do one this season sucked even harder.
At least she had her blog piece done. Danny and Luke were perfectly willing to let her blog about their TikTok “war” with their brothers. The piece would be a hit, linking all three videos, plus an extra idea from Marc. He was willing to donate a dollar for every like to his wife’s charity, Helping Hands. Everyone was on board. Nick and Clayton had both been called and had both okayed the entire thing. But she still needed an article for next month to get her boss off her ass.
She sighed and knocked her head against her door a few times. Taran had to tell Wayne who her feature would be about by tomorrow. At this point, she’d have to go with Clayton Evans, which would make him happy since he was one of Wayne’s top five. But that meant dealing with Hot Shots, because regardless of what Corey thought, she wasn’t using him for that. She circled back to the phone call she’d have to make to tell off Hot Shots’ founding partner, Sean Taylor.
He had given out her private address. He owed her.
She went back up to her room, searching for her cell and craving her bed because she hated to be up before noon. After a quick scroll through her contacts, she crawled back under the covers to make the call.
“No.” Sean’s jovial voice on the other end of the phone answered before she could even ask anything.
“You should just put that on your voicemail as the greeting,” Taran replied sarcastically.
“I’d need two numbers.” The smile was obvious in his voice.
“Does that mean you actually say yes to some people?” Although Taran didn’t believe that was true.
“My real clients—I say yes to every stupid thing they want from me.”
“Yes, your clients.” Taran frowned. “Exactly why I called.”
“Which one? Because it’s still probably no.” Sean was so full of it. Half his clients would love to have a feature article in any print, and they’d sell their mothers for one in the magazine she worked for.
“Which one did you give my private address to?” Taran asked.
He laughed on the other end of the line. “Did you really steal his car?”
“People tend to forget what they’ve given away when they’re trashed and acting like assholes.” With that statement she knew she’d have his full attention.
“What?” It was a whisper of a word before he recovered and used the business tone she rarely got from him. “No way. Matthews is my best-behaved client. And the jackals would have eaten that story up, especially with his mom. Taran, you cannot tell this story.”
Listening to the clicks of typing in the background, she could picture the agent to the stars at his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard to find where Corey had been last night. Jackals—the paparazzi, as most people knew them—hadn’t seen one very drunk Corey Matthews last night. She had. And he was more ornery when he was drunk than he was sober.
“You’re making a few too many assumptions, Sean.” Taran had him eating out of her hand now.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“Your client brought me with him to the Demodas’ last night, for umm, what do they call it?” Taran paused for dramatic effect. “Beer night? I think that’s what Corey said.”
“Horseshit!”
“I don’t think your client’s quite that bad.” She laughed.
“Cut the crap. What are you doing with Corey Matthews, Taran? I can’t imagine he agreed to an ‘In Case You Didn’t Know,’ so what’s the deal?” Sean was serious now.
Nothingwas the correct answer, because she was done with him. He’d never agree to an article, and she refused to hang out with someone who insulted her at every turn. Still, she didn’t tell him that.
“I guess you’ll have to wait to find out,” she answered coyly before turning serious. “However, give out my private address to anyone again, and my blogs will hit all your guys right where it counts. That’s a line you know better than to cross, Sean.”
