Melanie tapped her toes outside the locker room, near the batting cage, forced by Damien to wait until the players were decent. If he would only stretch his imagination, he could deduce that in her tenure as a sports journalist she’d seen chests, butts, and a goodly amount of man parts. Some impressive, some not so impressive. And because she was a professional, she’d never tell. Unless it was over copious amounts of cocktails with Tiana.
Damien waved her to follow him and held open the door. The musty smell wafting from the locker room would knock out most sports civilians, but she was used to the stench seeping from athletes’ lairs.
Her thin heels sank into the thick, navy blue-and-white carpet. She smiled at the New York Yankees logo on the wall and remembered when she’d wanted to be the first female Yankees player. Her smile didn’t waver at the memory. Interviewing some of the best athletes for one of the greatest sports franchises in the world was just as fulfilling.
“You ready?” Damien leaned down to whisper and placed his hand on the small of her back. She shivered at the contact as he guided her toward the Yankees’ new golden goose at the back of the room.
She tried but failed to keep her gaze straight ahead and not take in the hot-guy convention. The players were in various stages of undress. Towels were either slung low and wrapped around their waists, or they were in briefs, boxers, boxer-briefs, or fully dressed. Personally, she was a fan of boxer-briefs. Many of the players looked her over or did the manly chin lift to Damien.
She immediately recognized Jake standing in front of his locker with a towel draped over his neck. She lowered her gaze. Awesome. He’s a boxer-brief man.
“Jake Ross, meet Melanie Foster. Mel, I told him about your idea, and we are on board.” A glint of mischief made Damien’s eyes twinkle.
She knew he thought she would’ve given him hell if he didn’t make the deal happen. He was right.
Jake patted Damien’s back while he made no pretense of checking her out. “You didn’t tell me your reporter friend was so fine.”
She mentally berated herself for wearing the form-fitting red skirt and navy-and-white polka-dot blouse to the locker room.
Damien frowned at his client and looked as if he was about to shut him down, but she shook her head to stop him.
With stiff shoulders, she painted on a smile and offered her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jake. I’m an editor at SportsFanatic.com, and we would love for our readers to get to know the man behind the swagger, boiling it down to talent. Are you ready for this opportunity?” She kept her hands firm and face blank.
Her response knocked the cocky little grin from Jake’s face, and his eyes became somber. Obviously the media focusing on his face, instead of his talent, bothered him.
“I’m ready.” His gray eyes were focused and determined.
“Excellent. Let me get your number, and we can set up a time to meet.”
Damien didn’t keep his mouth shut this time and stepped into full publicist mode. “My client can be reached via email. I’ll make sure he gets the time for everyone to meet.”
“Okaaaay,” she agreed slowly, a wave of heat and embarrassment warming her cheeks.
Damien gave a curt nod. “Fantastic. Please send a request to Charlotte, and we’ll put something on the books.”
She crossed her arms. Damien was going to get an earful, treating her like a paparazzi hound who couldn’t be trusted. “I’ll have my people call your people, Mr. Richards.” She attempted to hide the sarcastic tone, but from Jake’s muffled laughter, she’d missed the mark.
Damien offered his elbow and an olive branch. “Why don’t I introduce you to the rest of the players on the team?”
• • •
The door to Damien’s office abruptly opened. Leslie marched in, his frazzled assistant trailing her. Looking like a comic super hero, the executive director of Refurbished Dreams stood with her legs spread, fists at her hips, and chest puffed.
Damien tucked clasped hands under his chin and sighed. He had a sneaking suspicion why she’d stormed into his office.
“Leslie. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Charlotte peered from the door, chest heaving. “I’m sorry, Damien. She must have left her manners at the center.”
Leslie winced and turned to face Charlotte. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but this cannot wait.” Swinging her angry glare back to Damien, she tossed golden-brown dreadlocks over her shoulders. “That fiancée of yours is trying to sabotage Refurbished Dreams.”
Charlotte snorted from the door and mumbled, “Why am I not surprised?”
Damien pointed to his assistant. “Can you close the door behind you? We need some privacy.”
Her smile was sweet. Too damn sweet. “Sure thing, boss.”
Damien shook his head, knowing full well she would be listening from behind the door.
He refocused on his former mentor. “What happened now?”
This wasn’t the first time Leslie had complained about Vanessa. His fiancée was inept on details and had nearly cost them their venue reservation for the gala when she sent the form to the incorrect manager. A very important detail when the in-demand event facility was donating their space for free and had a paying client interested in renting the space.
Then, Vanessa had sent out an email blast to donors and forgot to include a subject line and personalize the emails with their first names.
Leslie cracked her neck and popped her knuckles. “Per your suggestion, I invited that woman—I mean Vanessa—to the center. Since we’re profiling the kids online and during the event, I thought it would be a good idea if she got to know them, see them in their element.” Tawny eyes sparked with fury. “Wrong! So very, very wrong.”
“What happened?” His stomach dipped. Vanessa having a few snafus with the venue and donors was one thing. Messing with his kids was another.
“Oh, where do I begin?” Leslie threw her hands in the air. “Vanessa clutched her purse to her side as if we were going to rob her blind. And you know Dana, she wants to play pro golf?” Leslie shook her head and paced the floor. “After Vanessa ran through the most sterile list of questions ever, she laughs at Dana and says, ‘Oh, honey, you’ll never get a man playing that dreadful sport. What about cheerleading?’”
Damien reached for his stash of gummies. What in the hell was she thinking?
“Should I go on?”
He shook his head, piled candy into his mouth, and then swallowed. “No, no. I’ll talk to her.”
“No need. She’s been voted off the planning committee. I’d rather sprint a four-hundred-meter dash in Cinderella’s glass slippers than let her around our kids again.” The former track star shuddered. “What about your other lady … Melanie? She always helps when she’s in town, and the kids love her. And Charlie was a whiz at planning our fundraiser last year.”
Melanie would be perfect to help; plus, she could interview the kids and coach them on their speeches. And Charlotte would be perfect for the event details. Damien nodded. “Melanie lives in New York now. No promises, but I’ll give her a call. Why don’t you apologize to Charlotte again and ask for her help on your way out?”
“Apology accepted, and I’m on it, boss!” she yelled from the door.
Pressing her hands together in prayer, she mouthed “thank you” to the ceiling. Then she dropped her head and pointed to him. “I’m sure you’ll handle your fiancée and let her know we won’t be needing her services.”
Damien nodded and stood to give the director a hug. “I apologize for Vanessa’s behavior. I thought this fundraiser would give her something to focus on outside of her father’s illness. And I know you could use help with the planning.”
Leslie stepped back from their hug and harrumphed. “She’s certainly not like her father … or you. Speaking of, I want to run something by you, and I hope I’ll have your support.”
“All right, shoot.”
“After we get out of the mess I made, I’m stepping down as executive director.”
“Are you sure—”
Leslie raised her hand. “Believe me, I’m sure. I’m not much of an ED. I’ve already spoken to the board and put in my formal recommendation for my replacement—you.”
Pride swelled like a balloon in his chest. “I’m honored, truly. But I don’t think I’m the person for the job.”
“Not true, and the board agrees with my recommendation. Your attention to detail is stellar. You go above and beyond for the kids. The job is yours if you want it, D. And I’ll still be here to help but only as a board member.”
Her announcement sparked a question of his own. “Speaking of the kids, has Kelvin stopped by? It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen him, and I can’t get a lock on the kid.”
The hopeful expression on Leslie’s face disappeared. “No. Not yet. But I know he will. We won’t lose him.”
Damien nodded, troubled by Kelvin’s disappearing act. “No. We won’t.” I’ll make sure of it.