Page 21 of Game On

“Do you wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Shane hadn’t intended for the question to sound so terse, but he was feeling pretty charged up.

Carly took another step back, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the studio behind them. “It was nothing,” she said, lifting her chin up a notch.

Nothing my ass. Shane arched an eyebrow at her, his hands now on his hips. “Carly . . .” he said. But she was backing away from him.

“I need to get my bag out of the station manager’s office and you need to be back at the training facility for the mandatory conditioning session,” she said as she backed down the hallway. “I’ll see you back there.” With a wave, she disappeared around the corner, leaving Shane standing there wondering—not for the first time with Carly—what exactly had just happened.

Kids were running amok in the Blaze offices. Shane watched from his table as Carly shepherded a group of toddlers through the Blaze commissary, clutching their tiny hands as another Blaze staffer dispensed frozen yogurt into cups for the kiddies. Their precious treat in hand, Carly led them to a table overlooking the Blaze practice field. The chairs—built specially for large athletes—were so enormous, she and her partner had to lift each child into a seat, their stubby legs dangling precariously above the floor. The sight looked as ridiculous as the time he and some teammates struggled to fit into the tiny chairs in a kindergarten class his former team had forced Shane to visit.

Leaning back on the two rear legs of his chair, Shane took in the scene. Carly was dressed in khaki shorts and a fitted Blaze golf shirt, her hair neatly pulled back in some kind of braid. He hadn’t seen her since the incident at the television studio earlier in the week. The remaining media commitments were national and Asia was handling them now that she was back at work full-time. Fortunately, the major sports writers focused most of their questions on the x’s and o’s of football, steering clear of his personal life. The final stages of the Blaze media campaign had been easy for him, in more ways than one.

Carly was all smiles dealing with the rugrats, handing out napkins and dispensing spoons and sprinkles. She looked like she was actually enjoying catering to the little ankle-biters. Shane wasn’t much for kids. His agent, Roscoe, had a pair of twin boys aged somewhere between diapers and kindergarten. The few times he’d been around them, he’d ended up with some sort of food product or worse stuck to his clothing. Shane shuddered at the thought. Although, watching Carly gently stroke her hand over a little towheaded boy stirred something inside him. Probably just feeling jealous of the little bugger. Shane took a pull from his protein shake as Carly walked over to his table.

“Can I grab this chair?” she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. You running a day care now?”

“Well, after working with you for two weeks, how hard could an afternoon with seven preschoolers be?”

“Nice one.” He saluted her with his drink.

Carly grinned at his compliment. “We do this most Fridays, especially during the season.”

“You bring in kids to play? Here? During the season?” he said, not bothering to hide his unease.

“Not just any kids. Children of the players and coaches. We also have a family dinner on Wednesday nights. The coaches and players spend so much time here during the season that we try to give them an opportunity to see their families, too. It makes for a stronger team. One big, happy family.”

In Shane’s experience, families weren’t generally happy, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. She looked so proud of the concept that he figured it had to be her idea.

“It works pretty well, if I do say so myself,” she said, notching her chin in the air.

Yep, definitely her idea. One thing he’d learned about her these past few weeks: Carly would do anything for her family. In fact, her life outside the office pretty much revolved around helping out her half sister, Coach, and their kids.

“As long as I don’t have to play the family game,” he said.

Carly tilted her head to the side, studying him for a long moment. “What’s your problem with the concept of family?”

Shane thumped the front legs of his chair back down. “I don’t have a problem.”

Placing her palms flat on the table, she leaned in front of him, giving him an excellent view down her shirt. His junk grew tighter beneath his workout shorts.

“Okay, then, if you don’t have a problem with families, why do you clam up every time an interviewer asks you about your father? Or your brother?” she demanded.

Shane’s eyes shot from her breasts to glare at Carly’s face. He was so not having this conversation with her. His father was not up for discussion with anyone. Period.

Bruce Devlin may be his father, but he was not Shane’s family. The man everyone was so interested in was on the upside of life again. He’d landed on his feet after conquering his addiction, and was now regarded by many as one of the top coaches in college football. After dragging himself from the gutter, he’d found religion and was now leading his alma mater to bowl game appearances while lecturing at faith conferences for athletes across the country.

Further aggravating Shane, Bruce Devlin also managed to acquire a hot new wife half his age. A former Miss South Carolina, Lindsey Devlin was everything Shane’s own mother had never been. Beautiful, well educated, and possessing enough social graces to charm the shit off a man’s shoes, Shane had taken an instant dislike to the green-eyed, statuesque brunette who was his father’s young wife. The few times Bruce and Lindsey had invited him to visit when he was a teenager, Shane took every opportunity to demonstrate that his soul was beyond redemption—including propositioning his father’s wife.

Looking back, Shane was ashamed at his childish behavior. Bruce and Lindsey—especially Lindsey—had treated him with extreme patience. She continued to invite Shane to family events despite his staunch refusal to attend. He chalked it up to her doing her “Christian duty.” Making the effort to include Shane probably allowed her to sleep at night. He assumed his father was glad he stayed away so as not to poison the character of his other son.

The one Bruce Devlin stuck around to raise.

When Shane continued to glare at her, Carly stood up crossing her arms under those problematic breasts. “Seriously, Shane? Not even a smart comeback to my question?”

“I’ll answer your question when you answer one of mine.”

She annoyingly arched an eyebrow at him, refusing to back down.

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