Page 26 of Game On

Surging to his feet, Shane got right in Hank’s face. “I don’t give a shit who that stoner’s grandfather is! He was all over Carly. Guys like that . . .” Shane shook his head in disgust. “But I didn’t pummel him. I only threw one punch.”

Matt grabbed his quarterback and forced him back onto the sofa, pressing a hand to his shoulder to keep him seated. Hank stood before them, hands on his hips pushing his tuxedo jacket open. Carly felt like she was in the principal’s office awaiting expulsion.

“Hank, Shane didn’t start this. Joel did!” Carly tried to intercede on Shane’s behalf.

“Well, I guess we’ll just see how the incident went down because apparently there’s film at eleven,” the GM ground out.

“Not again,” Carly groaned, burying her face in her hands. Lisa wrapped her arm around Carly’s shoulder.

Not for the first time in her life, Carly was in the wrong place at the wrong time when the media were watching. It was bad enough Joel had put his hands—and mouth—on her, but now the paparazzi could blow the incident out of proportion. What was it about her that the media found so fascinating? She’d already been run out of Italy and a job she liked by the actions of a man and the overzealous media he practically commanded. Surely it wouldn’t happen again.

Worst of all, Shane was telling the truth. Joel had collapsed after one punch. Apparently he couldn’t hold his liquor or his drugs. The facts would win out and the Blaze would probably be able to protect Shane. But who would protect Carly from the evening entertainment shows? She wasn’t a celebrity, but by virtue of the fact that her mother and her former fiancé were, she had to suffer the media scrutiny. Well, she’d had her fifteen minutes of fame—and then some. The thought of enduring more made her sick.

“Hank,” Lisa said. “Could we please not forget about Carly?”

The GM rubbed his hand over his head before crouching down on his knees in front of the sofa. “I’m sorry, Carly. Nobody should have to go through what you did with Tompkins. We’ll make this right. The Blaze organization is a family, and we take care of our own.” Hank took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. The warmth in Hank’s eyes did a great deal to calm Carly’s racing nerves.

Donovan hustled into the room. “The bartender told police Tompkins had three drinks in the hour before he confronted Carly. He also said Tompkins was pretty wasted when he arrived. Police are taking his statement now.”

“Can the police ask for drug and alcohol tests while he’s in the ER?” Hank asked.

“Already done,” Donovan said.

“Good,” Hank said. “That’ll give me something to bargain with in convincing the grandfather not to press charges.”

Donovan handed a disk to Hank. “Surveillance tapes. The hotel gave me the originals. Their security chief is a friend. Also, the photographer in the hallway is just a hotel patron. Asia convinced him that season tickets to the Blaze and a comp hotel room for every game were a better bargain than whatever the picture would be worth to someone else.” He winked at Carly and she was finally able to breathe normally.

“Nice work,” Hank said, pocketing the disk. “Let’s hope my negotiations with the grandfather go as well. I suggest you two quietly leave the hotel. The media know something is up since the police were called, but I’d rather we control the spin on this.”

They all stood and walked out of the office, Lisa’s arm draped over Carly’s shoulder. Hank was examining Shane’s hand.

“Get some ice on that,” he said. He walked over and gave Carly a gruff kiss on the cheek. “You get some rest. I’ll see you on Monday.” He made his way back to the ballroom, presumably to speak with Joel’s grandfather.

Matt was next. He took Carly in his arms and brushed his lips over the top of her head before handing her off to his wife.

Lisa gave her a squeeze. “You call me if you need me. No matter what! Promise?” she demanded.

“I promise. Now go and wow them with your speech.” Carly shooed her sister and brother-in-law away, offering them a forced smile as they left. Once they disappeared into the ballroom, Carly turned to Shane. Gently, he put his hand on her back and guided her over to the concierge desk. He reached for his jacket. Carly began to shrug it off her shoulders, but Shane pulled it closed instead.

“Huh-uh,” he said, his warm breath stirring the tendrils of hair along her forehead. “I just need my valet stub.” He reached into the breast pocket of the jacket, lightly brushing her bare shoulder. She took a calming breath as heat rose in her belly. Apparently not even being accosted by a drug-crazed creep could temper her body’s reaction to Shane. He retrieved the ticket and put his hands on her shoulders, gently easing her down onto an upholstered bench tucked behind the concierge.

“I’ll be right back. Sit. Stay,” he commanded her. Carly raised her chin to stare at him, arching an eyebrow for good measure.

“I’m not Beckett.”

“No, you’re not,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin on her neck. “You smell better.” Shane smiled. And Carly felt her heart flutter. He was the same man who’d been charming her all night. Except now she was looking at him differently. He’d just put his position on the team in jeopardy so he could help her. She returned his smile with a genuine one of her own. He froze for a minute and she thought he might say something. Instead, he clucked her on the chin.

Carly slowly leaned back against the wall as she watched Shane walk away. He stopped to speak sternly to the hotel security guard who was following them discreetly and then left her there in search of the valet. She closed her eyes as she waited for him, her inner self telling her she could trust Shane. The prickling sense of fear she felt whenever she was around Joel wasn’t evident when Shane was near. He’d come to her aid tonight. She hated that Hank was so ready to accuse him of being a bully, when Shane was really the hero in all of this. Heck, the man even rescued lost dogs. What would the media think of that? She smiled to herself. Yes, she could trust Shane to keep her safe. Too bad he wasn’t the type of guy she could trust with her heart.

EIGHT

Shane was still seething as he held the passenger door to his Lincoln Navigator open for Carly. As elegantly as was possible considering the circumstances, she climbed up into the SUV, gathering the skirt of her dress up under her. The car wasn’t exactly made for women in high heels and evening gowns, but he didn’t like cramming himself inside a tiny sports car. He needed space. As he walked around to the driver’s side, he ripped at his bow tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar. Enough of the monkey suit.

Climbing in beside Carly, his hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. He took a deep breath before glancing over at her. She sat with her eyes closed, her head leaning back against the headrest. Man, what a night, he thought as he looked out over the hotel’s drive. He could have killed that bastard Thompkins. If Donovan hadn’t come along, he very well might have. Thoughts of what might have happened if he hadn’t gone looking for Carly made his palms sweat. He didn’t even know why he’d gone looking for her, except that he missed her. Boredom had set in within two minutes of her leaving the table. Trying to calm his thoughts, he dragged in another breath.

“You okay?” Carly asked softly. He turned to look at her. The interior of the car was dark, but he could see her cheek silhouetted against the street lights. Reaching over, he traced a finger along the spot on her shoulder where Joel had grabbed her.

“I should be asking you that,” he said. “I don’t think he left too much of a mark.”

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