Page 7 of Quarterback Keeper

That muscle along his jaw ticked, and…Are his eyes getting red?

“When my mom dies.”

My heart lurched as his words pierced my mind. Grief broke as clear as day on his face. The wall barricading his emotions dropped, giving me a breath-stealing glimpse into his pain. For our negotiation, he let me see it all, and God, I felt for him. I was no stranger to death and loss.

“I hate to ask this”—my stomach churned and rebelled—“but in reference to the business deal, how long does she have?”

“Months.” He cleared his throat then scrubbed his hands over his face. “It could be one month or six.”

I blinked back tears for a woman I didn’t even know. Getting ahold of my emotions, I turned the conversation back to business. “What are the terms with living arrangements? If this is your daddy’s boat, won’t he take offense to me staying on it?” Because I had a suspicion that even if it was a gift from his dad, it could be snatched back.

“If that becomes a problem, you’ll move in with me.”

“And where do you live? Do you have roommates?”

“I live in a three-bedroom condo. There’s a doorman, and I have two roommates.”

“Both footballers?”

At his nod, my mind spun. More muscle. More safety. It might help keep Dayton at bay once he found out where I was—and he would. Because he was relentless when he wanted something, and he thought of me as his—bought and paid for.

“Well?”

“I just… Give me a minute.” I paced along the edge of the bed in front of him. The money would be nice. And the security. If he followed through with the deal, it would be a fair one for both of us, one he couldn’t go back on because I could take it public or sue. And I bet his father wouldn’t want that kind of publicity. I stopped in front of him, my decision made. “Fine. Let’s negotiate.”

A slow grin curved his firm lips, and all I could think about was how they would feel, which was all kinds of wrong. I told myself I didn’t want him—or any man, for that matter—touching me. When he stood, towering over me, my pulse spiked for reasons I didn’t want to identify. He came back to the bed with a notebook and pen. I sat across from him.

An hour later, notes scribbled over several pages defined the finer points of our agreement.

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“I didn’t say anything about sex, Gia. However, we have to look like we’re intimate when we’re out in public or around my parents.”

“What exactly do you mean? Hand-holding?”Please let it just be that.

“Yes, and kissing in public.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s nonnegotiable.”

I could see his point, but I wished it weren’t necessary. For the added security, to be safe, I would deal with it. “Fine. What else?”

“Dinner once a week with my mom.”

That didn’t feel right. “Twice a week, since this is all for your mom anyway.”

He studied me in that too-close way he had. “Do you have family?”

“No.”

He put down the pen. “Are you enrolled in college? It might be easier to transfer you to Fall Lake University.”

“I was in college somewhere else. I don’t want to enroll again.”

“You can stay on the boat unless something happens and you don’t feel safe.”

“What do you mean?”Could he know? Does he know Dayton? Is this a setup?

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