Page 2 of Quarterback Sneak

“I’m sorry, that sounded catty.” Apologetic blue eyes met his as she fiddled with the label on her sparkling water bottle. “I’m sure Howler informed you that, as the team’s new lead attorney, I’ll be handling the negotiations on your renewal contract.”

His agent, Howler, had filled him in on the scoop once Sam had returned home after spending six months doing an aid tour for UNICEF. “He mentioned it. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”

Taking a sip of water, she lowered the bottle. “Thank you, Sam. I appreciate it. Since we’ll be working closely together in the upcoming months, I wanted to clear the air between us.”

“Can I get you a drink?” The bartender leaned over the marble bar, hands flat on the curved lip. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to place Sam. Shit.

“Where do these apps go?” a waitress said to the bartender, holding up two plates.

The bartender turned his attention to the server and accepted the food. He nodded to Sam. “I’ll be right back with you, sir.”

Whew, close call. “Do you want to grab a table?” If an argument broke out, Sam was not keen on airing his dirty laundry in the middle of a busy bar. The newspapers would have a field day with the story. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time.

She shook her head. “I can’t stay for long. I have another appointment. I just had to apologize for…well for my jealous rant—or I should say, rants, plural. I was unfair to you.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxed and he shifted in his seat. If only she’d been this reasonable while they’d been dating. But that was over and he’d moved on. Hopefully she’d be able to move on and finally be happy—with someone else. “I appreciate your candor. It wasn’t easy for you. I know that.”

“No, it wasn’t. You didn’t deserve what I handed out. That was all on me.” She reached out and laid her hand on his forearm, squeezing. “I admire you, Sam. You’re kind, intelligent, and have a great career. Either scruffy or clean cut, you’re every girl’s dream. You’re perfect.”

An incredulous laugh escaped before he could suppress it. “Nobody’s perfect.”

Removing her hand, she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe not perfect, but you’re always so damned positive, regardless of the craziness around you. I can’t be like you. I can’t be as pulled together.”

I don’t have the luxury of being otherwise. Sam agreed with her argument; given his notoriety, being on-point for the media often proved difficult. He had no choice but to wear his game face and to present himself as a positive role model. The effort was worth every bit of attention his celebrity brought to his charitable causes.

“I thought I knew what I was getting into but it was, um, difficult to constantly be reminded by every news article that I didn’t even come close to being good enough for my philanthropic star-athlete boyfriend. Believe me, I don’t want you to change who you are, but when I’m with you, it changed who I am.” She paused, lips pressed together. “I’m sorry. Even being around you for five minutes has made me into the worst sort of bitch.”

That was his fault for not warning her of the craziness ahead of time. No matter how much he wished otherwise, he couldn’t shield her from the intense public scrutiny. Being in the limelight was part of who he was, but it didn’t define him. He needed a woman confident enough to handle the cameras with grace and look past the fame to the man behind the glamour. Now if he could just find this paragon.

“Again, I’m sorry, and I hope we can put this past us.” She glanced away, her shoulders slightly hunched.

He almost wanted to touch her cheek, to reassure her everything would be fine. Reopening old wounds would benefit neither one of them. “You already apologized.”

“Not really. I’m sorry for accusing you of having an affair with those women. In hindsight, I was projecting some residual anger from my past onto you, but that’s another story. The truth is, I didn’t actually believe any of those rumors and I wanted you to know that.” She stood and grabbed her blue jacket.

He held the collar for her while she slipped it on. “I appreciate your honesty and your apology. I hope we can put this behind us,” he said.

“Me too. I’ll see you later,” she said, offering him a small wave.

“Bye.” His phone buzzed with a text from Howler. He returned the message, feeling much better after their conversation. Sam hadn’t liked the way it ended between them and he had a better sense of closure. Turning on his heel, he started to leave the restaurant when a tall, sexy brunette in a chef’s coat caught his attention. He watched her approach, her straight hair pulled high in a sleek ponytail.

She slipped by close enough for him to admire the swell beneath her white double-breasted uniform. Embroidered in red lettering across the left chest pocket was her title. Executive Chef. She swept past him before he could read her name.

A server with a full tray of drinks blocked the chef’s passage, and as she stepped aside to give the man space, the strap on the cloth bag she held slipped from her shoulder. A tomato tumbled out, bounced off a bar stool, and flew into the air.

Instinct sent Sam’s arm up at the same instant she lunged forward to grab it. Her momentum made her stumble, and her outstretched palm connected with the tomato before meeting his. The pressure of their combined hands crushed the tomato’s delicate skin with an inevitable splat, before showering them both with pungent juice.

Could she be a bigger klutz? Mortified, Ivy raised her gaze and nearly fell into pools of vivid green eyes framed by chocolate brown lashes. She scanned the man’s ruggedly handsome features. His generous nose was strong like his stubbled jaw. And his full lips—whew! They sent her mind to a dangerous place. The happy hubbub of Vicenzo’s disappeared. Was she having some sort of seizure? She had never met somebody who could literally block out time and space. Dumbfounded, she stared at him.

He stared back.

Slowly she became conscious of his hand still linked with hers—warm, calloused, and sticky. Embarrassment brought her back to reality, and the quiet encompassing her mere seconds before disappeared. Voices amplified as if time had returned to its normal rate.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Come with me.” Without waiting for an answer, Ivy dragged him behind the bar. She navigated him into the pass-through lined with shelves laden with linens, and over to the stainless steel utility sinks situated outside the double doors that lead to the kitchen. “You can wash up in here.”

“Thanks.” He pushed up the stained sleeve of his hoodie and turned on the faucet, his profile to her.

She washed the juice off her hands in the second sink and studied him for a long moment. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. “Have we met before?”

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