Page 3 of The Playmaker
"I focus on what matters—community events for kids, charity galas, and staying in peak condition for my team."
Damn him. He transformed my ambush into a PR masterclass. I can't stand this man!
"But those photos... your fans would love to know if you've found love." I press on, recklessly.
"Maybe keep your eyes on the preseason games, Ms. Monroe, instead of your nose in rumors of my..." he pauses as his gaze travels my body, "love life."
I shiver as silence blankets the room. Am I... aroused by him? I can't even admit it to myself.
Juan coughs awkwardly. Eventually, smaller outlets get their questions, but Jaxon's eyes never lose that knowing smirk.
Finally, it ends. But being in front, Juan and I are trapped until the room empties from the back.
"You really want to get fired, don't you?" Juan mutters, shaking his head.
I can't explain it to him. He wouldn't understand. Nearby, a team executive chats with an ESPN journalist.
"Great work today. We're trying something new—having select journalists shadow our players for part of the season. Inside access. You'll hear from us if you're chosen."
My shoulders slump. That could have been me if I'd controlled my mouth. But exposés on ego-inflated athletes are my specialty anyway. I'd never be picked for an insider program.
"Finally," Juan says as the crowd thins enough for us to exit. "Let's find Pen and score some free food."
I sense him before I see him. An unwelcome flutter surges through me.
"See you around, bench warmer," he murmurs for my ears only.
I refuse to let him affect me. Looking into that infuriatingly handsome face, I reply with practiced nonchalance, "Nah, I'll be too busy putting my nose in your love life, remember?"
Instead of acknowledging my clever comeback, he laughs dryly and—the audacity—winks.
I watch him stride toward the side of the room, all coiled power and confidence.
Maybe it's a little sexy that he has an actual personality.
I steal one final glance on my way out.
Interesting. He's smiling down at a teenage girl, his arrogant facade completely gone. Perhaps Jaxon Carter has both personalityandheart after all.
As I push through the exit doors, my phone buzzes with a text from my editor.
How'd it go? Get anything juicy on Carter?
I hesitate, my thumbs hovering over the screen. The truth? I got nothing but attitude and a confusing tangle of attraction I absolutely refuse to acknowledge. I'd walked in planning to hate him on principle—the way I hate all athletes with their perfect lives and inflated egos. But that glimpse of gentleness with the teen girl nags at me.
There's a story here. Not the cheerleader hookup fluff piece, but something deeper. Something hidden behind those guarded green eyes.
Working on something big,I text back.Give me time.
I have no idea what I'm doing, but one thing's certain—Jaxon Carter is not the simple playboy the media portrays. And despite every instinct warning me to stay away, I'm going to find out who he really is.
Even if it means getting dangerously close to the bench I swore I'd never warm.
CHAPTER 2
JAX
Ipick up speed as the crowd goes wild. The turf beneath my cleats flies up in the air as I sprint, putting distance between the other team’s defensive players and me. Our quarterback feigns a throw to Hawk, then arcs the football like a torpedo over to me. Every yard I gain is a step closer to victory.
