Page 1 of Most Likely to Score
1
JILLIAN
I’ve always been competitive. In school, in skiing, and definitely in public relations. Add in the fact that I do public relations for a professional football team, and you’ve got the makings of a perfect job for me. I’ll go toe to toe with any of the guys on the gridiron when it comes to having a competitive streak a mile wide.
That’s why this email fromSporting Worldexcites me. In my office overlooking the city of San Francisco, early on a summer morning, every competitive bone in my body lights up as I read:We would love for you to make your pitch for the players to consider for our annual Body Issue. This is one of our most sought-after issues in the magazine. A chance to showcase the glory of the human body in artful poses. We have twelve slots available for athletes.
The last few Body Issues of the world’s most popular sports magazine have featured some of the most iconic photos in sports. World-class athletes inthe nude, but angles and shadows covering them up. I’ve never landed an athlete for a cover shot. But maybe I could this year? First though, I’ll have to nab one of the coveted twelve slots before a cover is even an option.
Excitement stirs in me and I pop up from my desk, pacing to the window, staring at the city. I’m imagining our fifty-three-man roster. Picturing different guys posing on the field, or in a studio. I nibble on the corner of my lip as images of the athletes fly past me.
But they keep returning to one in particular.
One charismatic, photogenic man.
I know who’d be best. I’m positive I have just the right guy. I hope my boss agrees though.
I march down the hall to her office. Knock on the door. “Do you have a few minutes? I have an idea to run past you.”
Lily Eckles ushers me in, all red hair, light brown skin, and energy as she gestures to the chair across from her desk. “Of course. Anything for you, Jillian. What’s on your mind?”
I sit nice and straight. “The cover of the Body Issue. I think we can land it if we pitch just the right player for it,” I say, tasting the possibility.
Lily’s eyes light up. “Who do you have in mind? Harlan would be so great,” she says, enthused.
Our running back is a solid choice. “He’s super charming,” I say. With the lush locks and a sunny disposition Harlan would be terrific.
But . ..
“Or are you thinking about our quarterback? Everyone loves Cooper,” Lily adds, clearly enthused, too.
“He’s the city’s golden boy,” I say. After his whirlwind romance with his high school sweetheart last year, he’s captured all the hearts. There are other guys, too.
But there’s one in particular that I have in mind. And I’m about to say his name when a little kernel of worry rises up in me, lodges in my mind. Am I about to pitch Jones Beckett because I’ve had a crush from afar on the wide receiver?
All of a sudden, doubts plague me. I’ve tried valiantly to keep this annoying crush of mine from influencing any of my decisions. But the crush is merely a crush. Nothing will come of it and I can’t let it stand in the way of the right choice. Jones is the best.
“They’re all excellent,” I say confidently. “But with his charisma and charm, Jones Beckett is perfect for it. I’d like to pitch him.”
Her eyes twinkle and her lips spread into a huge grin. “Damn. I should have said him first. You’re right. You’re so damn right.” Then she waves me out. “Go! Make your pitch!”
“Boss’s orders,” I say with a smile, then return to my office and put together a kick ass pitch on why one of the top wide receivers in the NFL would be the ideal candidate.
His smiles last for days. His body is impeccable. Hell, it’s a work of art. And on top of that? He’s just oneof those guys that has a certain magic to him. But a picture is worth a thousand words. And I bet I could capture a great one of him. A candid image that would say it all.
I have just the idea. Maybe, just maybe, I can catch him any minute.
2
JONES
That was a hell of a run so far. Five miles across the Golden Gate Bridge, then up into the Muir Woods as the sun rises higher in the sky. Now, I’m about to cross over the bridge when my phone trills.
When I see the caller, I get a little spring in my step and, honestly, in my dick, too. It’s our very sexy, very brainy publicist for the Renegades. AKA the woman I like to flirt with but shouldn’t.
And yet, I still do flirt.
Jogging lightly over the famous bridge, I accept the call. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?”
