Page 8 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“Samantha,” she cuts me off.

“Okay, Samantha. Did I do something to offend you?” I must look clueless because her scowl fades and the hard line of her mouth morphs into a mortified ‘O.’ Her

posture goes rigid.

“I…no. I made an assumption, and that was unprofessional of me. I apologize,” she says stiffly, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

“What assumption?” I prompt, feeling suddenly like she's disappointed in me, but whether as a client or as a person I can’t tell. Either way, I don’t like it.

I’ve disappointed my fair share of women over the years, mostly by being too focused on the game, but since I make clear up front the game comes first there's never been any reason for regret when it did. I didn’t make that clear with Samantha. Even though this is supposed to be a business meeting, it doesn’t feel like just business. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t like the look in her eyes right now.

“What assumption?” I ask again.

“It’s nothing.” She starts grabbing for her papers.

“Samantha.” I cover her hand with mind to get her to stop fidgeting. She inhales sharply at the contact, but doesn’t pull her hand back.

“I assumed you really wanted to make a difference.” She exhales, glancing at our hands.

“Don’t my name and my money make a difference?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“You give money to lots of things. It’s in your file.” She adds when I tilt my head. “You’re very generous, financially. I thought this meeting was you wanting to be generous with your time, otherwise what’s the point? But I shouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion. You don’t have to build anything, you can just make donations, or use your celebrity to encourage others to donate.”

“Don’t do that.” I give her hand a squeeze.

“What?” She looks at me warily.

“Make another assumption. Just because we had some mixed signals doesn’t mean your way won’t work.” I’m vaguely aware of opening the door to something I don’t have the desire or time to commit to, but something tells me if I don’t at least explore what she has in mind I won’t see her again, and I don’t like that thought at all. If the only way to guarantee another meeting is to move forward with her ideas, so be it.

Deep down I know this is a dangerous idea, and not just because I’m heading into my busy season, which usually means things outside football don’t exist. It’s a

bad idea because my primary motivation to move forward is her.

It’s not that I don’t care about giving back - I do - it’s that I’m considering a greater level of involvement at the worst possible time simply because I think it would make her happy. That shouldn't be important to me when I’ve known her barely an hour, but it is.

I want to see more of her sweet smile. I want to learn more about her. And maybe it makes me kind of shallow, but I want to explore this pull between us, if I can get her past her fear of it. At the very least, if I see her again maybe I'll figure out why I need to see her again.

“I see what you’re saying about donations not being any different than what I’ve done before, and I’m willing to try something new. But, I’m not gonna sugar coat it hon…Samantha. I’m about to be damn busy with football for the foreseeable future. I’m not sure what else I can take on right now. I need you to help me understand what building something means.”

Her eyes drift down to our hands before coming back to rest on mine with a mixture of confusion and fear, and damn I wish I knew what causes that. Is she in a relationship and frightened by this pull? Is she just out of one and not ready for something else? Does my dating history scare her?

I’ve had many girlfriends over the years, but I’ve been faithful to all of them. Well, all of them after my wife anyway. I saw how hurt she was when I was unfaithful, and even though things didn’t work out with us I learned a lesson from that experience. I haven’t been unfaithful to a woman since, so while I’ve had lots of girlfriends over the years, I’ve been good to all of them. That never makes the press though.

“What do you say? Can you help me?” I squeeze her hand again.

“I…” She slides her hand out from under mine and rests it in her lap, her face expressionless. Composed. “Yes, I can help.”

Samantha

It'snotuntilheleaves my office that I feel like I can breathe fully again, although my breaths are still somewhat shaky long after he's out of sight -- my pulse erratic. I'm not sure if that's due to the physical reaction he ignited, mortification over my complete lack of professionalism, or a combination of both.

I’m embarrassed to admit I’m rattled. I always thought feeling out of sorts over a man was silly and a sign of weakness. I seemed to get control of myself midway through the meeting, but there’s no denying my body has never felt as alive as it did in Colt’s presence, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, I’m so unfamiliar with that feeling that I think I’m placing more significance on it than I should.

The fact that Colt made me react physically led me to project myself onto him, to assume that his motives were selfless instead of simply a means to boost his image or further his career. And if his motives are selfless, that would mean his internal makeup is as beautiful as his external. That’s the kind of man I could develop feelings for, and for a moment I let myself believe he fit that description.

The fact that he’s looking to make a difference only because it benefits him means he’s not. That doesn’t make him a bad guy per se, it just means I can’t trust my physical response to gauge someone’s character.

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