Jay tightened his tie and grabbed a folder off his desk.

"Glad you're here. I just got the contracts for Buzzed Cola. Ever wanted to buy a French chateau?"

"That much money, huh?"

Jay smacked his lips. "The royalties are going to be pouring in for years." He was practically dancing at the prospect of closing this deal. And no wonder: Ten percent of ten million was a million. Someone had to pay for Jay's big-screen TVs, prime location in Union Square, and gambling debts. But he wasn't going to be the one doing it anymore.

Ty flipped through the thick contract Jay handed him. No question, the numbers looked good. But he already had more money than he could spend. Especially since a French chateau wasn't on his need-to buy list.

"You really think this is a good move? Won't a lot of kids be getting wired on this crap?" Jay snorted. "So what? Trust me on this, it's a hot product and you're perfect for it."

"I hear what you're saying. There's only one problem."

Panic lit Jay's eyes. "Nothing that can't be solved. You just let me know what you want changed and I'll take care of it."

Ty stood up, picking up the contract to ensure it got disposed of properly. "We've had some good years, Jay, but it's time for me to take my business elsewhere." Jay scowled. "You would have been nothing without me, you little trailer park punk." Ty headed for the door feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Maybe, maybe not." The next agent he hired was going to be someone he liked hanging out with. Jay clearly couldn't resist a parting shot. "You should be thanking me for hooking you up with that fuck-bunny. I bet her pussy was nice and tight and wet."

Ty dropped his hand from the silver doorknob. He was this close to doing a diving leap onto his ex-agent and crushing his skull with a few quick hits. He nailed Jay with his gaze. "Say whatever you want about me—I don't give a shit. But if anyone even hints that you've said something about Julie, you'd better think about installing an impenetrable security system at your house. And never going outside again."

Ty left the building and jammed a baseball cap onto his head on the sidewalk. What had Jay meant by "You have me to thank"? Hadn't hiring an image consultant been Bobby's idea? At the time, Ty hadn't thought too hard about how quickly Jay had agreed to Bobby's demands. Maybe he should have. Something was definitely up. But before he figured out what it was, he had a favor to call in. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed the NFL headquarters. "Steve, it's Ty Calhoun." Steve Villers, the vice president of press relations, was a good friend of his, back from his rookie year in Pittsburgh. Steve had retired from the game a couple of years after Ty went pro and had been working for the NFL ever since.

"Dude, your ears must have been burning."

Any other time, Ty would have assumed good things were being said. At present, he'd rather not hear the word on the street.

"I've got a favor to ask you, Steve."

"Always happy to help out a friend."

"I don't know if you heard, but I've been working with an image consultant. A great image consultant. Julie Spencer."

Saying her name aloud brought everything back in a rush. The way she smelled. The taste of her lips. Her curves soft and yielding beneath him.

Steve chuckled. "Trust me, the situation would have been impossible to miss." Ty got straight to the point. "I think she's been a huge asset to the NFL." He wasn't even sure that Julie would appreciate him putting in a good word for her with the league, but he was willing to try anything at this point. Besides, if she got this gig then at least he knew he'd see her every once in while. She'd probably act like he was dead, but he'd just keep working on her until she folded under the pressure and gave him another chance.

"No shit," came Steve's reply. "After we saw how good she made a fuck-up like you look, we knew we needed her. She's thinking over our offer."

What an ass he was. Of course the League had noticed what an incredible job Julie had done manipulating—and fixing—his image.

"How about you do me a favor?" Steve said, and Ty knew exactly what was coming.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to screw things up for you by telling her I think it's a good idea."

"Are you kidding? She spoke so highly of you, I was going to ask you to put in a good word for us." Ty nearly blurted, "She spoke highly of me?" but it sounded too pathetic, even inside his own head. Instead he said, "Sure thing, Steve."

He'd never escaped that night with Julie on the boat, not in ten long years of beautiful women. Too bad he'd been an eighteen-year-old chicken-shit weasel, scared by the thought of her dumping his ass because he was just a poor jock. He'd never even tried to make her understand how intensely he felt about her. He'd thought it was easier to let her walk away.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

The next time he saw Julie, he was going to risk his heart, even though he knew the likelihood of getting it crushed was damn high.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Julie stood in the back of the NFL pressroom, more nervous than she'd ever been in all her life. When she thought about what she was about to do, she had to fight the urge to run fast and far. Oddly, even though she hadn't known the first thing about football just weeks ago, she wasn't nervous about fielding questions about her new role. Since she'd signed on as a League-wide image consultant two days ago, she'd done her homework with how-to videos and a stack of game tapes and interviews with the best players in the game. Of course Ty was among them. No one had to know that she'd watched his segments over and over.

All she wanted was a fresh start: just the two of them, and a little bit of trust that hopefully would blossom into a strong and lasting love.

She scanned the room for the hundredth time.

Why wasn't Ty here yet? What if something had happened to him? What if he was lying in a hospital somewhere? Would he think to call her?

Steve Villers pulled out a chair beside him and Julie tried to focus on the welcome speech the NFL's commissioner was giving, even though all she could think about was seeing Ty again. The commissioner opened the floor for questions and she wasn't surprised that Bobby Wilson was the first to stand.

"As I'm sure everyone here already knows, I am the new owner of the Outlaws." He smacked his lips together, looking like a hungry wolf on a three-little-pig hunt. "I've got a question for Miss Spencer, if y'all don't mind."

Sensing something juicy, the reporters turned their tape recorders his way.

"First off all, may I say that you are looking just as pretty as ever, Ms. Spencer." Julie waited for him to get to the point.

"I was wondering about something you said to me in my office a few days back." He paused, pushed his cowboy hat an inch to the left. "If I recall correctly, you said you didn't have the necessary skills to fix up an athlete's public image. I do believe that was right before you told me you were not going to work with my boy Ty any longer."

Just then Ty emerged from a dark corner, looking like he didn't have a care in the world, the way he always did. He raised an eyebrow at her in his cocky way.

God, she loved him. Every arrogant, gorgeous inch of him.

"Something I learned recently is that we all make mistakes. Even an image consultant screws up from time to time." She grinned. "I have a feeling that this will come in very handy in working with professional football players."