Chapter One
Present day…
A ringing phone woke Sailor from a deep sleep. With a groan, she rolled over and muttered, “Shut up.”
She needed sleep. Her head was pounding, and she had an enormous hangover from last night. Tequila shots and girl’s night were the devil.
Her phone rang again, and she threw her pillow with a loud, “Ugh.” She looked at the red numbers on the digital clock beside her bed. Six a.m. on a Saturday for God’s sake. Who the hell was calling her?
The ringing stopped then started right up again. She rooted around in her bed, trying to find the phone and finally located it under one of the big, comfy pillows on her bed.
“Hello, this better be an emergency?” Her voice came out a little raspy and a whole lot of irritated.
“You have got to get down here ASAP, Sailor,” Jill, her assistant, replied, sounding urgent.
Sailor sat up, more alert. “Why? What’s wrong?”
She rubbed at her eyes then pinched the bridge of her nose. Sitting up so quickly had sent a sharp pain through her head and turned her stomach.
“JB’s contract negotiations fell through, and he signed with another team. Dalton must have known it would happen because he’s already signed a new quarterback, and they’re all on their way to the office now. Dalton wants you here right away to handle the PR nightmare.”
Sailor was wide awake now and pulling the covers from her body. “What? Why wasn’t I informed of this?”
“Dalton said he’s been calling and texting you since last night. If you hadn’t answered now, I was supposed to come get you.” Jill sounded irritated now.
Standing, Sailor felt a little unsteady. Damn, she might still be a little drunk. “How did he find someone so quickly?”
“I don’t know, Sailor. All I know is the guy’s apparently an old friend of Dalton’s from college and he lives in the area. Since he’s a free agent, the contracts went quickly and were signed over dinner last night. I don’t even know the guy’s name. It’s all hush- hush.”
“Okay, okay, I’m up. Give me thirty minutes.”
With a click of the end button, Sailor hung up on Jill in mid-sentence then checked her phone. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed calls and texts from Dalton Green, her boss and NFL team owner of the Austin Arrowheads, the current number one team in the league.
With a curse, Sailor ran to the bathroom of her downtown loft to get ready. Without warning her stomach revolted, and she barely made it to the toilet. After throwing up all the contents of her stomach, she peeled off her clothes and took a quick hot shower. She dried off quickly, wrapped a towel around her small frame and pulled her long dark hair into a ponytail. Normally, she’d blow dry her hair into soft waves, but today, a ponytail and natural curls would have to do. Looking into the large mirror over her sink, she took in her hung-over face and blew out a breath.
“Looks like it’s going to be a concealer day.” After throwing on a little makeup and light-red tinted gloss, she ran from the bathroom and threw open doors of her walk-in closet. She chose a simple short-sleeved, black, wraparound dress and paired it with her favorite pair of red-soled black stilettos.
She surveyed her reflection in the closet’s full-length mirror. Not the best but she looked decent enough. The dress’ warm material would protect her from Texas’ late- winter weather. It also hugged her curves in all the right places, giving her a professional yet feminine appearance. The stilettos gave her the height she needed to appear taller than her five-foot even frame.
With one last look, she grabbed her pea coat and dashed from her bedroom and down the hallway. Her gorgeous, auburn-haired roommate stood in the kitchen, clutching a steaming cup of coffee, her eyes half-lidded as if she were asleep on her feet. Her robe was completely disheveled, and Sailor laughed at the sight of her long-time friend’s wild hair sticking out in all directions.
“Rough night, Gypsy?”
Gypsy’s eyes popped open as if she were startled awake, and her coffee sloshed out of her mug. A string of curses flew from her friend’s mouth. Sailor laughed harder as Gypsy narrowed her eyes and grumbled.
“I know why I’m up—early morning yoga session. Why are you awake and dressed?”
Sailor quickly poured herself a cup of coffee and groaned.
“Emergency work thing. I’ll explain when I get home. Is Harley still sleeping?” Gypsy nodded and motioned toward their friend’s door.
“Yup, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t alone.” Sailor groaned again and rolled her eyes.
“That one never changes.” Kissing the air, Sailor grabbed her coffee and purse from the counter then headed toward the door.
Over her shoulder she heard Gypsy say, “No late-night, missy. We’ve got a date with an Outlander, and I need my Scottish fix. We’re way behind and need to catch up. Chinese food and a night in.”
Sailor turned slightly and smiled at her friend. “I will do my best.”
With that, she was out the door and headed to the elevator. As she passed the unit next to hers, she noted the boxes in the hallway. Someone must have finally moved into the loft next door.
Absently, she muttered, “I hope it’s not another major asshole.”
The elevator dinged, and she stepped inside to ride it down to the lobby. Al, the sweet old guard, sat at the front desk.
“Hey, Ms. Sailor. Headed to work?” She grinned as she passed him.
“Yup, another day, another dollar. I see we got a new neighbor.” Al perked up. “Yes, ma’am, he moved in yesterday.”
Sailor paused at the doors and looked back at Al. “What’s he like?” Al gave her a toothy grin. “Famous.”
With a wave, she turned from Al. Yup, probably another asshole.
The brisk air hit her, and she paused to put on her coat before heading around the corner to the parking garage. She was only about a fifteen-minute walk from the offices at the stadium, but she didn’t have time to walk this morning.
Pulling the keys from her purse, she clicked the key fob to her charcoal-gray Audi R8. She slipped inside, placing her coffee in the cup holder and purse in the passenger seat. With a push of a button, the engine purred to life. She slid her hands lovingly over the steering wheel then backed it out of her parking spot. She loved her car.
Austin traffic was light, and Sailor navigated the streets of downtown with ease.
It only took five minutes to reach the office. When she pulled up to the building, she noted Dalton’s black Maybach Mercedes parked next to a wicked-looking motorcycle.
Great, they had beaten her to the office.
She grabbed her stuff and rushed inside. She was met by her assistant. Jill’s strawberry-blonde curls bounced as she rushed toward Sailor.
“Give me your stuff. I’ll put it in your office. They’re in conference room one.
Take this.”
She handed Sailor a notepad and pen then grabbed her purse and jacket. “Who is it?”
Jill giggled. “Oh honey, you’ll recognize him.”
Sailor gave Jill a half scolding look. “Thanks for nothing. If I didn’t love you so much…” She let the if hang in the air, and Jill’s giggle turned into a full laugh.
“Love you, too, boss. Now, hurry up.”
With that, Sailor rushed to the elevator. Once inside, she pushed the button for the floor with the conference room. She straightened her dress and checked her teeth in the reflection of the door. When she reached the floor, she stepped out, wishing she’d remembered to take some Tylenol for her headache. With clipped steps, she walked toward the meeting and tried to calm herself. She took a deep breath then knocked.
There was a brief moment of silence before Dalton’s voice boomed from the other side. “Come in.”
Sailor plastered on a smile and stepped through the door. Her boss sat at the head of the table, his dark hair unruly and his athletic body making his suit stretch tight across his chest. He gave her his notoriously handsome grin.
Her gaze drifted to the familiar, golden-haired man sitting next to him. Her smile faded as she took in every visible inch of him. Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach turned.
Saxton fucking Crawford.
She felt the blood drain from her face as he surveyed her from head to toe. Finally, his gorgeous turquoise eyes met hers, and a giant grin spread across his handsome face.
Sailor forgot all semblance of professionalism and dropped her coffee, notepad and pen.
“Son of a bitch!” escaped her before she could stop it.