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  By the time she realized it was missing she was already back home and had slept the day away, interrupted by occasional visits from Brendon to check on her by prying open her eyes with his fingers. It was only after her brothers reported getting some pretty outrageous texts that Dani starting manically searching for her phone. Then the Mavericks front office checked in to ask her why she was calling and hanging up on Tyson, Marcus, Cameraman Stan, and her boss. They also wanted to know just how many ­people she knew in Guatemala and why she would want to talk to them for nine hours.

  Her cell phone carrier shut off the phone and the Mavericks office assured her a new phone and number would be waiting for her upon her return to Texas. All her contacts were lost in the mayhem. She would be denied the opportunity to tell Tyson to lose her number, assuming he had second thoughts and tried to reach out after dumping her. But she knew better than to think he might indulge in a late-­night drunken text fest.

  It may have been a new year, but Dani Carr couldn’t think of much to look forward to. And there definitely was little to be happy about.

  CHAPTER 16

  DANI GOT OFF the elevator on the top floor and walked with purposeful strides down the hall, muttering most of the way. When the phone had rung in her room several minutes earlier, there was only heavy breathing and three words.

  “I need you.”

  Romantic-­sounding words, to be sure, but he hadn’t called her with romance on his mind. At least if she was his girlfriend she would be taken out for dinner occasionally, maybe get some jewelry. At the very least, she’d have a random orgasm thrown in her direction.

  She got to the end of the hall and rapped on the door to his hotel suite lightly three times.

  Marcus opened it and Dani breezed in, taking a seat on his couch.

  “I know, I know,” she prattled, reaching for the remote to the television and fully expecting him to be out the door before she could finish the sentence, “don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  But Marcus said nothing. Dani looked up from where she was sitting to find him staring at her. His blue eyes regarded her warily, the expression on his face bemused. If she didn’t know him better, she would’ve said he looked rattled. But Marcus was an expert at holding his cards close and rarely showed nervousness about anything.

  “You know I love you, baby girl.”

  “That sounds like a slick come-­on. Asking me to do something sketchy usually follows.”

  “Did anyone see you?” Marcus asked, ignoring her quip, which wasn’t anything new. What was unusual was the edgy tone of his voice. Marcus was always anticipating the next danger. It was clear he was feeling threatened now.

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe.” Dani shook her head, mostly to clear it. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she honestly couldn’t remember if she had passed anyone or not. “Why?”

  Marcus sighed loudly, aggravated that her observation skills weren’t as keen as his. “There’s a journalist that’s getting too close. He’s been following me for days. Dude actually went so far as to get a room here. He’s already tried to gain access to this suite by posing as housekeeping.”

  “Marcus, we leave in two days for New Orleans. Need I remind you that this is the Super Bowl we’re talking about here? The guy is probably just trying to get a jump on press week. Slam the door in his face if he shows up again and just go about your business.”

  He wasn’t interested in explanations or justifications. “I need you to do me a favor, Carr. I need you to give up your two days off and stay here.”

  “Say what?”

  Marcus took a quick look around the room and spying an ice bucket, went over to it and picked it up. “If I’m not back in five minutes, I need you to stay here. If anyone knocks on the door, and I mean anyone, I want you to muss up your hair and your clothes, put on your sexy face, and answer the door. Then you’re going to tell them I’m in the shower.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “You’re right, that won’t work. Put on one of the robes instead. The hotel gave me like three of them. They’re in the closet. And every now and then, order lots of room ser­vice. Get two of everything and always shut the bedroom and bathroom doors when they deliver. Yeah, that’ll make it look really legit.” Marcus and the ice bucket began making a beeline for the door.

  “That’s not what I mean, Marcus! What the hell is going on?”

  He stopped short and turned back to her. “I don’t have time for this right now, Dani. I promise it’s the last time I’ll ask you for anything. I really need you to do this for me. Please?”

  Dani gave an exasperated sigh, but before she could agree he was gone and all that was left was the sound of the door slamming shut, leaving her alone in a fictitious den of iniquity.

  If this isn’t an adventure, I don’t know what is, she thought. She wished he had left directions for what to do if one of those knocks was from the police, since surely he was up to something nefarious. Why else would he concoct such an elaborate plan? There was no point in staying angry. Marcus was just being Marcus.

  In the month since returning to Austin after New Year’s, Dani was the walking definition of manic-­depressive. As the Mavericks systematically obliterated their play-off matchups, the excitement in the locker room and team offices was palpable. So was the desolation she felt watching Tyson from the sidelines.

  True to his word, Tyson had kept her at arm’s length, but he had stretched the truth when he had claimed that he wanted them to be friends. Now it was his turn to play the avoidance game. They were back to the days when he was waving to her from across campus. Only now, instead of looking forward to them, she was filled with such an ache by the chance encounters that she had forgotten what it had felt like to be happy in his presence. Then the team would score another win, and the cycle would start over again.

  Having an excuse to stay locked away was ultimately a welcome reprieve. She was tired of moping around her own suite.

  Dani put her feet up on the coffee table and got ready to turn on the television but halted when she heard something. It was a gentle tone, then a buzz. She ignored it, but it when it happened again, she got up to investigate. Like a game of Marco Polo, the sound would go off and she’d move toward it. She won when she found the source.

  On top of the small refrigerator that accompanied the honor bar was Marcus LaRue’s cell phone. She brought it to the coffee table so that she could hand it over when he came back for it, which she assumed he would when he realized he’d left it behind.

  The problem was, after two hours, Marcus had not returned.

  Every time the phone began to hum and vibrate, it pushed Dani one step closer to the brink of insanity. She’d stare at it and another bead of sweat would erupt on her upper lip. There was no point in touching it. Without his thumbprint, she couldn’t unlock the shiny black screen. What if it was his “meeting” trying to get in touch and his lack of response was going to alert suspicion and set off a chain of events beyond her control? Worse yet, what if it was someone from the front office calling and they realized one of their star players was AWOL? Dani hated to admit it, but she needed to call in reinforcements. She pulled out her own phone and dialed the number of the only person she knew could help. It coincidentally was also one of the few numbers that she had committed to memory.

  “Dani, what’s up?”

  The question was met with brief silence as Dani quickly tried to regroup. She had been busy thinking of the message she would or would not try to fumble through when he didn’t pick up. But he had picked up, and even more disconcerting, he sounded concerned.

  “Dani?” Tyson repeated.

  “I can’t find Marcus,” she said in a rush.

  “Is he supposed to be someplace?” Tyson asked calmly.

  “I don’t think so,” she replied, kicking herself for not having thought out her explanati
on. Answering too many questions would end up revealing his ruse. “But he left behind his phone. He never does that. And it’s beeping like crazy.”

  “Can you answer it? See who it is?”

  Dani snorted. “You’re kidding, right? This is Marcus we’re talking about. It’s locked up.”

  There was a long pause, this time on Tyson’s end.

  “Meet me in front of the hotel in twenty minutes. Bring the phone with you,” he instructed.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked the dead air before realizing he had already hung up. Dani grabbed the phone and her jacket and went out in front of the hotel to wait. She was already trying to tamp down the dread she felt. But with that came a rush of endorphins, the kind reporters get that causes an altogether different type of buzz.

  She was going to be alone with Tyson Palmer, very alone and in very close quarters. Dani knew what happened when their quarters got too close. She shook herself. I can only handle one crisis at a time. The first was the missing Marcus.

  Tyson pulled up and Dani got into his car. She sank into the expensive leather and buckled her seat belt, trying to ignore how sexy he looked behind the wheel. She was already losing the battle to ignore how fresh he smelled, like he’d just showered. The hair peeking out from underneath his wool skullcap looked damp. Together they drove out of Austin and well beyond the city limits. They continued southeast into hill country. The feeling of dread intensified with every mile.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Dani asked, staring straight ahead in the vain attempt to create some imaginary distance between them.

  “Pretty much,” was his only response.

  “Do you know where he is?” she persisted, a knot beginning to grow tight in her stomach.

  “Yes.”

  Dani turned her head to stare at him. Why didn’t he just tell her? Dani swallowed hard as the realization ran her over like a train. All along she had been made to feel like she was the only person Marcus came close to trusting. Clearly this was not the case.

  “How do you know?” She kept her voice level, though she wanted to begin screeching.

  Tyson cast a quick glance in her direction. “It’s probably best if you wait for Marcus to explain.”

  Dani crossed her arms over her chest and bit her tongue. She silently fumed. Once again, she was getting a shining example of how she was really living in a man’s world. A world she’d always be shut out of. Bros before hos. She had sacrificed so much for Marcus LaRue. She’d been separated from Brendon, she’d been forced to call a hotel room home for more than six months for the “chance of a lifetime,” which was really nothing more than a publicity stunt. She’d covered for him by letting ­people believe they were having an affair when everyone in the league knew he was gay. She did it all without complaint. And how did he return that favor? By making Tyson Palmer of all ­people his confidant. And Tyson was only willing to risk betraying that trust because whoever was trying to reach Marcus was probably more important than the three of them put together. It was a complete slap in the face. Dani was certain if she opened her mouth, the end result would be one long shriek after another. Wherever they ended up when this drive was over, the next stop would be back in Pennsylvania, with her beloved son in the next room and her mom in the kitchen, no matter what it cost to get there. She could begin making up for all the lost time. She was done, with all of it.

  They drove about an hour before Tyson turned off the highway, entering a sleepy little town. He began to slow down. Dani was able to decipher from the name of the post office and a school that they were in Cedar Creek. Marcus was here? It seemed illogical if not impossible. Tyson took a series of turns before pulling into a driveway in front of a tidy, modest beige ranch-­style house that looked like it might have once been a double-­wide trailer. While the property sat on several acres, small brown rocks made up the front lawn that surrounded the house, likely thanks to someone who had finally given up trying to grow grass in the inhospitable dusty soil. A lovely little porch with an awning had been added on, and two rocking chairs sat pointed toward the sunset. If her nerves weren’t strung so tight, she might have labeled it inviting. Tyson cut the engine.

  “We’re here,” he said with a chuckle after noting her confused stare.

  Together they made their way up the path to the front door and Tyson gave it a knock. A minute later it was answered by a middle-­aged man dressed in slacks and a plain white button-­down shirt with a dark green sweater vest, holding a book. He was tall and thin and what was left of his hair was peppered with gray. He partially opened the door and regarded them curiously, lowering his chin to get a good look at them from above the frames of his wire-­rim reading glasses.

  “Can I help you?” the man said politely.

  “We’d like to speak with Marcus, if he’s available,” Tyson replied respectfully. Dani began to feel dizzy.

  “Certainly, please come in.” The man opened the door wider. Tyson stood back, letting Dani go in first.

  “Thank you, Pastor,” Tyson said, and as far as Dani was concerned, she had just been invited into the Twilight Zone. She nodded a greeting, still speechless, and stepped inside.

  The interior of the home was clean and neat. Dani could tell the high-­traffic areas by worn-­out spots in the carpet. Pictures of serene nature scenes adorned the walls and the scent of baking was in the air. Bread maybe? Pie? The Twilight Zone meets Norman Rockwell, Dani mused, still too confounded to say anything and now grateful that Tyson was there to keep her from feeling totally out of her depth. A moment later they were joined by a woman who was presumably the pastor’s wife. She was also tall and slender, sporting a pixie haircut that was more gray than blond. She looked like a female version of her husband and breezed into the living room wiping her hands on her apron. She gave them a bright smile, as if strangers popping into her living room was no big surprise.

  “Hello!” she sang out warmly. “Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No thank you, Mrs. Green.” Tyson smiled. Dani followed his lead and shook her head politely.

  “They’re here to see Marcus, Lila,” Pastor Green told his wife, and her smile faded. Not completely gone, but now wary.

  “Of course,” Lila Green said graciously, still very much the pastor’s wife. She took a few steps toward the entrance to a hallway and called down it in what could only be described as a motherly fashion. “Marcus! You’ve got company.”

  “We’re, uh, bringing him his phone,” Dani bumbled in an attempt to waylay the woman’s fears. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and held it up, feeling like she needed to prove it.

  There was a thumping of multiple pairs of feet coming down the hall. It was accompanied by laughter, unfamiliar, almost childlike laughter. All of which abruptly came to an end when Marcus appeared and saw them. Beside him was the cutest, most fresh-­faced girl Dani had ever seen. She looked barely out of her teens and was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, her long brown hair pulled away from her face by a chaste-­looking headband. She had big brown eyes that grew wide when she saw Dani and Tyson, like she knew some sort of jig was up.

  Apparently it was. The scowl on Marcus’s face confirmed it. He looked from Dani to Tyson, then quickly back to the pastor and his wife, then finally to the young woman. The glare then settled on Dani, accompanied by a cold “What are you doing here?”

  The question broke Dani out of her stupor. It was too much. She’d spent all day, nay, the last six months worrying about where he was, what he was doing, and if he was in trouble. She had missed her own son’s fifth birthday to sit alone in a hotel room waiting for a half-­hour phone call with Marcus. She had made up excuses for him that nobody believed. And all the while he was deep in the heart of Texas in some bizarre version of Leave It to Beaver. She walked up to Marcus, thrusting his phone in his direction. She didn’t care about deco
rum or politeness or even if there was a reasonable explanation. As far as she was concerned, if she never saw any of them again, it would be too soon.

  “I might ask you the same question,” she hissed at him. “You forgot this. It’s been ringing all day. You’re welcome. I quit.”

  With that, Dani walked out the door.

  Her dramatic exit lost some of its effect when she realized that she was stuck until Tyson followed her out. After all, he was her ride and the car keys were in his pocket. She paced back and forth by the car, mentally writing a list of the things she needed to do, which consisted mainly of booking a flight home and putting in an application at the local Starbucks once she got there. Maybe she could try her hand at teaching. Thanks to her master’s degree, someone had to be willing to hire her for something that wasn’t sports broadcasting. She was through with football and the backbiting, judgmental world of tele­vision, where every time she put a piece of chocolate in her mouth, she’d have to measure the circumference of her upper arm to make sure it wasn’t too fat. Because for a female broadcaster, the most important thing in broadcasting was lady arm fat, even when wearing a coat in the dead of winter standing next to a football player twice your size. At the time she thought she was doing what she had to, to win some imaginary game. The dyed hair, the contact lenses, and the push-­up bra—­all to stand out and get noticed. Now she felt like nothing more than a puppet, one she herself wouldn’t want to play with. She stopped and took a deep breath, then another. If anyone was watching from inside the house, she must’ve looked like a raving lunatic.

  Dani leaned up against Tyson’s Bentley, which looked ridiculously out of place parked next to a ten-­year-­old basic minivan and a rusted-­out pickup truck. She laid her hand against her forehead, pinching at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and middle finger, trying to push her brain’s reset buttons. Who was she kidding? What had driven her all along was the hope her career would help bring her back to Tyson. How did it turn out that getting everything she wanted was the worst thing ever? It was time she got her head on straight.