I'll Catch You (Kimani Romance) Read online

  Cedric winced at the reminder. Powers hadn’t gotten that tidbit from hanging around the agent watercooler. News of his near arrest had been in every major newspaper and on every sports blog in the country. Another case of his being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but the reporters didn’t bother themselves with reporting the whole story, only the stuff that fed his bad-boy image. Cedric was getting damn tired of that image.

  “Good luck finding someone,” Powers said before disconnecting.

  Cedric’s head sunk deeper into the massage table’s face cradle, disappointment attacking him like a quarterback blitz. Aiden Powers hadn’t been his last hope, but he was close to it.

  When his former agent had told him he was dropping him as a client, Cedric hadn’t imagined he’d have trouble finding another one. He’d won the Doak Walker Award for top running back in the nation his senior year at Penn State and had been in contention for Rookie of the Year his first year in the league. He was one of the top running backs in the entire NFL, dammit. What agent wouldn’t want to represent him?

  Those who didn’t want to be saddled with a troublemaker.

  “Cedric, you’ve got to relax, man. Your deltoids feel like speed bumps. There’s only so much my magic fingers can do.”

  Cedric raised his head and looked up at Tony, one of the trainers who worked with the Sabers running core. “Thanks for trying, but I’m too stressed to relax,” he answered.

  “There’s only one other thing I can think of that’ll relieve the stress, but I can’t help you with that one. Maybe some of the Saberrettes are still around.”

  Cedric chuckled as he levered himself off the massage table. “The Saberrettes are off-limits,” he said, referring to the Sabers cheerleading squad. “Haven’t you heard it’s dangerous to play around in the workplace?”

  “Not like I’d have the chance,” Tony said with a hint of bitterness as he wiped massage oil from his fingers. “They won’t even look at us guys not wearing football uniforms.”

  “From what I’ve heard from a couple of the guys on the team, you’re not missing much. Hey, thanks for the work on my back,” Cedric offered as he tucked the towel around his waist. “I may try soaking in the hot tub at home. See if that helps.”

  “Good idea,” Tony said. “Hey, Reeves. Sorry about the whole thing happening with your agent.” Tony gestured to the Bluetooth attached to Cedric’s ear. “I couldn’t help but hear, you know?”

  He shrugged. “There are more agents out there than ball players. I’m just being choosy.” Cedric pointed a finger at the massage table. “Tomorrow? Same time, same place?” Maybe the consecutive massages would make a dent in the weight he carried on his shoulders.

  Cedric grabbed the duffel bag he’d stored underneath the table and retrieved the clothes he’d stripped out of before his massage. A metallic silver business card fell to the floor. Cedric scooped it up and turned it over.

  “Mosely Sports Management. Payton Mosely, Owner.”

  He recognized the email address as the one that had cluttered his in-box.

  Cedric shook his head and chuckled as he tossed the business card into his bag. When had she even managed to slip that in there? Ms. Mosely went after what she wanted, he’d give her that. He wondered if she was a Ms. or a Mrs. If he didn’t have so much on his plate these days, he would take the time to find out. Images of that pretty face and those fantastic breasts had been hovering at the edge of his mind since their encounter in the locker room.

  Cedric dropped the towel from his waist and pulled on his black sweatpants and black Sabers T-shirt. He made his way over to the suite of offices and conference rooms where postgame meetings were held. Personnel were filing out of the wrap-up meeting for the offense coaches. Cedric signaled to the Sabers’s wide-receivers coach, Torrian Smallwood, as he exited the conference room.

  Torrian had been sidelined by an eye disease that had left his vision too messed up to play but plenty good enough to coach. This was his first season coaching the Sabers wide-receiver core.

  They clasped palms. “Nice run for that touchdown. You had the closest man beat by five yards.”

  “I had the wind at my back,” Cedric joked.

  “Whatever, man. It put us back in the game.”

  “What time are we meeting?” Cedric asked him. For the past few years, Cedric, Torrian, Theo Stokes and his fellow teammate Jared Dawson had met in Torrian’s rec room after home games for dominoes, junk food and beer.

  “You didn’t get my text message?” Torrian asked. “Paige scheduled some big-time food critic to eat at the Fire Starter Grille tonight. I’ve got to be there. Plus Theo’s plane was delayed by storms in the Midwest. He’s still stuck in Omaha.”

  “I caught a bit of the Nebraska game last night. Theo’s doing a good job as sideline commentator.” Something Aiden Powers had said to him sounded a bell in Cedric’s brain. “That running back at Nebraska looked pretty sharp. You know if the boys in the front office are looking at him?”

  “I’ve heard his name mentioned,” Torrian replied. His ex-teammate leveled him with a stare. “It’s not time to start worrying about your job yet, Cedric. Just keep having games like the one you had today and keep your behind out of trouble. In fact, why don’t you come by the restaurant tonight?”

  “Nah, I’m good, Wood,” he said, calling Torrian by his nickname. “I need to go through a few routes in the playbook.”

  “You’ll be here tomorrow watching tape?”

  “Probably get in around eleven.”

  “See you then. Good game, man.” Torrian brought him in for a one-armed hug, then continued down the corridor.

  Cedric gripped the handles of his duffel and made his way out to the parking lot. His stride faltered when he noticed the slim figure leaning against the concrete pillar a few spots down from where he’d parked his Lincoln Navigator. She straightened when she spotted him walking toward her.

  “Hello again, Ms. Mosely,” Cedric greeted her with exasperation. “You sure you don’t have anything better to do on a Sunday afternoon? Hanging around a parking lot isn’t all that exciting.”

  “All I want is twenty minutes,” she said.

  “And just what is it you think you can accomplish in twenty minutes?”

  “I can show you just what I can do for you,” she answered.

  Cedric’s eyes zeroed in on her lips. They looked so inviting, so extremely kissable. Could they really be as soft as they appeared?

  Cedric gave himself a mental shake and got back to the matter at hand. “Look here, sweetheart—”

  “It’s Payton.”

  “Fine, Payton. I appreciate a woman who goes after what she wants—”

  She held up a hand, cutting him off. “First, try not to see me as a woman, since that’s obviously one of your hang-ups.”

  Cedric dragged his gaze over her well-put-together body. “Baby, there’s no other way to see you.”

  Every single inch of her was woman, from the silky hair that fell just above her shoulders to her delicate white-tipped toenails. Her dark denim jacket accentuated firm, round breasts and a tiny waist. Her skirt hit just above her knee, leaving her sexy, caramel-colored legs bare.

  All woman, indeed.

  “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to lay off the innuendoes,” she informed him. “I expect you to treat this relationship as professionally as you would if you were working with a male agent.”

  “First, we’re not going to work together. Secondly, should I remind you that you’re the one who’s been stalking me? It’s pretty bold of you to start laying down rules when you’re the one who’s in need here.”

  “How many agents have you contacted within the past week, Mr. Reeves?”

  “It’s Cedric,” he said. “If I’m going to call you Payton for the next—” he glanced at his watch “—five minutes I plan to entertain you, we might as well be on a level playing field, right?”

  She folded her arms acro
ss her chest. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Sorry, got distracted,” Cedric said, looking pointedly at her breasts that were made more pronounced by her posture. She quickly dropped her arms. Cedric grinned.

  “Why don’t you stop dodging my question? How many agents have you spoken to this week?” she asked again.

  “A few,” he answered, enjoying this probably more than he should.

  “Any of them talk to you longer than five minutes?”

  Cedric switched his duffel from one hand to the other. Her gibe had hit its mark, and he suddenly wasn’t enjoying her company so much.

  “Face it, Cedric. You can’t afford to just write me off. Not without at least hearing what I can offer. You’d be a fool to let some sexist notion that women can’t be sports agents get in your way.”

  “Believe it or not, the fact that you’re a woman has nothing to do with why I don’t want you as my agent.” Her brows rose. “It’s because you don’t have a single client,” Cedric continued. “I need someone with experience.”

  “I may not have much experience—”

  “No experience,” Cedric interjected.

  “I have a Jurist Doctor and chaired the Texas State Bar’s committee on sports and entertainment law. I was one of the top associates in my law firm’s contracts and negotiations division, and I can promise that I know this game better than half of your Sabers teammates.” She pulled at the hem of her jacket, straightening it. “All I’m asking for is twenty minutes. You owe me that much for ogling my breasts.”

  Cedric barked out a laugh. What the hell? He’d had a good game today. Why not reward himself with an afternoon in the company of a gorgeous woman? “Fine,” he finally relented. “There’s a Starbucks about two blocks from here.”

  “I know where it is,” Payton said. “Are you going there now?”

  “As soon as you stop blocking the way to my truck.”

  She moved out of the way, but before Cedric could take a step toward his vehicle she caught him by the arm, halting him. “I expect to see you there in ten minutes.”

  Cedric looked down at the fingers nestled against his black shirt. He could feel the power in them. There was something about a petite, delicate-looking woman hiding that kind of strength that turned him on.

  His gaze trailed from where she touched his arm to her warm brown eyes. The current of electricity that traveled between them was hot enough to singe his skin.

  “I’ll be there,” Cedric promised.

  Her fingers remained on his arm several seconds longer than necessary before she seemed to snap out of the lust-filled snare that had trapped them. She released his arm and inclined her head with a firm nod before heading in the direction of the visitors parking lot.

  As he watched her walk away, Cedric wondered if he would be able to last the twenty minutes he’d promised her without thinking about how the rest of her looked beneath that denim jacket.

  Chapter 2

  Payton added a packet of raw cane sugar to her black coffee and took a sip. She stared at the entrance to the coffee shop, her anxiety building with every nanosecond that passed. Cedric couldn’t have been more than five minutes behind her, unless someone had detained him in the parking lot after she’d left. Or maybe he had stood her up despite his promise not to.

  Payton had known this wouldn’t be easy. From the moment she’d left her position at one of the most prestigious law firms in Austin and boarded a plane for New York, Payton had anticipated the series of brick walls she’d come up against with frustrating regularity.

  It didn’t matter how hard it was to break into the business, she reminded herself. As long as it kept her close to her dad.

  Some of her earliest memories were of being on her daddy’s shoulders as he bellowed at his players from the sidelines of the Manchac High School Mustangs football practices. From the age of two until high school graduation, Payton had attended nearly every practice, coaches meeting and Friday night game. She understood the ins and outs of the West Coast Offense, and how to defend against it. She could draw up pass routes, devise a running play and figure out an opposing team’s defense strategy as soon as they stepped up to the line of scrimmage.

  But she had ovaries and thus couldn’t possibly be a legitimate agent in the NFL.

  Payton squelched her frustration. She’d expended enough energy debating this argument in her head.

  She checked the time on her cell phone again. When she looked up she found Cedric holding the door open for a young couple who were exiting the coffee shop. Relief flowed over her at the sight of him. He hadn’t backed out on her. This was further than she’d ever been able to get before with a potential client.

  He pointed to a table in the rear of the coffee shop. Payton met him there.

  “Sorry for making you wait. I had an important call I needed to take.” He set the leather-bound notebook he’d carried in with him on the table. It had the Sabers logo embroidered on the cover, a growling saber-toothed tiger.

  “That’s okay. I knew you would be here,” she lied.

  He gestured to her cup. “You want a pastry with that?”

  “No, thanks,” Payton said.

  He walked to the counter without as much fanfare as Payton would have expected. With its close proximity to the stadium, the regulars were probably used to seeing Sabers players in their local coffee shop. Several of the customers in line congratulated Cedric on his touchdown, but there was no fawning. Payton noticed he declined when a couple of people tried to let him skip the line.

  As she waited, she peeked at the notebook he’d left on the table. Payton instantly recognized the scrawled drawings as football plays. A genuine NFL playbook. What her daddy wouldn’t have given to have had a chance to thumb through this. She perused several of the plays, agreeing with some, finding flaws in others.

  “That’s confidential,” Cedric said with a hint of a smile as he returned to the table.

  “Then you probably shouldn’t leave it just lying around,” Payton quipped.

  “I trust the guys who hang out here. I just have to watch out for the occasional Giants fan lurking around, trying to catch a glimpse of the playbook.”

  She trailed her fingers across the smooth leather. “Pretty interesting reading.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it would keep you fascinated for hours,” he snorted.

  “Actually, it would,” Payton replied. “Though some of those plays could use a bit of tweaking.”

  His brow cocked in surprise. “Do tell.”

  She pointed to the most obvious. “As soon as you line up in a T formation the defense expects you to run to the right. It would be smarter to bring in someone else as an eligible running back, to trip them up. Or maybe even run a reverse.”

  His eyes darted to the playbook then back to hers. He turned the notebook and studied the play.

  “How’d you come up with that?” he blurted, clearly impressed.

  “I told you, I know football.” It was time for her to make her pitch. Payton didn’t want to waste any more of her twenty minutes. “I also know how valuable you are to the Sabers running game, even if front-office management doesn’t.”

  “Really?” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you know?”

  “I know it would be a mistake for them to go with another running back at this stage of Mark Landon’s career,” she said, referring to the Sabers starting quarterback who’d announced plans to retire at the end of next season.

  “And how would you convince Sabers management that Landon’s retirement has anything to do with me?”

  “Mark Landon has been handing you the ball for the past four years. When players work that closely together for an extended period of time, they develop a natural rhythm. If management brought in a new running back, that chemistry would be lost. Landon and the new guy would have to learn each other’s nuances. Then, one season later, a new quarterback would have to go through the same learning proce
ss. Whereas if they stuck with you, they could bring in Landon’s replacement early and get a head start on the grooming process between the two of you.”

  Payton hadn’t realized she’d been leaning in as she spoke. She was halfway across the table by the time she finished. She couldn’t help it; football talk excited her. Payton sat back in her chair and folded her hands on the table, trying her best to rein in her enthusiasm.

  “That’s just one of the reasons the Sabers should sign you to a new contract,” she said much more calmly. “By the time we go in for negotiations, I’ll have enough reasons to fill that entire playbook.”

  “Damn.” Cedric laughed. “Even I wasn’t that sure the Sabers should re-sign me.” He eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup. “How many other players have underestimated you?” he asked.

  “Enough,” Payton answered.

  He took another sip of his coffee, set the cup on the table and raised his arms above his head in a huge stretch. “It’s their loss,” he replied.

  Payton’s breath seized in her lungs. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

  “Before I agree to let you represent me, you’ve got to answer a few questions.”

  “Shoot,” she said, the blood pumping through her veins like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby.

  “How many times did you take the Players Association’s certification test before you passed?”

  “Once.”

  “Money. What’s your cut?”

  “The standard four percent for the contract, twenty percent for endorsement deals. Anything else?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Cedric settled his elbows on the table. “How in the hell does an itty-bitty thing like you know so much about football?”

  “Looks can be very deceiving, Mr. Reeves.”

  “Apparently. You had me fooled up until the point you revamped one of our best running plays and made it ten times better. How’d you manage to do that?”