Lady Balls Read online

His own sense of failure with regard to the one shot he’d had at marriage filled his head and chest as he watched her cry, until she slept again, thanks to an IV bolus of codeine from a nurse. He stood next to her bed—furious at her, at himself, at the universe—for hours afterward.

  He kept vigil for a couple of days, after Lisa’s mother had been summoned to collect Gwen and get her back to something resembling normalcy. Lisa slept, cried, then slept while he stood guard over her. Why? He had no idea other than it seemed like something he should do.

  She gave her statement to the police on the third day, and J.D. made sure they understood that if they didn’t arrest the guy, he would personally choke him to death and cut him into tiny bits with a rusty knife, which would be a big mess nobody wanted.

  After they left, Lisa grabbed his hand and put it to her lips. “My hero,” she said, her wrecked lips attempting a smile.

  “Hardly,” he said, uncomfortable with the way she was interpreting his attention.

  “J.D., I love you so much. I swear I won’t … be bad anymore.”

  He sighed and dropped into the fake leather recliner. “Lisa, I’m sorry, but I don’t love you, and I’m not going to get back together with you. I will make sure this guy gets slapped behind bars, and I’ll make sure you get through this nightmare. But I…”

  “I can tell you love me, though. I see it your eyes.”

  “Lisa, god damn it. If you must know, I’m … I’m engaged. As in to be married. To someone else.” He had no earthly idea why he’d concocted such a whopper, other than his understanding that the one thing he could say to stop her on her current trajectory would be this.

  Her lower lip quivered. “Who is she? One of your stupid TV girls?”

  “No. She’s … well she’s the subject of an upcoming documentary, but she’s not, I mean, she won’t be working for me. She’s a soccer player.” When he began to process this fact now that he could think straight—that Makayla had more or less informed him that she wouldn’t be taking the job offer he’d invented for her, that she’d be available to him once again—his heart had raced. He’d had a sudden desire to sit and put his head between his knees to keep from passing out. But to go from her news flash to being engaged was a leap, even for him.

  “Figures.”

  He sighed and leaned over the side of her bed.

  She turned her head away. “Leave me alone, J.D. I don’t want you here anymore.” Her voice broke. He stroked her battered cheek with the back of his hand. “Don’t touch me. Please.”

  He rose and stretched, feeling the latent ache in his side and face from the punches Lisa’s so-called boyfriend had landed, not to mention the sore ankle he’d sustained the day of the attack. “Lisa, you knew we weren’t ever going to get back together.”

  “A girl can dream.” She closed her eyes.

  J.D. tried hard not to imagine himself beating the asshole into even more a bloody pulp for doing this to her. He looked up when he heard a soft knock on the door.

  “Mommy!” Gwen jumped down from her grandmother’s arms and crawled into the bed with Lisa, tucking into her side and closing her eyes.

  J.D. smiled at them, his women. Or rather, his daughter. And his ex-wife plus his ex-mother-in-law. He sighed, pissed at himself for being in this position—one he’d made worse by a total whopper of a lie. He knew Lisa was a good mom. He’d never seriously considered trying to take full custody. Between Lisa and her parents, the girl was loved, and well cared for, if a bit spoiled, current situation aside. He kissed Gwen’s flushed cheek, put what he hoped was a comforting hand on Lisa’s arm, and made his exit before her mother could corner him.

  “Hang on a second, please, J.D.,” she said, right as he was about to escape.

  “Leave him be, Mama. J.D.’s got himself a new girlfriend. And he’s about to marry her so just … leave him be.”

  His ex-mother-in-law glared at him.

  He ducked into the hall to avoid the inevitable rush of questions from his daughter about his non-existent fiancée. The soccer player who’d been the feature of his station’s latest documentary. Makayla Franklin, she of the smart mouth, great hair, and wicked mad skills on the pitch. He had to stop and lean against the wall when adrenaline rushed out of him in a mighty whoosh, leaving him shaking, starving, exhausted, and wishing Makayla were there with him.

  The days he’d spent focusing on Lisa and Gwen he’d stayed out in Birmingham, in his old house, which had gone a long way toward reminding him he’d made the right call, concocting his fake engagement. Even if he still had no idea how to present it to the woman in question or how she’d react, other than to perhaps cold cock him.

  ****

  Once Lisa was released, J.D. helped her and Gwen get settled back into the house. It had been cleared of all signs of struggle or attack. He’d even had their old bed tossed and replaced with something new. Lisa was still weak, and her tendency to cling had intensified to the point he had to almost physically peel her off him when he had to leave.

  “I want to meet this fiancée of yours,” she said when he’d declared that he couldn’t keep coming over every night—after three nights in a row of checking in and eating dinner with them.

  “Maybe,” he said, his face hot with the realization that he now had to break this whole stupid plan to Makayla. “Gwen, Daddy’s gotta go. Come give me a hug and kiss.”

  “I want to meet her too, Daddy,” the girl declared from her position wrapped around his torso.

  “You will, baby girl. Don’t worry.”

  “I’d guess since you’re planning to get married, it’ll be soon,” Lisa called from the kitchen. “Get off Daddy, baby. He has to go see his new lady friend.”

  “Lis…” He put Gwen down with reluctance, knowing he’d dug this particular hole and he’d have to figure out a way to climb out of it.

  Gwen ran to her mother and clung to her legs, both of them glaring at him from the kitchen as he stood, hands in his trouser pockets, trying like hell to figure out a way to tell them the truth—or better yet, to finagle a way to make the big lie the actual truth. “Love you, baby girl,” he said, blowing Gwen a kiss.

  “Love you bunches, Daddy! Bye!”

  Lisa’s eyes were brimming with tears again by the time he left. But he knew this was the right thing. He didn’t love her, and honestly, he never had. But he wasn’t the sort of man to shirk his responsibilities and never had been, despite all rumors to the contrary. This was the best thing. She had her house, all the money she needed to live the way she wanted, and plenty of support for Gwen. And he had—what?

  He met his own eyes in the rearview mirror, taking in how the lines around them seemed to be deeper lately. Given Lisa’s penchant for dropping in on him at work, he’d have to spin the web of lies around his own staff, pull them into the subterfuge. He’d put this in motion and now he had to see it through. Before turning onto the quiet suburban street, he sent a text to Makayla.

  J.D.: I need your help with something. Can we meet tonight? I’ll make dinner.

  It took about a half hour for her to answer.

  Makayla: I’m at training with the team until eight. That’s a little late for dinner.

  J.D. grinned and hit the microphone button so he could dictate his next message.

  J.D.: Way to go making the team. Well done. I guess I missed that.

  It took her a lot longer to answer this time. He was almost back at his building before his phone dinged with a reply. He waited until he was parked before he looked at it.

  Makayla: You’ve not been around. I was kind of worried. No one would tell me anything.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered and hit the call button, his pulse racing in a way he’d not felt since his earliest days of dating.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “I am a very busy and super important person. What could you possibly want?” she said by way of an answer.

  The sound of her voice filling the interior of his vehicle made
him warm and chilled all at once. “Well, then that makes two of us. I really need your help with something, Makayla. Could you come over after your training? I’ll have ice cream.”

  “Jerk. You always know my weaknesses.”

  “The rumors are true—I know what women want.”

  She sighed.

  The sound of it sent a bolt of lust down his spine so powerful it left him breathless. “I’ll take that as yes. Do you need a ride? I can pick you up.” He was talking too fast, showing his hand. But it seemed out of his control anymore.

  “No. I’ll take the bus.”

  “I’m not really comfortable with that.”

  “Luckily, you don’t have to be comfortable with it.”

  He ran a hand down his face, acknowledging his need to have picked out a fancy, expensive car and given it to her with a flourish. Even as he knew damn well she would’ve tossed the keys into the Detroit River for his trouble.

  “Thanks. I’ll be there, probably around eight-thirty. Later if I shower.”

  “Shower at my place.”

  “That sounds like trouble to me.”

  “I’ve been known to initiate trouble on occasion. See you at eight-thirty, the sweatier the better.” He ended the call and leaned his head on the steering wheel a few minutes before he felt able to walk to the elevator.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I need you to pretend to be my fiancée.”

  Kayla froze with the last bite of ice cream halfway to her lips. Her brain shut down even as her body revved at the thought of how this might—or might not—play out. She put the spoon in her mouth but didn’t taste the rich, double fudge chocolate—her absolute favorite flavor. Something she’d never told J.D. but he’d figured out anyway. After swallowing too fast and freezing her throat, she got up and walked to the windows overlooking the river so she could formulate an answer.

  It was hard enough actually being here, in his fancy space, having the fact of his wealth, taste, and ability to rule his own world in her face. Especially since he’d been in absentia for a solid two weeks since bolting out of the wrap party like his hair was on fire.

  “I know it’s a weird thing to ask,” J.D. said from somewhere behind her.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” She kept her arms crossed over her chest. His words—the request that she do this whacked out thing for him—rolled around inside her head like so many marbles. She tried to focus, to take this whole thing in any way seriously. “You gonna explain or do I have to read your damn mind?”

  “It’s my ex-wife. She, um … she got beat up by her latest boyfriend and I’ve spent the last two weeks helping her get back on her feet.”

  Kayla whirled around to face him, words flying out of her mouth before she could stop them. “See, that right there is the problem. You ran out of the wrap party over that, didn’t you? And you’ve spent the last fourteen days gone from the office without a single word to me and now, all of sudden, you need me to play pretend fiancée?” She snorted and turned again so she wouldn’t have to look at him, so he couldn’t see how horrified she was over all of this—his ex-wife’s attack, his request, all of it. “You’re one crazy dude.” She closed her eyes. Or a true hero, one or the other, her brain reminded her. Considering … ex-wife and all.

  No. Stop it. She flat out refused to let him morph into that—into a hero. He was just a playboy. A collector of women. A man who thought he could charm or buy his way out of any tough spot. If she allowed for anything else in her mind about him, she’d be toast.

  He stayed silent, letting her come to her own conclusions, which made her angry for some reason. “So,” she said, stomping over to the couch. She sat and dragged a pillow onto her lap so she’d have something to do with her hands. “This thing with your ex. How does pretending we’re engaged help?”

  “Lisa is shallow and needy in a lot of ways. But she needed my help. I’d do it again too, if I had to.” He glared at her, his eyes blazing, as if daring her to challenge him on that point.

  Kayla swallowed and tamped down her knee-jerk response. He was being open and honest with her. She owed him the courtesy of listening.

  She nodded, gripping the pillow tighter to quell the tremors in her arms and legs. This was just too surreal. Of all the possible words in the universe that could have come from this man’s mouth, these were the craziest.

  He took a deep breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  She noted the slump of his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from getting up and going to him and holding him close.

  He is a hero, Kayla. Let him be one.

  She gritted her teeth against that compulsion and waited for him to speak again.

  “Anyway, she—Lisa—would back off her full court press to get us back together if I told her I’ve found someone important enough to me to marry. She knows she wouldn’t have a chance.”

  “Yeah, okay, so assuming that’s true, what happens in a few months when she figures out it was all a big fat lie? Oh, and don’t forget the gossip media that follows your ass around like rats after the Pied Piper. How will you spin being engaged to lil’ ol’ me then breaking it off like some asshole, hmmm? Won’t that burnish your stellar rep?”

  “She also has the attention span of a mosquito. I figure once she’s told ‘no’ and sees us together enough, she’ll move on. Hopefully to someone who won’t tie her up and beat her silly either.” He closed his eyes.

  “Jesus, was it that bad?”

  “Yeah. It was worse, actually.” He got up and walked over to where she’d been standing and stared out of the bank of windows, his hands gripped tight behind his back. When he spoke, he kept his face turned away from her. “Lisa and I … we have a daughter. I never would have married her but for that.”

  Her breathing stopped. Her heart raced. This latest set of unbelievable words hung in the air between them, practically visible. She stared at him, her mouth gaping open for a few seconds until she launched herself off the couch and had her finger on the down elevator button within five seconds. “I’m out of here. You’re fucking nuts.” She whirled to face him. “You have a daughter? How in the hell have you kept that from … the world?”

  Meaning me. How could have kept such an important thing from me?

  Before she could react, he was by her side, tugging her away from the elevator.

  She shut her eyes against the need to let him hold her, to soothe her out of the funk that had her in its grip thanks to this odd conversation. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, pulling her arm away from him. “Stay over there. Way over there.” She pointed to the opposite side of the room.

  He nodded and sank into one of the leather chairs across from the couch. She tried not to notice how his misery seemed etched into the deepening lines around his eyes and mouth. “The bottom line here is you’ve worked yourself into a mess that even you can’t buy or charm your way out of and you need my help.”

  You are not actually considering this, are you, Makayla Jean?

  Maybe.

  No.

  It’s crazy.

  He’s crazy for even suggesting it.

  She frowned at him. “No. No way.”

  He sighed and leaned back in the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “I knew I shouldn’t have asked you.”

  “Oh?” She drew herself up, insulted, which was ridiculous, considering she’d just turned him down, but insulted just the same. “And who else might you have asked? Oh, right, never mind. You have a whole damn building beneath our feet chock full of possibilities.”

  He lurched forward and rose, his jaw set, anger evident in his gaze. “If you must know, I don’t know why I said it was you, but I did. You’re… I don’t know, top of my mind right now or something.” He ran a hand down his face. When he met her gaze, she very nearly gave in. “Never mind. I’ll find someone else. As you say, it’s not like I don’t have plenty of options.” />
  Kayla’s mouth dropped open. Words formed in her brain, forced their way up her throat, danced across her tongue. But she refused to let them fly. They stared at each other across the light-filled, luxurious main room of his condo for a solid ten, then twenty seconds.

  Kayla’s heart was pounding so loudly she worried he could hear it. The roil of conflicting emotions vying for attention inside her made her want to scream, to leap into his arms, to run from him, from this, from this inexplicable turn her life had taken.

  “It’ll look weird,” she finally said, her voice croaky and weak. She cleared her throat. “I mean, with the documentary and stuff. It’ll look like … I don’t know, like I was only in it because you … we…”

  “I’m not worried about the damn optics,” he said, his voice flat in a way that alarmed her. He headed in to the state-of-the-art, gleaming kitchen and yanked open the fridge door. After staring at its contents as if hoping something would solve this problem for him, he slammed it shut and turned to face her again. “Look, I get it. You’re not interested. You think you know me and what I’m about, me and my harem, blah blah. It’s fine. You can go. You’re probably right anyway. No matter what you think about me, I would never do anything to hurt your reputation.”

  Kayla’s throat ached from all the unsaid words clogging it. He was right. That was exactly what she thought of him. So why, exactly, was she still standing here, pondering the concept of being pretend engaged to Jon David Baxter, football playboy, boss of hundreds of women, and, apparently, some kind of superhero.

  “Tell me about your daughter,” she said.

  He blinked. “What does she have to do with—” He stopped, closed his eyes, reopened them, and pinned her with a stare so intense it was as if he’d walked over to her and touched her face. “Her name is Gwen. She’s six. She’s a total tomboy, much to her mother’s chagrin.” He smiled.

  At that moment, Kayla knew she was going to agree to this crazy thing.

  “I love her with every molecule in me. Lisa and I kept her out of the spotlight as much as we could. We both love her. And she’s a good kid. Happy living in the only house she’s ever known, with her mom and Lisa’s parents around. I … I’m not a great dad. I don’t see her as much as I should.”