He started up the SUV and turned to her. “What do you like to eat?”
“I’m not fussy. Wherever you want to go is fine with me.”
“Okay.” He headed out, deciding that, instead of his favorite hamburger joint, they’d go to an actual restaurant, something that served a selection of stuff, since he had no idea what she liked. Though why that mattered to him, he had no idea. She was an imposition. He should make her eat big, fat, greasy burgers.
“You didn’t tell them I was your client.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, turning away from the window to look at him.
“Jamarcus and Lon. You know they thought you were my date.”
“Did they? I guess that’s their mistake then, isn’t it?” She returned to staring out the window.
He smiled, shook his head, and pondered the mystery that was Savannah Brooks. It was hard not to like her, even though he was opposed to working with her. Though he guessed it was the idea of an image consultant he didn’t like. He liked her just fine. Or maybe he was just attracted to her legs and her gorgeous face.
Since it was unlikely she was going to date him, it didn’t matter what he thought about her personally, so they might as well get this over with. He pulled into the restaurant parking lot.
“This place?” she asked.
“What about this place?”
“I don’t know. It’s charming. A little Italian restaurant named Carmen’s? You seem like a burger or steak kind of guy.”
“I come here a lot. Great food.”
He came around to her side and assisted her in getting out of his SUV.
“Thank you,” she said, smoothing her dress down over her legs as she stepped onto the parking lot. She grabbed her bag and they went inside, where Carmen was working as hostess today.
“Cole,” she said, kissing both his cheeks. “So nice to see you here.” She looked over at Savannah and a gleam sparked in her eyes. “Oh, you have a new girl.”
To Carmen, who was nearly eighty, every woman was a “girl.”
“Carmen, this is Savannah Brooks.”
Carmen enveloped Savannah in her ample frame. “Honey, you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. Your restaurant is lovely.”
Carmen looped her arm in Savannah’s. “Thank you. My father opened this restaurant. It’s very special to our family. Cole’s parents come here a lot. I’ve known this kid since he was five years old. He used to throw spaghetti on the floor.”
Savannah laughed. “Is that right?”
“You bet. He and his sister would come in here with their parents every Friday for dinner.”
“That’s fascinating,” Savannah said.
Carmen threw Cole a look over her shoulder. “Come along, sonny.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have brought Savannah here.
Cole followed as Carmen showed them to their table. He shook his head when Carmen led them to the one in the corner. The dark corner. He could tell Carmen they weren’t on a date, but what would be the point?
“I’ll be sure to tell Mike not to bother you two so much during lunch, okay?” She kissed Cole on the cheek and left.
“Carmen’s sweet. Misguided, but sweet,” Cole said as he held the chair out for Savannah.
“Thank you. And yes, she’s very nice. Obviously, she’s practically family. You’ve been coming here this long?”
He shrugged. “I told you. I like the food.”
Savannah looked around. “It’s a great place. Very atmospheric. I love the dark tables, the cheery red-and-white curtains.” She inspected the olive oil and balsamic vinegar bottles. “So, your parents come here a lot?”
He knew what she was doing—trying to get to know him better. He should have hit the steak house.
Fortunately, Mike, their waiter, came over and took their order and brought their bread and drinks.
Cole took a drink of his water and looked at Savannah. “I guess you can tell me what I have to look forward to.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather eat first?” Savannah asked with a smile.
“It’s that bad?”
She laughed. “I don’t think it’s bad at all. At first I’ll be shadowing you for a while, mainly to figure out your routine and watch your interactions. Then I’ll have some suggestions.”
“Shadowing me? You mean to monitor my behavior.”
“No. To get a feel for your routine.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a file.
Cole cocked a brow. “You have a file on me?”
“The team provided media reports, analysis of your on-field behavior from prior teams, and altercations you’ve had in the past, all contributing to a profile I’ve put together on you.”
They waited while Mike put their lunch in front of them. Since Cole was hungry, he dug into his chicken Parmesan while Savannah ate her chicken salad. All the while, he stared at the folder she’d pushed off to the side.
“So what’s your conclusion?” he asked.
“This is just a preliminary analysis, but my belief is that you have anger management issues.”
He let out a snort. “I do not.”
She speared a leaf of lettuce, and didn’t argue with him.
“Seriously. I don’t have anger management issues. Or any other kind of issues. I told you last night, the media lies. They blow everything out of proportion.”
“What about your issues with the teams you’ve been on?”
He shrugged. “Personality clashes. I’ve just been on the wrong teams.”
“I see. And you think it’ll be different with the Traders.”
“Yeah. I’ve already connected with them. This is a good fit for me.”
“So assuming this team is, in fact, a good fit for you and you have no skirmishes with anyone on your team, from players to management, what about your personal life?”
“What about it? I told you it’s not me, it’s the media.”
She laid her fork down and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the napkin. “To some extent, you’re likely correct. The media has a tendency to overdramatize and exaggerate. But if you don’t give them anything to work with, they have nothing to report. You give them plenty, so even if what’s there is minor, they have the opportunity to blow it up.”
“That’s bullshit.” He pushed his empty plate to the side and finished his glass of water. Mike was right there to refill it, then blended into the darkness of the restaurant again. “I don’t give them anything. They make shit up.”
“You also have an issue of not being able to accept blame for your actions.”
“If I’m wrong, I’ll accept blame.”
She raised her fork, then paused, her lips lifting in a hint of a smile. “Let me guess. You’re never wrong?”
Irritation spiked. He pushed it down, refusing to get into an argument with her here. “I didn’t say that. And you’re baiting me.”
“I’m not baiting you, Cole. We’re having a conversation. Your anger is quick to spark. Once it does, you don’t back down. That’s why you get into trouble so easily. And so often.”
He sucked in a breath, trying to keep control. “So is this an exercise to see how fast you can piss me off?”
“No.” She looked down at her plate, then back up at him. “It’s lunch.”
“You think this is funny.”
“I wasn’t making a joke. I’m trying to get you to understand that you’re angry for no reason. We’re having a conversation. A conversation that you’ve turned into what you think is me attacking you.” She pushed her plate to the side and drew the file folder in front of her, opened it up and pulled out photos and articles. “If you’d like, you can explain these photos and altercations. Give me an understanding of you, of what was happening during these events.”
He took the photos. “This one was at a club. I was kicking back with some friends, and suddenly there are ten cameras in my face. Lights are popping, they’re pushing the woman I was with just to get closer to me. What the hell was I supposed to do? I shoved them out of the way so I could get my date out of there. She was freaked out.”
He pulled out an article, this one from some tabloid rag that said he’d been drunk and passed out in a club. He snorted. “Paparazzi tripped me while I was trying to get away from them. So they take this photo of me lying facedown in a club and then print that I’m drunk and passed out.”
At her dubious look, he shot her a glare. “I don’t drink during the season. It affects my performance. Look at the date.” He handed the article back to her.
“October fifteenth.”
“Exactly. Deep in the middle of the season. No alcohol. You can go to the club owners and ask them.”
She filed the article away. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“This one, I was out with my parents. My parents. That’s news? It was their anniversary and I wanted to take them out to dinner. Someplace nice and quiet, and the goddamned media shows up. I’m not an actor. I’m not Hollywood. I’m just a jock. Taking my parents out to dinner isn’t newsworthy. Yet they stalked me and hounded my parents, blinding them with their cameras.”
“Did you bring a date that night?”
He frowned. “What?”
“When you took your parents out to dinner for their anniversary. Did you bring a date?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s why you had the media stalking you. You’re a hot commodity, Cole. You’ve had big endorsement deals, you’ve done commercials, and you’ve been known to date high-profile women. That makes you attractive to the media. Next time you want to take your parents out for a quiet dinner, don’t bring a date.”
“It shouldn’t matter whether I bring a date or not. The media should leave me alone.”
She smiled at him. “What you want and what you’re going to get are two different things. You’ve been in the NFL for six years now, and you were hot even when you played college ball. If you don’t want this life, then maybe you should consider retiring.”
He was about ready to let Peaches hoof it back to her car. “That’s a bullshit suggestion.”
“And you’re a whiner. You have a great career, you make more money than most of the people in this country will ever dream of. You have a ton of perks, you can retire before you’re forty and live a life of luxury—provided you’re financially astute and haven’t pissed it all away. Yet you’ve cornered yourself into a terrible reputation and your career is hanging by a thread. What? Fame, money, and success aren’t enough for you? Are you unhappy?”
He pushed his chair back, pulled a wad of bills out of his wallet, and threw them on the table, then tossed some extra at her. “You can take a cab back to your car, Peaches. We’re done here.”
He walked out.
NOW THAT WAS THE COLE RILEY SHE’D RESEARCHED. Savannah took a deep breath and reached for her glass of iced tea to take a sip.
Carmen came over. “Are you all right, dear?”
She smiled up at the woman. “I’m just fine. Thank you for asking. I believe Cole left more than enough money to cover the bill.”
She clasped her hands together. “He always does. He’s very generous.”
Yeah, he was generous, all right. She left the money he’d thrown at her, figuring Mike could use it. She pushed back her chair and stood. “The meal was wonderful, Carmen. Thank you so much.”
“It’s so unlike Cole to be so, to be such a…”
Jerk? Asshole? Prick? Baby? Seemed to her he’d acted just as she’d expected. Exactly as the profile had indicated. She laid her hand on Carmen’s arm. “It’s quite all right, Carmen.”