The Maid Page 3

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  Okay, so she had been way off the mark, Addie thought as she stared at Gun storming off. She thought she'd be prepared to see him again. She thought she had moved on from the awful memories of Gun leaving her all those years ago. It had been mutual, of course. He had to leave for his trip to Europe—a gap year, he had called it. Something people with a lot of money and time could luxuriate into doing. And, she had to keep her job at his parents' house and finish school.

  Except, she'd seen the tabloids and how he'd gone on to play football in college and then drafted to the NFL. She'd read all about his parents disowning him. She had been rooting for him to do what he loved, even at the expense of his parents' approval, although she had been so very hurt that he'd never reached out, not once.

  She thought she was strong.

  She had been very wrong.

  After ten years, Gun had changed from a guy to a man. All the softness from his youth was long gone. Where he used to be the cute, lean jock she'd fallen head over heels in love with in a short few months, he now looked like danger and sex all rolled into one seriously hot muscular man. Coming into this new job, she'd been prepared to find him attractive. Hell, she'd been following him on social media and television for years. What she hadn't been prepared for was the way those blue eyes would still make her feel. The same blue eyes she used to get lost in, the ones that could reach deep into her soul and extract all her feelings from just one look, leaving her feeling exposed yet protected all at the same time. Thankfully, he had left to shower because she'd needed a moment to control her thumping heart and the surge of emotions, she'd felt from having been this close to him again.

  Jeff excused himself and she was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the expansive living room, all the confidence she'd walked in with had seeped out of her body. Addie set her purse down on the coffee table and took stock of the apartment. There were photos everywhere. Pictures of him with his friends, teammates, places he'd travelled, and a few of his parents. Her palm brushed along all the trophies, and there were many. She continued to walk along until the wall became a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the ocean.

  Jeff was in a heated conversation on his cell phone in the other room, but she smelled coffee. Following the rich scent, she saw Jeff barking orders through his phone as he stumbled with the creamer and pushed a mug her way and then walked away.

  She had moved to back to Miami from Tampa for a job with the NFL as a Consultant for the Post-Career Planning Program (PCPP) and hadn't once been able to even see the beach in the three months she'd been living there. She loved the beach and one of her best memories was the Saturday before Gunther left; they had spent the entire day just lying on the sand, watching the waves crash into the jetties while talking and laughing.

  If this was the closest she was going to get to the ocean, she'd take advantage of it. By the looks of things, she was going to be waiting on Gun for a while. With a steaming mug of coffee in hand, she opened the sliding door and made herself comfortable on his oversized balcony. It was glorious. Salty wind filled her lungs and the humid heat enveloped her body. This right here—this, was perfection. The sound of the ocean from thirty-eight stories up, and the squawking of the seagulls above, soothed her soul and calmed her nerves.

  She closed her eyes, leaned back into the lounge chair, and sipped her coffee. God, she wished this was a different occasion. Even though this job was going to epically boost her professional life, right now, she could die a happy woman if she was in her yoga pants and tank top with a book in her hand. Instead she was in stockings, heels, and a too tight around the knees and thighs pencil skirt, making it difficult to get comfortable.

  The only soothing thought she had as she closed her eyes was that she had come prepared. Regardless of her initial visceral reaction to him, she'd left her feelings for the man in the past. Never again would she let a man hurt her. She'd lived her life with this mantra, and at the age of thirty-five she'd been successful at it.

  If things went according to plan, she'd impress the director of the PCPP, Alex Kellerman, and have a full-time permanent position in their program. A program adopted by the NFL to educate players. It focused on the importance of financial awareness and preparation for life after football as well as helping the players have a positive media image in order to assist them in getting endorsements that'll last well past retirement. This was a dream job and the culmination of having worked so hard for so many years. What she hadn’t expected was that the first player to be assigned to her would be Gunther McCall.

  What in the fuck was Addie doing in his apartment?

  At first he'd thought he'd dreamed it or was so drunk he was hallucinating. But then she spoke, that raspy tone in her voice that he remembered so well. Too well, actually. His thoughts immediately drifted to a time where they had snuck off in his Corvette and parked in the Everglades where no one could see them. He'd loved when she sucked him off, her full lips wrapped around his cock as she hummed in her sexy voice, the vibrations shooting straight to his spine. Just thinking about it made him hard.

  Gun towel- dried his hair, slipped on some gym shorts and a T-shirt, and headed back out, feeling a little less green but a lot more anxious. "What the fuck, man? You can't just burst into my house whenever you want," he said to Jeff.

  His agent and best friend was on the phone, and eyed him for a moment, then looked away and continued to talk——completely ignoring Gun. That was Jeff. All business, all the time. He didn't give a shit what Gun wanted or needed. Okay, that wasn't completely true, the man's entire life revolved around what he thought was best for Gun's career but sometimes getting pissed drunk on a Tuesday night and sleeping it off until three in the afternoon the next day was what he needed. Of course, Jeff wouldn't see it that way.

  Following the smell of coffee, Gun poured himself a cup and went in search of Addie. He looked around the room, her flowery scent still lingering. Trying to tune out all the yelling coming from Jeff, he called out, "Hello?" and then Jeff covered the phone and pointed, "Outside."

  A mess of red waves hung from the back of a lounge chair.

  Taking a deep, calming breathe, Gun opened the sliding door and closed it behind him, causing her to jump up and sit straighter. "Usually this place is relaxing," he said, motioning to the ocean.

  "Oh, it's so relaxing," she exhaled loudly, in that voice that did things to him. Things he couldn't believe he still felt after so many years. "It's just...wow," she said, with her eyes closed, her hair moving softly with the wind.

  "So this is you," he pointed at her general area, "relaxed?"

  She looked down at her lap, one hand holding a mug and the other resting on the lounge, and then back up at him. "Yes, why?"

  "I've never seen someone quite so tense when they relax," he said, gruffly. "But I guess you never really were the relaxing-type."

  "It's the skirt. It's not meant to look relaxed."

  “You look great, Addie,” he said.

  "Addie." She repeated his word out loud. "It's been a long time since anyone called me that."

  He really studied her for the first time since she'd walked into his apartment. She looked the part of a tight-ass, ball-busting tyrant. But, Addie, whose hair moved softly with the breeze, whose pink lips curled up at the ends, whose gravelly voice still lulled him in a way nothing else ever had, wasn't fooling him for one second. This was just a facade.

  He shook his head side to side feeling a little disoriented. "Why are you here?"

  "I'm Kellerman's newest team member. I'm here to help get your finances under control as well as your social well-being. Mario was transferred elsewhere, and I was assigned to you since you signed up for PCPP."

  "Finances? Social well-being?" Then it hit him. He set his mug down, a little more forcefully then necessary and stood up. "You. You canceled my cards? Has Wayne made you my...handler?" He asked, with a sour face. Wayne Dillard was the owner of the Miami Tornados and he was, in essence, Gunther's boss. />
  When he'd known Addie, and he had known her very intimately, she had been thin, mostly, with some curves but they weren't as pronounced as they were now. Age had been good to her and her body had changed in a good way. A great way. She'd filled in nicely and from where he stood, he could see the swells of her breasts. Those perfectly plump, perfectly enticing breasts. Breasts which were making him forget his righteous indignation.

  She set her mug down and tried to stand but fumbled back because of her tight skirt. She groaned, grabbed his forearm and used him for support to help herself up. "I did not cancel your credit cards," she said, her arms now crossed over her chest, causing those enticing globes to push up higher. "My eyes are here, Mr. McCall," she said, with a scowl that surprised him.

  "Mr. McCall?"

  She took a step closer to him and pointed a finger at him. "Yes, you're my client. This is a professional meeting. Do you go around yelling and huffing at meetings or is that just because we've met before?"

  Now he was really upset. The woman had been responsible for him barely having enough money to get a taxi to drive him home last night. He didn't even know if he could afford lunch right now. He grabbed her finger, roughly, and pulled her forward, causing her to stumble against him. "Met before?" he asked against her ear, anger radiating off of him. "I've tasted you, Addie. I've licked every fucking square inch of that body. Let's not pretend there's a casual history between us. I've more than just met you. You've fucking come on my mouth." He could feel her chest rise and fall against his and at that moment all those years apart became insignificant. He wanted Addie and he wanted her right the fuck now. Because some things in life never changed, it seemed.

  Instead, she pulled her finger from his grip and pushed herself back. "You'll not talk to me like that again, Gunther. You understand? I'm here on business. You've slept with countless women since we were together, you're bound to come across one on business one day. I'm no different than any of them."

  But she was wrong. She was so very wrong. She was different. She was the woman he compared all other women too. She was the reason he'd never been in a serious relationship again. If he was being honest with himself, she was his one and only regret. He should never have left her all those years ago, and now that she was standing in front of him again all those memories rushed back in.

  "This job is important to me and it should be important to you. Grow up, McCall!" She looked angry but the red flush on her milky white skin betrayed her. She was nervous and her flushed skin was her tell. Always had been. Nevertheless, she was angry at him for other reasons than his eyes drifting south.

  "Why the hell are you so mad at me?"

  "I'm not mad."

  "Please, Addie. You came here with a chip on your shoulder and I don't understand why. Last we saw of each other, we kissed and hugged and said goodbye. We were fine."

  There was a subtle movement of her neck, as if she was swallowing. "Yes. We were fine. I'm still fine. I just want to make sure I can do my job effectively without you bringing up the past, including that I was your maid."

  He cleared his throat and took a step back, making sure his eyes didn’t drift southward. She wanted to keep things professional? Fine. He'd comply.

  For now.

  "I'm sorry about the 'maid' comment, seeing you here, caught me off-guard. Nevertheless, my cards were canceled, so why don't we focus on that."

  "No, they were not. You have a daily spending limit and you had already spent most of it, throughout the day. You want to increase it, all you have to do is call me, and I'll increase it."

  What. The. Fuck?

  "A what? I'm a grown ass man. I don't need a spending limit."

  "You don't really have a choice. I was just following directions." She reached for her phone and swiped a few times on the screen and turned it to him. "If you look here, we did an extensive analysis of your spending. If you keep this up and, God-forbid you have an accident which makes you unfit to play, your savings will only last three years." She swiped on the screen a few more times and brought up a graph. "But, if you just cut your spending by this much," She pulled up a chart, "you can save enough to last you a lifetime. Plus, all the endorsements we're going to get you once you adjust your image. You have enough cash that it will make you money just by the mere fact that you have it. The interest alone is enough for an average person to live on. I'm not asking you to live frugally, I'm just suggesting that you—"

  "Stay home and eat Ramen noodles."

  She turned off her phone and put it down. "I'm surprised you even know what Ramen noodles are."

  He remembered how he'd eaten them at her house a few times back then and then during his early days in college when his parents cut him off and he lived off scholarships and student loans. But she’d always been poor, her parents barely making ends meet. It was just one of the many reasons his family tried to prevent them from dating. She didn't know that though. As far she knew, they'd parted ways, amicably.

  In truth, his parents had found out that they'd been seeing each other and had threatened to fire her and cut him off. He'd been so scared that she'd be homeless and have to quit school, he hadn't fought for her. But she didn't know any of this. "I'm not going to stay home all day and stop living to save money on the off chance I get injured."

  "Off chance? Getting injured is within the realm of possibilities of something that could happen playing professional football, Gun. Did you know that seventy-eight percent of retired football players are bankrupt within two years of retiring? I'm not asking you to stay home all day. You need a long-lasting career, you need endorsements. Our plan, my plan, is to help you with all of that. The partying, the bad boy persona, isn't helping you in any way. You had two stints in anger management in the last year and one of your endorsement deals pulled out. You know it and that's why you signed up for PCPP."

  "I signed up because Wayne practically put the pen in my hand and forced me. I had one foot in a jail cell and Wayne gave me the ultimatum."

  "So, you don't want any of this? It was all bullshit so that you can make Wayne happy and play ball?"

  "I'm not stupid, Addie. I know I can't play forever. I know my shelf life is small. But I also know that if I don’t appease Wayne I’m going to get benched. He wanted me to sign up for this shit, so I did. I thought I'd have to do a few online classes on savvy investments and that was it. Except for last night, I had toned down the partying, so that’s something, isn’t it? I didn't know I'd have someone fucking with my credit limit."

  "No that's not it. That's just a small part of it. You need to be smarter with your money."

  "Fine, I'll be smarter but lift that limit shit. I need access to my money."

  "Gun," she huffed. "You'll just go back to three thousand-dollar evenings at a random night club. And it's not just the spending, the Post-Career Planning Program encompasses everything that will educate you on having a successful present- and post-career. If you party, you don't train. You don't train, you will suck at pre-season, and then eventually during the regular season, not to mention the higher risk of injury."

  God, she was beautiful when she was angry. "Go out with me," he blurted out.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Go out with me."

  "Absolutely not." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you not hear what I said about keeping things professional? Not to mention that there is a no- fraternization clause in my contract."

  "Fuck that."

  "Fuck that?" She looked like was going to slap him. "I see nothing's changed. You're still a self-centered asshole."

  "I am not a self-centered asshole."

  "You are. You know why…because you know that if you fail, you'll have your trust fund to back you up. Your parents are just a call away with all the money you'd ever need."

  Now that pissed him off. "You don’t know dick, Addie. I walked away from all of that to do what I love and I'm not going to call them to bail me out, no matter what. You don't know that because
you don't know me anymore!"

  "Of course I don't know you anymore. You never called me again!"

  The sliding door opened, and Jeff walked out. "I see you kids are hitting it off nicely," Jeff huffed, sarcastically. "I just had to put out a shit ton of fires, Gun. Wayne is pissed at what he saw in the tabloids today and you missed a meeting this morning."

  "You should have told him I was sick." He wanted to get back to the argument with Addie. There was shit between them and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  Jeff pulled out his phone and turned the screen. "You don't look sick enough for that excuse!" It was a photo from the local paper showing him on the dance floor sandwiched between the two blonds. The headline read, "Gun McCall leaves Pyramid with two prostitutes and runs out without paying ten-thousand-dollar tab. Owner of club pressing charges."

  "That's bullshit. They weren't prostitutes. I don't need to pay for sex!"

  "That's all you got from this?!" Jeff said. "You want your team and parents to take you seriously? You want their respect? Then stop screwing around!" That was a low-blow from his friend. Gun had confided in him about his parents and never once had Jeff used it against him. He looked away from a fuming Jeff to see a disappointed Addie. "I didn't run out on my tab, Addie, and they weren't prostitutes," he said to her, a little calmer.

  "Addie?” Jeff asked, looking at both of them.

  “You remember my childhood friend, the one I’ve mentioned a few times? Addie? Adalyn is Addie.”

  “Jesus.” Jeff ran his fingers through his hair. “I remember you talking about her more than once.”

  But Addie quickly added, “But that was in the past. Long time ago.”

  “Well, keep it in the past. You need to work together.”

  “No worries at all, Jeff,” Addie added quickly.

  “Did Adalyn explain why she's here?" Jeff asked.

  "Yes."

  "Good. Now, get your shit together, Gun. Show Wayne that you’re the player he contracted, not a liability and not a hassle. You’re not a twenty-year-old kid anymore, McCall. There’s a bench full of young players with stamina and determination that are waiting for you to fuck up and get benched so that they can play. And you know as well as I do, one of those kids can end up taking your place permanently if they’re good enough. Lay low. Work with Addie and stop making my job so difficult." He turned to Addie. "Come on. I'll drive you back to the office."