Page 37 of Hard to Hold

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it is.” He glances at the screen of his phone. “In the meantime, I have Heidi waiting to be picked up and an eight o’clock reservation to get to.”

“Heidi?” I ask.

“Flavor of the month.” He laughs as he grabs his keys while I smile indulgently. Johnny is a good man, but such a player. I’ve had a front-row seat to the hearts he’s broken over the years, even consoled a few of them in our college days, but that’s just him. “One of these days, I just might find one I’m okay tasting for longer, but in the meantime, I’m taking full advantage of being obscenely rich and incredibly handsome.”

“How about annoyingly arrogant too?”

“That too.”

“You know the unbuttoned shirt thing went out in the seventies,” I say as I eye the five inches of chest peeping out of this shirt.

My cell rings and when I look at the screen, my face must give away how startled I am when I see Finn Sanderson as the caller.

“Later,” Johnny mouths as he kisses me on the top of my head before he moves toward the door.

“If you’re calling me to apologize for being a dick, you can save your breath,” I say by way of greeting when I answer.

He chuckles. “You really do love to play that whole woman scorned to the hilt, don’t you?”

“Probably just as much as you like to play the dejected asshole thing.” By now, curiosity has me sitting up, pouring myself a glass of wine because if Finn’s calling me, I know I’m going to need it.

“You figured it out yet? My secret?” he says with a chuckle that grates over my skin.

“Secret?” I ask, taking the bait.

“Rumor is you couldn’t wait to get to Los Angeles to grovel to Cannon and take his offer with the MLS only to find out it no longer existed. Oops. That must have been mortifying for someone like you.”

“What are you talking . . .”

The guy at the airport. The one standing at the other ticket counter when I changed my flight. Finn knows because of him, and yet, the position no longer exists? What is he talking about?

“Look, don’t be too mad. It was just a little underhanded tactic between agents—you know, like with Maddox last year.”

“What does Hunter have to do with any of this?” I ask. Finn has totally lost the ball here. What the hell?

“This is about beating you at your own tactics. Decided I’d go after those potential clients you so beautifully described in your binder.” His amused sigh ticks me off. “Names, phone numbers, emails, likes, dislikes . . . you keep great records but honestly, Lenn, you really should keep shit like that in a passcoded phone, not sitting in a binder for anyone to see in a conference full of hungry agents.” He tsks. “Rookie mistake, Kincade, but then again, we shouldn’t expect anything less of you, should we?”

How the hell did he get those details?

“You bastard,” I grit between clenched teeth as I cringe at my own stupidity. But I’d been in a conference on sports ethics, the irony, when the phone call came, and I’d run out to the hallway to jot notes down on the players with the intention of entering them in my database when I got back to my hotel room. They were still in the folder. So . . . he took a photo? This man is a complete and utter prick. What in the hell did Chase ever see in him?

My eyes burn with frustration and anger I haven’t felt in forever. Why is he telling me this? We’re not in public, so there’s no advantage to him. And yet . . . he’s gloating.

“All’s fair in love and representation, right?” he brags. “Those potential clients have been met with and wined and dined after you only met briefly with them because you thought you had bigger fish to fry. To think you’ve been made the laughing stock again. Only this time, in the City of Angels.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” I ask.

“The job with the MLS? The press conference today announcing Rush McKenzie? Cannon and I negotiated the deal last week for Rush to come on board. Part of those negotiations entailed explaining to Cannon why your services weren’t needed there. I assure you, it wasn’t anything personal.”

I think I stare at my wine glass blinking several times as I try to process what he’s saying. I don’t even remember when I rose to my feet and walked toward the window to stare aimlessly at the view of the valley.

I don’t see it though. No, I’m preoccupied, realizing how thoroughly gullible I was. Had he made it a point to say all those fucking awful lies about me assuming I’d hear him? He wrecked my confidence and knew me well enough that he knew I’d call Cannon. That I’d ask for the job I’d turned down so that I could save face. And how I played right into every part of it.

Oh, my God.

“Humiliation comes in all forms and ways, Lennox, and I guess you just got a clean dose of it.” He chuckles. All I hear is condescension. “Hope Cannon was at least nice when you showed up. No doubt you were completely humiliated when he told you that your services were no longer needed.” Does he not know I’ve been contracted for the position? “Did you finally understand there was only one reason he’d targeted you specifically for the position? You know, because he was interested in your other services?”