Quarterback's Unknown Baby Daughter: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  It seems like forever until the elevator doors open into my suite and I burst inside.

  “Deanna?” I call, doffing my jacket and tie as I walk through the darkened rooms. “Deanna, are you here? Answer me.” The light is on in my bedroom, and as I enter the room, my worst fear is confirmed. “What in the hell are you doing?”

  Deanna barely spares me a look as she continues stuffing her belongings into an open suitcase laid out on my bed, the glittery gown lying in a discarded lump at the foot of it. “What does it look like?”

  “Like you’ve lost your mind. You had me worried sick. How could you just up and leave like that? What kind of responsible adult does that? Would you let Grace get away with a stunt like that?”

  She looks up, her eyes glistening with hot tears. “Don’t you lecture me about my daughter. I’ve raised her right, without your help.”

  “Now you hold on. You didn’t let me help, did you? She’s our daughter, yours and mine. Don’t you ever say otherwise. And you haven’t answered my question. Why did you leave?”

  “I didn’t think I’d be missed,” she says, resuming her packing.

  “What are you talking about? Of course I missed you. I was looking all over the damn Museum of Art for you.”

  “Oh really? Was Lilah DeWitt helping you look? Or was she too busy making wedding plans for the two of you?”

  “What? How the hell...?” I shake my head. Someone obviously filled her in on mine and Lilah’s history. I should have seen this coming the minute Lilah got within ten feet of me.

  I step toward the bed and grab hold of Deanna by both arms. “Listen to me. I didn’t know she’d be there, and it’s not what you think. Yeah, we’ve dated on and off for a few years, but there was never any talk of any wedding. The media makes up what they think the public wants to hear. I haven’t seen her in months. In fact, when she approached me tonight, I told her it was over, and that I’d found someone else very important to me.”

  Deanna shakes free of my grip. “Yeah? For how long? How long will entertaining your backwoods baby mama and half-grown child last? How long until the novelty wears off and you sweep us under the rug? Relegate us to the shelf with the rest of your trophies and move on?”

  She’s talking crazy. I’ve never seen her so upset, and it’s my fault.

  “That’s not going to happen,” I assure her. “I’ve told you how I feel about you and Grace. Now stop that damn packing and calm down. You’re jet-lagged and nervous, and I put you in a stressful situation too soon. Please, get some rest, and it will all look better in the morning.”

  Deanna closes her suitcase and rips the zipper shut, the sound as final as closing up a body bag. “Yes, it will look better tomorrow. Because I won’t be here.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Deanna

  LEAVING ON A ‘JETS’ PLANE

  I can barely see the expression on Wyatt’s face; my eyes are so blurry with tears. I’m not sure I want to look at it. I can’t let anything stop me from following through with my decision to leave New York and all this drama behind. I’ve been fooling myself all along to think this could possibly work out and tonight’s just proved it.

  “I’m sorry I left without telling you,” I say. “That was bad manners. I’m sure that might have been embarrassing, having your date ditch you, and heaven forbid your celebrity image should be subject to gossip and speculation.”

  “I don’t care about that. You can’t leave. We have to talk about this; I’ve got a whole slew of things planned for the weekend – no distractions. Just us,” Wyatt says.

  “You don’t have to plan anything for me anymore. Believe it or not, I can actually take care of myself. I’ve called the airline and changed my flight for one early tomorrow morning. I’ll sleep in the other bedroom so I won’t disturb you.”

  I drag my suitcase off the bed and start to walk out, but Wyatt gives me no ground. He blocks the doorway with his big, sexy, rock-hard body that I would have happily enjoyed making love to all night long. But he’s blown any chance of that.

  “You’ve already disturbed me, so don’t stop now,” he says angrily. “Don’t you understand why I’ve asked you here? I want you and Grace in my life; there’s nothing more important to me than that. We need to work this out like grown-ups, for Christ’s sake. We can’t do that if you’re going to behave like a high school girl whose feelings are hurt. This is the reality of working in professional sports, Deanna. You have to put on a public face, be gracious and magnanimous and patient, do what’s expected of you, no matter what your personal issues are.”

  “Well, I don’t work in professional sports,” I snap back, dropping the handle of my suitcase. “And in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in high school anymore. I run a flower shop, where folks walk in my door because they have real feelings, and real relationships. They come in to buy a dozen roses for someone they love and want to show it, not hide it because they’re afraid of being seen with the wrong people, or what the newspapers will say in the morning.”

  Wyatt slips his huge, callused hand behind my neck, and pulls me tight against him, forcing my face upward to meet his own as he towers over me. His beautiful blues are aglow with emotion beneath the shadow of his brow. I can feel every bump and curve of his muscled body right through my clothing and my knees go weak for the wanting of this man that I’m not certain I really know anymore.

  “I have real feelings, baby.” His voice is a low growl. “Do you? If you care about me at all, about Grace, about our future as a family, you won’t do this. You won’t walk away without giving it your best shot.”

  I tremble in the intensity of his gaze and his strong grip. It would be so easy to give in, give up; say yes to whatever he asks. I do love him, but I love our daughter with every cell in my body and have to remember what’s best for her. God help me to do the right thing.

  “My feelings are all I have to go on, Wyatt. And tonight, I didn’t feel like part of your family. I felt like an accessory, like a glove or a hat that you needed for appearances’ sake. I was present in your world, but not a part of it. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. I won’t. I can’t.”

  “It won’t be that way,” he insists. “Not if we discuss it and commit to a plan that works for all of us. I promise you, sweetheart. You and Grace will never lack for my attention or anything else here, emotionally, materially or financially, I swear.”

  “You say that now, but I’m afraid you’re so used to all this – the fame, the glitz, and glamor of New York – that you could never give it up. And I’m not sure I want to deal with all that or expose Grace to it every day. She’s young and impressionable; neither of us belongs here. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I never said any of it would be simple,” Wyatt says. “Nothing worth having ever is. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and so have you. You have to make sacrifices to get what you want... This is no different. There’s such a thing as compromise, Deanna. You could open your own shop here if you wanted. Grace can go to a private school away from the city or wherever she likes. Are you saying you’re not willing to give us that chance? Are you saying you don’t love me, love us, enough to even try?”

  His words cut me to the bone. My heart is racing, my mind spinning; conflicting emotions tearing me in so many directions. Why did he have to say it like that? Make me have to lie in order to disagree with him? Because I would be lying if I said I didn’t love him. It’s what he’s become that I can’t love.

  I draw in a shaky breath. “I’m not saying that, Wyatt. I can’t say anything right now, except that I have to leave. I need to be alone, have time to think before I can answer you. This is all too much for me to take in. I have to think of Grace, and my mama; I need space, the kind of space I won’t find in New York. Can you give me that? At least for now?”

  After a moment, Wyatt releases me from his hold and steps back, clearing my path. He gestures to the open passage he’s created between us, the hard express
ion on his handsome face looking as though etched from stone. I’ve hurt him, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to say or do.

  “Here’s your space. Take it,” he murmurs.

  I lean down to retrieve my suitcase and slip past his tall frame to exit the room, the glorious room I thought we’d be making love in right now, maybe even... No. I’m not sure where that thought came from. Maybe even growing our family a little larger. It came unbidden into my mind at a time when nothing could be farther from the possible.

  “You seem to do an awful lot of thinking about other people,” Wyatt calls after me. “What about yourself? Or me? Maybe you should spend some time thinking about what you want, Deanna. If you even know what that is.”

  I deserved that. But I don’t turn around or try to reply. Maybe I really don’t know what I want and am using everyone else’s needs as an excuse not to think about my own. But I sure as hell know that playing second string to fame, money, celebrity worship, media scandal, as well as having to share the man I love with the whole world, isn’t an ideal life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wyatt

  HAIL MARY, DEANNA, AND GRACE

  I stare without emotion at the scoreboard, the clock ticking down the last seconds of the fourth quarter. Above those numbers is the hard truth, the inescapable finality of Patriots 46, Jets 33. It’s a rainy, miserable November day and it matches my spirits. After throwing five interceptions in the first half, the coach pulled me and sent in our backup quarterback. I can’t remember the last time that happened nor want to do the math to calculate when.

  I sit on the bench, feeling like a bucked-off rodeo rider; the wind and the will knocked clean out of me. It’s a long season ahead yet, and there’s plenty of opportunities to make up for a lost game, but that doesn’t make me feel any better or stop me from blaming myself. I’ve always been one to internalize failure; I don’t like failure and don’t experience it often, which is why I keep it to myself, stuff it deep inside and forget about it.

  Unfortunately, all that accomplishes is to have it fester like an infected wound and come back to haunt me another time. I guess this is my time.

  I get to my feet as the horn sounds to end the game. It’s my job to acknowledge each player as they come off the field, win or lose. They look a defeated bunch, slow-jogging in from the wet turf, water dripping off the edges of their helmets and facemasks.

  “Great fight, boys, get ‘em next time,” I say, always the beacon of positivity for the team and doling out encouragement. I never had difficulty filling this role, but today I’m just going through the motions. I’ve let my personal life interfere with my job performance, and it’s got to stop. I need to have my head in the game, not someone on my mind.

  Painful reruns of my last words with Deanna and the terrifying prospect of never seeing my daughter again loop in my thoughts like a bad movie outtake. I take failure to heart, but the failure that’s infecting me now has nothing to do with athletic achievement. I’ve failed at a very basic thing, at the most important relationship in a man’s life, and if I don’t smarten up and fix it, both my personal and professional life could be in serious jeopardy.

  I’ve always known what I wanted and went after it. Now shouldn’t be any different. But if going after what I want means changing the trajectory of my football career, I’m just not ready. I’m at the height of my game, starting a new season that shows every promise of reaching the Super Bowl. I’ve won every trophy, fulfilled every obligation expected of me and then some. I’ve earned the respect of the league and the sports world at large. Now’s not the time to let my foot off the gas. I have a season to win and a team that’s counting on me. Like Grace’s teacher said, “Good things take time.” Trouble is, you never know how much time you’ve got.

  As I follow my team into the dressing room, I know what I have to do, and it won’t be easy.

  ***

  I’ve almost forgotten how hot it can be out here in the Lone Star state. It’s nearly Thanksgiving, and the temperatures are still in the high 80s. By contrast, there was some light snow in New York just last week. I admire the bright flower arrangements in the window; bouquets of flaming orange and blazing yellow blooms paired with evergreens and holly – a touch of Christmas in the middle of the desert. Despite the heat outdoors, the petals behind the glass look cool and fresh; an oasis of color, beauty and sweet fragrance. A lot like the owner of this establishment. I didn’t think I’d be back here this soon, but there was no sense putting the trip off any longer.

  A chime sounds as I push open the door of The Yellow Rose, and a blast of chilled air along with strains of light holiday classics welcomes me as I step inside.

  “Be right with you,” a cheerful, familiar voice calls from the back of the shop.

  I don’t see her assistant anywhere. I wander over to the counter and wait, unsure of the kind of reception I’ll get – since I didn’t call ahead to say I was coming. Not everyone likes surprises, and in my experience, most women don’t like them at all.

  Soon, a figure enters the front of the shop, and I take a deep breath, my nose overdosing on the heavy scent of orchids, roses, and chrysanthemums. I can’t tell if I’m dizzy from the smell or just high on the sight of her.

  “Hello, Deanna.”

  She stops mid-step, her arms full with two large ceramic vases. It seems like a whole chorus of “Blue Christmas” plays through before she even blinks. I step over and take the vases from her, placing them carefully on the counter.

  “Wyatt,” she finally says, shaking her blonde head. “You really ought to give a girl some warning before you pop-up like a whac-a-mole at the fair.”

  “Aw, now what fun would whac-a-mole be if it were predictable?” I respond. “Wouldn’t be much of a quarterback if I made the same play every time. Besides, if I’d called ahead, you might have told me to stay in my gopher hole.”

  Deanna laughs, and it’s sweeter music to my ears than “Jingle Bells”. I’ve missed that laugh. Hell, I’ve missed everything about this woman since she left me in New York. It’s why I’m here.

  “I’m sure it’s a real busy time in the floral business right now, but can we talk for a bit?”

  “I am pretty busy,” she replies, nodding. “But tell you what – I’ll work, you talk. Fair enough?”

  “Deal,” I say, stepping aside as she reaches into a big cardboard box full of flowerpots and begins setting them out.

  I chuckle silently, recalling the night at the Met when I told her to follow my lead. Here, I take my cue from her and load my arms with flowerpots, handing them to her one by one as we fill the shelves together. It feels good to be working as a team. And a team is exactly what’s foremost in my mind.

  “Deanna, I need to tell you something. I’ve done a hell of a lot of thinking since you left, and I want you to know that I understand how you felt. I had no right to expect y’all would take to that kind of lifestyle, or even want to be part of it. I should have told you about Lilah and not let you draw your own conclusions or get the wrong idea. But I also need you to understand that playing pro football is my life, and my livelihood. It’s what I do; what I dreamed of doing ever since I was a kid.”

  Perched on a stepladder to reach a top shelf, Deanna pauses, pot in hand. “I know that, Wyatt. I never stood in the way of that.”

  “No, you didn’t. And at great cost – raising a child on your own. Did you ever stop to think that if you’d told me about Grace, I’d have had all the more reason to succeed at football; to provide for you and our child? I’d have done that, you know.”

  Deanna sighs. “I know you would have. But would it have made you happy? Tied down with a kid, with your studies, with me... on top of your football schedule while your friends and teammates were out partying? You’d have resented us eventually, and I couldn’t have lived with that.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t know that. We’d have managed. What I do know is that after everything that’s happened,
after all the time that’s passed, I never fell out of love with you, Deanna. Maybe your feelings for me have changed, and I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to go straight to hell right now, but I’ve come here to say that I want you, our daughter, and me to be together, be a proper family.”

  Deanna stops partway down the ladder and turns to look at me; there’s a sadness in her beautiful green eyes that tears at my heart, knowing I’m the one that’s put it there.

  “We’ve been over this. It’s not going to work. We’re here, you’re there; your team is your life, you just said so.”

  “I know, and that’s why I have a favor to ask you.”

  “A favor?” She raises an eyebrow. “Does it involve travel? I still hate flying.”

  I laugh as I hand her one more flowerpot. “In a way. New York is no place to raise a family; I see that now. I can’t ask you to uproot your lives here. I don’t want to see you and Grace pressured by the media, or have to attend endless parties and fundraisers, and awards ceremonies. I don’t want our little girl to breathe in smog and be kept awake by traffic noise all night, every night.”

  Deanna’s face pales, and I see her hands shake a little as she sets the last flowerpot on the shelf.

  “What are you saying, Wyatt?” Her voice is small, fearful.

  This is not going how I thought it would. I’m fumbling the ball again.

  “I’m saying that I have a commitment to my career and to staying in New York until the end of this season.” I draw in a big breath. “Then I’m announcing my retirement from the NFL.”

  Deanna’s eyes go wide, whether in shock or anger I can’t tell. “You’re quitting football?”

  “Yup,” I reply with a firm nod. “It’s time; while it’s my choice. Before time knocks me out of the game and I don’t have a choice. Before I become a brittle, crippled up has-been. Now about that favor...”

  She stares at me, her pretty lips parted in utter bewilderment. “What favor can I possibly do you?”