Power Play Page 9

  “Why say that? He’s the one that suggested this place? The one I originally chose was actually further away from home.” Sydney defended.

  “I know Ian is serious about art and more specifically, you. But I also feel there’s more to his generosity.” Nancy glanced over to him. “Has he made a pass at you?”

  “He flirts with everyone, Mom.” Sydney replied. “That’s just him. He flirted with you even.”

  “I see,” Nancy nodded, “well, it’s up to you. I’m curious how you’re going to explain to Dean about Ian’s gift.”

  “It’s not a gift. I’m sure he’ll be on the deed of this. I’m just a renter.” Sydney glanced back at Ian. A feeling of comfort and familiarity washed over her. “It won’t be an issue.”

  “If you say so.” Nancy stoked her daughter’s hair, “but you need to be honest with Dean. I’m sure he’ll be interested in this loft for many reasons.”

  “Oh?” Sydney began walking with her mother, “such as?”

  “The many ways he can burn it down.”

  ****

  Dean patiently waited in a director’s chair as hair and makeup prepped him. A blonde beauty did Dean’s makeup while a brunette did his hair. He was on a yacht called Beginning Endlessly, that boasted of eleven staterooms, a spacious dining room that could hold 30 guests, pool, wine cellar, and basketball court. It was a perfect day in sunny Marina del Rey for a photo shoot with the bright sun reflecting off the blue ocean.

  While everyone talked about weekend plans and other nonsensical things, Dean flipped through his phone. Sydney was checking out a loft near their home and she was going to give him input when she had time. He was thankful she’d adhered to his advice about moving closer to their home, though he couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just create a studio at home. He was never one to question an artist’s creative process and kept silent. He knew Sydney would make the right decision regardless of his input.

  “You look distracted.”

  Dean glanced up and gave a bro hug to the man in charge of his campaign. “What’s up, dude?”

  Advertising guru Scott Reed pulled a chair beside Dean and watched the artists work on Dean’s hair and face. He was a partner of McCormick, Reed, and Sheppard, one of the world’s most premier advertising agencies and had a slew of CLIOs to prove it. He was a commanding figure, standing over six feet tall, chestnut brown hair that nipped the back of his neck, and a muscular build that suggested he might have been an athlete sometime in the past. “That’s enough,” he spoke to the women, his Southern accent pronounced.

  “Yes, Sir.” The women placed their things down and walked out of the room.

  Dean was impressed by Scott’s power. “You got the juice,” he chuckled.

  “Meh, I got something.” Scott laughed. “So, this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to have you laying out on the deck, looking as natural as possible. Then we’re going to have you in a pose, looking all sexy and shit for the ladies. The goal is for everyone to see your amazing abs, and then focus on the underwear. Our target audience is young to older women. Men won’t give a goddamn what kind of underwear you’re wearing but their girlfriends and wives will care and want them to emulate you.”

  “Whatever, bro,” Dean shrugged off his beefcake status, “I’m just a hockey player at the end of the day.”

  “You may be a hockey player but you’re not just any one.” Scott commented. “I know you don’t care about the accolades and all of that but other people do and that’s why we’re working with you.”

  McCormick, Reed, and Sheppard were the best in advertising and Scott personally oversaw Dean’s new campaign. “I appreciate that,” Dean smiled.

  “Give us a few minutes and we’ll call you out on the deck and we’ll get started. I want to ask a favor of you and I’m sure you get this all of the time.” Scott began.

  “What is it?”

  “I have a friend,” he loosely said, not sure how to define his one-time live-in love and current friend with benefits, “and she loves Sydney’s work. She would love to meet her, if at all possible.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll talk to Syd about it and maybe we can double-date or something after the season is over.” Dean suggested.

  “Sounds good. I’ll leave you alone and call you when we’re ready.” Scott grinned as he stood up. “Let me know if you need anything.” He then left.

  Scott walked onto the deck where he bumped into a blonde wearing a tight dress and neck-breaking heels. “Well, hello there,” she smiled.

  “My apologies, milady.” Scott nodded and did a quick glance over at the woman. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m much better now,” she winked.

  Scott’s green eyes twinkled. “Are you here for Dean?”

  “Or you?” The woman flirted.

  Scott chucked. “He’s in there,” he pointed before he moved on.

  Dean took out his cell phone and looked through his texts if he’d received anything from Sydney. He knew she went to go look at lofts with her mother and hoped to hear she’d found a good choice and maybe something closer to their home. Maybe it would ease the tension and jealousy he’d felt about Ian imposing himself in their lives. It was bad enough he was her art curator but for him to also be an owner of the Kings? That was cruel and unusual punishment.

  “Well, well, well…we meet again.”

  Dean looked up and saw Rebecca standing before him. Wearing a flowery summer dress and chunky heels, her trademark red-painted lips smiled at him. “Hello,” Dean blinked, trying to figure out how it was possible Rebecca knew where he could’ve been. He then remembered how he casually mentioned the photo shoot when they were at the bar the other day. He blamed his big mouth for once again getting him into trouble with her. “What a coincidence.”

  “I’m here on assignment,” Rebecca stepped inside the room, “I wasn’t playing when I said I’m a journalist now.”

  Dean raised an eyebrow. No sports reporter cared about an athlete’s underwear photo shoot. “What kind of reporter?”

  “I’m getting my own talk show!” She beamed.

  It was Dean’s cue to head out. “Good-bye, Rebecca.” He stood up.

  “Now, wait a minute…” She eased him back down onto the chair. “I told you I was going to be fair and square about everything. I’m just going to report the facts and that’s it.”

  “What kind of show is it, Bec?” He narrowed his eyes.

  “Fine,” Rebecca threw up her hands, “I’m reporting on celebrities and lifestyles. It’s an all-inclusive show. It’ll kinda be like Entertainment Tonight or Access Hollywood.” Rebecca lied. Her show would be more similar to Wendy Williams and the like. Spilling delicious tea was the name of her game and her pathway to more fame. “I want you to be my first guest.”

  “Absolutely not,” he emphatically replied, “you know I don’t do any of that shit.”

  “It would be good for your image!” Rebecca insisted.

  “What image? I’m not the one doing damage control.” Dean replied. “You need this show more than I do.”

  “Well, can my crew at least take video and pictures?” Rebecca looked behind her and pointed to the men with cameras.

  “You brought your crew without letting me know if this would be okay?” He questioned.

  “Dean,” Rebecca looked behind her and hoped no one was listening to their conversation, “let’s not make a big deal about this. This can help me out as well as give you some coverage for your shoot.”

  “I have an advertising firm doing just that,” he replied. Just then Dean received a text from Sydney regarding the loft.

  It’s great! I’m getting it today.

  Dean smiled. Hearing from his fiancée immediately relieved stress and tension Rebecca had built up.

  I’m glad to hear it. How much is it?

  I don’t know. Let me ask Ian real quick. He came with us.

  The stress and tension that had evaporated came back and hit him
like a Mack truck. Ian went with Sydney and her mother? Why was he even there?

  He received another text from Sydney revealing her answer. It’s about 4K a month. Ian’s going to buy it and I’ll just be a renter here. He says it’s a place for both of us! A home away from home, just you and me!  What do you think, babe?

  “I think I’m about to whip Ian’s ass,” Dean muttered. Now he understood Ian’s intention. Sure, he could’ve just been a friendly art curator with fat pockets and a deep vested interest in protecting his art and artist. Of course, the real interest Ian had in Sydney was territorial. Images of Sydney spread out on a bed Ian picked out as he hovered over her, thrusting deep into her as she screamed his name slapped Dean into a harsh anger.

  Now it was official – Ian not only owned Sydney, he also owned Dean. He might as well move in with them. He practically lived with them already as it was clear he was a permanent resident in both of their heads.

  Dean felt his anger boil over to unimaginable heights and he cooled his temper with deep breathing. His fists that were curled up into tight balls, released soon after. Dean let out a frustrating sigh and tightened his lips.

  “Fine, you want an exclusive?” He turned to Rebecca. “You got it.”

  ****

  “So, is the loft satisfactory to your boss friend?” Ian asked.

  Sydney glanced down at her phone. She’d texted Dean a few minutes prior but didn’t hear back from him. She figured he must’ve been called away to shoot, though it was weird because he would’ve told her before abruptly ending the conversation. “I guess. He’s at a photo shoot today so he’s pretty busy. I’ll tell him all of the details when I get home, though.”

  “How are things between you and Dean?” Ian asked. He honestly didn’t care but it was better to put on the front of interest in his muse’s personal life, in case there were problems later. “Is everything okay?”

  Sydney wanted to say yes but she wasn’t sure. There was a weird tension between them and it only started when Ian entered the picture. With the Kings in the playoffs and her art career taking off, she chucked it up to just stress from both parties, even though Sydney knew it wasn’t the complete truth. “Yeah, I just think he misses seeing his girl.”

  “His girl?” Ian raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I didn’t know Dean had a daughter.”

  “No, I’m his girl.” Sydney smiled. “He calls me his girl.”

  “He calls you his girl,” Ian repeated. It wasn’t a question but rather a statement he tried in vain to believe.

  “Yeah,” Sydney smiled as she thought about her fiancée. He was away on another road trip but he was coming home just in time for a romantic surprise. “Kinda like the song, “My Girl?”

  “That was cute back in the sixties, yes,” Ian replied and Sydney raised a brow. “I guess he calls you all sorts of other cute little things as well.”

  Sydney picked up Ian’s patronizing tone and bit the inside of her cheek to keep her true thoughts at bay. It was bad enough she had online gossip blogs deciphering everything she did; the last thing she needed was her wealthy curator putting his two cents in.

  For some reason, she decided to humor him. “What do you think he should call me?”

  Ian smiled and shook his head. “Something not as juvenile.”

  “I guess I don’t have to wonder why you’re single,” she bit back.

  “Touché,” he replied. He took off his glasses and Sydney saw how beautiful his blue eyes were. They were bluer than the ocean and just as stunning if not more. He deliberately held her gaze, as if he wanted her to understand every word he was about to say and without question. “If men refer to their partners as inanimate objects such as sweetie, honey, and sugar, that’s fine. I think it’s sweet.”

  Sydney released the breath she held. A small shiver went up her spine as she kept her composure. It was normal to be attracted to other men but she disturbed at her body’s reaction to Ian. He seemingly had a hypnotizing power over her. “You still haven’t answered the question,” she replied.

  “If I had a partner who I loved and declared, she wouldn’t just be my girl,” he walked over to Sydney and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “She would be my woman.”

  Sydney swallowed. Twice. “I see,” she pushed the words out.

  Her words hung in the thick air and Ian briefly wondered how Sydney would’ve reacted if he kissed her instead of playing with her hair, as it were his original intention.

  He would soon find out.

  Nine

  Melissa Winchester stepped off the American Airlines flight in sunny Los Angeles. The blazing sun hit her face hard like a swift punch and she had to put on her Ray-Bans to provide a little comfort.

  As she walked through the terminal, she thought about the first meeting with Sydney. She’d heard about the young woman and seen a lot of her work online. It seemed Dean was crazy in love with her, not waiting for a long-term relationship before he popped the question.

  It was a whirlwind affair and even Melissa had to question Dean’s judgment. He was with – now what was that girl’s name? Robin? Ryan? Riley? – for several years and never once brought her home. Now he personally flew his mother out to meet Sydney and her mother as they made wedding plans.

  Still, Melissa trusted her son. If he’d found the woman of his dreams and wanted to marry her, she was going to support him no matter what. She just hoped she would at least liked the young woman. She hated the idea of having a daughter-in-law she didn’t like.

  “There’s my favorite girl!” Dean roared as he picked up his mother and swung her around.

  Dean always seemed to have the strength of a thousand men despite how lean his physique was. “Oh, how’s my favorite youngest son?” Melissa asked once he’d set her down.

  “I’m doing good,” he picked up her bags and headed out to his Beemer. He loaded the bags in the car before they took off. “Chris decided not to come?”

  “He’ll be here in a few days. He wanted to take care of some things first.” Dean’s older brother was an architect and needed to wrap up projects before he took an extended leave of absence to cheer his younger brother. “He’ll be here in a week or so.”

  “That’s great. I’m just so glad the family’s coming. I could use the familiarity of home now.” He navigated down the street.

  “Hmm…” Melissa groaned. “…that doesn’t sound appeasing. What’s going on, Bear?”

  Bear was a nickname Melissa had always called Dean since he was a kid. She was the only one allowed to call him that. “Sydney has a gallery at the Ferguson in a few months.”

  “The Ferguson! Oh my gosh, that’s so wonderful!” Melissa beamed. She was a diehard art lover and bragged to whoever she could about Sydney. She bragged more about Sydney’s accomplishments than Dean’s. When Dean pointed out she did so, she simply replied with if she understood hockey, she would brag about his accomplishments as well. “When she does she begin?”

  “I’m not sure but that’s not the issue I have,” he stopped at a red light, “it’s her art curator. He’s interested in her.”

  “So? She’s a very beautiful woman and I’m sure she has a lot of interest from many others.” Melissa defended. “She can take care of herself.”

  “Ian and his family are also owners of the Kings,” Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter, “he owns us both.”

  “Own, huh?” Melissa cut her eyes to her youngest son. He always had a flair for the dramatic. “Interesting choice of words there.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it? He owns my hockey stick and he owns my fiancee’s art.” Dean may have said hockey stick, but it was clear what he intended; Ian had him by his balls. “Anyway, I don’t really care for him but my hands are tied. I just hope Sydney sees him for the snake I do.”

  “Bear,” Melissa warned, “don’t start this.”

  “Don’t start what?” Dean defended. “I’m expressing my opinion.”

  “Sydney can take care of
herself, without your interference. If things were uncomfortable with her and Ian, I’m sure she would’ve said something by now.”

  “The issue isn’t whether she’s uncomfortable with Ian,” Dean objected, “the issue is how much she’s comfortable with Ian. That’s the problem.”

  “You honestly think Sydney will leave you for Ian?” Melissa questioned. “I just don’t see that happening. Now, your other friend, however, probably would’ve.”

  Melissa never cared for Rebecca based on what she’d seen on TV and it was a big reason why Dean never bothered to bring her home. Still, he had to feign ignorance to hear his mother’s point of view. “Rebecca?”

  “That’s her name!” Melissa replied. “I couldn’t remember if it was Ruby, Rose, or whatever.”

  “Nah, Becca’s cool.” He shrugged it off. “I just saw her the other day.”

  Melissa narrowed her eyes at her son. “Oh really?”

  “Yeah, I did an exclusive for her new show she has.” It sounded like a good idea at the time but Dean began to second-think it.

  “You think that’s a good idea?” Melissa questioned. “What did Sydney say about it?”

  Sydney’s going to blow a fucking gasket. “Sydney doesn’t know about it, yet.” Dean shrugged.

  “Oh Bear,” Melissa sighed.

  “It’ll be fine. She might be upset but it’ll be fine.”

  “If you say so,” Melissa shrugged, “it’s just funny how you’re worried about your fiancée leaving you for another man, but you don’t see the role you’re playing in that decision.”

  ****

  No rest for the wicked. Ugh. Why isn’t there a saying for no rest for the good? The good need just as much rest, if not more, than the wicked.

  Jameson stared up at the popcorn ceiling and contemplated how badly he wanted to get out of bed. He probably could’ve slept more hours if he truly wanted and no one would know but him and God. That was the problem – his body would know how much he slacked off instead of training. If he wanted to get better, he needed to get himself out of bed.