A Gentleman's Agreement

  A short time later, they exited the studio hand-in-hand. “Brrr.” He removed his scarf and wrapped it around Eunice’s neck, then used the ends to pull her to him for a kiss.

  “So, how was your nap?” she asked.

  Blake laughed. “She said focus and relax.”

  “She didn’t mean to the point of going into a coma like sleep, drooling and snoring.”

  “Hey,” Blake said, “I don’t snore.”

  Eunice rolled her eyes. “How did you like yoga?”

  “Shavastar was the best part.”

  “Savasana, you mean?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Can you ever be wrong gracefully?”

  “No.”

  She shook her head. “Yoga is great. It’s about having control and relinquishing control. Oh, but, I forgot…” She popped her forehead. “Blake Farrington has to always be in control.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Really?” She pointed to the black sedan waiting from them. “Who takes a hired car to yoga class?”

  He shrugged. “What? I didn’t want my baby to freeze to death. Besides, I pay Rafael well to be at my beckon call.”

  “I was willing to drive, remember?”

  “That wasn’t about trying to be in control.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. “That was about self-preservation. Sweetie, I hate to break this to you, but you can’t drive. You can’t go ’round hitting mailboxes and little children.” He laughed when she elbowed him in the ribs.

  “I can so drive. Mailboxes and little children. Tell your driver we won’t be needing his services. We’re going to walk.”

  This sobered him quickly. “Walk? You live like ten miles from here.”

  “Two,” she said.

  “It’s ten degrees.”

  “I’ll keep you warm. Surely you’re not going to pass up the opportunity for a moonlit stroll with me, are you?”

  “Oh, you play dirty.” Dismissing his driver, they began their trek toward Eunice’s place.

  Along the way, they passed a window displaying a pair of canary yellow diamond studded earrings. Eunice’s face lit up as she eyed them through the glass. “Very nice. Seven thousand dollars? Let’s go.”

  Blake moved behind her, halting her escape. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he said, “You want ’em?”

  “Blake, you don’t have to buy me expensive gifts. That doesn’t impress me.”

  “I know it doesn’t, but I want you to know that whatever you want, you can have.”

  “Really?”

  Why did he get the feeling he was setting himself up? “Yes, really.”

  She rotated in his arms, facing him. “I want you to do something for me that you’ve never done for any other woman.” She laughed. “I know for a fact you’ve done a lot of jewelry. Heck, I’ve picked out most of it.”

  He kissed her softly. “Okay. If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

  They continued on their journey. Something I’ve never done for any other woman. He had to admit, the suggestion had him stumped. He’d done a lot for his exes. Jewelry, trips, clothing, cars. That was what he knew. Eunice had challenged him. It made him admire her—love her—even more.

  Shit. He was in love with Eunice. And the thought didn’t send him running and screaming in the opposite direction. Glancing at her, she smiled up at him. Oh, yeah. He was definitely in love with this woman. And it felt normal; like in love with her was precisely where he was supposed to be.

  Something he’d never done. A smile played at his lips. He knew exactly what to do for her.

  Chapter 17

  It was a little after ten in the evening when Eunice and Blake arrived back at his place. The fact that he’d blindfolded her at the door, alerted her that something was up. She’d challenged him to do something significant for her. Was this him following through? She couldn’t wait to see what he’d come up with.

  Blake took both of her hands into his. “Relax and let me guide you.”

  She took small, cautious steps. “Relax?”

  “You trust me, right?”

  Uh-oh. “Yes, but—”

  “No buts.”

  She was sure Blake loved being her eyes. Steering her in the direction he wanted her to go. She didn’t object to being led—at least, not always.

  “I’m going to help you into your chair. Just relax.”

  Again with the relax? If the shoe was on the other foot, he would be whining like a baby. Heck, she doubted she’d even been able to convince him to put the blindfold on.

  “At least allow me to use my hands.”

  He went silent for a moment as if considering her request. “Fair enough.”

  When he released her hands, she felt her way into the straight-backed chair, while Blake shuffled in front of her. What was he doing? His hands came to rest on the sides of her face. He tilted he head upward and kissed her gently. Aww. How sweet.

  When he touched her earlobe, she giggled and flinched. “You know I’m ticklish. What are you—?” He popped out one earring, then the other. A moment later, he filled the holes, undoubtedly with the canary yellow diamonds she’d admired in the window a few days ago. “Blake…you didn’t.”

  He pulled at the knot in her blindfold, causing the silky fabric to slide from her face. Pushing a lock of hair behind her ears, he said, “It’s what I know.”

  She nodded in understanding. It was hard teaching an old dog new tricks. Coming to her feet, she moved to the wall-mounted mirror. Rotating her head side-to-side, she scrutinized the dazzling gift. “They’re beautiful.” She turned to face him. “I was just hoping—”

  Blake interrupted her thought by brandishing a silver tray. Silently, he pushed the tray toward her, and she lifted the metallic red envelope atop it. READ ME was imprinted in white lettering across the front.

  Eunice eyed him. “What is this?”

  Blake responded by retreating to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. What in the heck is going on? Returning to the chair she’d occupied moments earlier, she tore into the envelope and removed the contents. Unfolding the pages, she gasped. “A handwritten letter?”

  The sentiment so beautiful, it nearly brought her to tears. The last time she’d received a handwritten letter was in the sixth grade. She still remembered exactly what it said. I like your ponytails. Will you be my girlfriend?

  It’d been the only one of her relationships that’d ever lasted more than three months. That was only because she’d threatened to sick her German shepherd on him if he broke up with her.

  Refocusing, she read:

  You asked me to do something for you that I’ve never done for any other woman. Well, here it is. My love letter to you.

  “Love letter?” The words came out cautiously.

  I have no idea if there’s protocol for this sort of thing, so, I’ll just wing it and hope it comes across as intended. It won’t be long and not too fancy, but it will be from the heart. It doesn’t take much time to tell you that I’m truly blessed to have you in my life. You’re my morning melody. My midday hymn. My nighttime lullaby. You’re my lover, but above all else, you’re my friend.

  Tilting her head back, she blinked rapidly. “You can get through this, Eunice Howard. You can get through this.” Her voice cracked as she attempted to conger the strength to continue.

  You challenge me to be a better man. You blow my mind with your compassion and huge heart. You inspire me to do more, be more.

  She dragged a shaky hand across her cheek.

  When I make love to you, each time feels like my very first. When we make love, I lose myself in you. It’s a great feeling to be taken away from life’s headaches, which happens every time I’m simply in your presence.

  She draped her hand over her mouth, choking on emotion.

  You are truly something special, Eunice Howard. You’ve captured and tamed my heart. I smile when I’m with you; I look forward
to smiling when I’m not. You’re my cheerleader and so much more. I’m so thankful God feels I deserve you, because you’re the one I’ve been waiting for.

  Yours always, B-

  P.S.: Come to my bedroom.

  Following instructions, she moved to the door and twisted the knob cautiously, unsure what she’d find waiting for her. Inside, she gasped. Countless candles—in all shapes and sizes—covered the room. “Amazing,” she said more to herself than Blake.

  Positioned on the bed was another silver tray, this one filled with chocolates: dark, milk, white. Two glasses and a bottle of sweet Moscato sat nearby. Kenny G played in the background, his saxophone serenading her. The atmosphere was intensely romantic. She noted one important component missing—Blake.

  “This will be a night of firsts,” he said from behind her.

  Rotating, she admired the man in front of her. She had to admit, a night of firsts intrigued her. Blake closed the distance between them, took her into his arms, and began to slow dance across the floor.

  “Your letter—”

  Before she completed her thought, Blake met her lips. A moan escaped as his tongue searched her mouth. The kiss went on for what felt like hours. When he pulled away, her hungry mouth begged for more.

  Directing her onto the bed, he popped the bottle of Moscato, poured two glasses, and passed her one. She sipped the delicate nectar, but what she really wanted was to pour the sweet white wine over his body and lick it off. Be patient. You’ll get the opportunity soon enough.

  Blake lifted one of the chocolates from the tray and fed her the sinful treat. If his intent was to seduce her, it was working. She didn’t want to seem too eager, but she wanted him… Bad.

  “I’ve never taken the time to feed a woman chocolate—or anything for that matter.” He bent to kiss her. “You’re my first.”

  “I’m a lucky girl,” she said in a seductive tone.

  “I’m the lucky one.”

  “Oh my, God. Are these…?”

  Blake nodded.

  He’d had chocolates shipped from her favorite candy boutique in North Carolina—Chocolate Couture. This earned him a mess of brownie points. Taking her glass and placing it next to his on the nightstand, he blanketed her body.

  “I’ve never wanted to make love to a woman as much as I want to make love to you right now.” He lowered his head to kiss her chin. “I’ve never held a woman just for the simple fact that I wanted to be close to her.” He lowered his head again, this time kissing her cheek.

  “Make love to me, Blake” she said, her entire body craving him.

  He smiled and shook his head slowly.

  No? He must have interpreted the quizzical expression on her face.

  “I’ve never allowed sex to take the backseat. A night of firsts, remember?”

  Oh, she remembered, but something told her she’d soon want to forget. “Does that mean…?” She studied him closely. “Are you saying—?”

  He nodded.

  Okay, this was taking things to the extreme. The letter had been enough to appease her. Now, she wanted him appeasing her—over and over again. Tempted, she didn’t protest. She’d asked for significant, and boy, had he delivered.

  The more she thought about it, the gesture warmed her heart. She’d never had a man who wanted nothing more than to simply hold her. She ran her hand down the side of his face. “You are truly an amazing man, Blake Farrington. And I—” She paused. Love you.

  Instead of releasing the words stuck in her throat, she relaxed against the mattress. Blake positioned himself behind her and wrapped her in his secure arms.

  This wasn’t sex, but it felt just as good.

  There was a comforting silence between them. She thought about the truly beautiful letter he’d written. Blake Farrington—hardball, no-nonsense sports’ professional—had scribed her a letter. A Love letter. She frowned. A love letter missing one vital element—I love you.

  Would she ever hear the words from him? Granted, they hadn’t been dating long; and to be fair, she hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity to tell him, either. Her aunt’s voice rang in her ear. The woman had taught her to always express herself because your next breath is not promised. Why had Eunice faltered?

  “Blake…” No, she couldn’t do this with her back to him. She needed to look into his eyes. Rotating to face him, she eyed him to the depths of his soul. “Blake—”

  “I love you, Eunice.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat, heart thudded in her chest, tears welled in her eyes. If he’d wanted the draw perfection to the moment, he’d succeeded. “I love you, too, Blake Farrington. Yesterday. Today. Always.”

  Taking her place back in his arms, she swiped a tear from her cheek. This wasn’t sex, but in that moment, it became something far better.

  Chapter 18

  Wearing a wireless headset, Blake paced laps around his office as he waited for Johnny Giles to answer the line. He’d known the man a number of years. Considered him a friend even. But only trusted the smooth-talking man as much as he did a rabid fox. It wasn’t through any fault of Johnny’s. Early years in this business had taught him about misplaced trust.

  He’d also learned early on, that it wasn’t what you knew, but who you knew. And Johnny was definitely a person you wanted to know.

  “Johnnny G,” Blake said when the raspy voice came on the line. “It’s been a minute. How was your holiday?” Johnny G coughed and Blake feared the man would hack up something vital.

  “Grandkids made me feel old. Kids drained me dry, wife threaten to leave me if I didn’t quit smoking. All-in-all, it was wonderful. How was yours?”

  The man always tried to put a positive spin on things. Blake contemplated the question. “Eventful.” He slowed to a stop. “Did you get my package?”

  Johnny G was the man you went to when you needed information of the sensitive nature. He had connections from skid row to the pentagon. Did whatever, whenever, to find what one was looking for. All within legal lines, of course.

  “Got it two days ago. I should have something for you in another day or two.”

  “You the man, Johnny G.”

  “I’m just the man who knows a man.”

  The line went dead.

  Eyeing the time reminded him of the call he needed to make. Pressing in the number, he waited. Like the last ten calls, this one, too, floated into voicemail. Damn. He hung up without leaving another message for Fredrick Bass. It was official. He was being ignored. The thought made his blood boil. If Freddie Fingers wasn’t taking his calls, he was taking them from someone else. Namely, Palmer Elliot.

  Dropping into his office chair, he massaged the tightness in his neck. He’d pulled twelve hour days every day that week. Tonight would have been no exception had he not made plans with Eunice. The thought of falling asleep with her in his arms brought a smile to his face.

  Damn, he was smitten with that woman. Smitten? He laughed out loud. He was his father’s son.

  Blake pulled out his bottom drawer to remove the bottle of ibuprofen he kept there. The cherry wood box caught his eye. Removing the Audemars timepiece—a seriously overpriced trinket given to him by one of his clients for a job well-done—he shook his head. Despite the rigorous financial courses he required his clients to attend, the kid still spent money like it grew on a tree in his backyard.

  “Forty thousand for a watch.” He shook his head again and replaced the box. He would save it until time came when the kid needed the funds. At the rate he was going, Blake gave him two years, tops. He just couldn’t convince the young player that even ninety million didn’t go far when you’re balling out of control.

  He looked at the less extravagant watch he wore every day. It’d been his grandfathers. A simple device that had probably cost his grandfather no more than eleven dollars. But to Blake, it was priceless.

  Gathering everything he might need—on the off chance he would be able to get some work done away from the office—he shut
down his computer and pondered making one last call to Freddie. Blake wasn’t sure why he was so eager to sign him. It wasn’t like his company would fold if he didn’t. Far from it. FSM was solid.

  Maybe it was the fact he saw something in the kid. Something that he saw in himself—drive and determination. Without great management, Freddie would never reach his full potential—no matter how good he was at dribbling a ball. He couldn’t lie; there may have been a minute amount of competitive spirit involved also.

  What the hell? He punched in the number again. Much to his surprise, Freddie answered. Blake straightened in his chair. This was his time to shine. He piped up the charm and worked that Farrington magic that had acquired all of his current clients. This was what he knew. He couldn’t lose, wouldn’t lose. Especially to Palmer Elliot’s weasel ass.

  An hour later, Blake stabbed at Eunice’s doorbell. He propped himself against the doorjamb and waited for her to answer. Had he not cancelled their dinner plans twice prior, he certainly would have tonight. He was whipped—both mentally and physically.

  The talk with Freddie hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Although Freddie claimed he’d give signing with FSM some thought, Blake doubted his commitment. Well, he’d done all he could.

  Was he losing his touch? He recalled the days when all he had to do was say Farrington and potential clients were lining up to sign on the dotted line. What had changed? Blake tilted his head toward the sky. When a star twinkled in the distance, he smiled at the gift Eunice had purchased him. Nah. He wasn’t losing his touch. He was still a rock star.

  The industry was dealing with a new breed of athlete? Ones who were more concerned with the number of endorsements or zeros he could get them, rather than the fact that he was genuinely concerned about their careers. Yes, endorsements and zeros were good—and also part of his job—but in Blake’s opinion, a solid, long-term relationship was also important. It was something he’d strived for with each and every one of his clients, along with building wealth that would sustain them far beyond their playing years.

  Blake dug the heels of his hands into his tired eyes just as the door opened. “Hey.” His gaze roamed over Eunice’s body. “You’re not dressed.” She ignored him, took his hand, guided him inside and up the stairs.