She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry at his sexually honest words, and she did as he suggested. She stepped back.
“Umm … what are the chances you still have the patch?” she asked, her voice raspy as she brought them back to business. “I’d like to have it tested. See if there’s anything in the medication that shouldn’t be.”
Surprise flickered in his expression. “As a matter of fact, it’s in the garbage upstairs. Hang on and I’ll be right back.”
He headed upstairs and she leaned against the doorframe he’d used earlier, closed her eyes, and groaned. She’d thought this assignment would be easy. Help Damon find out who’d targeted him and set him up. Sure, she knew she was attracted to him, but she’d never thought the feeling was mutual.
There was a part of her that resented the fact that he liked this Evie, the one who dressed for a part, not the woman she was beneath the makeup, spiral hair, and heels. Another part of her reminded herself it didn’t matter which Evie he liked because he didn’t do relationships and she’d sworn off men.
Knowing how badly her judgment sucked with the opposite sex, she knew better than to let herself fall for the playboy who’d already made his lack of intentions with any woman clear.
* * *
After Evie left, he didn’t have much to do. He couldn’t work out, not with the way his head felt. Instead he decided to sit outside and get some sun. He changed into a pair of shorts and headed out back. He settled on one of the recliner chairs in his fenced-in yard, free from paparazzi unless they were hanging from the trees above, and let out a groan.
Trying to relax when his world was in upheaval wasn’t easy, but he managed to do some deep breathing exercises he’d learned and calmed down, dozing beneath the hot sun.
The sound of his cell ringing woke him, and he grabbed for the phone, unsure how much time had passed. “Yeah. Hello.” He answered without checking the screen because the sun’s glare prevented him from seeing who was calling.
“Hello?”
“Damon!” Bri’s voice sounded in his ear. “Have you seen social media?”
“No. Been napping and I can’t see out here. I’ll go inside. What’s going on?” He swung his legs over the side of the lounge.
“You and Evie went viral. There’s a pic on TNZ’s Instagram of you two in the doorway of your house this morning. Who’s the woman seen leaving Damon Prescott’s house early this morning after a hot night?” Bri asked in a faux-journalistic type voice.
“What the hell? She came over this morning to talk. She didn’t stay over last night.”
“Well, guess what? Better they be speculating about your love life than whether you used PEDs. And that picture? Evie’s hands all over your bare back? Whew.” He could imagine her waving her hand in front of her face. “There’ll be no doubt in anyone’s mind what’s going on between the two of you.” Bri sounded downright gleeful.
He didn’t mind that the press had picked up on his fake relationship with Evie. That had been the point. He just hadn’t been paying attention to the cars outside his house and he should have been more aware. He wanted to control the pictures that got out and not the other way around. It pissed him off the way they used their long lenses and invaded his fucking privacy. He hadn’t been prepared.
But the more he considered it, he realized Evie had thought ahead. Her outfit today had been hot. Those jeans molded to her long legs and ass, and her sexy heels weren’t her usual scuffed boots. She looked every inch a pro player’s girlfriend, which caused him to frown. Because Evie wasn’t typically an expensively adorned female. And as much as he admired the new Evie, he had to admit he’d liked the old one as well.
“Damon, are you okay?” Bri asked more seriously.
“I’m doing the best I can. Resting a lot because my head still hurts.”
“Good. Keep me posted. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He disconnected the call and opened his browser, pulling up the site Bri had mentioned.
Sure enough, he and Evie were on the main page. Her body was aligned with his, bringing back the memory of her warmth and fragrant scent, and though she hadn’t known it, his cock had reacted. He’d been hard as a rock, and the excuse to go find the pain patch had helped him calm the fuck down. Another glance at the picture and he saw her hand on his shoulder, the way her head tilted toward him. Yep, it looked real.
And damned if it hadn’t felt real in the moment, too.
* * *
Evie had left Damon’s, aware of the paparazzi snapping photos of her through the windshield. She’d put her sunglasses on as she walked out of the house and climbed into her car, ignoring them but knowing she’d probably opened Pandora’s box and bracing herself for the fallout.
Once in the car, she’d called a friend who worked in a lab and arranged to drop off the patch she’d taken from Damon’s back and asked for a quick turnaround on the results. He promised to do what he could, and she stopped at his place of work on her way home to hand over the Ziplock with the medication patch inside.
Later that morning, she sat in her home office with the names Damon had given her on a sheet of paper. Using her search browser, she began researching the people in his life, one by one. She began with the backup quarterback, because he had the most to gain by Damon’s suspension, and pulled up his profile page on various social media sites, along with doing some basic research.
Gregory Emerson was the son of Dr. Lyle Emerson, the chair of Duke University School of Medicine, the top of his field in pediatric oncology. A position she assumed he hadn’t achieved with ease. A little more research showed the man’s mother was an investment banker at Circle One Investments, also top of the food chain. High achievers, both of them.
She gave the information some thought. Did that mean Damon’s teammate was a spoiled brat in disguise? Or did he just want to make a name for himself on his own, and if so, how far would he go to do it? Or was he a legitimately good guy as Damon thought?
She made some notes just as her phone rang and she glanced at the screen. “Hi, Bri.”
“Hi, my newly infamous friend.”
“What do you mean?” Evie turned her attention to Damon’s trainer, Jimmy O’Roarke, typing in his name.
“I mean, open up TNZ and look at the main photo on the home page.”
She changed her search, her fingers flying across the keyboard, and she looked at her screen. “Oh, shit,” she said, staring at a photo of herself in Damon’s doorway in an extremely intimate-looking position. Only she knew she’d been checking the adhesive on his skin. To everyone else it appeared as if she was reluctant to leave and had sidled up close behind him, her face and lips close to his back and neck.
“It’s actually good news. You two pulled it off. TNZ is probably figuring out who you are as we speak, and now you can go anywhere with him and it won’t seem odd. Get your list together and somehow we’ll try and get you to meet the people you suspect as having something to do with Damon testing positive.”
“Okay.” A beep signaled another call was coming in. “Bri? I need to take this call. I’ll get back to you later.” She disconnected and glanced at her phone, immediately taking the call. “Damon?” She was surprised to hear from him despite the fact that they’d exchanged numbers last night.