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I chuckle ruefully. “All part of the job. Comes with the seven-figure contract.”
“And the legions of fangirls throwing themselves at you, I bet.”
Her wry tone makes me laugh, and I feel a surprising jolt of arousal. I lean down, lips grazing her ear. “Jealous, Miss Thompson?”
I’m rewarded by the pretty blush blooming on her cheeks again. She swats my chest playfully.
“You wish, Johnson.”
Stepping into the opulent ballroom steals my breath. Glittering chandeliers cast golden light across tables draped in silk linens. An orchestra plays softly on a raised dais, accompanied by the mellifluous murmur of conversation. Men in crisp tuxedos and women in colorful gowns hold flutes of champagne, mingling and laughing.
Inside the grand atmosphere, my nerves settle. This is my element. Schmoozing with the city’s upper crust comes as naturally as breathing. But for Emma, this glittering new world likely feels foreign and intimidating. I glance down to find her lips parted in wonder, and that protectiveness stirs inside me again.
“Stick close to me, and you’ll be just fine,” I murmur, putting my hand on the small of her back.
Her eyes meet mine, softening. “My knight in shining armor.”
Before I can respond, a booming voice calls my name. I turn to find the team’s owner, drink in hand, barreling toward us. It’s pure instinct that has me putting Emma slightly behind me and I tell myself that I would’ve done that for any woman at my side.
“Xavier, my man!” He crushes me in a back-slapping hug before turning to Emma. “I’ve seen you before…”
Emma extends a graceful hand. “Emma Thompson. The team’s new assistant sports psychologist. Please to meet you, Mr. O’Malley.”
“Please, call me Robert.” He presses a smacking kiss to her knuckles. “You got your work cut out for you with this one.” He laughs and points to me.
Warmth rushes my neck, but Emma smoothly slips next to me. “Oh yes, you could be right. Xavier might be a lost cause.”
O’Malley laughs. “Clever girl. Well, I’m thrilled you’re here.” He winks. “Try not to tire my star player out too much tonight, will you?”
Emma merely smiles demurely as I guide her away with a polite laugh. Once we’re out of earshot, I release a heavy breath.
“Sorry about him. O’Malley can be...”
“Let me guess. Boorish and handsy?”
I chuckle. “Something like that.”
Emma gives my arm an affectionate squeeze. “Trust me, I can handle men like him in my sleep. Now, let’s mingle before I raid that seafood tower.”
With her arm tucked securely around mine, we dive into the glittering throng.
Over the next hour, we work the room flawlessly. Emma is a natural—laughing charmingly at bad jokes, complimenting wives and girlfriends, and seeming genuinely interested in endless football talk. More than once, I stare too long, mesmerized by her poise and quick wit.
We join a circle of the team’s corporate sponsors. One balding man’s face lights up in recognition.
“Well, if it isn’t Thunderhawk’s star wide receiver! Xavier, so great to see you.”
I shake his hand. “Likewise, Mr. Andrews. Allow me to introduce my girlfriend, Emma.”
Emma gifts him with a dazzling smile. “So lovely to meet you.”
As she exchanges pleasantries, I scan the room inconspicuously. Still no sign of Rachel. I tune back into the conversation in time to hear Emma tactfully navigating a question about her career.
“I recently started a role in sports psychology, actually. It’s fascinating work, helping athletes maximize their potential.”
Andrews’ wife, an elegant brunette in a beaded gown, tilts her head curiously. “You and Xavier must talk shop all the time, then! Tell us, what’s his secret? How can he catch all those balls on the field?”
Emma sips her champagne, eyes dancing playfully. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly reveal all his tricks. But let’s just say his hands are as talented off the field as they are on.”
