Betting On The Rookie. Stephanie Doyle

      “I don’t like red!” he shouted even as she was opening her car door.

      She waved back. “I don’t care.”

      Yeah, Evan thought as he watched her drive away, hiring her was both the best and worst decision he’d ever made.

CHAPTER FOUR

      “IT’S RED,” EVAN SAID, looking down at the shirt in his hands.

      It was two days later, and they were alone in the team manager’s office, while Sam could hear the press assembling in the small room next door.

      Sam smiled. She couldn’t even say why she’d done it. Sure, red would look awesome against his tanned skin and golden brown eyes, but there were other colors that would have worked just as well. The truth was, she had wanted to tease him a little. See his reaction, which really wasn’t very professional of her, but she couldn’t help it.

      “Trust me,” she said. “It will look great.”

      He grumbled as he started unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing. Sam watched his fingers for a few minutes, enthralled with how they moved down his body, button by button. He was wearing a white tee underneath. There was no reason he shouldn’t have been able to change shirts in front of her, but she found herself turning around anyway. Better to avoid the show.

      “So, about the interview, you know how this works, right?”

      “I’m pretty sure they ask me questions, and I answer them.”

      After what she imagined was enough time to take one shirt off and put another one on, Sam turned around. He was straightening the sleeve around his wrist.

      “I’m going to get you back for this,” he told her, looking down at himself in self-disgust. “I hate red.”

      “I’m trembling in fear,” Sam said, although she couldn’t help but wonder what his form of retribution might look like.

      She handed him the tie she had picked out, and he looped it around his neck. “Now remember this next part is a little bit of a performance. I want to make sure you’re aware an audience is listening to everything you say. You have to be careful. In some respects, you want to keep a shield up between you and the audience. A layer of self-defense. You don’t want to say anything too pointed or something that might attract people’s negative opinion. However, the more candid you are, the more they will warm to you.”

      “You want me to be guarded, but also candid.”

      Sam beamed. “Exactly. Be yourself. Just don’t give them everything.”

      “You understand what you’re saying right now makes no sense.”

      “Trust me, it will make perfect sense when you watch it back on TV later.”

      “Are you going to watch?”

      Sam pointed to the television. She had agreed not to be in the room with him, but she’d asked Jocelyn for the TV here so she could at least watch and assess her client’s performance.

      “Every step of the way. I’ll be able to give you notes after.”

      “Swell. Notes on being candid.”

      “You’re in a whole new ballpark now. Get it...ballpark?”

      He winced. “Wow, that was bad.”

      She punched his shoulder. “It was funny.”

      “It was not even close to being funny.”

      “I’m a funny person,” Sam insisted and then watched as he burst out laughing.

      “I’m sorry, honey, but funny is not the first word that anyone would assign to you. Smart, cool, sophisticated...terrifying. Funny might be somewhere down here.” Evan held his hand to his knees.

      Then Sam did something she was pretty sure she hadn’t done since she was five years old.

      She pouted.

      She could feel it. Her bottom lip pushed out as she crossed her arms over her chest. She would have harrumphed, but she had some pride. Girls who pouted did so to get something from men, and Sam didn’t need anything from a man. Samantha Baker didn’t pout.

      Except she was pouting now. And apparently her pouting only made him laugh more.

      “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” he said as he walked over and pried her hands away from her body so he could hold them. “You’re right. You are funny. You are being super funny right now.”

      She wanted to punch his arm again. She wanted to...

      The door to the room opened. It was Jocelyn, “Hey, Evan, you’re up.”

      “Right. One second.”

      The door closed, and he turned back to Sam. “Seriously, I wish you were in there with me.”

      “You’ll be fine.”

      “You’ll be waiting for me.”

      “Right here.”

      He nodded as if that gave him some satisfaction. Then he took a deep breath.

      “Good luck,” she told him. “Go kill it.”

      Then he was gone, and Sam settled in to watch the show.

      After twenty minutes Sam wouldn’t exactly call what he was doing killing it. More like...bombing big-time. He clearly was not someone who shone in the limelight. Which was strange given how utterly handsome he was and truly charming when he was talking to you face-to-face.

      He should have been captivating.

      Instead he seemed uncomfortable as he fidgeted in his chair while some female reporter from ESPN asked him what he predicted his batting average might be once he had to face off against major league pitching.

      He stumbled around the answer, not really saying anything to indicate how good he planned to be. Which he’d already assured her was going to be very good. This was not a man without self-confidence.

      Humility, that’s what his high school sweetheart had remembered about him, and it showed. He didn’t think he should be the one everyone was focused on, even though he was by far the best player on the team.

      He’s a good guy. A genuinely good guy.

      Sam would have believed her cynicism was so deeply ingrained no man would be safe from it. That she would forever believe all men were hiding parts of themselves from view until some trigger revealed their violent darker side.

      Evan Tanner, however, was proving to be resistant to her cynical belief. He was charming when he wanted to be, funny when he wanted to be. Yet when he’d believed the worst about her, he wasn’t afraid to let her know that, either.

      Through all their interactions she sensed a solidness about him. A forthrightness that was there for everyone to see. She couldn’t imagine he had anything to hide. Certainly not a dark side.

      He was the hero. Not the villain.

      “Uh...no... I’m not involved with anyone.”

      Another female reporter was asking about his social life. Yes, that was something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. Was he blushing?

      Sam smiled. They would have to work on drafting some practiced answers to those kinds of questions. If he did what everyone was projecting and became a superstar, then he would need to be more relaxed with a camera in his face.

      The smoother he was during interviews, the more chance he’d have to pick up sponsors. More sponsors meant more money. And that was the game Sam needed to play if she was going to show everyone she was back on top. An agent any athlete would want to have.

      “You are currently being represented by Samantha