One Night with a Quarterback by Jeanette Murray

so badly her fists clenched together in her lap.
    â€œMy wife, Tabitha.” His voice was low. “Love of my life.”
    The pain was dull, more like an ache. But it surprised her to feel it at all, as he spoke about a woman who wasn’t her mother.
    â€œShe’s an amazing woman. And our daughters, Irene and Mellie. They’re sixteen and fourteen now.”
    Her sisters. Half sisters, technically. But it was all she could do to stop from reaching out and touching the photograph.
    The family she’d desperately wanted growing up.
    The tightness in her throat came back and she coughed a little to mask it.
    Sensing her inability to speak, he went on. “That photo’s from their first trip to Hawaii, several years ago. Visiting some extended family on my side.” He looked at her then, brows furrowing. “Your side, too.”
    That’s right. Making her . . . well, as mixed-ancestry as anyone else in America. She tried another cough, “Fourteen and sixteen, huh? That’s gonna be hell when they start dating, if they haven’t already.”
    His scowl deepened. “Dating? Hell no. They’re too young for that. Irene barely started driving. Give a man a minute to recover.”
    She chuckled a little at that, the sound breaking on a jagged edge. God, she had to pull herself together. “So I’m in town for awhile. I know the timing isn’t the greatest, with your, uh, you call it a pre-season, I think? But it’s the only opening my company had for me to take a semi-leave of absence. I’m still doing some small jobs via telecommute but I’m ninety percent free. So I hope—”
    â€œIt’s fine,” he cut in. “You’re mine. I want to get to know you, no matter what time of the year it is. It’s just that the season brings some . . . interesting complications.” He glanced once more at the photo, then leaned forward. “My family is an active part of my work. My wife comes to all the home games; the girls too, if they’re available. They do interviews, when appropriate, media blips, that sort of thing. We sponsor several charities that hinge on our good name and long-standing pristine reputation in the Santa Fe community. I’ve got a rep for being a family man, and all three of my girls are used to the local media. I’m not going to lie about who you are. You’ve heard where I stand on lies. So that means eventually, we’re going to be explaining your relationship to me.”
    Media attention. Here it came. She took a big breath and nodded, waiting for it.
    â€œI want you to get to know my daughters. Your sisters,” he added, as if he’d just put that together himself, looking a little surprised by it. For a man who appeared in control, it was the first hint he was still processing the news himself. “But I’m not going to put up with a poor reflection on my family, or a bad influence on my teenage daughters. I agreed to you coming out here because thus far, you’ve appeared to be a smart, head-on-straight young woman. Please don’t prove me wrong.”
    â€œWhat does that mean, exactly?” Not that she had any plans to turn all Miley Cyrus–crazy anytime soon. But as much as she wanted to get to know her father, she wasn’t going to kill her social life and wear an Amish bonnet either.
    â€œThere are rules. The first, is that you’re going to keep a low profile until we’re ready to make a statement. You’ll have a little media training, you’ll do select interviews, and you’ll follow the script we set out for you. I’ve already spoken to the PR rep for the team, discretely, about how to manage this situation. His opinion is we should get ahead of it. Control the story. Make it a non-issue so the media follows suit and the story is over before it even begins. Introduce you to them rather than waiting for them to find