Tempting the Player by J. Lynn Page A

woman was the last female he wanted to think about. He was still pissed and confused about her leaving him while he was in the damn bathroom, and now he was dealing with this crap.
    Miss Gore dropped the newspaper on the desk. “You probably don’t know who I am, but I can assure you that nothing is more important to me than my job, and your Club hired me to repair your image.”
    “My image doesn’t need repairing.” He turned to Jack. “I didn’t sleep with those women.”
    “Just hear her out,” Jack suggested tiredly.
    “It doesn’t matter if you did slept with an entire floor of an all girls’ dorm or not,” Miss Gore said. “It’s all about perception, and right now the District thinks you’re a whore.”
    Chad turned wide eyes on the woman. “Wow.”
    “It’s the truth.” She waved him off. “I have represented professional athletes, musicians, and celebrities far worse than you.”
    “Man, you do wonders for a man’s self-esteem.”
    Miss Gore sat back, folding those prim hands. “Somehow I doubt you have any problems with your self-esteem. In my past experience, I have dealt with addiction, anger problems, and sexual escapades that would make yours seem like a Disney movie. Each and every one of my clients’ images was beyond tarnished when I came onboard. Remember that certain child celebrity who had a penchant for cocaine and Botox injections? You don’t see her at the club scenes anymore, and she’s now working in Hollywood again. So I have experience with overgrown children who don’t care how their actions affect other people. I have built a career on repairing images of those in the spotlight. I have never failed at it, and you’ll be no different.”
    Oh, he was gonna be real different. “Look, I’m sure you’re great at what you do, but I don’t need you.”
    “And that’s where you’re sadly mistaken.” Miss Gore met his stare head-on.
    Chad sat down and gripped the edges of the chair. He’d never cussed at a woman before, but damn, he was coming close.
    Jack cleared his throat. “I know you think you don’t need this, Chad, but you don’t have a choice.”
    “Bull. Shit.”
    As if he expected that kind of response, Jim opened a file and handed several papers stapled together over to Chad. He took it, quickly realizing it was his contract, and opened to the stipulations page.
    He scanned it and breathed, “Shit.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jack said, scratching his chin. “If you don’t agree to work with Miss Gore and do what she says, the Nationals won’t re-sign you—and could even let you out of your existing contract early.”
    He was absolutely dumbfounded.
    “This is in your best interest if you want to continue to play ball here,” Jack said.
    Chad had no idea what to say. Anger and disbelief slammed into him with the force of a Mack truck, which ran him over and then backed up and did it again. Shit.
    “I’ll take your silence as acceptance,” Miss Gore said. “We’ll begin working together immediately.”
    “Really?” he grumbled.
    “Really.” She reached into her purse again and dropped a freaking encyclopedia-size file in his lap, causing him to grunt. “This is my contract.”
    “Jesus.”
    “And you will see that in your Nationals’ contract you are required to sign this one.” She leaned over and flicked the stack open to page twenty. “This is the list of new lifestyle choices.”
    Lifestyle choices? He wanted to laugh, but none of this was funny. His eyes darted over the list and he nearly choked. “Holy…” There were no words. Seriously.
    No drinking in public. No late nights. No bars or clubs of questionable status. No women. He snorted at that. Women, as in plural, because he was a man-whore according to Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass.
    Well, and according to his brothers, but whatevs.
    “This is laughable,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old boy. I’m an adult.”
    “Good. I agree.” She smiled