Free Game for Tonight by Karen Erickson Page B

desk. The publicist’s usual friendly expression was gone, replaced with a dour look. Like a world-is-gonna-come-crashing-down-on-their-heads type of look. “Everything okay?”
    “We need to talk, son.”
    Well, crap. Any conversation that began with those words couldn’t be good. “What about?”
    Harvey took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if he needed to calm himself down. “Did you leave the party at the restaurant Sunday night with Aubrey?”
    Flynn went still. So this was about Aubrey ? Had she told on them to Harvey, or what? “I gave her a ride home, yes. She wanted to leave the party early, and so did I. It made sense for us to leave together.”
    “Did anything…happen between you two?”
    “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Flynn said defensively as he started to sweat. Hell. He felt like the world’s biggest jackass, how he hadn’t talked to Aubrey since that night. He’d told himself he’d been too busy, but the reality was…
    He didn’t know what to say. How to act around her. Stupid, he knew it, but hell. What was he supposed to do? If he was around Aubrey, he wasn’t sure if he could fake it that nothing had happened between them. Because something had—something major—and if it was written all over his face, then he could possibly get her in trouble with her boss. And he couldn’t risk it.
    Forget that. He wouldn’t hurt her. And he didn’t want to get hurt, either. Relationships were nothing but trouble. His dad had said that to him time and again throughout high school and college and especially now. Friendships, girls, hell, even his grades to a point, should’ve all fallen to the wayside, according to his father. Football was the end all, be all. He remembered his dad’s words. They’d become a mantra in his head from the time he was young.
    Focus on the game. Focus on the ball. Focus on you.
    “Listen, it’s going to become everyone’s business because US magazine has a picture on their website of you and Aubrey together, leaving your house in the middle of the night.” Harvey pushed a sheet of paper toward Flynn, across his otherwise pristine desk.
    Picking it up, Flynn could tell immediately it was a page printed right off the US website. A small article, a few hundred words, talking about his lackluster career, his late night—more like an early morning—with a “mysterious and beautiful redhead,” and how maybe his new girl would give him a stroke of luck after she de-virginized the infamous virgin football player.
    Funny word choice there, “stroke.” Oh, and talking about his sexual status, that was a nice touch, too. But what else was new?
    The picture was grainy, taken from a distance. They were in his car, just pulling out of his driveway. The dazed and confused look on Aubrey’s face was clear as day. As was the equally dazed and confused expression he wore.
    Great. A sleazy reminder of their night together. A night that he considered pretty damn amazing and that he hoped she felt the same way about.
    Now it had become fodder for a gossipy website.
    “Nothing happened.” Flynn set the paper on the edge of the desk, not really wanting to look at it anymore. “I usually notice those reporters and photographers hanging around my neighborhood, but they haven’t been by in forever.” No one cared about him, since he didn’t play much. Or so he’d thought.
    “Please. You were too distracted at the idea you were about to get some with Aubrey. Or let me rephrase that—you probably already got some and were too distracted by your high.” The disgust in Harvey’s voice was clear. “You know what this means, right?”
    Flynn frowned. “Means? No, I don’t know what this means.”
    “They’re going on the hunt for your mysterious, beautiful redhead so they can label her your new ‘girlfriend.’” Harvey made air quotes at the description of Aubrey. “They’ll have her figured out within hours. They probably already know who