a damn thing to do with the game he’d just played. But he’d set them all back on their heels for a second.
“A guest of the family or of yours?”
One reporter barely finished speaking before the next question.
“Does it bother you that she prosecuted your old teammate in a sexual harassment suit last winter?”
“Is she invited to your brother’s wedding?”
Reporters were talking over each other again, firing off questions left and right, but this time Jean-Pierre could pick out a few of them. He had no intention of discussing the weeks he and Tatiana had sat on opposite sides of a tense courtroom while she used all her talents as an attorney to win a civil suit against one of his old friends. As for the wedding, Gervais planned to marry a foreign princess in New Orleans during the team’s bye week—the week neither the Gladiators nor the Hurricanes played. But since Gervais and his fiancée had done all they could to keep the details private, that question would go unanswered, too. Still, Jean-Pierre didn’t mind letting the press assume Tatiana was his guest for that event.
For that matter, he would have to make sure she was his real date for his brother’s nuptials. No way would the media interest in them die without serious effort from both of them. Their fiery past would have to take a backseat because he couldn’t let her derail his career.
She knew the politics of this world well enough to understand a comment like hers simply couldn’t stand. She would have to help put out the fire she’d started. God only knew why she’d done it since she was normally as cautious in her personal life as she was in the courtroom.
“Any questions you would like to ask me about the game?” Jean-Pierre asked, figuring he’d given them enough to refute Tatiana’s earlier remark.
His gaze slid to the Coaches Club and he noticed that both Jack and his daughter had disappeared. No doubt Tatiana’s father was giving her hell somewhere privately. But then, her old man had always put football before family. He was an okay guy to play for once they’d gotten past the old Reynaud-Doucet rift, but that sure didn’t make him a good father.
Jean-Pierre fielded a few more interview questions, quickly outlining his decision-making for a couple of passes that he’d thrown and discussing a controversial pass-interference call. Then he was on his feet and unclipping the mic for the next player, the Gladiators’ Pro-Bowl star safety, Tevon Alvarez.
“That was some serious grace under pressure, dude,” Tevon muttered in Jean-Pierre’s ear as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re my idol with the hacks.”
“I’m used to facing the meanest defensive ends in the NFL every week,” he told him. “The hacks aren’t nearly as scary.”
Jean-Pierre stepped into the private tunnel leading toward the players’ lounge, but midway through, he doubled back toward the Coaches Club. He’d approach it from the private entrance, close to where the Gladiators administration kept a couple of offices.
Because there wasn’t a chance in hell he was leaving this stadium without talking to Tatiana first. She might have successfully ducked him since last winter, but with her remark to the media tonight, she’d put herself right back in his world. Now he planned to keep her there for however long it took for this new scandal to die down.
* * *
In her professional life, Tatiana Doucet had often been praised for her cool head and ability to organize her thoughts into a reasoned, intelligent argument. So it seemed unfair that on the day when she needed to make the most important and private announcement of her life, she’d wound up nervously babbling to a reporter, of all people. In public.
Standing outside the New York Gladiators postgame press event, Tatiana folded a cocktail napkin into her palm and mopped it across her forehead. What had she been thinking to spout such an offhand comment to a stranger across from her at the ice-cream-sundae bar? She hadn’t seen the reporter’s press pass—he must have taken it off. Although clearly he hadn’t turned off his recorder. Looking back, it seemed obvious the guy had been baiting her to make a comment about the upcoming Hurricanes game.
And she’d played right into his hands because she’d been nervous about seeing Jean-Pierre. She’d accidentally given a sound bite that would be all the New York sports media talked about for weeks. Her father would strangle her when he found her. But so far, she’d eluded him. The subterranean hallways of the Coliseum were narrow and echoed, making it easy to stay one step ahead of a coach charging around like an angry bull.
But while she’d put off a confrontation with her dad, she couldn’t afford to delay the conversation she needed to have with another man who would have every reason to be angry with her.
Gladiators starting quarterback, Jean-Pierre Reynaud.
She hadn’t stayed in the Coaches Club long enough to hear how Jean-Pierre responded to the reporter who’d blindsided him with her remark. She’d turned on her heels and booked out of there. But somehow, she needed to find Jean-Pierre before she left tonight. Her private announcement was for his ears only.
She’d justified staying away from him after their one night together last winter, since their parting had been as passionate as the sex, although not nearly as fulfilling. They had a tumultuous history, considering their prep-school romance that had failed thanks to their families’ well-documented enmity. Then, after meeting up years later, they’d been on opposite sides of a prominent sexual harassment case she’d prosecuted a year ago against Jean-Pierre’s former teammate. Jean-Pierre had been in the courtroom almost every day after practice until she’d won a verdict against the retired football player. She’d been flush with the professional victory until a coldly furious Jean-Pierre confronted her to inform her she’d ruined an innocent man’s reputation.
Even now, she didn’t understand how their argument had turned into the most passionate encounter she’d ever experienced, but she sure understood his icy parting words the next morning.
That mistake will never be repeated.
She’d been cooking him breakfast at the time and hoping for...what? That they might have a shot at understanding each other even though their romantic history had proved them incompatible before they were twenty years old? Stubborn pride and embarrassment at her foolishness had kept her mouth shut for months. But tonight, she needed to set aside her old hurts and face him once and for all.
The sooner she got this over with, the better, since she needed to head home. Standing on the narrow threshold of a closed door in a deserted corridor of offices, Tatiana debated where to find her quarry. Surely he wouldn’t have lingered around the Coaches Club. Maybe she could ask the security guard outside the players’ lounge where Jean-Pierre was. Or would she be better off staking out his car in the parking garage? That way she could be sure she wouldn’t miss him.
Darting back the way she came, she turned a corner and nearly plowed right into none other than Jean-Pierre himself.
“Oh!” With a yelp of surprise, she gripped his forearm to stay upright.
“Shh,” Jean-Pierre warned her, tucking her under his arm and pressing a finger to her lips. “There’s a camera crew just down that hallway.” He nodded to the ramp just ahead on his right.
Tatiana tensed at his touch. His scent. His maleness. She’d spent so long avoiding him, but in spite of all logic, he affected her. At six-three, and at this close range, he had to peer down at her, his brown eyes flecked with hints of gold and green. She’d fallen for him hard back in prep school, a young love that had only felt more poignant after they’d been torn apart by their families’ sudden rift. They’d both moved on, of course, two thousand miles of separation proving as effective a deterrent as the well-publicized feud. But when he’d joined the Gladiators and she’d seen him at the occasional party, she’d been as drawn to him as ever. It had been an attraction that hadn’t been reciprocated, judging by his cold words about her court case last winter. She still didn’t understand how that terse confrontation in the courtroom had turned so heated.