She laughed. “Me, too. You in town for business?”
“You could say that.”
She held out her hand. “Judith Stafford. I’m a marketing rep for Lincoln Aluminum. And you are?”
He shook her hand. “Gavin Riley.”
“Nice to meet you, Gavin. Who do you work for?”
“The Saint Louis Rivers baseball team.”
Her brows rose. “Oh. You’re a baseball player. No game tonight?”
“No. We played Milwaukee this afternoon.”
She let out a soft laugh. “I’m so sorry. Not a big sports fan, obviously. I should probably be drooling or squealing or something, shouldn’t I?”
He liked this woman. “Not required, really. Not everyone is a fan.”
She half turned in her seat, enough to showcase a set of spectacular legs. “So did your team win or lose today?” she asked.
“We lost.”
“I see. So you’re in the bar drowning your sorrows.”
“My teammates and I were earlier. Now I’m just having a soda and watching another game. I’m not big on spending the night in a cramped hotel room. I hate day games.”
She nodded. “Worst part of travel is the hotel rooms. I usually go to the mall to kill time, or do the same thing you do—either hang out in the restaurant or the bar. It’s a shame you already had dinner, or I’d invite you out and we could see the city.”
“I don’t get to see too much of any city when we play. It’s usually just in and out, and again, a lot of hotel rooms.”
“Sounds like my business, though I do get to eat in plenty of local restaurants. Schmoozing clients, you know.”
“So you travel a lot?”
She nodded. “Around the country. I’m director of sales, so I’m on the road probably three-quarters of the year.”
“Yikes. How does your husband feel about that?”
Her lips lifted. “That’s why I don’t have one, at least not yet. Maybe when I find a man willing to put up with the craziness that is my job, I’ll cut the travel back some. And then again, maybe not.”
“You need to marry a baseball player. They’d understand that travel schedule, plus you wouldn’t be leaving a guy at home all the time. At least not until the off season.”
She smiled, showing white, even teeth. “Is that a marriage proposal?”
He choked on his drink. “You move fast, Miss Stafford.”
She picked up her own drink and took a sip, then crossed her legs. Gavin had been around enough women to know that was a sign of interest.
She was drop-dead gorgeous, she smelled good, and she was throwing off signals that a guy would have to be blind not to notice. She was smart and fun to talk to, and if he played his cards right, he could have Judith Stafford in his bed tonight.
The problem was, a certain feisty redhead kept entering his mind. She was the only one he wanted to take to bed, the only one he wanted to think about.
What the fuck was wrong with him anyway?
“And what about you, Gavin Riley? How does your wife feel about you traveling all the time?”
“No wife.”
Her eyes positively sparkled now.
“But there is a woman I’m seeing. I’ve been seeing a lot of her the past couple of months, actually. She’s on the road a lot, like you, so she understands the whole travel thing.”
And just like that, the light went off in her eyes. She uncrossed her legs and slid them under the barstool. A sure sign that screamed hands off, even though her smile was still friendly.
Friendly and polite, but she was making it clear that their fun conversation was over.
“She’s a lucky woman. And I think I’m going to head upstairs, get out of my professional clothes, and watch some television. Nice to meet you, Gavin.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Judith.”
After she left, Gavin finished his soda and paid his bar tab, then headed up to his room. He took out his cell phone and scrolled through the names, smiling when one came up.
He had a sudden urge to talk to Elizabeth.
THERE WAS NOTHING THAT FIRED UP ELIZABETH’S COMPETITIVE spirit more than a roomful of other sports agents.
The conference on networking, negotiations, and social media was right up her alley. Everyone in her industry was here, and this was her chance to get caught up, to fill two days and nights with nothing but what drove her.
She and her fellow sports agents didn’t get together all that often other than maybe seeing each other at the drafts and banquets, and they were usually too busy with their clients to say more than a brief hello. Of course there were her peers from the agency she worked at, but they were still competitors. Her goal was to be the top of the upper echelon, even within her own company. And so far she was doing just that.
Plus it was a great learning experience. She was on top of social media, had a Twitter presence and her own Facebook page where she listed the goings-on of all her clients. She wanted prospective clients to know what she was doing and who was on her client roster. Young players today were all online, and if they wanted to find a sports agent, that’s where they looked. She was no dummy. She knew how to play the game. It was all digital. College players weren’t going to drag out the Yellow Pages to look for an agent.
But there were valuable workshops to attend on salary caps for rookies, improving your negotiation skills, waging the war on arbitration, and dealing with labor relations. There was so much more to being a sports agent than just signing and keeping great players. Often it was like maneuvering in a minefield, and a good agent stayed on her toes and made sure he or she kept abreast of all the current legal and contractual ramifications.
Of course her agency had great lawyers to sort out the legal aspects of a player’s rights and contract. But Elizabeth wanted to be as knowledgeable as possible, so these annual meetings were essential.
“Soaking it all in, Elizabeth?”
She gritted her teeth, turned, and put on a professional smile for her arch nemesis, Don Davis. “Don. How nice to see you.”
He flashed his oh-so-white-and-no-doubt-capped teeth, adjusted the cuffs of his perfectly tailored shirt under his impeccable dark and ostentatious suit that went with his very expensive tie. His slicked back black hair made her think of some mobster out to threaten her to pay up in three days or she’d be found in a dark alley missing a few fingers. Or maybe he resembled a high-class pimp. She couldn’t decide. Even his tan looked expensive. And spray-on.
“I’m surprised you’re here, Elizabeth, being as cutting-edge as you are. I would think you knew all there was to know about agenting. Of course you have suffered a couple of setbacks recently, haven’t you? So maybe a refresher is in order.”
Prick. How she’d love to dig one of her stilettos deep into his balls. “Oh, I’ve more than made up for anything I might have allegedly lost, Don. But thank you for your concern.”
“Always need to stay on your toes. And look over your shoulder.”
She offered up a smug smile. “So should you.”
He gave her a condescending laugh. “I don’t have anything to worry about. I keep my clients happy.”
She patted his arm. “You keep thinking that, Don. Lovely talking to you, as always.”
She brushed past him, not interested in playing the game of one-upmanship with him. He’d taken more than enough of her time already, as well as her clients. He could be as smug as he wanted to be, but payback was a bitch and Elizabeth had a long memory for those who had screwed her over. Granted, Mick had fired her, and he had a right to select another agent. But did he have to go with the one person Elizabeth hated the most?
Mick had done that on purpose.
“Elizabeth!”
She heard her name and turned, searched across the crowded hotel lobby and waved at Victoria Baldwin, one of the few other female sports agents she knew. She waved at Tori and they headed toward each other.
“Ugh. This place is a nightmare of testosterone,” Tori said. “I’m barely surviving with my uterus intact.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. Do you have time for lunch?”
Tori pulled out her phone and punched a few buttons, checked her calendar, then lifted her gaze back to Elizabeth. “Yes. The next workshop I want to attend isn’t until one. I’m starving and my feet are killing me.” She looped her arm around Elizabeth’s. “What I wouldn’t give to do this conference in my sweatpants and bunny slippers.”
Elizabeth arched a brow. “Somehow I can’t see you trading in your Louboutins for pink bunny slippers.”
Since the lunch crowd hadn’t yet piled in, they were seated right away at a table. Tori fell into her chair and kicked off her shoes. “Oh, honey, you’d be surprised how schlumpy I am when I work at home. I was serious about the fluffy slippers. You, on the other hand, probably live in heels.”
Elizabeth offered a sly smile. “I do love my heels. Probably because I’m always on the defense and have to prove that I’m a woman.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Tori smoothed back tendrils of her mink brown hair and tucked them behind her ear.
The woman was absolutely gorgeous. In her early forties, she’d sacrificed a husband and family for her career. When she came on the scene as a green college graduate, Elizabeth had done her best to emulate Victoria Baldwin’s drive for success. Even though Tori worked for a competing agency, she’d taken Elizabeth under her wing and shared many secrets about being a woman working in a predominantly male field.
Elizabeth adored her.
“God forbid we should dress comfortably around these sharks. We have to work three times as hard as they do to be taken half as seriously. It’s a jungle and getting worse all the time. But in sports agenting and attracting the young up and comers, at least the boobs come in handy.”
Elizabeth snorted. “And you certainly have those.”
Tori accepted the glass of iced tea the waiter brought. They ordered their lunch, then Tori leaned forward. “Look, honey, I’ve got almost ten years on you, age wise, so I’ve got to use whatever is in my arsenal to secure the talent, you know?”
“Tori, you’re also one of the most savvy agents I know. You paved the way for women to get into this business. You showed us how to bully our way in and force the men to accept us, showed us that sports was a field we could master and that it wasn’t owned by the men.”
Tori shrugged. “Thanks, Liz, but it’s still a battle. A lot of the young guys still want to sign with a man.”
Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. “Oh, come on, Tori. You must need a nap because that’s the biggest line of bullshit there is, and you’re the one who taught me that. Athletes want to sign with an agent who’s going to get them the best deal. And we’ll get them the best deal. Besides, we’re prettier and we smell better. And then there are the boobs.”
Tori laughed. “You’re absolutely right. I’m just having a hellish day. I should be having a cocktail instead of an iced tea.”
“I can fix that.” Elizabeth signaled for the waiter, and they ordered martinis. “We’ll drink to women agents kicking ass. I’ve had a particularly hellish few months myself.”
“I heard that asshole Don Davis took some clients from you.”
“Well, one was my own damn fault because I was blind and stupid. The other followed because of Mick’s name, I’m pretty sure.”
“Hmmm.” Tori tapped a long, manicured nail on the table, accepted the cocktail the waiter provided, and took a sip. “Do tell. What did you do to screw up?”
“I got too greedy with Mick Riley, and I messed with his nowfiancée who was his girlfriend at the time. I didn’t think she was good for him, and I tried to intercede.”