Power Play by Deirdre Martin

least not for me.”
    â€œThey probably can’t handle how popular you are.”
    Perceptive, Monica thought. “That can be part of it. The other part is I’ve picked jerks.”
    â€œMy sympathies,” said Eric, sounding sincere.
    Monica shrugged dispassionately. “You live, you learn.”
    The waiter left the bill, and Eric snatched it up. “I’ve got it.”
    â€œWe should split it.”
    Eric made a face. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘We’re a couple’ like splitting the bill.”
    â€œFine.” Monica raised her palms in surrender. “You get this one, I’ll get the next one.”
    â€œWhen is the next one?”
    â€œI don’t know. Let me talk to Theresa.”
    â€œOh, hey, I know,” said Eric, his face lighting up. “How ’bout you come down to Met Gar and meet the guys? You wanna talk about doing me a solid? Plus they’ll be so thrilled to meet you, you’ll get the ego fix of a lifetime.”
    Monica smiled. “Sure. Call me, and we’ll figure it out.”
    â€œGreat.”
    Bill paid, they left the restaurant. The paparazzi had long since dispersed, leaving the two of them standing alone on the sidewalk in the quiet Upper East Side neighborhood.
    Eric looked uncomfortable, rocking on his heels with his hands in his back pockets. “You gonna call for your car?”
    â€œActually, I think I’m going to walk.”
    â€œOh.” He paused. “I’ll walk you, if you want.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I like to walk alone sometimes. Helps me clear my head.”
    â€œRight.” He stopped rocking. “Well, bye, then.” It looked as though he was going to plant a friendly kiss on her cheek. Instead, he touched his lips softly to hers. “Just in case there’s someone from the press staked out somewhere we can’t see, watching us,” he explained.
    Monica nodded briskly, still feeling the heat from his mouth. “Yes. Of course.”
    She turned from him and started walking home. For a split second, she was tempted to look back over her shoulder to see if he was watching her, but she didn’t. They were just “helping each other out,” playing their respective parts. Nothing more.
    Â 
    Monica double-checked her appearance in the mirror in the ladies’ room deep in the bowels of Met Gar before heading to the locker room to meet Eric’s teammates. Maybe it was a sign of her not being as well-rounded as she should be, but she’d never set foot in a sports arena before, nor had she ever been to a professional sporting event. She supposed she’d have to attend a hockey game soon, just to keep the relationship thing looking realistic.
    She’d been careful not to dress too provocatively, showing just enough cleavage to entice but not so much she’d be surrounded by drooling men who thought her body began below the neck. She was surprised to find herself battling a mild case of nerves. Meeting and mingling with fans from all walks of life was one thing; but this was the first time she was meeting exclusively with a group of men, and not just any group of men, either: these guys were all jocks. Classic alpha males. The testosterone level awaiting her had to be staggering.
    She’d brought a stack of photographs to autograph and fully anticipated posing for a picture with each of them. She could lie to herself and say it was a burden, but the truth was, she liked posing for pictures. She hated that Eric could tell it irked her when the woman in Dijon wanted her photo taken with him and not her, but she supposed she shouldn’t. Actors were supposed to be egotistical, after all. She just wished she were getting the ego boost from performing in a more respected branch of entertainment.
    She pushed open the ladies’ room door, heading down the hall toward the locker room. She could hear a hum of excited voices coming from