Make Mine a Heel

By Suenammi Richards

“Jake, it’s not a sport.”

Banner couldn't believe the words coming out of her editor's mouth. How was she supposed to report on something that was fake, and everyone knew it? The station should let her stick to what she was born to report. But oh no, her editor says she needs to go talk to the man that is currently the best at ‘pro rasslin'. So Banner counters with an ultimatum that would give her the opportunity of her dreams. Now all she has to do is figure out how to get Keith Daniels to play along. All of which SHOULD be easy.

Career choice aside, Keith is a smart, confident, athletically gifted male that radiates the kind of charisma that put the sun to shame. Okay, maybe he is also hot enough to melt ice caps. I mean if a girl likes that global warming thing. No matter what happens her life will never be the same again.

Register on my blog for a free copy of Sandra's Social www.suenammirichardsromance.blogspot.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suenammi Richards
• Release date: Mar 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458190468

Suenammi Richards

A Dallas Texas native, she is currently a freelance graphic designer and web developer living in Tampa, Florida. Her background includes visual art, graphic design, technical writing, musical composition, and vocal performance. She has graced stages of Baltimore and Dallas theaters as a live vocalist and composer of music for repertory dance concerts for college programs. She began writing romance as a hobby as she completed her Bachelor's of Science in Simulation and Digital Entertainment and has continued as she completed her Master's in Learning Technologies with Drexel University. Register on my blog for a free copy of Sandra's Social www.suenammirichardsromance.blogspot.com

Book preview

MAKE MINE A HEEL

By

Suenammi Richards

Published by Christina Freeman

© Christina Freeman w/a Suenammi Richards, 2017

eBook Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to any online vendor to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To my best friend Erin, and the rest of my family for all they’ve done to get me to this point with all of their love and support.

PROLOGUE

This had to be a really bad dream. Not quite a nightmare because she wasn’t screaming, yet. Banner Hemweigh knew it wasn’t easy being a ‘girl covering sports. However this was even more than she could wrangle.

You can’t be serious, her tone was dead and flat, laced with contempt.

The well-tailored suited gentleman right in front of her looked gravely into her eyes. His dark brown eyes were pleading with her light brown ones. Bay, the numbers don’t lie, and we need this for the network right now. They are going to give our slot to some syndicated show unless we convince them that we can hold an audience.

Jake, it’s not a sport, she argued nervously flipping her curly shoulder length brown hair out of her face. Her broad and delicate features of undetermined ancestry were crunching in an unattractive fashion instead of the smooth planes that her television audience was used to. Jake considered for a second what she was saying. It was written over his craggy features and time worn face. Finally, he shrugged. Many people beg to differ, and there is no one else covering it.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Are we really that desperate?

Jake regarded her for a moment. Are you really that arrogant?

She bristled under his gaze. Not arrogance, it’s beneath me.

Jake sighed as he stared at the woman sitting in front of him with a mix of pride and resignation. Jake knew her well, and he knew how she would feel about this. Yeah. Not arrogant at all, he falsely amended.

Look Bay, I’m not saying you have to love it like you love football. I’m saying that you have to give it a shot. Jake focused in on her, making her come out of her pout to pay attention. He always knew how to get her back on track. He continued speaking firmly to her. You are one of the most objective sports journalists I know. Apply it to this. Meet with this guy, and find out what makes this thing work. He looked at her, and saw the discontent seeping off of her, and amended, If you come away from this and say its all smoke and mirrors, and there is no future for us in it, then I’ll trust you. But I can’t do it without evidence. Prove to me that we shouldn’t cover this, and I’ll leave it be.

She looked at him, and perked up a bit seeing the light finally. Is that all I have to do? She asked slowly.

Bay, Jake started in a warning tone, you have to give it a fair shot.

I will, she said casually, her mind already cooking up schemes, but if I prove that it isn’t worth covering, will you let me run the NFL desk?

Jake gaped for a second at the unexpected demand. Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves, he started in a hesitant fashion, this office isn’t ready to answer to a woman on NFL. I mean the guys would go nuts. He huffed out.

She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Then I’m not going to go play footsies with, she paused, What was his name again?

Keith Daniels, he replied instantly.

She shook her head. That’s his real name; what does he go by? She asked sarcastically.

Jake smirked. Then said Dominique ‘Dangerous’ Dutton.

Yeah, him. She snipped back.

Jake sat back in his chair, and laid his hands on his desk. It was the beginning of the end, and the begging would start soon. Bay, don’t do this to me. He said next.

No way Jake, this is a two-way street, she stated sensing victory, and going in for the kill. You know how hard it was for me to get the small measure of respect that I had earned. This little lark of yours could blow it all away. I need some security when I get back so that I can get it back.

Jake considered what she was saying, and finally nodded. He could always admit defeat. No one can argue you down in the end. Alright, you prove that professional wrestling isn’t worth covering, you get to lead the NFL desk.

She smirked back at him now, and stuck out her hand. The handshake was firm and nearly bruising for both of them.

Bay, he started in a warning tone, this is not a competition.

She laughed as she relayed. I’m a sports journalist; everything’s a competition.

Thoroughly pleased because she was sure that the exclusive segment was in the bag now, she settled back in her seat in front of his desk. What is my schedule? she asked in a hushed excited tone.

He slightly shook his head at the aggressive stench of victory wafting off of her and told her what she wanted to know. They are filming one of their yearly pay per views in three weeks. They arrive four days ahead of time. I want you to be in Dallas when they arrive at the airport, they’ll be expecting you. He handed her a business card. This is their corporate talent coordinator.

Banner frowned as she said the name. Megan Wheely?

Jake gave her a look mingled with the hypocrisy that she was just railing against. Surprised it’s a woman?

She nodded. I didn’t think they treated the female population very well. Not that any male run industry does, but unless she’s a fluffer, I can’t imagine she gets much respect. Banner ended nonplussed.

Jake gave her a disapproving look. Not everyone ignores a key fan base for the sake of stable formality. The company has a lot of women in key power positions. Apparently, they only let the meatheads take the brunt of the physical labor, He informed her with a self-satisfied smirk.

Banner wisely decided not to respond to that to focus on some facts. I’ll be flying out on that Wednesday before then.

Jake stood, and looked at her gravely again. Bay, please, for the love of God, be open, and try not to piss these people off. They run a multi-billion-dollar company, not a ‘popsicle’ stand. They are the leader of their industry. He stressed to her.

Banner nodded, and responded casually, Duly noted.

With that she stood, and left without a good bye. She moved through her open office area with the customary chip on her shoulder that she learned to give off at all times. Journalism could be a brutal industry. It depended so much on public perception and appeal. The wrong look, footnote, idea, attitude, was instant death that no one forgave you of. The best way to conduct yourself was with an air of untouchable mystic that couldn’t be sawed through. Banner Hemweigh had made herself the poster girl for tangible angst, and it wasn’t just because it was necessary, but because she felt it.

All her life Banner had been treated like a second-class citizen in her patriarchal environment of highly aggressive men with women that did what they were told without question. At the age of twelve Banner had realized that she had not been reared to do such things when she openly challenged the authority of her college football coaching grandfather, and started plans to create a junior all female league in their small northeast Texas community. As she looked back she wondered, what had they expected? She had been raised on a football field for crying out loud. She loved the game in a way that only men like her father, grandfather, uncles, and brothers understood.

Banner had been the next to last born of four children. The other three had thankfully been boys. Some days her house felt like medieval Europe where the only person blamed for the birth of a girl child was the inefficient womb that hadn’t known that girls were useless in all functions except to create more boys. A stigma assigned to her mother that Banner had carried all of her life. Finally, she had attained some measure of respect from her male contingent, and this little project was about to blow it all away. Professional wrestling!?!? Jake had to be smoking something that could not be gotten over the counter.

Banner stopped in her thoughts as she caught the shifty, always predatory gaze of Allen Jefferson. If Banner was the poster girl for feminine angst, Allen was the poster boy for skeeze. The man had a skeeze zone that could be felt from two hundred yards on land, a good three hundred feet by air, and at least from twenty leagues underwater. It was fierce, and hard to repel. For whatever reason it scored him enough idiotic slutty eye candy that even ‘Heff’ would be envious of his skills. That was all fine and good for Banner, some people like women, some like interactive ‘Barbies’; whatever.

The issue was that for lack of more challenging game he had set his sights on Mt. Arctic Bay. Mt. Arctic Bay was the playful and somewhat unique moniker Banner had earned when one of the other sports center jackals had decided he was going to be the first to score the ‘hot’ female sports writer. Needless to say, it had been well earned as he had discovered that Banner Hemweigh was deceptively lofty; her heights hard to scale. At all times this unscalable K2 plunged the attempted trekker into the depths of Arctic winter only rivaled by the North Pole and Siberia.

Hey Bay, how are you? His words moved across her skin like a cold chill making her skin crawl.

Banner barely paused at the not at all side long implications in the fabricated greeting. Usually she ignored him, and didn’t even justify the attempt with a response, but this time there was a hint of something else. Oh yeah, this reeked of gloating.

She stopped on a dime, and peered up into the face that should’ve been given to your standard sweet boy next door, and not this female devourer. What have you heard? she demanded suddenly.

The bastard didn’t even flinch. He stared down at Banner with a slight air of innocence. He often cultivated this when he took advantage of the more foolish of woman that actually bought it instead of paying attention to the instincts that screamed ‘sleazy bastard’.

I have no idea what you’re talking about. He paused suggestively. Is there something you need to share?

Like always when she actually stopped to acknowledge that it existed they engaged in an epic stare down, both not relenting an inch. The first time it had happened Banner had been shocked, but then learned the lesson. Being a manipulative asshole doesn’t automatically make a man a coward, but not being a coward doesn’t necessarily make it a man.

The stare down lasted for over thirty seconds, a record even for them. Her wide pale brown eyes taking on his glacial blue ones as they both searched for that opening, that bit of weakness that could be exploited. No one gave a quarter. With curt nods, they ended the war and Banner continued away only vaguely noticing that for once the entire office had grown silent. They watched, like the eager spectators in the stands, every time they met on the pitch; which was currently about three times a week.

Oh yeah, have fun with 3D. He snickered from behind her. Better be careful; the guy works with twenty foot ladders. He may be able to top Mt. Arctic Bay.

She stopped in her tracks.

With the exception of a few giggles from the other men, she had frozen in their attempts to dominate her. Most of the office seemed quite embarrassed for her. The rest emitted pity at a degree that was nearly gagging. Banner’s temper flared like gangbusters.

I’m sure he’ll make much more headway than you did, she directed at Allen without looking back at him. Her voice calm, lilting and sharp as the jagged ice she was reputed to have coursing through her veins, After all, when placed in the same vicinity the choice is obvious to which I would prefer.

She slowed what she was saying for effect making sure no one in the room misunderstood, I’ll always take a man that is comfortable faking sports for a living than one faking being a man through talking about what he can’t do.

The room was dead silent. The pity had redirected, and Banner left the open office with a relieved sigh, and a smooth comfortable smile spreading across her face.

* * *

Banner drove into her garage and dropped her head on her steering wheel as the door shut behind her shutting out the outside world. A habit that she had developed over the past few months as work had started to truly grate on her.

Honestly, she hated her weekly confrontations with Allen, but to show any weakness was pure death. She had tried it the other way, all sweetness and light, and had been nearly crucified for it. She had found out later that she had only been tolerated because of her then husband, all pro running back Carter Florence.

After Carter, no one paid much attention to little Miss Banner Hemweigh until she got meaner and much more cutthroat. She had lost so much of herself in the process to create the creature that she was now. Only during times like this did she let herself feel how exhausting her lifestyle was. How cold it left her some days.

With a heavy sigh, Banner pulled herself from the 4-wheel drive SUV, and went into her condo. The place was a wreck. It always was during the spring. That was when she finally got to start recovering from the past football season and start preparation for the coming one.

The NFL draft was a force of nature and had to be treated as such. Her entire personal life, not that there was much of it, stopped so that she could trace all of the top graduating athletes and the teams that were stalking them.

Banner dropped herself on her cozy fluffy purple couch and stared at her favorite spot. The skylight in the vaulted ceiling. ‘Reach for the stars, Bay’, she chided herself. With a heavier sigh she turned on her big screen which as usual was set to Sportscenter. The panel of well suited men stared back at her.

One day, I’m gonna be the first woman on that panel, she whispered her mantra that drove her each day. She felt tears prick her eyes like they always did when she thought about that dream. Why was it so very hard to fulfill that one seemingly simple goal? Disgusted with herself and her moment of shameless self-pity, she wiped her eyes to start scrolling through channels. Her eyes were caught by one of the weekly HWE professional wrestling programs.

She shrugged. A little research shouldn’t hurt. She said to the air.

Like most people, Banner had watched when she was younger. All of that stopped when her mother had abandoned her family to stay with her father. Then all things that weren’t football were outlawed in the house. Professional wrestling being number one since it was a reminder of the half of his children that Jonathan Hemweigh wanted to pretend didn’t exist. It was ironic that he chose to ignore the reality of his children’s half Mexican heritage yet hated all other forms of pretend.

That is not plausible at all, she remarked as the men threw each other into the ropes in a well-choreographed display. The announcers were animated carrying on about the devastation of the move as the combatants bounced around the ring much too easily to be believed. I can’t watch this, she finally said and turned the channel. Really, how was she going to take this seriously? How could she take a man that excelled at it seriously?

Come on Bay, do some foot work, she muttered to herself. With that she rose and went to her computer.

The cute flat-screened iMac had been a splurge when her laptop had finally started to show its age and became her ‘on the road’ machine.

Professional wrestling, Banner spoke as she typed. It was one of her writing habits to speak the words she was typing as she multi tasked proofreading with content creation.

The history of... The standard Wikipedia entry arose along with a slew of other websites. God, who knew it was so popular. She practically gasped. With a sigh, she started scrolling and reading.

CHAPTER ONE

Dallas Fort Worth International Airport was a beast of an airport that spanned an over 30-mile radius when you included entrances and byways. The mecca housed the American Airlines Empire, and provided international flights to just about everywhere.

Banner walked into the airport with the customary chip on her shoulder. Were she still in Phoenix, she would’ve had to battle back a few fans but no one recognized her here. Banner’s family was originally from Texas, and still lived there in the family home in College Station where her father had taken over where his father had left off.

He did what male Hemweighs had been doing since the early 1930’s, coach college football, build champions, and all that legacy nonsense. She could trace her roots back to an Apache grandmother, and a Mexican grandfather on her mother’s side. Her father however, was the product of Irish immigrants that had come to the Americas during the civil war. Liam Healy was taken from the boat, and put to battle with the promise that his family would be seen to like so many before who came to America during the early 1860s.

They had decided to settle in Texas after the dust had settled. It was rumored that they had abandoned the cause, and remained in Texas which had been a haven for outlaws at the time. With that the official family name changed to Hemweigh. Her mother and father had met while going to Texas A&M, and the rest was history.

Banner always dressed like she was on TV, so today was no different. Media tip number one, always take the time to make the best impression. She wore a slick cream linen pantsuit with a silk lilac tank. The jacket had short sleeves and was light enough that the pending Texas summer that she was much too familiar with wouldn’t kill her. The pants tied at the waist, and dropped loosely with wide legs. The cream clutch she carried bounced under her arm as she walked. Her brown hair was dancing around her face like it always did. The intense sheering of her hairstylist was bearing up well to the humidity in Dallas as the soft curls her hair naturally reverted to hung loosely instead of clinging tightly.

As she moved she distantly noticed the rhythmic clacking of her opened toed mid-heeled lilac sandals. Man, those things were cute, she thought to herself. Not the most efficient, but cute shoes were her one true guilty pleasure. They banded around the toes of her feet, and then latched around the ankle with a blocky cork heel.

Banner was one of those women that just couldn’t get slim heels to work. After two steps, she was always on her way to the ground without fail. She was stubborn, but knew that breaking her neck and whatever bones would go next, was not worth appearing to be like the other female reporters. This had also made her keep her makeup light, even on the air. Most times when she was out and about and wanted some anonymity she would just not wear any. It was amazing how people don’t know you when you do something so very simple. Bottom line it was very effective. Banner was a stickler for effective.

Her head was still spinning with her professional wrestling research. Since given the assignment she had taken the time each day to research the mechanics of it because she had yet to even finish an entire match. Her research hadn’t confirmed its validity in her head, but it did give her an angle to shoot from.

The performance of it just sounded like pain. Just men and women conditioning their bodies to not notice that certain things hurt like the dickens. It was still seeped in its original carnival/circus act tone and lingo. Half the stuff she had read required research on it to find out what it meant. Really it had just given her a massive headache that she was still recovering from.

Megan had made it very apparent that Banner was to meet up with Keith at the airport, and that while she was the talent coordinator, she was not responsible for him in that capacity. This had made Banner wonder what exactly did the woman coordinate. Regardless, it wasn’t a big deal. Banner was a big girl; she didn’t need a chaperone.

She was heading for the B gate. The plane he was on from St. Louis should have arrived about 10 minutes after her Phoenix flight touched down. After a brief moment of checking arrivals, she had found the gate without any trouble. She now stood on the outside of it as people departed from the plane.

The cross culture of people in the airport was always fun for Banner to watch. After all, her profession was to watch and note the things that most people ignored when interacting with each other. It wasn’t often that her falcon eyes missed anything. This was why the male voice behind her had startled her enough to make her jump.

Banner Hemweigh? The accent was slight but very Texan.

She turned and gaped for a moment. Literally shook her head and then entered automatic pilot. Her hand shot out as she stared into what had to be the loveliest set of emerald green eyes she had ever seen. His hair was this curly thick mess of midnight black and brushed just past his shoulders. Really it perfectly framed very blunt features that should’ve looked garish, but just weren’t together. He filmed well, but none of the pictures she had seen online did the guy any justice.

Something about the broad almond shape of his eyes suited the hawkish nose, broad forehead, sharp lips, jutting cheekbones and square jaw. His eyes saved him from being hideous. Just a slight difference in that one feature and he’d be impossible to look at. So, on the contrary, he became exactly the opposite. My God, she thought in a daze, he’s beautiful.

She was more in shock than actually attracted to him. He shouldn’t have been a beautiful man, but he was. Banner was too honest with herself to try and hide this thought. She blinked twice to clear her head.

Banner Hemweigh, you must be Mr. Daniels. She said automatically.

He stared at her oddly for a moment, then down at her hand. With a slight grin, he took her hand into his. As was her nature Banner gave the customary ‘light’ squeeze that she used for most male counterparts until she knew that they could take it. Men got offended so very easily if a woman squeezed too hard.

Mr. Daniels looked at Banner, back at their joined hands, then back at Banner. I’m Keith. He nodded towards their hands. And you can do better than that.

Despite herself Banner smirked at him, and then gave him the full measure. He nodded approvingly and smiled. Thank you, it’s nice to meet you Ms. Hemweigh. He said drenched in Southern charm.

Banner, she returned after his rejoinder. It’s nice to meet you as well, Keith.

Keith nodded. It was that odd curt one seen in westerns. Did you drive, Banner? he asked quickly.

The question caught her off guard. She was usually the one that asked questions. Ah, no, I thought your company would’ve arranged transportation. I flew direct from Phoenix, and didn’t make rental plans. She frowned despite herself. Is that an issue?

She was completely confused. Banner had chosen this to make sure that she didn’t offend anyone. Whenever she had covered football all this stuff was a given. It was rude to book your own transportation. You rode with the guys.

Keith glanced at the ceiling momentarily, then back down at Banner, which was quite a distance she realized as he moved closer. The handshake had been a full extension of both hands on both sides. Banner wasn’t a short woman at 5’ 7. Knowing that she was going to be facing off with a big man she had worn heels popping her up to about 5’ 9 almost 5’ 10". She usually looked most reporters in the eye and was not much shorter than your average NFL player with the exception of quarterbacks and linemen.

Those guys were all about 6’ 2" plus. Keith was taller than anyone she had interviewed before Banner realized as she craned her neck back. He wasn’t really violating her personal space. This was a normal distance for her and anyone she was interviewing for the best camera shot. She felt smothered for a second, and the look on his face said that he knew how people reacted to his size.

It wasn’t just height, it was also his bulk. The man was wider than most linebackers as the NFL was streamlining players for speed. The breath of his shoulders was immense. The ornate pale grey cotton button up he wore stretched across them and pulled in the front where his pectorals were giving his buttons a run for their money. Black thread laced all of the seams and made bulky swirls on the bottom left corner of the shirt and over the shoulders.

The jeans he wore strained across his slim hips and bulky thighs. The large belt buckle peaked through the bottom half of the shirt that wasn’t buttoned, and showed just a slip of very impressive abdominal muscle. The bottom of the jeans flowed straight to end almost under the slight heel of his black biker cowboy boots. Barring a hat, he had the look of those rhinestone cowboy numbers that all the rock stars were sporting. Banner did have to acknowledge that none of those guys made it look like this. On Keith, it looked like a dirty promise.

If you’re comfortable with it, you can ride with me. My car’s in the airport parking lot. His friendly tone interrupted her thoughts. Then about six questions entered Banner’s mind at once and blazed off of her like florescent light.

You didn’t do much research on us, did you? Just came in thinking you knew the score. He shrugged before he continued. Guess that’s why we’re here. If nothing else before we’re done, you will.

Keith started a long-gaited stride away from her. It took Banner a minute to fall into step beside him. Honestly, she had been mesmerized by the way he moved and for the life of her she couldn’t name why. She had been around large hulking men all her life. They all moved the same. They moved like athletes. She hadn’t met a single heterosexual woman that wasn’t attracted to the way