Daring the Player: Playing the Field

By Robin Covington

She's nothing but trouble…and he can't resist.

 

Raised by an NFL legend, Miami Thunder wide receiver Rep Grissom has a career most would envy. A toxic marriage with a party girl almost put him on the sidelines, but now he keeps his head down, maintains control, and makes the moves on the field that leave younger players in his dust. Now all he has to do is maintain the status quo and he's guaranteed a lucrative new contract at an age when most guys are retiring.

 

Lola Corbin is used to running with and leaving all the big boys in her rearview mirror. As the lead singer in a world-famous rock band, she fills up arenas and closes down the clubs but with the group on the brink of breaking apart, her future is uncertain. Years spent on the road have left her with nothing at home except platinum records on the walls, an empty fridge, and a cold bed. For the first time, she's looking for something and someone beyond the spotlight.

 

When Lola's first night as his next-door neighbor ends with him breaking up a fight caused by her drunken bandmate, Rep is intrigued by the vulnerable woman behind the tabloid exploits. She's sexy, tempting, and a magnet for the drama he does not want in his life. The NFL player is not Lola's usual type but something about his calm and down-to-earth manner compels her to pursue him with the focus of the center stage spotlight.

 

Lust leads to after-hours fun, but when trouble results in a front-page-career-ending spectacle, the player must decide if he's going to be as daring with his heart as he is on the field.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin Covington
• Release date: Apr 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9780997191295

Robin Covington

A USAToday and Wall Street Journal bestseller, Robin Covington loves to explore the theme of fooling around and falling in love in her books. A Native American author, she proudly writes diverse romance where everyone gets their happily ever after. Robin is an unapologetic comic book geek, hoards red nail polish and stalks Chris Evans. She is thoroughly obsessed with her Corgi, Dixie Joan Wilder (Yes – THE Joan Wilder).

Book preview

one

You’d think that eight million dollars would buy some fucking peace and quiet.

Peter Rep Grissom, Jr. threw back the covers on his king-sized bed and paced into his living room, throwing on a couple of lights and heading to the fridge for a bottle of water. He flung open the door, wincing when the stainless steel door thudded heavily against the wall. He grabbed the nearest bottle and cracked open the top, emptying half of the liquid in a couple of long swallows.

Insomnia wasn’t all that uncommon for him during football season but having his hard-fought-for sleep interrupted by his new neighbor and her loud-as-shit friends was annoying at the very least. He chugged back the rest of the water and threw the bottle in the recycling bin before he stomped over to the TV and picked out a sports show he’d recorded on his DVR. Now that he was up, going back to sleep was going to be almost impossible so he might as well catch up on some of the industry news.

The ocean outside his huge windows was black but the moonlight tipped some of the waves with silver flash. As much as he loved the Miami skyline and glamour of his hometown, this view was why he’d bought this condo. The calm and peace that he felt when watching the ocean was unparalleled. It kept him centered, focused. One look at it and he had no problem remembering what was important and what he needed to eliminate from his life.

The concentration had paid off and he’d enjoyed ten years as the most successful wide receiver on the Miami Thunder and the league. Now he was on the brink of signing what was likely his final contract with the Thunder and his agent was going for broke. If they succeeded, he would be one of the highest paid players in the entire league. All he had to do was keep playing at the peak of his game until the papers were signed.

Not bad for a guy they all said would wash out six years ago.

The kicker was that while he loved the game as much as he ever did, the looming prospect of his retirement was on his mind a lot. Especially when he didn’t have anything in mind to do with his life post-football or anyone to do it with. He was never one to be idle so he’d jump on the post-retirement job search in plenty of time to have options but the significant other situation was more difficult. He’d been burned once and the possibility that it could happen again kept him decidedly in the shallow and casual end of that particular pool.

Loud voices and annoying high-pitched laughter sounded in the hallway and he flinched. From the sounds of the retreating footsteps and the multiple voices, it sounded like the party might finally be breaking up. He considered going out there and telling them to shut the hell up but if they were leaving, keeping them here by starting a fight was the dumbest idea ever.

Rep leaned back on the cushions, closing his eyes as he waited for the silence to finally descend on his space. He’d known his new neighbor was going to be trouble the minute the flyer had come to all the residents announcing the sale of the condo next door.

Lola Corbin was the lead singer of Tangled Royal, the mega rock band monopolizing the radio, TV, and talk shows at the moment. Known for their hard-partying and penchant for causing chaos wherever they went, she wasn’t exactly the typical prospective owner the condo board usually approved. But it wasn’t hard to figure out why the group of middle-aged older men had welcomed her into the exclusive property.

They’d all voted with their dicks.

The truth was undisputed and verified by her vote as the sexiest woman alive by the men’s magazine currently sitting on his coffee table. Lola was pure sex on three-inch stilettos with her long dark hair, sultry blue eyes, D-cup breasts and a body that was rivaled only by Marilyn Monroe. And her voice…low and smoky and capable of getting a man hard as steel in about fifteen seconds.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that she’d fueled a couple of his fantasies when there’d been nothing but shower gel and his hand. He was only human and she was his type, right down to the stories of the broken hearts and trashed motel rooms she’d left in her wake.

But he’d been there and crashed that with a woman who could be her twin in attitude if not looks. His ex-wife had been a blonde but she could’ve given this rock-n-roll diva a run for her money in the drama department. Now he stuck to safe women who barely made a ripple in his life and avoided the tsunamis.

And now he had Hurricane Lola living right next door.

The tendrils of sleepiness were winding around his body, so he flipped off the TV and headed back into the bedroom, thankful that it hadn't taken long to succumb. He had to be at the stadium very early.

He slid under the sheets, turned off the light and barely felt the smooth cotton of the pillowcase against his cheek when the first crash thudded through the walls and he heard a woman yell. By the second one he was out of the bed and sprinting for the door and running down the hallway to the condo next to his. A man’s voice, loud and angry, blasted through the half-open door as Rep burst through quickly assessing the situation.

Lola was standing in her entryway, hand covering her face where blood trickled in between her fingers facing off with two guys. Broken glass was scattered around their feet and he tried to be careful in his own bare feet but seeing one of the men advancing on her kept him moving.

Rep grabbed the guy, who was snarling incoherently as he lurched forward with ferocious intent. The impact when he shoved the guy against the wall was nothing, he took harder hits at practice but this guy wasn’t going down without a fight. Rep dodged his wide punch and leveled his own against the guy’s side, aiming it at a spot guaranteed to bring him down for a few minutes.

With satisfaction he watched the asshole double over in pain, wheezing and hacking through a series of coughs that left him snotty and watery-eyed. He reeked of sweat and booze and needed a shower.

Milo. Get out, Lola said behind him, her voice rough and angry. Rep swiveled his head confirming the identity of the guy she was talking to. He was Milo Davis, the bassist for her band, and he was clearly stoned on something and not hearing her.

What the fuck, Lo, he shouted, his hand flailing wildly towards some other area of her condo. Why the fuck did you have to flush it? I would have just left. Jesus Christ.

I told you, she continued, advancing two steps on Milo and jabbing a blood-smeared finger in his face. I told you no drugs in my place. You promised me.

You didn't have to flush them.

I told you that if you brought that shit in my place, I would flush it. Did you think I was kidding?

Fucking bitch, said the man leaning against the wall near Rep. Fucking uptight bitch⎯

He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say because Rep landed another punch into his side with his own warning.

You shut your mouth or I’ll do it again. He turned from the guy now gagging by his side and looked her over. Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?

No. I’m fine. She waved at the two men in her place and vaguely towards the door. I just need them to leave.

You got it. He grabbed both of the men by the arm and hauled them towards the door. He winced when shards of glass stuck in the bottom of his feet but he kept moving, determined to get these guys out of here as quickly as possible.

Get off me. Milo tried to jerk his arm away but Rep twisted it, smiling a little at the bark of pain from the guy. It was two in the morning and he was in no mood to deal with a couple of assholes hopped up on whatever was the latest club drug.

Shut the fuck up or I’ll call the cops, he said, dragging them both down the hallway to the elevator, which would take them straight to the lobby. Only residents had keycards that allowed you to get off on other floors, visitors had to be keyed in by a security guard in the lobby and only the floor they were authorized admittance was programmed in the elevator. It was a security measure he was grateful to have at this point because the thought of going down to the lobby commando and in nothing but a thin pair of cotton sleep pants wasn’t appealing.

As he stopped in front of the double doors, whatever they were going to say dried up in their throats and they sullenly joined the program and stopped struggling. Apparently jail was still a deterrent even when you were a rock star.

He jammed his thumb on the down button and waited impatiently for it to come while they fumed on either side of him. When the doors opened, he shoved them both inside and stared them down as the doors slid shut. Milo summoned up his balls long enough to flip him the bird just before the doors completely closed and Rep had to rein in the urge to catch them, pry them open, and plant