He grinned, but it was gone in a flash. "I don't give a crap about football right now. We need to talk about us. About getting married."

Her breath caught in her throat.

"When I ask you to marry me, it sure as hell isn't gong to be because my boss made me." When I ask you to marry me? Thank God she was sitting down.

"You and 1 need to settle this, figure out what we're doing," Ty continued. "Bobby's right about one thing: We need a game plan."

He was right. They needed a game plan not only for their private relationship, but their public one as well.

She needed to start working things out on paper. Which media outlets to call, which writer to give an exclusive to, an emergency meeting with her staff to fill them in and let them know the official comment. She jumped up. "Before you or I talk to anyone else, I need to draft a press release and get it out." Ty smiled. "Looks like the image consultant I love has found her way back into the building."

"I'll be in my office." How could she have forgotten for one second that she had the skills to turn things around? "Be sure to make a list of everyone who leaves you a phone message this morning." Ty grabbed an OJ out of the fridge, his cell phone up to his ear as he checked his voice mails.

"Strange days when people go crazy about me dating a nice girl," he said. In any other case, Julie would have agreed. But she was no ordinary nice girl, just like he was no regular bad boy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ty punched in his voice mail access code. He hadn't recognized the number on the screen, but he wouldn't put it past most of the journalists he knew to call for a firsthand scoop on his new relationship. The canned voice said, "You have three messages," and he took a long swig of juice. He was looking for a pen to start making Julie a list when he realized a kid was talking, not an adult.

"Urn, hi, this is a message for Ty. He said I could call him if I needed to. This is Jack, from camp. I really need to talk to him."

Message two: "Urn, I really need to talk to Ty. Bad. This is Jack from camp. I'm in big trouble." Message three was mostly sniffles along with, "This is Jack again and I'm at the hospital in Palo Alto and I really need Ty. They told me I can't call him again."

Ty scrolled through his cell phone's menu to access the number Jake had called him from, but it was listed as "Withheld."

He grabbed a clean shirt and jammed it into his jeans, then stepped into Julie's office.

"I gotta go."

She barely looked up from her computer.

"You can't. Not until I send this out and we go over our official press statement."

"That kid from camp, Jack, is in the hospital in Palo Alto. I told him to call me if he needed help. He called. I'll bet they can't find his drunk-ass dad."

Julie stood up. "I'm coming with you."

"I don't need a babysitter. I'm not going to do anything that'll get more bad press."

"I know you don't need a babysitter," she said in such a gentle voice that Ty felt like a jerk. "I was thinking you might need a girlfriend instead."

He pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't." She pressed a kiss onto his lips. "Let's go."

The thirty-minute drive felt more like three days, and Ty got some insight into what it must be like to be a parent. He hoped like hell that Jack was okay and that his father hadn't already shown up to make things worse. Inside the hospital, Julie scanned the map on the wall. "Let's check pediatrics first." He followed Julie onto the elevator, keeping his head down. No eye contact with strangers was crucial; he didn't have time to sign autographs and bullshit about football. Jack was sitting in a blue chair in the corner of the pediatric waiting room, his head hung so low his chest was crammed up against his chest.

"Hey, buddy."

Jack looked up at the sound of his voice, then he wiped away a tear running down his cheek. "You came."

"I'm always around to help out a friend." He let go of Julie's hand and took the too-small seat next to Jack. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I guess. I was playing with some guys in the neighborhood and sprained my wrist. The doctor said I could go home." His head fell back to his chest. "I thought I broke it, but I guess the sound I heard was just the other guy's helmet hitting mine."

Inwardly, Ty winced. "Hurts like hell, huh?"

He knew the drill with sprains. Lots of pain, no sympathy, and you were expected to get right back out there on the field.

Jack shrugged, playing tough guy.

"They said I should take these every four hours." He held up a sample bottle of children's Motrin. Ty leaned forward on his knees. "You hungry?" Jack nodded. "Starved."

"I know a place that makes great burgers. Used to go there after games." For the first time since they'd walked into the waiting room, Jack's eyes lit up.

"You're not taking me straight home?"

Ty looked the kid in the eye. "You haven't told your dad yet?"

Jack shook his head. "He's going to be really mad."

Jack's dad was going to shit a brick at the thought of his little prizewinner's future possibly getting screwed up. Ty was pretty sure Jack's days of neighborhood pickup games were over.

"First we'll eat lunch. Then we'll tell him. Together."

Julie stood up. "I'll let the nurse know we're heading out." The first sign that Jack was feeling better was the endless chatter that filled first the waiting room, then the car, and then their booth in the back of The Boardwalk, a burger and pizza dive that had survived the endless Silicon Valley boom.

But rather than feeling better about everything now that Jack clearly was on the mend, what had happened with Jack hit too close to home. Way too close.

All week at football camp, Ty'd had the uncomfortable sensation that he'd been stepping into his past. He could guess what Jack's life was like: teachers pushing him into the next grade whether he'd earned it or not, never having to be accountable for screwing up on or off the field simply because everyone—coaches, his drunk-ass dad, girlfriends, even his buddies—wanted a piece of his success. Ty could see into Jack's future. He'd go to college for the exposure, not an education, and he'd quit the minute a seven-figure deal landed in his lap.

From that point forward, he'd live in fear of getting hurt. Later, when he had more money than he knew what to do with, he might break down and hire some secret tutors to teach him all the things he'd missed along the way, like reading and science and an appreciation for something other than football. Was he just as bad as everyone else in Jack's life? After all, wasn't he on the verge of sending Jack back home after making some excuses to his father about how accidents happened, and not to worry? Ty had never thought of himself as a chicken shit. Until now.

Turning to Julie, he said, "Jack and I need to talk outside for a few minutes, man to man. You don't mind, do you?"

She smiled at them both. "Take as long as you need. I'll just sit here and work on my French fries." Jack followed him out of the restaurant and they sat down on a bench just outside the window. Julie munched on fries and pretended not to look at them.

He'd never known a woman could be like her. Soft and warm, yet hard when she needed to be. A dozen times smarter than anyone he knew, and at the same time sexier than hell. Jack kicked a rock off the sidewalk. "You wanna go over what we're going to tell my dad, so he doesn't get too pissed?"