Places In My Heart. Sheryl Lister
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one other thing,” he added hesitantly, reaching for the card.
“What’s that?”
Rather than give her an extensive explanation up front, he handed her a large envelope.
She took the envelope and removed four stapled sets of papers. She skimmed the documents and frowned. “Two of your endorsement contracts?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you have two copies of each one?”
“Go to the flagged pages and you’ll see.”
Morgan flipped to the pages and compared the two contracts. She did the same with the second contract, and he saw the moment comprehension dawned. She lifted her head. “Are you telling me your agent...?”
He nodded. “I need you to represent me—”
She held up a hand. “No. I can’t do both. That would be a conflict of interest.”
Omar’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care. I need someone who’s not affiliated with the league to handle this.”
Morgan ran a hand through her long curls and sighed impatiently. “Look, Omar. I’ll be happy to work with you on your contract, but I cannot represent you in a lawsuit against your current agent. Do you know what people would say? They’d think I was trying to get rid of him for my own purposes. And since my big-mouth brother told you about my desire to be in sports management, you have to know this would kill the slim chance I’d have.”
He blew out a long breath. “I know, and I’m sorry. You’re probably wondering why, with all the money I’ve made, would I be concerned about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” If his hunch was correct, that dollar figure would increase significantly.
“I’m not wondering at all. It’s your money. You earned it, and no one has a right to take it from you. What about Marcus Dupree’s brother, Jaedon? I heard he and another guy opened a law firm a year ago. And from what I understand, he’s ruthless in the courtroom.”
Omar had met Jaedon and chatted with him a few times, but because Jaedon handled Marcus’s contract, Omar assumed the man was just another sports agent. “He’s not a sports agent?”
“No. He worked at a prestigious firm at one time, but after winning some big case, he decided to strike out on his own.”
“Maybe I’ll look him up.” He pushed to his feet. “I appreciate you not tossing me out on my butt and hearing me out.”
Morgan stood, extended her hand and chuckled. “Yeah, well, you caught me on a good day.”
Something about the way she smiled made his heart beat a little faster, and the one thing he wanted to do, he couldn’t. He’d made a promise. “Thanks, Morgan. Let me know when and where you want to meet.”
Morgan looked at her watch. “I will.”
“I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from something?” It had never occurred to him that she might have a boyfriend. And he didn’t like the idea one bit.
“It’s fine. I’m just meeting my friend Brooke. I’ll send her a text to let her know I’ll be a few minutes late.”
Omar should not have been so happy to hear she didn’t have a date, but he was. “If you’re leaving, I’ll walk you down to the garage.” She seemed to weigh her options. Even though they had been focused on business, the heat between them still simmered, and being alone in an elevator might not be the best choice. For either of them. But he didn’t care. “It looked like everyone was leaving when I arrived, and I’d rather you not walk down alone.”
“Fine. Just give me a minute.”
He waited as she shut down her laptop and then stuffed it along with several file folders into a bag.
She glanced over her desk once more. “All right, I’m ready.” She slung the bag over her shoulder, then a purse she’d pulled from the drawer, and came around the desk. “Oh, wait. I need to send Brooke a text.” Morgan dug out her cell phone and typed something quickly, her fingers moving rapidly on the screen. When she was done, she dropped it back into her purse. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The outer office was quiet when they passed through and, thankfully, the secretary was gone. Neither spoke as they walked down the hallway, boarded the elevator and rode it to the ground level.
Omar followed Morgan to her car and let out a long whistle. “Muscle car,” he said of the Dodge Challenger. “Reminds me of Dom Toretto’s car in the Fast & Furious movies.”
Morgan laughed. “I’ve always loved fast cars and motorcycles, and this right here,” she said, running her hand across the car’s black matte finish, “is my baby.” She slanted him a look. “You have a problem with women driving fast cars?”
The tone of her voice gave him pause. It was as if she had faced disapproval for her choice in car. “Not at all. I admire a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it, no matter what anyone else thinks.” She unlocked the door by remote, and he opened and held it while she got in. “Give me a call when you’re ready to go over the contract.”
“I will. See you later.”
He waved as she drove past him. There was something downright sexy about a woman in a fast car. It made him curious about what else she liked. Cutting off his train of thought, he reminded himself about their agreement. He could make it. It was only a few weeks. But after the contract negotiations, he planned to do his best to show her that they would be good together, professionally and personally.
“Sorry I’m late,” Morgan said, rushing into the dance studio and dropping her duffel bag on a chair.
Brooke Alexander continued her stretching exercises and smiled. “No problem. I know you’re working on a big case.”
She lowered herself to the mat across from Brooke. “Yeah, but that’s not what kept me at the office.”
Brooke stopped midstretch. “No?”
“Omar Drummond showed up at my office unannounced.”
“Omar Drummond, as in End Zone Drummond? The pro football player we were all drooling over when he did that men’s body wash commercial wearing only a towel, with his locs flowing all around his shoulders?”
“The one and only.”
“I can’t decide which part of that commercial I liked more, him in the shower with the water streaming over every sculpted ridge of his chest and abs or the full-body shot of him in that skimpy towel.”
“The shower,” they both said and fell out laughing.
“I wish he’d show up unannounced here...and wearing only that towel.”
“I bet you do,” Morgan said, still chuckling. Then again, she wouldn’t have minded seeing him in that towel once more, either. Every part of his deep bronze six-foot-six-inch, two-hundred-fifty-pound body was a pure work of art, all muscle and not one ounce of fat anywhere.
“Well, what did he want?”
“He wants me to negotiate his upcoming football contract.”
Brooke sat straight up and her eyes widened. “He’s been in the league for a good while, hasn’t he? I would think he’d already have an agent.”
“He does, but said he needed a change.” She kept the other details to herself.
“That’s all you used to talk about when we were in high school—being a sports agent. You’re finally getting your chance, and without the headache of trying to get the good old boys to take you seriously. Athletes, too, for that matter. Most people starting out have to