The game ended with the score unchanged and the Blaze going down in defeat. The mood among the players the following morning was as heavy as the blanket of snow holding them captive in the hotel. Brody had been texting Shannon since the game ended, but she'd only responded once, a cryptic message saying she was sorry and they'd talk the next day. As far as he was concerned, Nate was the one who needed to apologize. But Shannon was still skittish about certain things and the trainer's accusations had obviously embarra.s.sed her. He needed to rea.s.sure her. A few minutes in one of the stairwells should suffice; as long as he could hold her. But first he needed to find her.

The ballroom where the team was eating breakfast was less subdued than Brody expected. The frantic whispering died down as he crossed the threshold, however. He didn't have time to worry about what was eating his teammates. His first priority was to make peace with Shannon. A text from his agent buzzed across the screen of his cell phone, but Brody ignored the summons to call him immediately, instead stalking into the kitchen looking for a particular hairnet.

But Shannon wasn't there. His cell buzzed again. Bridgett demanded that he call her. She'd have to wait along with Roscoe. A sharp tightness settled into his chest when he couldn't find her. Something wasn't right. He turned to find Nate bearing down on him.

"Where is she?" Brody growled.

"Don't you know? Hank called her up to his suite." The trainer looked at Brody with disgust. "I tried to warn her about guys like you, but she wouldn't listen."

Brody had the muscled trainer pinned up against the wall in an instant. He should have known Nate would find a way to get Shannon in trouble. She'd said he had it in for her from the start.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded, his forearm pressed to the trainer's neck, making it impossible for him to answer.

"Brody!" Connelly pulled him off Nate, but not before Brody got a well-placed punch in.

"Hey! Brody, stop!" The linebacker held both his arms.

"I didn't do anything to her, Janik!" Nate swiped at the cut on his lip. "You did this!"

Brody tried to deck him again, but Will had his arms pinned behind him. Devlin stepped between him and the trainer. "Brody you need to see this." He shoved his iPad in front of Brody. The Girlfriends' Guide to the NFL blog was open on the screen. A roaring began in his ears as he read.

No!

THE GIRLFRIENDS' GUIDE TO THE NFL Well here's something sweet for you to nibble on ladies: It seems that everyone's favorite tight end has been keeping a few secrets. Very dangerous secrets, if you ask me. According to a very close acquaintance with number eighty, the Blaze star has been hiding the fact that he suffers from diabetes, the same disease his mother has. This would of course explain his current "love interest," the not-so-interesting Shannon Everett, who also happens to be a PhD candidate in nutrition science. It seems this is one of those "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" arrangements, but does anyone believe our blue-eyed beauty would be caught dead scratching the back of a homely scientist? More important, this explains our Brody's sudden lack of interest in Candi.

Obviously, number eighty would love to keep this secret under wraps until his contract extension has been finalized, but we girlfriends believe in safety first. So consider this a public service announcement, Brody. Either get yourself seen by a real doctor or play doctor with someone a little easier on the eyes.

Twenty-four.

The room swam before her and Shay was having difficulty concentrating on what Hank Osbourne was saying. They were seated in the large suite the general manager ran the team's road operations out of; she in one of the overstuffed armchairs and he on the elegant chintz sofa. A cherry coffee table complete with a silver tea service separated them. As he had before, the Blaze security chief, Donovan Carter, sat above her, this time on the arm of the sofa. The scene was civilized and polite, yet Shay had the chills.

"Tell me again how you, not a medical doctor and not yet a PhD, were overseeing Brody's health?" Mr. Osbourne asked.

"I-I really think you should be talking to Brody about this." Shay was having trouble making the words pa.s.s through her trembling lips. This was it. The secret was out. Brody would be devastated, but he'd survive on his charm, his talent, and this celebrity. She, on the other hand, stood to lose everything.

"Oh, you can bet I will be talking to Brody about this, just as soon as I can wrangle his sorry a.s.s up here." Mr. Osbourne slid his wire-framed gla.s.ses to the top of his nose, pausing seemingly in an effort to rein in his temper. "Right now, we're talking about you. An unpaid intern of all things. How did someone whose job it was to make protein shakes become responsible for the daily nutrition of a multimillion-dollar commodity in this organization?" His attempt to curb his anger failed as the last part of the question came out in a shout, making Shay cringe in her chair.

"I blackmailed her."

Shay's shoulders sagged with relief at the sound of Brody's voice behind her. She wanted to leap into his arms, but when he slumped into the chair next to her, his face was stony and his eyes focused everywhere but on her. A hollowness was forming deep inside her belly at his lack of rea.s.surance.

Mr. Osbourne pinched his nose again before blowing out an exaggerated breath. "Please don't add felonies to your offenses here, Brody. I have very little patience for your flippancy right now. I take it you're not going to deny the blogger's report, either."

Brody slouched lower in the chair. His demeanor belligerent. "It's the truth."

Both the GM and Mr. Donovan turned their gazes on Shay. "Is this true, Miss Everett? Was he blackmailing you to help him conceal his ailment from the team?" Mr. Osbourne asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words wouldn't come out. Did it really matter now if they knew she'd been in the locker room looking for something to sell to the blogger? All that stood between her and her PhD was a performance review from the team. Without it, she wouldn't get her degree this month and she wouldn't get her federal job. And Mama would lose everything.

"What exactly were you blackmailing her with, Brody?" Mr. Carter asked.

"s.e.x."

Shay's cheeks burned and her stomach rolled. She snuck at look at Brody, who was trying to appear nonchalant in the chair, but his jaw was tight and his fingers were white-knuckled where they gripped the arms. He was afraid, too. Afraid of what this would do to his contract extension and his beloved career. But she knew he was more fearful of facing what was after that career and he'd do anything to push that reality far back. So, like any little boy who was scared, he was striking back. While she appreciated his attempt to protect her secret, she wasn't sure she appreciated his a.s.sa.s.sinating her character.

"I'm told I'm worth it," he said smugly. "Even by those less-experienced studious types."

Shay felt as though he'd punched her in the gut.

"Hey!" Coach Richardson yelled from behind her.

Brody leaped out of the chair and began pacing the room, now cloaked in uncomfortable silence. Shay's eyes grew heavy with unshed tears. He walked to the window, staring out at the white snow before turning to face the occupants of the room again. Their gazes connected for the first time since he'd entered the suite. His blue eyes were a mix of anguish and fear, with hurt shining in them, too. But they turned stony with anger when he glanced at her.

He crossed his arms over his chest and rested his hip against the window ledge. "I told her I'd scuttle her performance review so she wouldn't get the last internship credits she needs to get her degree. She has a job waiting and if she doesn't have her doctorate this semester, they'll give it to someone else."

"Jesus," Coach muttered behind her.

"Do you have anything to add, Miss Everett?" Mr. Osbourne asked.

Shay clamped her lips shut, afraid that if she opened her mouth she'd wail. She shook her head.

"Well that brings us to the blogger, then," Mr. Carter said. "Brody, how many people knew about your . . . condition?"

Brody's jaw was clenched so tightly, she almost thought he wouldn't answer. "Four."

Mr. Carter arched a brow, waiting for him to elaborate.

"My agent, my personal physician, my personal trainer, and . . ." He didn't bother saying her name, instead jerking his chin in her direction.

The anger rolling off him hit her like a shotgun blast. He didn't trust her after all. Had he ever? Shay slipped her trembling hands beneath her thighs as she tried to tamp down on the sob that threatened to escape.

The silence in the room was overwhelming as each man refused to make eye contact with her. Everyone except Brody, whose gaze bored into her. Unable to stand it any longer, she sprung from her chair.

"It wasn't me!" The tears threatened to fall, but Shay's pride was stronger. She pleaded her case with Mr. Osbourne. "I've been a.n.a.lyzing the blog for possible suspects for months-"

"Here we go with the d.a.m.n spreadsheet again," Brody muttered.

The breath seized in her lungs. He really didn't trust her. It had all been a lie to get what he wanted. All so he could continue playing a game and never have to grow up to face the real world. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she stomped over to Brody, but he held up a hand before she could speak.

"Save yourself the embarra.s.sment. You're the only one of those four people who needs the money. I don't need a spreadsheet to know that." The scorn in his voice made her nauseous, but she was Shannon Everett from Lake Hamilton, Texas, and she wasn't going to let him have the last word.

"Yes, Brody. But I needed that money three months ago just as much as I do today." She turned on her heel to face the others. "If you're not going to arrest me, I'd like to go back to my room, please."

"No one's getting arrested here, Shay." Coach Richardson went to wrap a protective arm over her shoulders, but Shay stepped out of his reach. He turned to Mr. Osbourne. "Hank?"

Mr. Osbourne looked at Mr. Carter, who gave a slight shake of his head. The GM cleared his throat before answering. "You can ride back on the charter with us, Miss Everett, but once we reach Baltimore, consider your internship terminated."

She gave a terse nod, needing to get out of the suite before the tears erupted. "May I go now?" she managed to choke out.

Mr. Osbourne nodded and Shay bolted for the door.

"Not you, Brody," she heard him say as she reached the hallway. "We've got a lot more to talk about."

Shay was grateful for that. Because the last person she wanted to see was Brody Janik.

It was no surprise that the entire team knew about the blog, but Shay was unprepared for the media lined up outside the hotel as they boarded the charter buses. They peppered her with questions, but Coach Richardson's tall body shielded her from the cameras. He'd appointed himself her new knight in the face of Brody's sudden defection.

"You don't have to do this," Shay told him as he shoved a guy with a cell phone camera aimed at her off to the side.

"No, I don't have to. I want to." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Nothing about this makes sense, except that you're not one who sells out someone she cares about."

Shay climbed the steps up into the bus, her throat tight again. It was nice to have someone in her corner. She took the first seat, directly behind the bus driver. The tinted windows allowed her to stare at the paparazzi, trudging through the snow to get a shot of her or Brody. They would be out of luck on that score. According to Coach Richardson, Brody had been escorted back to Baltimore on the owner's private plane.

Even after all that had transpired this morning, her heart ached for him. His fears about his future had to be magnified tenfold, but he'd hide behind his charm and bravado so no one knew. Not even his family. For a man who had so much, he bore his apprehension in solitude. Shay knew he'd survive this crisis just fine, however. His condition was easily manageable and the Blaze would do anything to keep their star player on board. Too bad Brody didn't realize that.

The rest of the team filed on the bus, all of them ignoring her presence. DeShawn glared at her as he pa.s.sed by, obviously believing she'd been the one to rat him out to the blogger, costing him a huge endors.e.m.e.nt contract. The man made millions of dollars for appearing in magazines with his shirt off and he was upset because he was caught using one toothpaste instead of the one he was paid more millions to endorse. The irony was almost laughable.

Unable to stand the freeze-out from the players any longer, Shay turned back to the window. A body slid into the seat next to her. She hoped it wasn't Coach Richardson because she wasn't sure she could hold off the tears if he said something nice again.

"Here." It was Nate.

Shay turned and took the envelope he held out for her, raising an eyebrow in question.

"It's your performance review. I e-mailed a copy to your advisor this morning, but this is the hard copy for you to keep."

She ran a finger over the glossy envelope, her heart in her throat. Mama and Teryn had been calling all morning. Both professed to be worried about her, but she knew their bigger fear was whether or not she'd get the necessary requirements fulfilled to get her degree in time.

"It's the review I wrote up last week," Nate said. "Nothing has changed. You worked hard and you fulfilled the basic requirements of the internship. I know it wasn't exactly what you expected, but then, you got added research with Brody, didn't you?"

Shay tried not to cringe at his tone. "Thank you."

Nate waved a hand in the air. "If in fact Brody has diabetes, you did a great job helping him control it without insulin. You're going to be a successful nutritionist. That's all I care about."

"I'm pretty sure it's just reactive hypoglycemia," Shay said, her spirits buoyed a bit by Nate's compliment.

"Is that how you went about preparing a plan for him?"

Shay nodded.

"Impressive. I'll need whatever you've got. His meal plans, schedule, etcetera. I don't want to shake up things too much."

Nate was going to handle Brody's diet? Brody was going to have a fit.

"E-mail me everything as soon as we get back, okay?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand. Grateful for the performance review, she had no choice but to agree.

"Sure. Thank you, Nate. For believing in me."

Nate eyed her curiously. "Oh, hey. I don't care if you sold Brody out to that blogger or not. The point is, he's just like every other professional athlete, trying to bend the rules. They all get their own personal trainers and nutritionists just so they can hide things from management. It's not right. It's my job to take care of the members of this team and keep the GM and the coaching staff apprised of their status. Brody and his teammates just want to take that decision out of my hands. He was using you, Shay, and he got what he deserved."

Shay wasn't so sure about that. She'd been using him, too, for a lot more than just research.

"You take care of yourself, Shay," Nate said as he stood.

Apparently, even he didn't want to be seen sitting with her. Shay carefully placed the envelope into her book bag, pulling out her note cards. All that was left was the pro forma defense of her dissertation, but she wasn't taking any chances. Mama was depending on her. And the sooner she got home to Texas, the better.

The media hadn't expected Brody to arrive in Baltimore two hours before the team, so he was able to slip into his house un.o.bserved. Unfortunately, his kitchen wasn't unoccupied.

"OhmiG.o.d, Brody!"

Bridgett nearly hurdled a barstool, spilling her tea in the process, to get to him. His normally uneffusive sister wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Are you okay?" she mumbled against his chest.

Chagrined by her concern, he draped his own arms around her and returned the hug.

His parents and sisters had been texting and calling him all day. It was a miracle that the entire Janik clan wasn't a.s.sembled in his kitchen right now, but he'd told his parents he needed rest. The team was insisting on a complete physical first thing in the morning. He'd see his family after the team's verdict. Whatever it was.

"I'm fine, Bridge. Perfectly fine." He patted her back for good measure.

"Good," she said, pulling out of the embrace and punching him, hard as she could.

"Ow!" Brody rubbed his shoulder. "What was that for?"

"For being an idiot and keeping something as serious as diabetes from your family! What were you thinking?"

Brody's stomach growled and he headed for the fridge. His schedule was pretty jacked up with the time change. Shannon would have allowed for that, prescribing exactly what he should eat-protein or fiber and carbohydrates-and how much. But Shannon wasn't here anymore. She'd sold him out. And of all the things that pained him today, that one hurt the most.

He knew their relationship was just temporary; they were both using each other to achieve their goals. They'd been honest about that from the start. Somewhere along the line, however, it had become something more. And just like everyone else he'd shared his real self with, she'd turned his secrets into profit.

"Should you be eating that?" Bridgett asked.

Brody was piling some turkey on the nasty sawdust bread Shannon made him eat. "If you're gonna nag me, Bridgett, you can go back to your hotel. I've been doing this for a few months now. I can handle it."

"I knew there was more to your and Shay's relationship than what you wanted us to see. She was teaching you how to manage your diet, wasn't she?"

He snagged a barstool with his foot and pulled it up to the breakfast bar, sitting down to eat his snack. If his mouth was full, he couldn't answer his sister's questions.