Her father didn't look up as she closed the door. "I just spoke with Dominic."
Melissa's heart thumped as she waited to hear what he'd said about her.
"He made it a point to tell me what a pleasure it was working with you today. Said you saved the day."
Masking her delight at the compliment, Melissa said, "He did great at the shoot, as always. Dominic is a real asset to the company."
Her father shrugged. "He was, but he's getting older."
She dropped her bag to the floor and advanced toward her father. "Are you kidding? Dominic is one of the most recognizable faces of football. No speeding tickets, no bar brawls, no hidden babies. He's a playmaker and a moneymaker. Companies are pounding down our door to get him to advertise their products."
Her father clicked on his email, listening with half an ear. "Times have changed. People want to see their favorite stars screw up, then repent. No one's interested in angels anymore."
Melissa's mouth opened, then closed. How could her father speak about him like this? What ever happened to loyalty? What's more, her father was dead wrong about Dominic's appeal.
"Look at Ty Calhoun," her father pointed out. "Fans are even crazier for him now that he screwed his image consultant, then saw the light and married her. Nothing's better than a bad boy turned good."
Melissa had met Ty a few times and found him to be a very charming lady-killer, but not at all her type. She preferred someone who didn't have anything to prove, who didn't use his sexuality to win over the world, who simply owned it as an integral part of who he was.
But now wasn't the time for her to bite her father's head off. She sat on the chair directly across from him. "What did you want to see me about?"
"Your mother called. Don't forget to bring potato salad to the barbecue this Sunday, or she'll be all over me for not telling you."
Her heart sank. She'd been so certain that he was going to bring up her promotion. Well, since she had his undivided attention, she'd take the direct approach and ask for exactly what she wanted—and make sure she got it.
"Actually, Father, I'm glad you asked to meet with me. I've been wanting to get on your calendar."
He briefly looked up from his computer screen. "Is there a problem?"
"No. My work has been going very smoothly, and I was extremely pleased by the endorsement deal I negotiated for Wilson last Friday." If ever there was a time to toot her own horn, it was now.
"I'll email you some notes on the Martin trade. You can take that over, as well."
She beamed. "Fantastic."
More work and responsibility without "Agent" on her business card. She was making a difference in players' lives and she was well paid for an associate, but she wanted to be recognized for her achievements rather than for being Tom McKnight's daughter.
He looked up at her, impatience on his deeply lined face. "Was there anything else you needed?"
She straightened her spine. "Yes, there is."
He finally took his hands from the keyboard and sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers across his stomach.
"I've been working here for five years," she began. "During that time I've taken on more and more responsibility, I've earned my MBA, and I've negotiated several big endorsement deals for key clients."
Her father nodded, and hope bloomed deep in her chest.
"I deserve to be promoted to agent."
She laid her damp palms on her lap and waited for her father to speak. As the silence stretched on, a knot formed in her stomach.
Her father threw his head back and laughed. "Honey, I thought you already knew this—no one in this business will ever take a female football agent seriously. Especially not a cream puff like you."
Melissa shot to her feet as he turned back to his computer. "What about all the deals I've worked?" she demanded. "I've done great things for our clients. I've made them—and you—a lot of money."
He waved a hand, dismissing her completely true claims. "They took you seriously because you work for me. Ultimately, everyone knows I'm the one backing the deals. Besides, you aren't tough enough for this business. Agents can't cry when they don't get their way."
He wasn't joking. Not in the least. And Melissa finally realized the truth: Her father had never, ever, not for one second, planned on her becoming an agent. If he had his way, she'd work as an associate for him until the day he retired.