Temptation (Bad Angels)

by Inara Scott

  “You know, that sounds like a great idea,” Minnie said. She turned to Clara. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Clara glanced at Leticia. “Letty?”

  They exchanged some kind of silent code, then turned on Shirley. She nodded, and they all circled around to Connor.

  “All right, son, it’s time for you to go,” Leticia said. She walked over and turned him by the shoulders toward the door.

  “I was actually planning to hang out while you play,” Connor said.

  “No reason for that,” Leticia replied as she moved him down the hall. “It could be a couple of hours. And you know this is our ladies’ night.”

  “Yes, sorry, Connor,” Shirley called. “Ladies only, you know!”

  He started to object again, but Leticia turned him back around to face the door. “No offense, dear. We can’t have you hanging around and ruining the mood.”

  “Zoe?” Connor said over his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want me to wait? I can go hang out at a bar or something.”

  “You’re very sweet,” Clara called back. “But she seems quite ready to tackle this one on her own.”

  Laughter bubbled up inside Zoe. “I think the ladies are right,” she said. “You go ahead. I can get an Uber back.”

  Minnie nodded approvingly, Shirley gave her hand a squeeze, and Zoe had the feeling she’d just passed her first test.

  Connor may have set her up for Mission: Impossible, but right now, it was hard to object.

  …

  Leticia and her friends were smart, funny, and utterly shameless. Within about twenty minutes, they knew most of Zoe’s life story—how sheltered her childhood had been, how determined her mother was to see her married, her engagement and her family’s disappointment when she called it off to go to college. She left out the rest of the story about Daniel, but the GPGs (a nickname they’d adopted with pride) seemed to sense that there was more to her estrangement from her parents than a broken engagement. Still, they didn’t press her for details, seeming to realize there were some lines she wasn’t ready to cross.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t really begin to start “spying” on Leticia when the group had her scrambling to keep up with their own rapid-fire interrogation and bridge instruction. After spending some time testing her skills at the game, they proclaimed her wholly inadequate but coachable enough to be useful. They outlined a rigorous training schedule that would take up most of the next two weekends and several nights during the week. Her head spinning from the competitive play, Zoe called a car. She considered texting Connor and stopping by his place on her way, but since her proposal was due to Aims the next day and she still had a few files left to read before then, she decided she couldn’t afford it.

  Back at her apartment, she sank down onto her couch, exhaustion taking over her body. Even though she was recovering quickly, her head and wrist still ached occasionally, especially in the evening. Tonight her wrist was more sore than usual from being out of the sling.

  Then the text arrived from Connor.

  How did it go?

  She sat up straight, pain forgotten.

  They didn’t kick me out, so I guess that’s good.

  Where are you?

  Her body, tired as it was, started to hum.

  Just got home.

  Any chance you want company?

  She couldn’t help the smile that broke on her face. Connor Ashton, is this a booty call?

  There was a pause, and she stared impatiently at the phone, waiting for the next message to arrive.

  Damn it. Carrying on this way was one of the—if not the—most foolish things that she had ever done in her life.

  Zoe slumped back against the couch. This was crazy. What was she, sixteen all of a sudden? Like she couldn’t be attracted to a guy and not act on it? Of course it was fun to pretend they could devour each other in private and yet maintain their distance in public, but that was nonsense and they both knew it.

  And still, the thought kept coming back to her—did she even care? Fooling around with Connor could be an even worse mistake than getting engaged. Yet somehow, she couldn’t imagine staying away from him.

  In fact, the more she thought about it, the more overwhelming the whole thing became. The intensity of this desire—this need—was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

  The answer, then, was to not think.

  She was staring blindly at the phone when he texted again.

  Do you want it to be?

  She laughed out loud. Had there ever been a bigger contradiction than Connor? Plaid shirts by day and whiskey bars at night. A man who could kiss her senseless one moment but never expect more.

  Nothing sounded better than running straight to his place, but reality was too much to ignore. She needed to work and then to sleep, or she’d be a wreck. Reluctantly, she wrote, I’ve still got a lot to do tonight.

  Then her fingers continued of their own accord: How about tomorrow?

  Another pause.

  As the silence stretched out from his end, she began to doubt. Was he hurt that she didn’t want to get together tonight? Having second thoughts about being with her? What if he already had a date for tomorrow? The thought sent a chill through her. This thing between them, whatever it was, felt so intense and powerful and yet fragile at the same time.

  She considered sending another text. Tried to decide whether to play it hot or cold or something in between. Before she could do either, he responded.

  Sorry, had to check my basketball schedule. My team has a game tomorrow at six. My place at nine? I have one more whiskey I want you to try.

  She sighed with relief. Nibbling her bottom lip, she contemplated her reply, wondering if she was about to overstep her boundaries. “Screw it,” she muttered, and wrote, Can I come and watch your game? Maybe I’ll pick up a little basketball lingo.

  Ah, you know they’re ten years old, right?

  I know. That’s probably about my level.

  Oh, they’re way above your level…

  She smiled and shook her head. Connor, can I come or not?

  Yes. And yes.

  Zoe’s eyes widened. She sank down into the couch with a helpless laugh. Why exactly did she think she was in control of this whole thing?

  Really, did she have any idea who she was dealing with?

  As far as she could tell, nothing was as it had been in the past.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Connor tried to focus on his team as they warmed up and not watch the door of the gym. Usually when he came here, he would forget everything; it was one of the things he loved about coaching. But tonight, all he could think of was her.

  Touching her. Kissing her.

  Taking her home tonight and making one of the worst decisions in his life…for the best possible reason.

  At some point they would have to talk about what they were doing. Preferably before any permanent damage was done. Until then, he would live in this haze of anticipation.

  “Connor, do you want them to go outside and see how long it takes them to run to the Golden Gate and back? Or should they keep running the three-man weave for the next hour or two?”

  He stared at the door, barely processing the question from Jamilla, the team mom. “Either one sounds fine to me.”

  She snorted and flipped her long, curly hair over one shoulder before poking him in the ribs. “Any chance you want to tell me what’s about to walk through those doors before I send the kids on a ten-mile run?”

  “What?” He blinked and turned around to stare at her. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. His brain finally put the words together, and he gave her a sheepish grin as he realized what she’d said. “Oh, right, that’s funny. I’m just a little distracted. Lots going on at work.”

  “A little distracted?” she said, scanning his face with her dark eyes.

  At that moment, the door swung open and Zoe entered, and Connor couldn’t hel
p but stop to take her in. She wore snug black pants that ended just above her ankle, a silky button-down shirt, and her usual killer heels. Her hair was loose and thick. A long coat hung around her shoulders.

  Jamilla looked at Zoe, then at Connor. She cleared her throat. “How about very distracted?”

  “Sure. Very distracted,” he said, still staring at Zoe, then turned and narrowed his gaze at Jamilla. “Stop doing that.”

  “Stop doing what?” she said innocently.

  “Making me say things.”

  “Right.” She gave him a quick salute. “You want to go say hello, Coach?”

  Zoe had spotted him from the doorway, and she gave a short wave. He waved back. Damn, she was hot. But he wasn’t paying attention to that right now. He was ignoring the roaring in his ears and the thrumming in his body.

  Ignoring it.

  Seriously, he couldn’t allow himself to get near her before the game. Not if he wanted to have any hope of thinking about anything other than her lips.

  “No,” he said to Jamilla. “I don’t. I need to get us warmed up. Why don’t you go over and introduce yourself and show her where to sit.”

  “Who is she?

  “She’s just a friend,” Connor said.

  Jamilla burst out laughing. “Friend, my ass. Why is she here, if you’re just friends?”

  “She wants to learn about basketball.”

  “So you brought her to one of our games?” Jamilla slapped his shoulder. “That could be the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. And I’m a mom, so I’ve heard a lot.”

  Another woman approached them from the sidelines. She was younger than Jamilla, with a round figure and an expansive smile. “Hey, Coach,” she said, gesturing toward Zoe with a tilt to her head. “Who’s the girl?”

  “Friend,” Connor said. “And nice to see you, Neela. I thought Devon wasn’t going to make it tonight. Didn’t you say he’d hurt his ankle?”

  Neela sighed. “He refused to stay home. You know how he looks forward to your games.” She shook one long, manicured finger at him. “And don’t try to distract me. When did your friends get so female?”

  “Never,” Jamilla said. She linked her arm through the other woman’s. “Doesn’t matter. You and I need to teach her all about basketball.”

  “That sounds fun.” Neela looked askance at Jamilla. “She does know our boys aren’t exactly a bunch of young Klay Thompsons, right?”

  “I’m not sure she knows who Klay Thompson is,” Connor said.

  The women drew back in horror. “Oh, don’t say that,” Neela said.

  “I’m telling you,” Connor stressed. “She has a lot to learn. You might want to start with the fact that there are two baskets, and each team shoots on a different one.”

  “This could be interesting,” Neela said.

  “The most interesting thing,” Jamilla said, “is whether Coach Ashton is going to be able to call the plays tonight, or if he’s going to spend the night staring at his friend.”

  Connor turned his back and started to walk away. “I’m going to pay attention to the game,” he announced over his shoulder. “If you could restrain yourselves from harassing Zoe, that would be great.”

  Right. He heard them laugh and head toward the bleachers. Forcing himself to focus, he turned to the team and clapped his hands. “All right, boys,” he called. “Time to play!”

  …

  “’Bye, Zoe.” Jamilla waved as she steered her son toward their car.

  “Thanks for all the help,” Zoe said, pulling her coat over her shoulders as they left the gym. “I never thought I would say this after a sporting event, but I had a great time.”

  Jamilla and Neela had provided nonstop commentary on the game, their kids, and the way Connor’s butt looked in his track pants. They were irreverent and bawdy, and Zoe could tell they adored Connor, as did all the kids on the team. When he pulled them aside, they gazed at him like he knew all the secrets of the universe; when he praised them, their faces glowed with pleasure. After the game, Connor had circulated around to each of the families, making sure he said goodbye to everyone as they made their way to their cars.

  Jamilla laughed out loud. “Honey, I’m not sure you can call this a sporting event. But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. We’ll take you to a real game sometime and show you what it looks like when the players make their shots.” She gave Connor a noticeable wink as she waved goodbye. “See ya later, Coach.”

  Connor waved back, then turned to Zoe. “You drive tonight?” He had a large mesh bag full of basketballs slung over one shoulder and his gym bag in the other hand.

  She shook her head. “Didn’t want to deal with parking.”

  “Smart. You still up for a drink?”

  His words, and all they suggested, settled into the space between them.

  “Absolutely.”

  Had there ever been any question?

  “Good. I have a bottle from a distillery in Sonoma I think you’ll like.” He touched her back and pointed in the direction of an old silver 4Runner.

  Zoe headed toward his car with a flutter in her stomach. Connor threw the bags into the back while Zoe walked around to the passenger side.

  “I would have picked you for a Tesla guy,” she said as she stepped up into the passenger seat. The interior of the SUV was clean but definitely dated, and the engine rattled for a moment before it caught.

  “I’m not big on replacing things that aren’t broken. Besides, the more streamlined they make cars, the less I fit into them. This fits me and drives well. That’s really all I need.”

  Like the three matching recliners in his apartment, she thought. He didn’t care about splashy designs or expensive leather. Connor’s world was functional first. The Southcycle, she realized, was something entirely different. Impractical and illogical. It was a draw she needed to understand if she was going to win the account.

  “I hope Jamilla and Neela didn’t talk your ear off,” he said.

  “Of course they did.” She smiled. “They love you. So do the kids. You’re a great coach.”

  “I don’t know about great, but at least they don’t complain about me to the management.” They pulled out of the parking lot onto the street as headlights flashed from oncoming cars. “When I started coaching, I was horrible. I kept trying to explain things to the kids over and over, and they would look at me like I had three heads. And then they’d screw around or not want to work, and it would drive me nuts. Luckily, one of the moms from my first team pulled me aside and explained that kids aren’t just like little adults.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t just explain things logically or yell at them and expect them to get it. You have to break plays down into steps, have them practice, and most of all figure out what works for each kid. Over the past few years, I’ve realized for most of them, logic isn’t the most important thing. Once I figured that out, things went much better.”

  “The logic would have worked on you as a kid, I assume?”

  He shrugged. “You’ve met Leticia. She’s a scientist. Logic is what I got. I didn’t really have much of a choice.”

  Zoe cocked her head and turned to look at him, but the dark made it hard to see his face clearly. “You think maybe that wasn’t you?”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I definitely respond to logic. There’s no doubt about that.”

  “And competition?”

  “Yeah, that, too.” He shot her a quick grin. “I guess we have that in common. Though really, you might have me beat there.”

  “My chess coach would probably agree with you. In middle school, I spent hours memorizing games from my favorite grandmasters. No one in my family understood. My mom thought I was sick. I had to get my coach to convince her I was a normal kid, just a little obsessed with chess.”

  Connor shook his head. “That’s impressive. Memory is definitely not my thing.”

  “I’ve heard that’s a common complaint from some of your d
ates,” Zoe said, then instantly regretted it. Somehow, that joke was a lot funnier when she wasn’t one of those dates.

  He shot her wry look. “Guilty. Though Mason once pointed out that my memory seemed to work perfectly well for things I wanted to remember.”

  Zoe tapped her temple. “You know I’m filing all this away, right?”

  “Oh. Good point.” They shared slightly uncomfortable smiles before Connor continued. “Anyway, the funny thing is, if I wasn’t so tall and the coaches hadn’t recruited me so hard, I probably wouldn’t have ended up playing sports at all. As it was, my mother never really understood why I played. Why would you put all that time and effort into chasing a ball around a court, she’d ask me. Why take it so seriously?”

  “Well, whatever you’re doing, the kids certainly appreciate it. You’re really good out there, you know. You take it seriously but never yell at them. You probably don’t realize how they look at you. Like you’re their hero.”

  “Now that is ridiculous,” he said. “So tell me, did you learn anything about the game?”

  “Oh, tons.” She rattled off some of the information she’d gotten from Jamilla.

  Connor listened to it all, pointing out crucial differences between basketball played by ten-year-olds and pros, then cocked his head as if remembering something. “Didn’t you turn in that proposal to Aims today?”

  A small flush of pleasure warmed her cheeks. It was stupid, but it was nice to have someone other than Luke and Rafe care enough to ask about her work. “Yeah, but that was the easy part. Just résumés and marketing stuff.”

  “What happens now?”

  “It’s really up to him. We just wait. He’ll probably look over the proposals and interview a couple of teams.”

  They rode the elevator to Connor’s apartment. Inside, he dropped his bags by the front door and walked past the kitchen into the living area.

  Zoe stopped a few feet behind him. She swallowed, the butterflies in her stomach doing somersaults. “So, you had another whiskey you wanted me to try?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. He took off his glasses and rubbed at a spot between his brows. “I think we better talk about this.”