Love Game

by Maggie Wells

  “Good. I’m glad it’s nothing more. Bad enough that the guy is using you to get himself a little publicity.” He tapped his fingertips on her desk, then fired off his next question. “Dinner?”

  The invitation sounded like a challenge. The kind she didn’t dare refuse. “Tonight?”

  His brows rose inquisitively, and she forced herself to smile as she bent toward her computer and grasped the mouse. In an instant, her calendar filled the screen. Camp obligations, local appearances, and speaking engagements littered the electronic grid. The flurry of reminders, both personal and professional, that her assistant pinned to the sidebar added an extra boost of credibility. She closed her eyes, made a mental note to send her Aunt Julia a birthday card, and thanked God for giving her sense enough to never touch this calendar.

  “Looks like I’m free tonight.” She clicked to minimize the screen and turned her best postgame interview smile on him. “Steak?”

  “Sounds good.” Jim took a half step closer to her. “I, uh, look forward to it. I could use a good steak.”

  Kate covered her involuntary groan by dropping into her chair and giving her bad knee a rub. “Sounds great. I’ll be tied up until about six, but I can meet you there.”

  “Okay. No, wait…I’ll pick you up at about seven.”

  She offered up a weak smile, knowing he was mentally mapping out his moves for the evening. Moves he’d never get to use. And the fact that she’d have to wait until seven to eat dinner. Was she the only person on earth whose stomach was set to five o’clock sharp?

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Seven.”

  He turned away, his pivot jerky. A surge of irritation pulsed through her as she noted the lack of grace. Stubborn, cocky, indecisive, and unintuitive. Twisting in her seat, she placed her fingers on her keyboard and spared him the barest of glances. “See you then.”

  Instead of leaving, he lingered in her doorway, his eyes locked on her. “Will the addition of Coach McMillan impact your contract negotiations?”

  She looked up from the screen and fixed him with the same stare she used on recalcitrant refs. Then she blinked, all sweetness and baffled innocence. “As far as I know, he isn’t invited.”

  Jim threw his head back and laughed. His eyes crinkled, and attractive grooves bracketed his mouth. In that instant, she remembered what she once found appealing about him. A tiny lump of regret formed in her throat. But then something in the corridor caught his attention, and his smile slid into something fake and a little smarmy.

  “See you tonight, Coach.”

  Kate flinched slightly, jarred by the volume of his announcement. Until that day, he’d been a stickler for keeping their personal relationship separate from the professional, afraid someone would think he was compromising his journalistic ethics. She wanted to cry foul or call bullshit, but he raised the tablet he always carried and saluted her with it.

  “I’ll pick you up at your place. Seven sharp.”

  Kate fought the urge to lower her head to the desk and thump it a couple of times.

  “Hey, Coach McMillan,” Jim called in a too-jaunty tone. “I was hoping to get a little time with you today.”

  Kate tuned out the low rumble of masculine voices. Worlds were colliding. There were too many variables. Too many men backing her into corners, getting up in her space, trying to force her to take shots she wasn’t interested in taking.

  “It’s not tournament play that I object to—it’s the use of a selection committee to determine who makes the tournament.” Danny McMillan loomed in her doorway.

  She blinked, too stunned to respond to his lack of segue.

  He stepped into her office and started to swing the door shut. “Let’s get this straight once and for all. I don’t ever again want to hear you imply that I’m scared of a playoff system.”

  “Noted,” she whispered as the latch caught.

  His volume dropped, but the steel in his voice remained. One dark brow shot up. “Your place at seven?”

  Sitting up straight, she locked eyes with him. “Yes.”

  “What do you mean, ‘Yes’?”

  “I mean, yes, he is picking me up at my place at seven.”

  Silver-blue eyes narrowed to slits, but the intensity was laser sharp. “Picking you up for what? A date?”

  Kate lifted her chin high, staring down her nose at him. She was playing with fire, but she was tired of feeling trapped and defensive. He was the one with everything to lose, and if he hadn’t learned how to protect his own interests by now, she sure as hell wasn’t about to rescue him. She’d been in her office for less than forty minutes, and already she felt like that video game frog trying to cross a busy street. She’d be damned if she’d sit still while a passel of testosterone-charged morons tried to run over her from every direction. “What’s it to you?”

  “What’s it to me?” He goggled at her. “What’s it to me?”

  He jabbed his chest with his index finger, and she winced. She’d fallen asleep with her cheek on his shoulder and her hand in that exact spot. She knew the tickle of the crisp, curling hair between his pecs. Kissed his flat, brown nipples until they rippled. She’d sketched every ridge in his abs and stroked the trail of silky black hair that arrowed down his belly. Pursing her lips, she forced herself to hold his gaze when she really wanted to let it drop lower. She swallowed hard and pitched her voice low to keep it steady.

  “So far today, I’ve had your buddy Mike in here telling me all about the morals clause in your contract, threatening to put one in mine, and basically telling me I can ruin your career, my career, or both if I let this continue.”

  “If you let it—”

  Too het up to deal with his indignation, she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Then I had Jim Davenport practically grilling me about why I haven’t seen him since you came on the scene.”

  “I didn’t know that you and old Jim were that close.”

  She stepped out from behind her desk, ready to nip this argument in the bud. The last thing she had the patience for was another man barging into her office and dragging his baggage along with him. “I have had exactly two full hours of sleep, three sips of coffee, and my yogurt is expired. If you want to be pissy, I suggest you do it in your office and not mine. I’ve had enough guff from men today.”

  *

  Damn, she was gorgeous. Spots of pink rode high on her cheeks. “Guff?”

  Nope. He couldn’t score a smile. Still, Danny held her gaze, just for the sheer pleasure of it. Sparks of gold shone bright in her eyes, and her feet were planted wide. She was a thousand times sexier than any female wearing track pants and a T-shirt had a right to be. The belligerent tilt of her chin warned him to tread carefully, but he couldn’t help baiting her just a bit.

  “But I want to be pissy here. There’s no one in my office—”

  She mumbled something that sounded like, “Lucky you,” making him grin.

  “—and I missed you.”

  She blinked, and those gold lights in her eyes went soft and melty. For about half a second.

  “You can’t do this, Danny.” She threw her arms up in frustration. “That’s the point. You can’t come to my office and be pissy and sweet and tell me you miss me. You can’t park in front of my house and ring the damn doorbell as if there’s nothing at stake here.”

  She came right at him, stopping only when they stood toe-to-toe. He started to reach for her, anxious to wrap his arms around this breathtaking Valkyrie.

  “You like to think you’re invincible, but you of all people should know you’re not.”

  He wrapped his hands around her elbows as if she were the one who needed steadying. Clearing the rasp from his throat, he shrugged and tried for a casual tone. “I’ve been fired before.”

  She nodded slowly, but her lips thinned into a tight line. “Maybe that’s what you want.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe that’s what this is all about. Wolcott’s your way back int
o Division I, but maybe I’m your ticket out of the basement.”

  A frown pulled at his brows. Confused, he searched her eyes for clarity, but all he found there was wariness. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “You’ve been a good boy for a few years, racked up a little good press for a change. But hey, think about it: you can get out of a contract and a relationship in one play.”

  The accusation landed like a punch in the gut. He released her arms and stepped back. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s plausible.”

  “It’s complete crap, and you know it.”

  “Maybe it is, but your pal Mike made sure I knew your contract comes with an ejector seat.”

  “You let me handle Mike. Tell me what’s going on with Davenport.”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. He wants to take me out to dinner.”

  “That’s the guy you were dating,” Danny concluded.

  “It wasn’t serious.”

  “But we are,” he asserted.

  “It doesn’t get much more serious than this, Danny. You can get fired!”

  “I get that.” Heaving a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair and gave his head a helpless shake. “I just don’t know when this became some crazy-assed plot to get myself fired so I could get out of a relationship with you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to grind his molars as he walked to the window and stared out at the red brick paths that crisscrossed the quad. “Christ. This is what I get for thinking everything was going so well.”

  Kate touched his arm, and he turned. “You think things are going well?”

  Her voice was soft and tremulous, like she was scared to ask the question. But when he looked into her eyes, he had a hard time imagining this woman being scared of anything. Her ramrod-straight posture and tight-lipped scrutiny should have made her look like a ballbuster. But she wasn’t. He knew she wasn’t. He’d spent hours learning every one of her soft, secret places. His throat tightened, and his arm tingled where her hand rested. Biting the inside of his cheek, he shot her a sidelong glare.

  “I thought they were until I came around the corner and heard you making a date with that douchebag.”

  “He cornered me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “That guy couldn’t corner on training wheels.” He grumbled the insult, but she smiled so wide that time stopped. Unable to see anything but the earnest entreaty in her eyes, he brushed her hair back from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “I know you have a bad knee, but the next time some guy backs you into a corner, use it. You’re aiming for soft parts anyway.”

  Dark brows shot up, but her smile didn’t dim one watt. “Does that include you?”

  Danny gave his head a quick shake, then ducked to steal a kiss. “No. When I corner you, I want you to show me all your soft parts.”

  “We have to be careful, Danny. I’ll just have a quick dinner with him. Trust me, it’ll be either steak or Italian, and I’ll be home by nine.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she pressed a finger to his lips. “Jim’s not known for his spontaneity, but he is a reporter. We have to throw him off the scent.”

  Her eyes widened, then flared to life when he drew her fingertip into his mouth and circled it with his tongue. She grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side, away from the window. “Danny, stop.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop. Right after this.” Taking her hand, he pressed a soft, wet kiss to the center of her palm, then he let her go.

  “Have dinner with me instead. Steak or Italian, you choose.”

  Kate laughed. “Danny—”

  She spoke his name in a chastising tone, but the pink flush staining her cheeks showed her pleasure. “Katie,” he teased, toying with the hem of her shirt. “Date me. I can be a dick, but everyone knows dicks are far more fun than douchebags.”

  He scored another laugh, but this time, she tossed her head to flip her hair out of her face. “Tonight, I’m defusing the douchebag. If it makes you feel better, I’ll call you when I get home.”

  She touched his face. A fleeting caress, probably meant to soothe, but the tease of fingertips over his eyebrow, cheek, and jaw made him ache for more. “I don’t think anything is going to make me feel better about you being out with someone else.”

  She stepped back a pace. “I think it might be healthy for you to worry a little bit.”

  “It might not be healthy for Davenport. I don’t want you going out with him.”

  “Tough, because I said I would, and I am.”

  He fought for control, struggling to keep his game face in place. She had to know how hard this was, but if this relationship was going to work, he had to trust her to handle herself. As much as he wanted to launch into the white-knight routine, she wouldn’t take it well. She wouldn’t be bullied. By either of them.

  Her smirk melted into a come-and-get-me grin. “Don’t you worry about Jim. I can handle him. I think you need to spin our good friend the athletic director.”

  Shoulders drawn up tight, he stalked toward the door. “I can guaran-damn-tee you that you won’t have to wonder if I’m kissing Mike or not.”

  “Danny?”

  He froze, his hand on the door handle and his back to her. “Yeah?”

  “Will you be wondering about me kissing Jim?”

  Turning to look over his shoulder, he scowled when he spotted the pleased smirk she failed to hide. “Damn straight I will.”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  He turned the handle but held the door firmly shut, keeping the world outside at bay for a few seconds more as he faced her. “Regardless, you’re going to pay the price, Coach. When I’m done with you, you’re gonna wish you were running bleachers.”

  He opened the door and made it over the threshold, but her laughter-laced retort echoed down the cinder-block hallway.

  “Promises, promises.”

  Chapter 13

  “Thanks again for dinner, Jim.” Kate unlocked her front door and turned back to face him, her feet planted, ready to block his charge. Her cheekbones ached from smiling. Not because she’d actually had a good time, but because she was afraid she’d grit her teeth through the whole interminable evening if she didn’t. “I was in the mood for a nice, juicy steak.”

  She still was. The rib eye they’d served her at Jim’s favorite restaurant had been as dry and flavorless as her companion. It was no wonder he liked the place so much.

  “So, I suppose I should…” She gestured to the door. “Nothing like running with a pack of twelve-to-fourteens to wear a girl out.”

  But Jim wasn’t about to let a bunch of middle school girls run him off. “I was hoping you’d invite me in for a cup of coffee.”

  “Oh, no. I can’t drink coffee after five.” She curled her hand, clutching her keys to her chest, and wrinkled her nose. “Keeps me up all night.”

  “Sounds like the perfect game plan.”

  He settled a hand on her hip, and she fought the urge to stiffen. She had to keep it cool and casual. Move him along. Nothing to see here. Unable to force another face-cracking smile, she opted for a fake pout and jammed her key into the dead bolt.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Her sigh should have measured on the Richter scale. If there was any justice in the world, she’d have an Oscar sitting on her mantel this time next year. “I can’t. I told you my niece was in my camp this session, remember? She’s staying with me.” A lie. A big, fat lie. Kylie was safely ensconced in the women’s dormitory with the rest of the giggling campers.

  “She’s here now?”

  “I have to go pick her up.”

  “So we have a little time.” Jim nodded, then stooped to brush a dry kiss over her lips. “The next generation, huh? I might have to stop by and see if that wicked jump shot runs in the family.”

  The tumblers in the locks fell, but she was too tired to fall for his lame flattery. “Camp is closed to the press. These kids are minors. You c
an’t get anywhere near them.”

  He smiled, but it did little to soften the steel in her spine. “Darn. I guess I’ll just have to be happy with getting close to you.” He pressed a damp kiss to the side of her neck. “Rumor has it your agent is going for the jugular.” His teeth scraped her skin, and a shiver of revulsion ran down her spine. Unfortunately, Jim was never very good at reading signals. He latched on to that instinctual reaction and ran with it. “Maybe that’s what you’re looking for?” He twisted the handle, and the door swung inward, carrying them both into her house.

  Kate gasped, grasping his arms as they stumbled into the foyer. “Jim!”

  Caging her against the wall, he fastened his mouth to her neck. Normally, she loved having her throat kissed. When Danny did it, she melted into a puddle of desire. But Jim’s slobbery kisses called to mind the old Hoover canister vacuum her mother used to sweep the stairs. His hands slid to her ass, and the artless grope was all she needed to spur her into action.

  “Jim, no.” She planted her hands on his chest and shoved him away.

  Her sessions in the weight room paid off. He tripped over his own feet as he tried to catch his balance. Chagrin contorted his blandly handsome face, and the flash of malevolence she saw in his eyes made her take an involuntary step back. A muscle ticked in his jaw. She forced herself to stand her ground.

  “I’m sorry.” The words sprang from her lips, and she hated herself for them. She tugged at her slacks and straightened her top, needing to keep her hands busy as she mentally cussed herself up and down for spewing an apology he didn’t deserve. “I think we should call it a night.”

  He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth in a move so insulting, her jaw dropped. “You blow so fucking hot and cold. No wonder Sommers decided you weren’t worth the effort.”