A Wild Card Kiss

by Lauren Blakely

  “To the best, most fantastic exec there is,” Olive chimes in, with a grin she can’t seem to contain.

  Our whiz kid is the man of the hour. The day. The week. First there was the deal with Wilder Enterprises last week, and now he’s moving on to bigger and shinier contracts.

  He shakes his head. “Just doing my job,” he says, but I can tell he’s pleased. Since he joined Sassy Yoga a few months ago, the bespectacled wunderkind has been on a tear, inking deals left, right, and upside down. “Besides, it’s all on the two of you. The Renegades loved you, Katie, and Lacey was quite impressed. And they love the terms that Olive presented to them,” he says, giving credit to the business genius that my sister is.

  Gotta love this guy. He often deflects praise—such a rarity in business. But the man deserves it. His cheery attitude and nice-guy approach work so damn well when striking deals. Sort of the opposite of the conventional wisdom on how being a prick can land you better terms. Zachary snags the deals we want by actually, gasp, negotiating with a smile and making sure everyone wins.

  And I want him to know that. “We need you. We think you’re fabulous, and you’re, what, one deal away from the bonus we didn’t think you’d earn till the end of your first year? Credit given where credit’s due,” I say, then take a drink of this delish cocktail the bartender whipped up. Mmm, it’s tropical with a splash of tequila, and it’s fabulous. Like Sassy Yoga right now.

  “And Zachary,” Olive prompts, shooting him an appreciative smile, “don’t hold back from Katie. Tell her what you told me in the office earlier today.”

  Zachary straightens his shoulders, sets down his glass. He pushes his glasses up on his nose. “We’re in talks with the San Francisco Dragons. It’s early days. But I’m hopeful. I’ve been talking to the new owner and she’s amazing,” he says. “And, just like the Renegades, they like the idea of having a high-profile yoga expert teaching the team. I’m telling you, YouTube has turned yoga teachers into celebs, practically, and you’re one of those.”

  I dip my face, both embarrassed and proud.

  He’s not wrong though.

  The online videos we’ve created have raised our profile, and I lead most of those videos.

  But there’s another emotion swirling in me too—regret. For what might have been with Harlan. I wanted the chance to explore possibilities with him. To take my time getting to know him. Is there a way to have it all? Or maybe . . . eventually?

  I shift in my chair, feeling a little awkward asking, but needing to anyway. “So, how long is the Renegades contract for?”

  Part of me hopes he says it ends when the season does, and I can seize the chance to see Harlan then. Another part hopes he doesn’t say that at all.

  Surely, this is the universe’s way of telling me to slow down, right?

  Universe, why are you so hard to read? Just give me a sign.

  Zachary clears his throat. “Till the end of the season, with an option to renew for next year. But they already expect to renew it. The contracts department said as much.”

  Olive claps gleefully. “See? You’ve already impressed them.”

  I fix on a big grin, grateful the client is happy, even though my silly heart already wrote a reunion scene for Harlan and myself at the end of the season. Best to get my red pen out and slash that possibility. Perhaps that’s the sign. The universe is slamming the brakes on my hopes. The universe knows I was going too fast.

  Fair enough. Message received.

  “And the Dragons would be a huge coup,” Olive puts in. “I would love to add them to our client list.”

  My business brain snaps me back to the deal-celebrating moment. “Absolutely. You’re going to get us deals with all the major sports. This could be huge expansion-wise,” I say, imagining our potential if we add a pro baseball team to our list of corporate clients.

  That’s where it’s best to focus. Not on my Prince Charming fantasies. Besides, I learned the hard way where too much attention on a man can lead. Especially a man you don’t know really well.

  “Just keep being an awesome yoga empress, Katie. And I’ll keep getting the deals. You make it easy,” Zachary says.

  The three of us toast again, then order appetizers and brainstorm the next steps for the business.

  When the meal is over, we say goodnight to Zachary, and Olive and I wander through Hayes Valley to our favorite ice cream shop.

  Which makes me think of Harlan and our Sexual Tension Swirl ice cream.

  Which makes me miss him.

  Which makes me wish our timing was a little better.

  Damn.

  I sigh in the San Francisco November air, the fall breeze whisking by us.

  “Hey,” Olive says, linking her arm with mine. “How do you feel about this partnership? Are you truly okay with it?”

  I whip my gaze to my mind-reader of a sister. “Was it that obvious?”

  “Obvious that you were thinking about your guy who got away? Yeah,” she says, with a bob of her shoulder. “I can kinda read you. Sister intuition.”

  If only she’d seen me yesterday when I lost my mind over Harlan’s big play in the Seattle game. She wouldn’t have needed intuition, that’s for sure. But she was doing a long bike ride in wine country to prep for a charity century ride, and now’s the first time we’ve had a chance to truly connect.

  “To answer your question, I’m all good with the partnership. It’s huge for us, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely. And it’s already leading to more. But I feel bad for you that you had to cut off your thing with him. That’s why you asked about timing, right? To see if the contract would end at the end of the season?”

  Way to read me like a book.

  I scoff like it’s no big deal. “We barely even had a thing. It’s fine,” I say, as we bound up the steps to the ice cream shop. “And this is for the best.”

  She arches a questioning brow, her piercing blue eyes boring into mine. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” I say with more conviction than I feel. Whatever was brewing with Harlan was more than a thing. But I don’t want to ruin Sassy Yoga’s expansion plans on account of my romantic interests. I already had to clean up a wedding that went bust. Kick my ex-fiancé out of my apartment. Get rid of his stuff. Return countless gifts. It was a man exorcism, and I don’t want to go through anything remotely similar again. Getting involved with a client, and then Roomba-ing my business life would be even messier, and that’s saying something.

  Best to let those romantic hopes go. “We didn’t truly have a date, so what am I even giving up?”

  Just the best chance I’ve had in ages.

  That’s all.

  We head inside and order ice cream.

  A consolation prize.

  17

  Katie

  The next day, I work with the team at the training facility. A cornerback grumbles as I lead fifty-three men through the lizard pose. As we move into triangle, cat, then cow poses, some of the linemen shoot me dubious looks.

  But I’m used to it and the skepticism doesn’t bother me.

  Plus, I try to meet them on their terms.

  Competitive terms.

  Saying things like: Bet this helps you protect the quarterback more, bet this will help you evade the secondary, bet you’ll dodge and dart past linemen faster.

  And the handy caveat that motivates most athletes—bet this helps your . . . stamina.

  Lacey weighs in from her post at the back of the exercise room where she watches over the class. “We all love stamina,” she says.

  “Hey, Lacey. Why aren’t you doing all the yoga poses?” The question comes from Erick, the backup quarterback, and it sounds like he wants to see Lacey on all fours.

  “Same reason I don’t get into the huddle on Sundays. I’m, wait for it, not on the roster.” She’s all deadpan and fabulous with her comeback. I kind of love her.

  “C’mon. If we have to do this, you should too,” Erick shouts.
>
  With his bare foot tucked against his calf, Harlan calls out to Erick. “Yes, that’s logical, Erick. Completely logical,” he says.

  “Who said anything about logic?” Erick quips.

  I cut in before the place turns into more of a zoo. “The tree pose is one of the best things you can do for your balance, and I suspect balance matters just a little bit out there on the field. Harlan, you’re doing a great job with the tree pose,” I say, gesturing to the receiver who’s mastering the poses in no time.

  “Ooh, Harlan, teacher has a crush on you,” Erick catcalls.

  My cheeks redden. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to single out the guy I’m into.

  Smooth move, Katie.

  “Let’s keep things professional,” Lacey cuts in.

  The reminder is useful for me too. I step away from Harlan and move over to Cooper, who’s also looking pretty damn good as he holds the pose. “Your quarterback does an excellent flamingo impression,” I say, using him as my example instead.

  Because I’m not here to focus on only one guy.

  I’m here because it’s my job.

  A booming voice carries from the doorway. “Looking good, men.”

  I whip my gaze in that direction, where the head coach surveys the guys. It’s Coach Greenhaven, one of the best in the NFL, a man both feared and revered. “Keep up the good work,” he says to his team.

  The men all stretch a little deeper, hold a little longer for him.

  When the class ends a minute later, the guys filter out, but Lacey and the head coach stay behind.

  Then, his intense eyes land on me. “Lacey says you’re making an impact.”

  I stand taller, enjoying his praise. It’s not often the head coach of a Super Bowl-winning team doles out praise for me. More like, well, never. “It’s early days, but I hope so,” I say.

  “Good. Just don’t go work for the Hawks now,” he says drily.

  I smile. “I promise to stay away from your local rivals.”

  “That’s all I can ask for,” he says, then strolls out.

  Lacey’s eyes shine. “He’s not easily impressed.”

  That’s a damn good thing for Sassy Yoga, and that’s why I’m here.

  The next day, I prep the private room at my studio, eager for Harlan’s arrival.

  Maybe that makes me a junkie, but I’m getting hooked on these regular doses of him.

  This whole teacher-student thing was definitely not on my vision board, but still, I look forward to every session with him.

  I set down the mats, a purple one for me, a green one for him. Then, a strap for each of us, and my mind only briefly flickers to other uses for straps. Next, I place yoga blocks on each mat.

  Step back.

  Consider the scene.

  Do I need anything else?

  Should I play some Ed Sheeran?

  And I scoff.

  What the hell, Katie? Are you setting the table for a romantic dinner? Want to add candles and roses?

  I do my best to eject the swoony thoughts from my brain. I’m just a teacher and he’s just a student.

  When Harlan arrives, I’m professional yogini Katie. “I have a full menu of exercises for you. I’m going to work you hard.”

  Work, work, work.

  With a sexy smile, he lifts a brow. “Make me your pretzel.”

  I do just that for the next thirty minutes, and then we move into downward dog variations.

  I show him the pose I want him to do.

  He imitates me, but a line of concentration digs into his forehead as he adjusts his hands. “Not sure I’m getting it right. Can you help me out?”

  My heart flutters. It’s so endearing the way he asks without any macho bravado.

  “Of course,” I say, then move beside him, running a hand down his spine.

  And all the swoony thoughts I pushed away boomerang back to me.

  Sure, this is not how I wanted to be touching Harlan’s back.

  Ideally, I’d be naked.

  Under him.

  But touching him while his clothes are on is still a thrill. The man has muscles for days, and I am not immune to a hard body.

  Though, I am supposed to be immune to his.

  “Keep your legs as straight as you can,” I say, pressing gently on his lower back as he holds the pose.

  “Admit it. You want to check out my ass,” he quips as he pops his butt higher.

  Gah. I love a tight rear end.

  Or, really, I discovered I did with Harlan. I discovered a lot of things in those two very sexy times with him.

  Times that can’t happen again, Katie. Stop daydreaming.

  “It’s a very nice booty,” I concede. “But I’m more concerned with making sure you press your hands into the mat and tuck your toes. That’s when you’ll find the biggest benefit.”

  He cranes his neck, looking up at me. His eyes twinkle. “I’d like you to find my biggest benefit.”

  I roll my eyes.

  This man is the biggest flirt I’ve ever met.

  Well, besides me.

  Maybe that’s why we get along so well. We are birds of a flirty feather.

  Setting my hands on his hips, I wiggle him into a slightly better position. “Just making an adjustment for you.”

  “That’s not the adjustment I was hoping you’d make,” he says, injecting a little more gravel into his tone.

  I laugh. “You are relentless today. And you said we were off-limits.”

  “We are, but apparently I woke up on the naughty side of the bed this morning.”

  “That’s both sides for you?”

  “You know it,” he says with a laugh.

  “Not surprised at all.”

  “Bet your bed has two naughty sides just like mine,” he says.

  I’m getting firmer abs just from laughing with him. “Maybe it does. Now, let’s switch to warrior one pose. But I want you to transition from downward dog and flow right into it. I’ll show you.” I drop onto my feet and hands with my butt in the air, then I raise my torso, lifting my arms toward the sky. “See?”

  A low rumble comes from his chest as he stares shamelessly at mine. “Sorry, did you say something?” His eyes widen like a cartoon character catching sight of a delicious plate of goodies.

  My goodies.

  And you know what? I honestly don’t mind him ogling me.

  Still, it’s best to segue to tamer teasing. I shake a finger at the NFL’s sexiest player ever. “Tsk, tsk. And I thought you’d be a good student.”

  “I thought I wouldn’t want to bang the teacher,” he says with zero guilt, only desire.

  It’s an enticing sound that I like far too much.

  I, too, like that Harlan truly is a good student, and a devoted one. He’s been doing yoga on his own at home since we started, and he’s making strides in our one-on-one sessions. Once he shifts into warrior pose, I move behind him, sliding a hand down the outside of his thigh.

  “You want your spine erect,” I say.

  “That’s not the only thing erect,” he mutters.

  “If it makes you feel any better, this is torture for me too. Teasing and torture.”

  He meets my gaze, a sparkle in his warm brown eyes. “Mmm. Yoga for Sexual Teasing. New class for the yoga empress.”

  “I’d only offer that class to you,” I whisper as a spark sizzles down my chest.

  “And I’d take that class all day long since being with you like this is delicious torture. You’re like a cherry pie I just want to devour.”

  Oh, my.

  That’s quite a dart of lust rushing through my veins right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been compared to a cherry pie. I’m not sure I want a man to ever compare me to anything else.

  Harlan makes me feel wanted in a way I never did with my ex. Or, honestly, any other man. None of the men I dated in Los Angeles. None of those guys floated my boat this much, this soon.

  Except him, especially since the way he looks at me is in
cendiary.

  And hard to resist. “I bet you’d savor every bite,” I whisper, then want to smack myself.

  I’m pushing the limits.

  Harlan is a client. Sure, my business belongs to Olive and me, but that doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want. Sleeping with a client is risky no matter what. Word could get out. Our business could suffer. We employ yoga instructors up and down the coast, as well as office support staff. My choices impact many more people than just me. I’d do well to remember that. Monday night’s celebratory evening should have reminded me.

  I refuse to be my mother.

  I will not let my choices hurt others—not my sister, my employees, or the business I’ve built.

  There’s a right way and a wrong way to do things.

  I need to do things the right way because I personally know how deep the wrong way cuts.

  I stop, take a breath, and treat this moment with the gravity it deserves. “Harlan, do you want me to switch you to another teacher? I can do that. I know Wilder Enterprises hired me, but I can say it’s not working out. I can find an instructor for you. I can say someone else is better suited to your needs.”

  But I don’t know if I can make good on my offer. I flash back to Zachary’s words on the first day—the team asked for me. Then Monday night—this deal’s already leading to others. Would I even be able to step aside as per the contract? And if so, could I walk away from this opportunity?

  I brace myself for Harlan’s answer and the question of whether I can deliver on it, whatever he chooses.

  He scoffs then raises his arms so his hands are parallel to the floor, showing off how well he knows our routine by transitioning into warrior two. “Look what I mastered in one week with you. I am not a quitter. I can do this. And I can handle this cherry pie lust.” His eyes hook onto mine, and mischief flickers in them. “Though, you are irresistible.”

  I feel the same way about him.

  Thirty minutes later, we finish our session. As we gather our water bottles and towels, Harlan sighs like he’s throwing in the towel. “You know how I said you were irresistible? That’s why I have to take you to lunch right now.”