“I’m good. Unless you mind that I take over your kitchen?”
Ha. Good one. With all the cooking competitiveness in her family, someone taking the pressure off of her would never be a problem. “Not at all.”
“Good.” He pointed to the breakfast bar separating the kitchen and living room. “Have a seat and let me work. How was your day?”
This was shaping up to be one heck of a good night. Should she ruin it by telling him about the failed DNA findings?
Part of her, the part that didn’t want the sexual haze of the evening ruined, begged her to wait until tomorrow. Until they were done walking around her house half naked and sharing kisses that rocked her straight to her heels.
Was that selfish, considering what he’d experienced this last week? Was it fair to keep it from him? If the roles were reversed, she’d want to know.
She sat back in the stool and straightened her shoulders. “At the risk of ruining our evening, I have updates on the e-mail Sam received and the DNA.”
He propped his hands on the counter and met her gaze. “This doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not horrible. More inconvenient. I checked in with Micki earlier about that threatening message Sam received. It came from a domain belonging to a bogus e-mail sending site. It’s a dead end.”
“I figured that was too easy.”
“It was worth a shot. The more depressing news is that I got a call from the lab. The DNA from the cigarette we found isn’t a match to anyone in the national database.”
“Hunh.”
That was it? After she’d been so hopeful that the cigarette would garner a lead? “That’s your only reaction? No disappointment? Because it upset me. I was sure we’d get a hit.”
“Of course I’m disappointed. I’m not surprised, though. Nothing with me is easy lately. But we tried. What else can we do?”
The doorbell rang and she swiveled around, cocking her head. “That better be a salesperson.”
She turned back to Jay, now rummaging through her fridge, and took in his wide shoulders, the sloping muscles of a career quarterback who’d just given her the orgasm of all orgasms.
Tonight he’s mine.
Ooh-wee.
The bell sounded again.
Bam, bam, bam. The hard knock jolted her. She should march over and get rid of whoever it was, but the sheriff probably shouldn’t be answering the door in only a man’s shirt.
Jay set a package of chicken next to the sink. “Want me to get it?”
“Nope. Whoever it is will go away.”
Please let them go away.
The sound of the lock disengaging spun Maggie around just as the door came open.
Cash, her totally unexpected brother, stood in the doorway, keys in hand.
And here she was in Jay’s shirt.
No pants.
Oh.
Shit.
She crossed her legs, flashed her brother a whole lot of thigh and—oh shit again—uncrossed them.
Cash’s attention wasn’t on her legs. He was more interested in the man in her kitchen.
The shirtless one.
Someday she’d find this amusing. Right now? A wicked mix of humiliation, horror, and rage spurted like a blown water pipe.
“Cash,” she said, her tone sharper than her family was used to. “What the hell?”
Her idiot brother held up the key she’d given him. “You, uh, didn’t answer. Are you…” He shot another look at Jay, then pressed his hand against his forehead. His head might be exploding right along with hers. “I could have gone my whole life without this moment.”
Behind her, Jay let out a snort. Glad someone thought it amusing.
“Everyone relax,” he said. “Let’s take a breath.”
Take a breath, my butt. What was it with her family letting themselves into her house? She loved them, for sure, but she was a single woman with needs. Some of which did not involve her family.
Not that she had much of a social life and they all knew that, but…grrrr.
If he’d shown up ten minutes earlier and walked down the hall, he would have gotten quite the view. Her mind tripped back to Jason standing behind her, pounding himself into her.
Oh, dear God.
Bad enough she was talking to her brother while dressed in only Jayson’s shirt. True, the shirt hung longer than most skirts these days, but still, without her own clothes—her buttoned-up clothes—she felt, well, exposed.
Vulnerable.
Something she’d sworn she’d never allow.
She hopped off the stool, smoothed her hands over the bottom of Jay’s shirt, making sure her crotch wasn’t on full display and marched straight for her brother. “Seriously, Cash. You guys have to stop walking into my house unannounced.”
“I rang the bell. Twice! And then I knocked.”
“And I didn’t answer. That should have been your first clue not to bug me.”
He jerked a thumb at Jay. “After the week he’s had, I show up, see your car in the driveway and his in front of the house and no one answers. What was I supposed to think after two people tried to—” He looked at Jay, waved a hand.
“Kill me?” Jay added.
“Sorry, dude, but yeah. I panicked. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t walk in, but after this batshit week? I thought you were either being held hostage or dead. What I didn’t expect was—” He waved his hand again.
Maggie gave him a bright smile. “Me banging Jay?”
Cash gritted his teeth.
Yes, she was being annoying. Too bad. Her family needed to start respecting her privacy. Starting now.
“I’m a thirty-four-year-old single woman, Cash.” She flapped her arms. “Here’s one for Jay’s publicist. I like sex. I like it even more with a hot stud of a football player!”
“Oh, boy,” Jay muttered.
She whirled on him. “You stay out of this. This is between me and Cash. Don’t think you’re going to jump in and save me.”
“Not a chance. I’d like to walk out of here with my balls intact.”
“Good.” She turned back to Cash and pointed to the door. “Get out.”
He gawked at her, his mouth literally hanging open. “What?”
“Out. I have company. I love you, but you’re intruding.”
“Mags!”
“No, Cash. I’m serious.” She pushed him to the door and resisted laughing when he half-stumbled. “I’ve spent half my life trying to make everyone happy. Even when it interfered with what I wanted. Now I’m done.”
Cash halted, digging his heels in when she tried to shove him again. Her brother wouldn’t be pushed if he didn’t want to be. He faced her and threw his hands up. “Well,” he said, heavy on the sarcasm, “excuse me for doing things the way we always have. A tip here, Mags. When you want things to change, maybe you could let the people who love you know.”
As exasperated as she should have been, it made sense. She peered over her shoulder at Jay who shrugged. “Boundaries, babe. If you don’t set them, people don’t know.”
“Exactly!” Cash said.
Now they were partners? No sir. “No tag-teaming me in my own house.” She brought her attention back to Cash. “Be on notice, I’m setting those boundaries. The first one is giving me warning when you’re about to walk in on me.”
“So we can’t stop over now? We have to make an appointment?”
“Not at all. But when you saw Jay’s car outside and we didn’t answer, you should have called me. At which point, I would have told you we were safe and not hacked into a million pieces and that you should go away.” She gave him another light shove. “Now leave.”
He gave in and walked to the door, but turned back. “You know, this is gonna take some getting used to. You can’t just spring this on us.”
“Oh, yes I can. It’s my life. I’ll have a conversation with the rest of our brood, too. Boundaries, Cash. Get out.”
“Jeez, something crawled up your ass.”
At that, Jayson burst out laughing. Men.
Cash hit him with a hard look. “What’s funny?”
She opened the door and waved her brother out. “Nothing. It’s stress.”
“Wait, I need your help with—”
“Whatever it is, call me tomorrow.” She gave him a finger wave. “Nighty-night, little brother.”
“Mags!”
“Welcome to my new world, buddy.”
Then she did something she’d never imagined doing. She slammed the door on her brother. And threw the dead bolt.
Boundaries.
* * *
Thankful for something to do after Cash’s untimely—and pretty fucking amusing—visit, Jay trimmed what little fat there was off the chicken and arranged the pieces in a saucepan. Cooking, once again a great distraction.
Behind him, the front door lock clicked and he glanced at Maggie on her way to her spot at the breakfast bar. “That was fun,” he said.
She hopped onto the stool and cradled her head in her hands. “I won’t be able to look my brother in the eye for ten years. At least.”
“Could have been worse.” He laughed at the image of Cash, key in hand while every ounce of blood drained from his face. “If he’d shown up a few minutes earlier, he’d have run me out of here with a shotgun.”
She lifted her head, gave him the stern Sheriff look. “Jayson. Not funny.”
“Sure it is. But, hey, at least you got rolling on setting those boundaries.” He gave her the smile that made women lose their clothes. “In a big way.”
“Oh. Ha. Ha. They barge in here all the time. The other night it was Riley. She let herself in and plopped on my couch. I wasn’t even home. Her, at least, I can’t hassle. We lived together after my parents moved. It’s normal for her. It has to stop. If Cash had seen us in the bedroom? Lord, what a nightmare.” She waved it off. “Tell me about your day. Did the meeting go as planned?”
Was this chicken cooking too fast? He checked the heat level on the burner—he hated electric stoves—and leaned against the counter. “Paskins is normally cagey, but today was an eye-opener.”
“How so?”
“I’ve worked with this guy for years. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we sure as shit weren’t employer-employee. We’ve seen each other socially. If he needed a favor, he called me. It was an easy relationship.”
“And?”
“And he knew about Celebrate Hope accusing my sister, and possibly me, of embezzlement. I went in there thinking I’d knock him on his ass with that announcement and he already knew.”
Maggie tilted her head, first left, then right. Apparently, her pondering action. “You expected he’d have given you a heads-up. Considering the relationship.”
“I guess. I mean, that’s what I’d have done. Hell, that’s what I was doing. My mistake.”
By now, he should know better. He’d been around professional sports enough to never expect too much from people. At least then they didn’t disappoint. The aroma of burning garlic wafted from the pan. Damned electric stoves. This chicken would be rubber by the time he plated it. He lowered the heat again and flipped the meat.
“How did Paskins know about the embezzlement?” Maggie asked.
“He claims the league called him. I can buy that. He and two other owners have clout. Their teams bring in sixty percent of league revenue. The commissioner won’t freeze them out. That would piss them off. And Paskins is an asshole when angry.”
“Who told the league about it?”
Goddamned stove. He fished out pieces of burning garlic and hoped to hell he could save the dish. “Probably a Celebrate Hope board member. Paskins wouldn’t give specifics.”
“And with Sam involved, they know you won’t go to the press.”
“They think I won’t go to the press.”
Maggie’s head snapped back. He’d surprised her. Good. He was tired of doing the expected.
“You’d go to the press?”
He gave the heat setting one last check and turned back to Maggie. “My career is in the crapper and my major endorsement deals are going with it. What do I have to lose by defending myself? Paskins is worried about the feds coming in. I can use that as leverage.”
Maggie pursed her lips. He never did like that look on a woman. It usually meant, at least in the crowd he ran with, they wanted something he might or might not be willing to give.
Or he was about to get his ass beat.
He needed a new crowd.
One that included a hot sheriff with handcuffs.
Maggie circled a finger at him. “After Sam got fired, she said her boss threatened to bring in the FBI if she talked.”
“Yeah. They’re supposedly trying to keep it on the downlow. I’m not sure what the hell they’re doing. All I know is those pricks’ll let a thief go free to save their ass. That fries me.”
Speaking of. He went back to the chicken, flipped the meat again and swore at the brown edges. “Electric stoves suck.”
“I know. Forget the food a second.”
He flipped open the overhead cabinet. Breakfast foods. He moved to the next cabinet. Glassware and dishes. He grabbed a couple of plates and set them on the counter. “If your dinner is rancid, don’t blame me.” He rifled through a couple drawers, found the cutlery, and put out forks and knives.
“I think you’re safe. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that both Celebrate Hope and Paskins mentioned the feds?”
“The FBI handles financial fraud, right?”
“Well, yes, but so do local authorities. Why wouldn’t one of them say the police? It’s an interesting commonality. Don’t you think?”
Jay shrugged. What did he know about financial fraud and who handled what? “Meaning?”
“Meaning, perhaps Paskins is more in the loop than we think. He insinuated the league notified him after Sam was fired. His comment about the feds, the same language Celebrate Hope used, makes me wonder if the league—and Paskins—were notified earlier.” She crooked two fingers at him. “Come out on this limb with me, Superstar, because I think the league found out about the embezzlement when Sam’s boss got fired. Maybe even before.”
“They claim he resigned.”
“That’s a load of bull and we both know it. Think about it, Jay. If I’m the charity director and I have a lucrative partnership with a major sports league, the second I get a whiff of scandal, even if it’s not directly related to the league, I’m bringing them in the loop. I think he panicked and called the league straightaway.” She smacked a hand on the counter. “I’m calling it that the charity informed the league that Sam’s boss, their CFO, was stealing and they intended to fire him. Together, they could have cooked up this threat about the feds to keep the CFO quiet.”
Smart women. Total turn-on. But this was important, so maybe he should focus on embezzlement and not his growing hard-on. Embezzlement. Paskins and the league. Jay mulled over the timeline. “Sam blew their plan when she discovered the secret account.”
“And now they have to regroup. Figure out how to back her off. They know, I’m assuming, she’s good at her job and she’s already tugging a thread they don’t want tugged. Think about it. She brings the funky numbers to her boss on Friday. They have the entire weekend to work out a plan. Monday morning comes and they give her the same line about bringing in the feds. Why not? It worked with the CFO. How very convenient that you’re in the middle of a scandal that makes you look like a not so nice guy.”
Damned weasels. “The sons of bitches spun it.”
“They sure did.” In full investigator mode, she jumped off the stool and paced the length of the breakfast bar. Back and forth she went, storming a path while jabbing her finger in the air. “The league is working with your buddies at Celebrate Hope, leveraging it. They know you’re looking for a new team. Any bit of additional scandal could kill your career, so what do they do?”
“They threaten my sister.”
“They threat
en your sister.” She finished another lap, spun back, and, all riled now, threw her hands up. “Knowing, knowing, you wouldn’t risk further deterioration of your image. Guilt by association, right? Plus, they have those bogus checks you supposedly signed. They’re using your reputation, your absolute insurance policy for landing another job and future endorsements, to keep you from going to the authorities. That’s just you. We haven’t gotten to how this impacts the people who need their help.” She finally stopped moving, drew a deep breath, and smacked her hands on the breakfast bar. “You can’t let them cover this up. You have to call the FBI.”
Whoa, now, honey. He needed to wrap his mind around it for a hot minute. He set both hands on the counter, thankful for the cool surface that took the edge off his flaming temper. “Hang on, Sheriff. I get it. Believe me. This involves Sam’s future, too. And we’re not interested in our reputations being blown to hell. I’ve invested wisely and don’t necessarily need the money, but we’re both too goddamned young to not have some sort of occupation. How do either of us get a job with this hanging over us?”
Totally cornered.
Maggie pounded—tap, tap, tap—her finger into the countertop. “That’s what they want. Don’t you see? Anyone who has worked with you knows you’re a freak about your image.
Celebrate Hope is manipulating you so they can salvage the millions they make on the joint campaign with the league. No one would give them a dime if people found out their money was stolen. And the league would drop them in a millisecond. They have as much to lose as you do – more, in fact.”
“I agree.”
“Then what’s the damned problem, Jay? Call the FBI!”
The stench of burning meat hit him. Fucking stove. He whipped back, moved the pan off the burner, and shut the thing down before squaring off with her again. “Stop thinking like a sheriff. Right now, you’re Team Jay. Put your Jayson hat on. I know how this league works. How these owners work. If I talk, they’ll close ranks and blackball me. They’ll use me to make a point. Not one of those fuckers will give me a job. They’re pricks that way. Worse, I sure as shit won’t see another endorsement deal. In the last week I’ve lost fifty million dollars in deals.”
Craving Heat Page 20
