Love Game

by Maggie Wells

  His heart lurched, but he took a moment to get his synapses in line. “I thought it was pretty damn good, but if you’re thinking we can up our game, I’m willing to try again.” He forced a weak smile. “You might have to give me about thirty minutes though. I’m not twenty anymore.”

  To his relief, Kate chuckled and turned onto her side to face him, considerately curling her arm so he could maintain his hold on her. “I may need more than thirty after that.”

  He knew he was about to tread close to fishing, but he couldn’t hold back. “Because it was so bad?”

  “Because it was so good.” She blinked, solemn as an owl. “Contrary to popular opinion and against all principles of common sense, I like you, Danny. And that’s bad.”

  “It’s good,” he argued.

  “You know what I mean. This thing…” She reached over and stroked his chest with a lazy casualness that made his heart turn over. “We’re not supposed to be able to stand each other, much less this.”

  She added the last with a stern glare that was obviously supposed to drive the point home but instead sent him into Kate-induced a-fib.

  “What other people think is their problem, not ours.” He rolled onto his side and threw a leg over her, just in case she decided to make a break for it without taking the time to hash things out. “I think this is a good thing. Damn good. And you think so too.”

  “I do?”

  He nodded once, decisively. He’d never been more convinced of anything in his life. “Yes, you do.”

  “Which is why it’s so bad.”

  She reached that convoluted conclusion with such conviction, he couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if that’s the way you see it…I can be badder.”

  Despite her reticence, he saw the spark of interest in her eyes. “Can you?”

  “Oh, hell yeah.” With a laugh, he rolled forward, using his momentum to pin her to the bed. “I mean, I admit I was a little intimidated when I saw your friend there in the nightstand drawer, but I’m over it now. I never thought I’d say this, because I’ve never been good at sharing, but if you wanted to get old Michael involved for a little two-on-one, I’d be game.”

  Chapter 12

  Kate’s stomach growled as she clicked through her email folder. Without looking, she reached into the mini fridge beneath her desk and snagged a container of yogurt. Her chair squeaked as she leaned back to check the expiration date. “Crap.”

  She pitched it into the garbage can, then ducked under her desk to hunt for another. The fridge was empty. It was the first week of June, the time when campus life hung suspended between spring and summer terms. The cafeterias were closed. There were no interns to make yogurt runs or ass-kissers bringing around bags of fast-food breakfast sandwiches. Another loud growl confirmed that her stomach was displeased. Making a mental note to bring more yogurt, she popped up in her chair.

  “Way to put him in his place last night, Coach.”

  Kate jumped and winced when her knee connected with her desk. Her hand lashed out, sending her half-empty travel mug flying. Proving he still had the reaction time of an athlete, Mike Samlin stepped out of spatter range as the droplets of mocha arced through the air. His sandy brows shot up when she fumbled to catch the stack of camp brochures Millie had deposited on the edge of her desk.

  “I, uh…” She gathered the glossy trifolds to her bosom and clung for dear life, wondering how the hell the AD could know exactly how many places she’d put his good friend Danny in the past couple of weeks.

  “Millie tells me the ratings went through the roof.”

  The show. He meant The Warrior Way. They’d engaged in the Title IX debate Millie had campaigned for. Doing his best to play the misogynist, Danny’d made a crack about her using university money to order pink basketballs. It set her up beautifully for a line about her players knowing how to use their equipment.

  She telegraphed a silent thank-you to Millie and gave her boss a tremulous smile. “Thanks.”

  Mike’s focus sharpened, and his friendly brown eyes narrowed a fraction. This was the moment she’d been dreading. She was a horrible liar. Never had the talent for it. The little pantomime he’d just witnessed proved that she didn’t have the reflexes either.

  She’d been avoiding the boss man, of course. Millie too. Jim Davenport had proved to be a little more assertive than expected, but she’d managed to slip past him the minute they stopped taping. And thirty minutes later, Danny had slipped inside her with that strangled little “Mmm” she’d come to know as his special hello.

  But Mike was a diplomat as well as an administrator. He didn’t go straight for the jugular. “Looks like your camps are sold out.”

  Relief mingled with pride as she grabbed the change of subject and made a break with it. “Middle grades start this week. We’ll have varsity in July. Don’t worry. We’ll be out of the way when it’s time for the boys to play.”

  The look of wounded surprise in his eyes said he didn’t think he deserved her sharp tone. Poor Mike had apparently been out of the game long enough to forget about offense being the best defense.

  “I’m sure Coach Ransom will appreciate that,” he said mildly. Without waiting for an invitation, he sat in the guest chair opposite her. “I got an interesting phone call from Jonas Matthews.”

  Kate braced herself for battle. This was it. She’d let her agent off the leash. Told him to go after everything he could get. And now, the battle would begin in earnest. “Did you? That’s nice.”

  Mike smirked. “He was tossing around some crazy numbers.”

  The dire warnings she’d heard from Jonas rang in her ears. Don’t agree or disagree on anything. Don’t let them play on your loyalties. Do not negotiate. That was Jonas’s job, and it was time for him to earn his cut. Still, the implication that she didn’t deserve every digit rankled.

  “I’ve put up some crazy numbers over the years. I’m sure someone will find a way to make them match.”

  The threat was barely veiled. Why bother? They both knew it was time for Wolcott to put up or shut up. Regardless of gender, hers or her team’s, she was a proven winner, and many schools would be happy to have her. A few might even deign to let her coach their precious men’s team.

  “Kate, we’ve—”

  “Blown the budget on football?” she asked, cutting him off. “Not my problem.”

  “It’s not that—”

  “I’m not discussing this. Talk to Jonas.”

  “I will when he stops talking crazy.”

  She held his gaze, summoning the glare she usually reserved for slacking point guards or blind refs. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  Mike pursed his lips, then tipped his head back to survey the décor. “When do you leave for your three-hour tour?”

  She smiled. The Gilligan’s Island reference was an inside joke. Anyone who’d ever done the lecture circuit knew those weeks could feel like years.

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “You gone two weeks in a row?”

  “One and one,” she said. “I’ll be home for a week, then on the road again.”

  “Good.”

  She started, surprised by the satisfaction in his tone. “Don’t be so sad to see me go,” she drawled. “Watch out, or I’ll ask you to come by and water my philodendron.”

  Mike’s expression grew serious. “Better me than someone else.”

  Kate stilled. She’d tried to drown her contract worries with lust, and it had almost worked. Unfortunately, her physical need for Danny only seemed to intensify—and for better or worse, he seemed to be as caught up in it as she was. The sex part, at least. He didn’t seem to be nearly as worried about everything else.

  His nonchalance alarmed her. Three nights ago, he hadn’t even bothered putting on a ball cap. He’d parked at the curb in front of her house the previous night. She had been ready to lay into him about it, but then he’d kissed her hello, and all the fight had gone out of her.

  They lay limp, exhau
sted, and fixated on her kitchen ceiling by the time she got around to chastising him for it, and even then, Danny brushed her concerns away. And she’d let him. After all, how could the danger of him losing his job and her losing her heart possibly matter when they could have hot sex in every room of her house?

  Heaving a heavy sigh, Mike propped a hand high on the doorframe. “Last night’s debate was just a reminder of how inequitable things can be in collegiate sports. In all sorts of ways.”

  She smiled and began straightening the rumpled brochures. “Coach McMillan gets a little hotheaded when it comes to Title Nine.”

  It was an exaggeration, but she didn’t care. Getting him hot under the collar during their on-screen debate seemed to get him as worked up for the postgame too. She had to admit, she was primed and ready by the time he dropped the bag of Chinese carryout onto her table and pushed her up against the fridge. Magnets and reminders had flown in every direction, but in that moment, Kate had never felt more focused or in tune with her own power. He’d taken her hard and fast, but she was the one who let him. And in allowing it to happen, she brought that strong, stubborn man to his knees. Literally.

  “He has a tendency to chase flashes of red, but most of what he says is bull,” Mike said.

  “I know, but it played well for the cameras.” Hoping to shorten the conversation, she kept her answer semineutral. “He can be a bit of a drama queen.”

  Her feigned nonchalance appeared to make Mike more focused. He stepped into the room and closed the office door. When he turned back to her, the man was fully tuned in.

  “Danny leads with his heart. Something that works well in motivating others, but it doesn’t always pan out when it comes to his own interests. Detachment doesn’t come naturally to him, and he doesn’t always think things through to their inevitable outcome.”

  Her own heart beat like a jackhammer. She placed the neat stack of glossies in the exact spot where Millie had left them earlier and cast Mike a cool look. “And yet you offered him a multimillion-dollar contract.”

  “There were some variables I couldn’t assess at that time.”

  Tiring of the cat-and-mouse game, she sat up straighter and folded her hands on her blotter. “Such as?”

  Mike stepped away from the door. Gripping the back of her guest chair, he blew out a gust of frustration. “Kate, we’ve known each other a few years now.” She blinked in surprise, but he held up a hand to stave off any interruption. “I’ve known Danny since we were the same age as the kids you coach. I’m not a fool. I guess it was too much to hope that he wouldn’t be one either.”

  Indignation sank its razor-sharp talons into her. “How, exactly, do you think he’s being foolish?”

  “There’s a morals clause—”

  “Not in my contract,” she snapped, cutting him off.

  Yes, she’d checked. The morning after Danny first rolled out of her bed, she’d pulled out a copy of her contract and checked to be certain she wasn’t in violation. Now, she and Mike stared at one another, the air filled with tension and the faint rasp of agitated breathing. Undaunted, she forged ahead.

  “There’s nothing in my contract preventing me from entering into a mutually agreed upon relationship with a man over the age of consent and not directly in my employ. If I were, that is,” she added, holding his gaze.

  “There’s nothing in your contract as it stands, but that contract is under negotiation. Big money comes with big expectations.”

  “I’ve exceeded everyone’s expectations.”

  “I’m not talking job performance, Kate, and you know it,” Mike replied, unruffled. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level. “But you should know Danny’s contract expressly forbids him from any extracurricular relationship with anyone associated with the university—staff or student.” He sighed so hard she could swear she felt the air stir.

  Touching the tip of her tongue to her top lip, Kate crossed her arms over her chest and turned to stare out the windows. “Bet old Danny wishes he could have a hunk of Title Nine protection.”

  “This isn’t a joke.” He ran a hand through his hair as he paced, rumpling its Mr. I’m In Control perfection. “I don’t want to be a hard-ass about this. If you’re happy and he’s happy, I would be more than okay with letting this ride…”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Like I said, I know Danny,” he said, the intensity in his tone shutting her down. “And I know his truck. And shit, the whole damn town knows where you live, Kate.”

  The need to move, to act, to get her stance set in preparation for a direct charge brought her to her feet. “This is none of your business.”

  “But it is. The terms of Danny’s return to Division I play aren’t exactly a secret, and if things start to go sour for either of you, he’s out on his ass.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Then there’s the question of your contract.”

  He left the rest of the thought unspoken, but she had a pretty good idea where he was heading. Still, she wanted to hear him say it. “What about my contract?”

  “Don’t make me put that clause in yours too.”

  She stood quietly, absorbing the irony of their situation. Here she was, a former athlete stripped of the power to play at the level she craved, a champion who’d brought nothing but glory to her school, and still she was being asked to make the sacrifice. The university’s terms were as crystal clear as Jonas’s, and they felt every bit as crazy. She could play hardball and get the salary she deserved, or she could have Danny.

  A lump of ice formed in her belly, but she welcomed the sensation. It was the same cool center she used to tap when standing at the foul line or taking the game-winning shot. She looked her boss dead in the eye. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for you to discuss the terms of Coach McMillan’s contract with me. Do the two of you have long, cozy chats about how he’s making more than twice the salary that I do?”

  “Now, Kate—”

  “It’s Coach. I’ve earned that much respect, haven’t I?”

  “Coach Snyder,” he said, straightening his shoulders and bracing his feet wide. “I don’t want to do battle with you. I just want what’s best for—”

  “Don’t you dare try to tell me what’s best for me,” she said in a tone so soft, it sliced straight through whatever he planned to say.

  They stared one another down. Then Kate dove into the icy resolve she used to fuel her drive. Holding her head high, she walked to the door.

  “Tell me, how do you feel about gender inequity in collegiate sports, Mike?” Her fingers closed around the handle, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she turned and gave him a level look. “I’m curious. You don’t seem like an ass, but it can be so hard to tell these days.”

  “Kate, please—”

  “Coach,” she snapped, then stepped back as she opened the door wide. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things I need to handle before I greet my campers.”

  “Hello, Coach.”

  She jumped and pressed the flat of her hand to her breastbone as Jim Davenport stepped into the open doorway, blocking any chance of shooing Mike out. “Jim.” She gave her head a shake to clear it. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to follow up with you on something you said on the show last night. The bit about the pressure on young women to downplay their athletic abilities.”

  He raised his eyebrows as if he’d prompted her, but Kate couldn’t find the actual question. “Yes? What about it?”

  “Well, I was hoping you’d elaborate. Maybe talk a little more about your own experiences?” She shot him a sharp glare. Davenport went on, undeterred. “With your summer camps starting this week, I thought it would make an interesting angle. It’s no secret that your success played a role in the dissolution of your marriage to Coach Sommers, and now you’ve got someone with Coach McMillan’s history coming in…”

  The mere mention of her ex-husband’s name sparked a white-hot flash of anger. The reas
ons Jeff had left her were not common knowledge. She’d told Jim in confidence. Pain and humiliation undercut her rage, but the words wouldn’t come.

  While she floundered, Mike stepped into the doorway behind her and unleashed a stream of rhetoric that proved he was the perfect man to serve as spokesman for Wolcott athletics.

  “I think Coach Snyder’s continued success is a testament to her fortitude and ambition as well as an excellent endorsement of Wolcott’s continued dedication to furthering every young woman’s growth in both the academic and athletic arenas.”

  Davenport’s jaw dropped. “Director Samlin, I didn’t see you there.”

  “We were just finishing up,” Kate announced. She nodded to Mike. “Thank you for your input. I’ll take your suggestions under consideration.”

  Mike inclined his head, shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and strolled to the door as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Thank you, Coach. Have a good time with your campers.”

  Jim’s brows rose again as the AD moved past. Then he slipped into her office wearing a sly grin. “What was going on in here? Contract negotiations?”

  She rolled her eyes, but a shudder ran through her. Turning her back on him, she moved to her desk, wondering what she could possibly have seen in him. “Hardly.” She shot him a condescending look. “I have an agent who handles those things. We were discussing my schedule.” Kate winced when she realized she’d handed him a huge opening.

  Predictable as he was, Jim dove right in. “Speaking of your schedule, I was hoping to see you this week. I’m starting to get the feeling you’re avoiding me.”

  “Don’t be silly.” But her denial rang hollow. They both knew Jim didn’t have a silly bone in his body.

  “And that makes me wonder why.” He moved closer, effectively trapping her behind her desk. “Everything was going great with us up until McMillan came around.” She opened her mouth, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “Don’t get me wrong. The ratings are great, but I can’t help but wonder…”

  Every muscle in her body tensed. Her fingers curled around the pen she’d picked up. Even her eyeballs felt stiff as she forced herself to roll them. “Yeah right.” Her laugh sounded more like a bark, but she couldn’t do any better with his gaze boring into her. “Well, there’s been the television thing, and I didn’t want…you know, awkward.” She checked her babble, corralling her runaway mouth like a ball that took a bad bounce off the rim. “You know what it’s like. Summer is always a time of transition. I’ve got camps, lectures…”