Love Game

by Maggie Wells

  “As long as you give us all the salacious details,” Avery injected.

  “Exactly.” Millie stirred her drink, then plucked a wedge of orange from the rim of her glass. “Tell us everything.”

  Kate’s cheeks burned. She wrapped one hand around her beer glass, hoping the condensation might help her keep her cool, but it was no good. Exhaling slowly, she caved to peer pressure. Oddly enough, making the decision to spill her guts felt good. Like someone finally stuck a needle into her release valve. Little by little, the weight of keeping her relationship with Danny a secret from her best friends lifted. She let go of her glass and pressed her damp hand to the scarred table. The fire under her skin died down to a warm glow. “Oh God, he’s so perfect,” she gushed at last.

  Avery gave up all her pretenses and squealed like a teenager.

  Millie clapped a stunned hand to her throat. “I swear, I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth. I mean, I know the two of you are combustible—that’s why I put you together—but dear Lord.”

  “She’s in love!” Avery cooed. “Completely deluded and utterly cursed. Willing to sacrifice her personal autonomy for patriarchal approval. How sweet is that?”

  This time, Millie handled the eye rolling. “She’s got the hots for a stud muffin, that’s all.”

  Offended by her friend’s dismissive tone, Kate sat up straighter. “I’m not deluded, and it’s not the hots.”

  “Notice she didn’t deny the stud-muffin part,” Avery said with a sage nod.

  Fighting the urge to snarl, Kate fixed them both with her most intimidating stare. “And I’m not giving up any autonomy.”

  “Puh-leeze,” Millie murmured, taking a draw from her straw. “I’m just looking at you, and I can tell that you’d work here for free if McStud Muffin’s services were part of your contract.”

  Avery jerked up tall on her stool and narrowed her eyes. “It’s a ploy. Mike Samlin brought the stud muffin in to distract you from contract negotiations.”

  Kate scoffed and reached for her beer. After taking a bracing gulp, she tossed the idea aside. “Y’all are forgetting that I’m not negotiating my contract. Jonas is.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ll agree to anything as long as you keep getting some,” Avery said with a nod.

  “Oh, she’s not that far gone,” Millie insisted.

  “Not that far gone?” Avery turned her incredulous gaze on Millie. “Didn’t you hear her? He’s so perrrrrrfect.”

  “Our personal relationship has nothing to do with our professional ambitions,” Kate said stiffly.

  “Maybe not yours, but you aren’t the one who has nothing to lose,” Millie pointed out.

  Dead silence blanketed the table. An excruciating minute passed. Then Avery sighed and sagged. “This isn’t at all how I wanted this conversation to go,” she muttered, lifting her glass of scotch to her lips.

  Millie blew out a gusty sigh and planted an elbow on the table. “I just wanted to know how big a piece he’s packing.” Her chin dropped into her open palm, and she cast an apologetic look in Kate’s direction. “And if he knew what to do with it.”

  Kate felt a little of her indignation ebb away as she studied her friends. They really did mean well, even if they were both shit stirrers.

  “Why do we always say that? There’s not much to knowing what to do with the actual piece,” Avery mused, stirring her scotch with her fingertip. “The only thing to do with that is to stick it into an orifice.” A devilish twinkle lit her eyes as she sucked the booze from her skin. “I mean, a guy’s cock is a one-trick pony. More important they know what to do with their hands, or tongue, or—”

  “We’ve got it.” Millie cut Avery off before she could ramp up to lecture mode. Turning her full attention to Kate, she smiled benignly. “You can tell by looking at her that he knows what he’s doing with…everything.”

  “Can you?” Kate asked, genuinely curious. “Can you really tell just by looking at me?”

  “Well, maybe not everyone,” Avery conceded with a shrug. “But we know you.”

  Millie nodded. “And we know what you looked like when you were with Jeff.”

  Kate frowned. “How did I look with Jeff?”

  She flinched when Millie poked her in the forehead with one vermillion-tipped nail. “Like that.”

  “Quick, stop furrowing, or she’ll whip a syringe of botulism out of her bag,” Avery urged.

  Game face in place, Kate settled an impassive stare on the other two women. “Better?”

  Avery’s lips curved into an affectionate smile. “Actually, I liked the grin you wore when you gushed about how perrrrfect he is.”

  “I did too,” Millie agreed.

  “Yet you both jumped me about it.” Kate picked up her beer and saluted her friends with it. She took a healthy slurp, then gave her head a sad shake. “Sheesh, women.”

  “We’re a pain, but we’re still easier to deal with than men,” Avery asserted.

  Millie shot her an exasperated look. “Some of us are more of a pain than others.”

  Unperturbed by Millie’s jab, Avery shrugged. “I’m low maintenance. I’m happy with a drawer full of double-A batteries and my collection of rubber dicks. They don’t make a mess or any demands.”

  “Speaking of messy…” Millie ran her hand over her blouse, then fiddled with her necklace. Curious, Kate watched as her normally confident friend fidgeted and fussed. “Something has come to my attention, and I wanted to get your take on it.”

  “Is it about the football coach doing the basketball coach? If so, old news.” Avery blinked. “Oh, wow. I totally just pictured Coach McStud Muffin getting down and dirty with Ty Ransom instead of you, Katie, and I have to confess, I’ll be taking that image to my bunk with me tonight.”

  Kate gaped at her friend, but even she had to admit the image Avery conjured wasn’t exactly repugnant. “Nice thought, but it would never happen in a million years.”

  “In my mind, it’s already happening.” Avery grinned. “That’s it, just move your right hand a little, Danny Boy.”

  “Stop,” Millie ordered in a voice stern enough that they instantly obeyed. “Leave Katie’s boy toy alone.”

  “Yes. Please.” Kate added the last as an afterthought. Ready to escape the hot seat, she focused on Millie. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, it does involve Ty Ransom,” she admitted with uncharacteristic caution.

  “If I’m not allowed to picture them both, I’ll take one of two,” Avery allowed with a magnanimous wave. Settling her chin on her palm, she gazed at Millie with rapt attention. “Tell us what’s going on with Tasty Ty.”

  Despite Avery’s guffaw, Millie’s expression remained grim. “I don’t know anything for sure, but I need some advice.”

  Kate blinked, taken aback. Millie gave advice; she didn’t ask for it. “Advice?”

  Avery raised both eyebrows. “Well, this is a first.”

  “Hush,” Kate hissed, concerned by Millie’s unchecked frown.

  “Well, you know I spend a lot of time poking around the various social media platforms,” Millie began. “I have to tell you, I hate PicturSpam. There are some things a person just wishes she could unsee, you know?”

  “Oh, I know,” Avery agreed wholeheartedly.

  Kate said nothing but gave an encouraging nod.

  “I’m not certain, but I think Ty’s wife might be fooling around on him.”

  Kate’s stomach dropped to her feet. “You think this because of something you saw on PicturSpam?”

  Millie pressed the heel of her hand to the center of her forehead, smoothing the wrinkles away. “God, don’t these idiots realize that once you press post, things are out there for everyone to see? Forever?”

  “And you saw Ty’s wife with another guy?” Avery prompted.

  Heaving a sigh, Millie picked up her glass. “I saw Ty’s wife in ways I never wanted to see anyone whose spouse I have to face on a regular basis.”

/>   “Shit.”

  Kate muttered the word, but the heartfelt sentiment cut through the ambient noise of clinking glasses, piped-in rock and roll, and the groans of a few baseball fans with their eyes glued to a wall-mounted television.

  Millie looked up, her blue eyes sad and troubled. “Do I say something?”

  The three of them fell silent as they contemplated the question. On the television, the batter stepped out of the box to take a couple of practice swings. He was facing down a full count of balls and strikes. Kate stared at the screen, riveted by the man’s expression as he stepped up to the plate to await the next pitch, his bat swaying over his shoulder, moved by barely contained anticipation.

  Kate watched, unblinking. She hated baseball, but God, she loved that feeling. The pressure. Tension humming in her blood. Sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. Unlike most people, she thrived on make or break moments. She often made it, but only because she knew better than to force a shot. A true player knew to run the route, let the ball roll off their fingertips, or wait for the right pitch to come. They trusted their instincts above everything else. And they refused to admit defeat until the last buzzer sounded.

  There was no way anyone could have made her see her ex-husband for the parasite he was, no matter what proof they had. She had to find that out on her own. And though she had known deep down that her marriage to Jeff was over long before Ty Ransom was named men’s basketball coach, she hadn’t wanted to admit it. She’d signed a contract based on sentiment when she took the coaching job at Wolcott. That was her mistake. Not Mike’s or Danny’s or even her agent’s. After all, Jonas had advised her to hold out longer. Not just ask for more but flat-out demand they pay her what she was worth.

  But she didn’t listen. Ty Ransom wouldn’t listen either.

  Poor Ty. He’d have to wait until his instincts kicked in. Millie wasn’t entirely certain, and even if she were, it wasn’t her place to say anything. No one wants to admit they made a huge mistake on something as fundamental as choosing the right person to love.

  “No,” Kate said at last. As if snapping from a trance, she jerked her head to look at her friend. “You can’t say anything that’ll make any difference. They’ll just have to let things play out.”

  *

  She came home to find Danny’s ball cap on her end table and the man himself propped against her headboard. He was mostly naked, or at least stripped to the waist, and propped on both pillows as if he owned the place. She tried to work up what Avery would think was an appropriate amount of ire at finding him in her space without invitation once again, but she couldn’t. She liked coming home to him, as cheesy as that sounded.

  Spotting her in the doorway, he muted the television. “Hey. How was your night?”

  “Better now,” she said, refusing to feel even a hint of shame at the confession.

  A slow smile spread across his handsome features. He dropped the remote on the nightstand and gestured for her to come closer. Not even taking a moment to toe off her shoes, Kate dove onto the bed and into his arms. The skin stretched over his biceps was warm and smooth. Kate turned her head and pressed her lips to the tender flesh on the inside. Though he was ticklish, he didn’t flinch or shy away. He just let her kiss him.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice raspy and rough around the edges.

  “Long day.”

  He tucked his chin to his chest and peered down at her, blue eyes wary and watchful. “But this is okay? Me being here?”

  She chuckled, then caught a little of that oh-so-tempting skin between her teeth. “Now you ask.”

  He squirmed a bit but mostly let her have her way. For that, she rewarded him with a slow, swirling flick of her tongue over the afflicted flesh. “I can go if you want,” he said.

  “I don’t want.” She turned into him and pressed her cheek to his chest. Crisp hair tickled her nose. She burrowed deeper into his embrace, not in the mood to implement strategies or play games. “I like having you here.”

  He kissed the top of her head, then smoothed her hair with an awkward pat of his hand. “I like being here.”

  “Millie and Avery think you’re a hooker Mike hired to distract me from my contract negotiations.”

  He chuckled. “How many million do you think I’m worth?”

  She barked a laugh. “Million? I was thinking I’d offer to swap the country club membership for you. After all, I get to see you swing your club in the comfort of my own bedroom. Why bother with the culottes and saddle shoes?”

  “Nice.”

  She giggled and nuzzled his flat nipple. “They doubt my ability to keep my head in the game.”

  “Typical mathletes.”

  His unabashed jock snobbishness tickled her. Running her hand down his chest, she stroked the line of soft hair that bisected his abs. “I know, right?” She kissed his throat, enjoying the bob of his Adam’s apple against her lips as she let her fingertips slide a few centimeters lower. “They have no respect for my…drive.”

  “Fools.”

  He exhaled the word in a rush that ruffled the hair he’d just smoothed. His chest rose and fell with gratifying quickness as her hand drifted lower still. His cock was hot and more than half-aroused by the time she wrapped her fingers around him. She pressed a tender kiss to his pec, delighted by the tremor she felt ripple through him.

  “Kate?”

  “Hm?”

  “Don’t give up the country club membership.”

  “No?” She released him long enough to push the covers down past his knees. “How come?” she asked, resuming her grip.

  He answered with a low, strangled groan that made her smile. “Don’t say come.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered, but she didn’t mean it.

  “You can’t quit the club.” Danny pressed his head into the pillows and arched into her touch. “It’d be a damn shame to waste a strong backhand like that.”

  Chapter 15

  The thrum of a dozen basketballs against hardwood drew him like a vandal to a freshly painted wall. The lack of syncopation should have crawled all over his nerves, but it didn’t. Those crazy, time-challenged thuds reminded him of the beat of Kate’s heart just after she came. Frantic. Erratic. Beautifully untamed.

  He hovered in the mouth of the tunnel, his gaze locked on the honey-colored court. She stood at the center of mayhem, the brightly colored shoes planted square in the middle of the stylized shield and crossed swords that served as the university’s logo. Two dozen gangly preteens gamboled around her, skinny arms and legs flailing as they chased those bouncing balls.

  Kate called something as one of the girls sprinted past her, a shining, blond ponytail streaming in her wake as she broke for the basket. The layup circled the rim but refused to fall through. The girl’s shoulders slumped as one of her cohorts snagged the rebound and dribbled away. She turned toward center court, hope and dread written all over her face. Kate gave a casual wave that clearly said “Shake it off,” captured a wayward ball, and winged it at the girl.

  A flash of color at the far end of the court caught his attention. A huff of surprise burst from his lungs as he spotted a second Amazon among the milieu of munchkins. Another one of the WNBA’s former all-stars bent at the waist to talk to a girl who wasn’t much past the five-foot mark. A quick scan turned up two of her assistant coaches, a current NBA player, and Ty Ransom scattered between loose groups of middle school players.

  Danny released a low whistle as he sidled into a row of bleachers and lowered a seat without taking his eyes off the action below. “That’s a lot of firepower.”

  He’d mumbled the observation to himself, but a deep voice came from higher up in the stands. “You should see who she pulls in for the varsity camps later this summer.”

  “Mack?” Twisting in his seat, Danny scowled as he squinted into the gloom beyond the first tier of seating. “That you?”

  His assistant coach grunted in reply. “Better move back into the shadows. She doe
sn’t like people crashing her camps. Says it makes the girls nervous.”

  Barely containing a snort, Danny glanced around at what he’d thought was an empty arena. Then he spotted them. A dozen or so spectators sat high up in the stands, all with their attention fixed on the court. All but one, that is.

  Danny started to rise, but a sharp jerk of the AD’s head stopped him. Before he could seek refuge in the cheap seats, Mike made his way toward him, climbing over rows and bounding down the shallow steps three at a time. He read the intent on the other man’s face as easily as he read defensive formations. The blitz was coming. Danny had a choice: scramble and run, or stay in the pocket and take it like a man.

  “Probably should have stayed in your office, Coach,” Mack stage-whispered. “I think the big guy’s been looking for you.”

  Danny didn’t bother to conceal his grimace as he watched his old friend approach. “Yeah, thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Mack.” Mike acknowledged the older man with a nod but didn’t break stride. Mack didn’t bother to move, a fact that made it doubly uncomfortable when Mike dropped down right beside Danny. “Coach.”

  Mike hadn’t even left the customary one-seat man buffer between them. A fact that did not bode well as far as friendly conversation might go. Danny shifted in his seat and eyed the other man. “Director.”

  Mike leaned forward to plant his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands between them. He kept his eyes locked on the court below, but tension rolled off the man in waves. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t see you here.”

  A pang of regret twisted Danny’s gut. This man was his friend. One of the few who had not only stuck by him when the shit hit, but who also reached out on a regular basis. Danny had been so busy avoiding his boss lately that he hadn’t noticed Mike had been dodging him too.

  The warning Mike had given that day on the practice field came back to him. The man had gone out on a limb for him. Danny was lucky to have this job. Kate was too deeply ensconced in Wolcott for him to fool with her and walk away unscathed. Every word was true. Unfortunately, a warning was never going to be enough to keep him away from Kate Snyder. Hell, nothing short of a highly skilled assassin would have done the trick.