Page 96 of The Keeper

“Good job,” I mumbled.

My desk phone rang, mercifully relieving me of this thought process.

“Victoria Chase,” I answered.

“Ms. Chase, hello,” an unfamiliar male voice greeted me. “My name is Justin Kirby. I’m a reporter with the London Independent News. Hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“Not at all. What can I do for you?”

“As you know, Royal City is flying out to New York next week and I was wondering if we could set up a joint interview with some players from the Knights.”

“Mr. Kirby is it?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t handle those requests for the Knights but I’d be more than happy to put you in touch with their media handler for the game. Do you have a pen handy?”

“Apologies. I saw your name as a contact on the stadium website.”

“No worries,” I said. “It happens more often than not. You’ll want to talk to Kaylee Meade. Here’s her number.”

I recited the phone number to him, exchanged pleasantries and ended the call.

“Hey. You busy?” a voice asked from the doorway.

I glanced over. “Oh, hi Tre. Um, a little. What’s up?”

He tucked his hands in his pockets and sauntered into my office. Dressed in jeans and a graphic t-shirt, he looked good. Better than I remembered when I saw him in Denver. Leaner, more muscular. Images of the night we spent together flashed through my mind.

Noooo. Girl, what is wrong with you?

I shook free from the memory and closed the file I’d pulled up on my computer. While it wasn’t too unusual for a player to be in the stadium offices during the off-season, I was still surprised to see him here.

“I poked my head into Hannah’s before coming over,” he said. “She mentioned asking you about getting up to speed with media coaching.” He shrugged. “I have the team’s media guidebook. Don’t really think I need more.”

“You’ve been in the league for what, seven years? I think you know what you’re doing.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, but I know how particular coach can be about what we say.”

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs. “You have all the main talking points. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Seriously. You’re professional, poised, articulate, confident. And you have a way with keeping the reporters engaged and entertained. In my opinion, there’s nothing more you need to do.”

A dazzling smile curved his mouth. “Well, with that endorsement, I guess I’m all set. Thanks, Victoria.”

“Anytime. You know you can stop by if you ever have any questions.”

“Yes ma’am.” Just as Tre was about to exit my office, he paused and turned. “I know it’s last minute but Noah and Tracey are having a little get together at their place tonight to watch the draft and just chill. Would you like to go?”

“I can’t,” I replied. “Thank you though.”

Tre looked me over in a subtle way that would have seemed innocuous if not for our history. His casual but flirty lean into the door jamb also gave away his intent. “Busy lady,” he grinned. “Another time?”

Boundaries. NOW.

“It’s best if we keep everything professional.”

“I’ve heard that before.” He licked his lips and walked away.

Uneasiness snaked through my body. Yes, I’m a huge flirt. Yes, I have a tendency to get down and dirty with hot athletes on occasion. No, I do not want that to continue. Not after what happened in England.

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