Page 6 of Match Point

“Not everybody. Even Raina thought it was strange you were concerned about my underwear. If you’re so bored that you’re worried about my socks, let’s find something to challenge you.”

“It’s about organization, not boredom.” Not exactly true. He needed a challenge, yet lately everything had been coming too easy. He dropped the weight and picked up a heavier one. Mundane didn’t cover his life. Matching wits with Sorcha had been exhilarating, if exhausting. She might be as annoying as shit, but she was sharp.

“I’ve known you since you were a snot-nosed kid and you’re bored. Grams used to say her garden had never been as well-tended to as when you weren’t challenged,” Howler said with amusement.

“Grams is crazy about that garden. She loved the help.” Leo and Howler had grown up in the same house, and although they weren’t brothers by blood, they were by bond.

“True. But think of this as a challenge. She’s a handful, judging from the headlines you found. Good thinking to show those, it gave us good leverage. Although she seemed awfully willing to sign with me.” Howler performed a set of crunches, feet leveraged under the lip of the nearest machine. An ex-wide receiver for the Seattle Pioneers turned sports talent agent, Howler had been a role model to Leo. Granted, he could be a real dick, but he was a good guy.

“Her attorney sent over the proposed contract less than fifteen minutes after she left, which hints of desperation. Someone of her ranking doesn’t travel without an entourage, yet she came alone. She’s up to something,” Leo said. He’d seen her type before, beautiful enough to get what she wanted from most men. But she wasn’t just a pretty face. She possessed an underlying cunning, and apparently Howler had felt the same thing. “I’m curious, why the three-month mark? She might walk and then we’re left holding the bag.”

“Because she’s used to getting everything handed to her. To keep the upper hand, we need to keep her on her toes. Anything in the contract stand out to you?”

Leo had read the document over, but he wasn’t an attorney. He had enough experience to question certain aspects of the agreements, enough to discern any red flags. “Nothing stood out except she did request her first one-on-one interview to be with Grace Chen, an odd choice since she does human interest stories and not sports per se.”

Howler tapped his wedding ring against the bar before he shook his head. “It’s actually a great idea. She’s been villainized by the media for her temper tantrums. Perhaps the human angle instead of sports angle would do much to gain public sympathy.”

“Except Grace doesn’t like you,” Leo pointed out. Howler hadn’t exactly been subtle in screwing around before he married Raina, and sometimes it came back to bite him in the ass.

“She has her reasons, ones I’ve apologized for, and we have a truce of sorts. She’ll take the interview, so stop giving me the stink eye. Speaking of which, what the hell happened to your eye? You look like a Bond villain.”

“I was hit by a rock, and no, I haven’t lost any vision, nor will I, but thanks for asking,” Leo said. The eye still hurt, and he’d been ordered to wear the patch for a minimum of two weeks. He was lucky he wouldn’t have any lasting damage. He’d spent four years in a war zone on active duty before he’d signed a six-year contract for the reserves. Never once had he gotten injured, although he’d been shot at enough. In one day, he’d hurt his eye and had his leg scalded by a hot redhead with an attitude.

“You’re such a dickhead.” Howler chuckled.

“As fun as this is, I’m the injured party. Where is your sympathy, you psychopath?” Leo said, grinning despite the chastisement in his words.

“When you’re actually in danger of losing your eyesight, I’ll sympathize.” Howler stood and went to the water cooler in the corner to fill up his bottle. “As for Sorcha, I’d download as many tapes as you can find of her playing. Not when she’s at the top but on her rise up and on her way down. See if she picked up old habits.”

“You haven’t signed her yet. Should we hold off on the expense until the contract is final?” And he could find a way to get out of this mess. Short of quitting, he had a bad feeling that would never happen.

“She’ll sign, and we’ll sign her, no matter the drama she brings. We both know it. It’s up to you to get her to cement our investment.”

“You really want me to do this? There’s nobody else?” Leo dropped the weight and sighed in resignation.

“Once Vicki is back from Europe, she can take over. Until then, no, there’s nobody else that I trust.”

“Sorcha and Vicki? You have to be kidding me.” His foster sister had worked in the K9 unit of the Army and didn’t take shit from anyone. “It would almost be worth it to see that little exchange.”

Howler laughed, the booming sound loud in the small room. “Vicki needs a job and she’s like you, disciplined and organized. But she’s not available. Let’s face it, there’s nobody else qualified to do what you do best; organize. Organize her chaotic life and get her back on track. You have more at stake here than your job. If you’re successful in getting her to the Bellevue Invitational in fighting shape, I’ll cut you in on the commission for a multimillion-dollar talent and a larger stake in the company.”

“Really?” Leo swallowed, thrilled at the prospect of a greater stake in the company he’d helped build. It wasn’t for the money but the pride. “So you’re bribing me?”

“Really, and with that much money, you can pay for someone to fold as many damned pairs of your own underwear as you’d like. Leave mine alone. I’m betting on my future and you’re part of it. Family first.”

“Family first.”

Chapter Five

“For a top athlete, you’re out of shape. What’s your workout regime?”

“Not running five bloody miles… in the pouring rain… up bloody hills… ankle-deep in mud,” Sorcha managed to gasp between footfalls. How had she gotten herself into this mess? After ten days of hard negotiations, she’d signed her temporary contract the day before. Leo had showed up at her hotel room at 6 a.m. and dragged her up a mountainside for a six-mile run. His idea of a good time wasn’t hers. She wanted to rail at him for the abuse, but this was what she signed up for; the price she had to pay to get close to Howler’s wife.

“This is nothing. Try running up these hills with a fifty-pound MOLLE pack on your back and in combat boots.” He still wore the ridiculous eye patch, but even at dawn, he looked yummy. Too bad he was such a prat.

“Don’t even think about it,” she panted.

“Let me guess, you run on the treadmill in a gym.” Like her, he was drenched from head to foot, his black shirt clinging to his torso. He was lean and muscled, the veins in his arms prominent as oxygen pumped through his body.

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