Page 25 of Love Game

“Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

“Iron deficient?” Kate asked, lifting an innocent brow as she picked up her salad fork.

“Hungry. Mere moments from passing out.” Eyeing her plate with wary skepticism, he raised an eyebrow. “No dressing? Don’t tell me you’re on a diet.”

A faint smile curved her lips, but she didn’t glance at him as she replied. “No, I never diet.”

“My kind of woman.”

That made her look up. Those startling amber eyes met his directly. “I just don’t see the point in wasting the dressing when I have no intention of eating these weeds.”

He couldn’t help himself. Those golden eyes drew him in like a tractor beam. Leaning closer still, he whispered, “You’re just going to push them around a bit?”

“Or a lot.”

“Bully,” he chided.

“Wait until you see what I do to the poor croutons.”

“Vivisection?”

“I devour them whole.”

He chuckled, but a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. He eyed the stemmy lettuce as if it warranted closer scrutiny. To his credit, he didn’t jump like a scalded cat when Jacinda Donner’s hand landed on his thigh again. Shooting Kate a sidelong glance, he murmured, “I wish I had one tenth of your strength of character.”

Kate rewarded him with one of those wide grins. “Maybe when you grow up.”

With a grimace he hoped would pass for a smile, he turned to the ballsy blond on his other side. “Would you mind passing the ranch dressing?”

Danny spent the entire salad course thanking God above for making Kate Snyder tall. Had she been a few inches shorter, he’d have had a clear sightline down the neckline of that chili pepper of a dress. Just the thought of it was enough to make him sweat.

He should have hated her. Resented her at the very least. This woman made a chump out of him in front of his guys. But despite his competitive nature and her prickly disposition, he had a hard time making himself dislike her. She was her own woman—strong, capable, and completely unapologetic about it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman like her. If she had insecurities, and surely she must have some, she kept them well hidden behind her game face.

In short, the woman made him itch to touch her. Every time he came near her, all he could think about was feeling those lean, taut muscles soften and grow lax. The memory of short, sharp puffs of air hitting his skin haunted his nights. He wanted to hear her panting in his ear. Preferably his name. With maybe a “more,” “please,” or “harder” tossed in just to keep him motivated.

Apparently, he’d let his leg wander along with his thoughts, because the next thing he knew, Mrs. Donner had her hand on his thigh again. This time, she didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with subtlety, because she came high and decisive. He flinched, his torso jerking forward in response to the demanding squeeze. Heat flared inside him, but not the welcome warmth of desire. He looked around in a panic, but everyone seemed to be engrossed in other conversation.

Everyone but Kate, whose gaze drifted toward his lap before moving on to some point in the distance beyond his private hell. Then she knocked the folded program that marked the line between his place setting and hers to the floor.

“Oh!” She smirked as she turned to meet his gaze. “How clumsy of me. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Shifting his chair back, he managed to dislodge Mrs. Donner’s hand as he swooped down to retrieve the program. Kate’s eyes met his as he rose. They glowed with amused sympathy.

“Thank you so much,” she said, her voice husky with overdone sincerity.

“You’re so welcome,” he replied.

Kate placed the program in the center of the table. “There.” She nodded, satisfied with her save. “Now we’ll have a little more room.”

Danny scooted his chair back to the table and a few inches closer to Kate. He made it through most of the main course by keeping his leg far enough away from Jacinda Donner to make her ploys obvious. Unfortunately, there was no easy way of avoiding Richard Donner and his never-ending pontification. The man ran on and on about television rights, expanding seating for bigger ticket sales, and branding and media rights.

“Let’s face it. You’ve done a real good job of keeping Wolcott in the running conference-wise, Coach.” The moron actually nodded to Kate and then brushed her achievements away with a dismissive wave of his manicured hand. “But girls’ basketball will never be where the big money is.”

Hectic color lit Kate’s cheeks. Danny’s spine stiffened when he saw the mottled splotches of red creeping up her neck. Kate remained stoically silent—a feat Danny thought should have earned her a medal—but they all knew the rules to the donor dance. They had to nod, smile, and somehow refrain from reaching across the man’s groping wife to jab a fork into the back of Donner’s hand.

On the other side of the table, Ty Ransom’s eyes were so hard they gleamed. Danny didn’t need to look at Mike to know he’d be in total accord. The tension at the table was palpable. There was no way in hell they’d let a hairless dweeb who probably never caught a ball in his life insult an athlete and coach as fine as Kate Snyder.

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