Page 70 of Love Game

Jim nodded as if he might actually swallow that load of bullshit and flipped open the cover on his tablet. “Good, ’cause I doubt he’ll be wearing the green and gold much longer.”

He turned the pad to show a photo of her kissing Danny goodbye that very morning. She wore nothing but a faded Warrior Women T-shirt and a pair of panties that showed as she stretched into the kiss.

“Not that it matters. It seems there are a few programs looking for a new head coach. Now that Samlin popped his redemption cherry, Danny Boy may have other options. We all knew this was a stepping stone, but I guess we thought we’d get to see the guy call one play before he skipped.”

Danny had teased her about giving a floor show as she shoved him out the door. She stared at the photo, memorizing every crease in his rumpled slacks. She’d put those pleats in the front of his dress shirt with her very own hands. The green-and-gold Wolcott hat he wore to cover his bedhead was hers. He was hers. Or she thought he was. But for how long?

Squaring her shoulders, she looked Jim straight in the eye. “What story are you looking for, Davenport?”

“Something better than another up close and personal with the NCAA basketball’s reigning queen.”

His words proved to be a timely reminder of who and what she was. “That’s the only story I have to tell.”

“I bet I can get a juicier story from your lesser half. I want to know what really went down at Northern and what he expects to get out of coaching a team like Wolcott.” He snapped the cover closed on the tablet and brushed past her as if they hadn’t shared the world’s most anticlimactic courtship. “Tell Coach McMillan I’ll be in touch to set up my exclusive.”

“He won’t give it to you,” Kate called after him.

“He’ll give it to me,” he said without turning back. “You can call the dinner a business meeting if you like, but I can email this little scrap of evidence straight to the chancellor’s office.” He paused, derision contorting his bland features into something ugly. “Nice panties, by the way. If I’d known you were wearing something that girlie, I might have tried a little harder to get a peek at them.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Kate was wedged into Danny’s broom closet of an office with a wall of unpacked cardboard cartons boxing them in close. She and the university’s athletic director were the only things standing between her stubborn alpha male of a lover and the phone on his desk. He’d threatened to plow through them both to get to it, but Mike hadn’t flinched, and Kate figured she was safe enough taking her cues from him.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t give in to him. It’s blackmail. He doesn’t have the balls to follow through anyway,” she asserted, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

Danny glared at her. “It’s not about the balls. It’s the cockblocking that’s got him pissed off.”

“I don’t think so.” The tips of her ears warmed at the compliment, but she snorted nonetheless. Casting a sidelong glance at Mike, she shook her head. “If he really wanted to get into my pants, he would have made it a while ago.”

Danny’s jaw tightened. “He didn’t try because he knew you were too much for him.”

The AD feigned interest in a box labeled “Special Teams and Other Shit,” but the color rose in his face. “All that aside, we can do more damage control internally. I’ve called Millie. She was scheduled to have a root canal this morning but ended up canceling it.” He chanced a small smile. “That alone should get you a little forgiveness for blowing her battle-of-the-sexes strategy.”

“Yeah, but now she’ll want to exploit the sex,” Kate muttered.

“I don’t care what either of you say,” Danny interjected. “I’m talking to Davenport. Whether he has a hard-on for Kate or for me, it doesn’t matter. I’m tired of taking the hits. The media’s been coming at me from all sides for the past four years.” He turned his full attention on Mike. “I’ll talk to the chancellor and the board myself, and I’ll do it before I talk to Davenport, but I’m not keeping my mouth shut on this one. I will tell the truth. Whether people choose to believe it is their problem.”

Mike pursed his lips as he considered Danny’s play-calling. “Enforcing the morality clause is optional,” he mused. “It’s not automatic termination, so if you can talk a good game with the chancellor—”

“I don’t need to talk any game.” Danny planted his hands on his hips. “I just need to know if you guys are going to cover my blind side.”

“I saw that movie.” The words popped out. Kate clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Both men stared at her.

While Mike wore the expected “are you crazy?” crease between his brows, Danny’s eyes danced with affection and amusement. “Then you know one bad hit can end a career.”

She blinked, and the common denominator finally seemed so obvious, she was embarrassed to have missed it. All this time, it wasn’t about her versus Danny or the two of them in collusion against Mike and the administration he represented. It was the three of them against everyone who didn’t eat, sleep, and breathe pure love of a game. Any game.

“Aren’t the three of us proof of that?” Kate asked. This time, the guys wore matching looks of puzzlement. “We all took hits that knocked us out of the game. Mine might not have come from a flying tackle, but believe me. When body parts bump from sixteen inches off the floor, the landing is rarely pretty.”

“I can’t imagine you being anything but pretty,” Danny said, and the gentle gruffness in his voice made her knees wobbly.

“I, uh, sorry.” Mike made a point of clearing his throat. “Still here.”

Kate couldn’t spare their boss a glance. Not when Danny was looking at her like that. His steely-blue eyes were deceptively calm, but in their depths, she saw determination burning bright as a gas flame. And there was nothing sexier than a man so cool he smoked like dry ice.

“Don’t talk to him. Please,” she added a bit belatedly. “Call that cute, little Barbie girl from NSN. She’d love to get to you.”

The corner of Danny’s mouth twitched, but he gave nothing else away. “Jealous?”

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