Page 48 of Love Game

“I’m not discussing this. Talk to Jonas.”

“I will when he stops talking crazy.”

She held his gaze, summoning the glare she usually reserved for slacking point guards or blind refs. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Mike pursed his lips, then tipped his head back to survey the décor. “When do you leave for your three-hour tour?”

She smiled. The Gilligan’s Island reference was an inside joke. Anyone who’d ever done the lecture circuit knew those weeks could feel like years.

“A couple of weeks.”

“You gone two weeks in a row?”

“One and one,” she said. “I’ll be home for a week, then on the road again.”

“Good.”

She started, surprised by the satisfaction in his tone. “Don’t be so sad to see me go,” she drawled. “Watch out, or I’ll ask you to come by and water my philodendron.”

Mike’s expression grew serious. “Better me than someone else.”

Kate stilled. She’d tried to drown her contract worries with lust, and it had almost worked. Unfortunately, her physical need for Danny only seemed to intensify—and for better or worse, he seemed to be as caught up in it as she was. The sex part, at least. He didn’t seem to be nearly as worried about everything else.

His nonchalance alarmed her. Three nights ago, he hadn’t even bothered putting on a ball cap. He’d parked at the curb in front of her house the previous night. She had been ready to lay into him about it, but then he’d kissed her hello, and all the fight had gone out of her.

They lay limp, exhausted, and fixated on her kitchen ceiling by the time she got around to chastising him for it, and even then, Danny brushed her concerns away. And she’d let him. After all, how could the danger of him losing his job and her losing her heart possibly matter when they could have hot sex in every room of her house?

Heaving a heavy sigh, Mike propped a hand high on the doorframe. “Last night’s debate was just a reminder of how inequitable things can be in collegiate sports. In all sorts of ways.”

She smiled and began straightening the rumpled brochures. “Coach McMillan gets a little hotheaded when it comes to Title Nine.”

It was an exaggeration, but she didn’t care. Getting him hot under the collar during their on-screen debate seemed to get him as worked up for the postgame too. She had to admit, she was primed and ready by the time he dropped the bag of Chinese carryout onto her table and pushed her up against the fridge. Magnets and reminders had flown in every direction, but in that moment, Kate had never felt more focused or in tune with her own power. He’d taken her hard and fast, but she was the one who let him. And in allowing it to happen, she brought that strong, stubborn man to his knees. Literally.

“He has a tendency to chase flashes of red, but most of what he says is bull,” Mike said.

“I know, but it played well for the cameras.” Hoping to shorten the conversation, she kept her answer semineutral. “He can be a bit of a drama queen.”

Her feigned nonchalance appeared to make Mike more focused. He stepped into the room and closed the office door. When he turned back to her, the man was fully tuned in.

“Danny leads with his heart. Something that works well in motivating others, but it doesn’t always pan out when it comes to his own interests. Detachment doesn’t come naturally to him, and he doesn’t always think things through to their inevitable outcome.”

Her own heart beat like a jackhammer. She placed the neat stack of glossies in the exact spot where Millie had left them earlier and cast Mike a cool look. “And yet you offered him a multimillion-dollar contract.”

“There were some variables I couldn’t assess at that time.”

Tiring of the cat-and-mouse game, she sat up straighter and folded her hands on her blotter. “Such as?”

Mike stepped away from the door. Gripping the back of her guest chair, he blew out a gust of frustration. “Kate, we’ve known each other a few years now.” She blinked in surprise, but he held up a hand to stave off any interruption. “I’ve known Danny since we were the same age as the kids you coach. I’m not a fool. I guess it was too much to hope that he wouldn’t be one either.”

Indignation sank its razor-sharp talons into her. “How, exactly, do you think he’s being foolish?”

“There’s a morals clause—”

“Not in my contract,” she snapped, cutting him off.

Yes, she’d checked. The morning after Danny first rolled out of her bed, she’d pulled out a copy of her contract and checked to be certain she wasn’t in violation. Now, she and Mike stared at one another, the air filled with tension and the faint rasp of agitated breathing. Undaunted, she forged ahead.

“There’s nothing in my contract preventing me from entering into a mutually agreed upon relationship with a man over the age of consent and not directly in my employ. If I were, that is,” she added, holding his gaze.

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