Page 6 of Love Game

The welcoming smile and silky sweater were calculated to make people underestimate her. The way she tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear was nothing but a pick set to trip him up. This woman was a competitor. A champion. A friggin’ hall of famer, and she wasn’t even in her prime yet. She played to win—at all costs.

Mike had warned him about her. Kate Snyder was one of the university’s greatest assets and most powerful people. He claimed she had the board of regents and the entire student body eating out of the palm of her hand. The media stumbled all over themselves to get a sound bite from her. Rumor had it she managed to snare a solid twenty percent of the vote for homecoming queen each year since she’d returned to her alma mater to coach. Now he could see why. The woman was as hot as Hades.

The wary expression creasing Mike’s brow told Danny that Kate was also a woman who wasn’t the least bit afraid to wield that power. Unfortunately, dire warnings weren’t enough to quell the spike of lust that embedded itself in Danny’s gut the second his eyes met hers.

He had to look away. The pack of jackals was safer than this woman. At last, his instinct for self-preservation kicked in, and he turned back to the reporters, a smile stretched taut across his face.

The perky blond preened just a little, happy to be in the spotlight no matter how small it might be. “Coach Snyder, you’ve been instrumental in building the university’s athletic and booster programs. How do you feel about the exorbitant salary Mr. Samlin attached to the contract Mr. McMillan signed?”

Danny bit his tongue to keep from scoffing at her use of the word exorbitant in reference to the comparatively moderate contract he’d signed and to stop himself from demanding the reporter address him as Coach. Her wide china-doll eyes narrowed speculatively as she glanced from Danny to the AD and up to Coach Snyder once more. A sly smile curved the junior journalist’s mouth.

Kate’s lack of reaction told him she’d expected the question. She matched the reporter’s smile and then upped the ante, adding enough warmth to ensure the small assemblage of press focused solely on her. “Why, Brittany, I hadn’t even thought.”

She drawled the words with Southern-bred deliberateness, making it clear she was all about renegotiating her salary.

“I just wanted to take a moment to welcome Coach McMillan to Wolcott and wish him the best of luck with his program.” She shifted her focus to him, and everything locked up. Heart, lungs…everything frozen by a pair of amber eyes set to stun. Cat’s eyes. This woman was predatory, not prey. “We hope to see great things from you.”

The skeptical lift of one perfectly arched eyebrow conveyed the message loud and clear: they hoped but did not expect.

Danny’s fingers curled into loose fists as she flashed a challenging smile. Air exploded from his lungs. The classic profile and long, lean body were tempting enough, but the air of confidence that radiated from her was such a turn-on, he had to resist the urge to adjust himself.

“I have great plans,” he replied.

Danny clamped his mouth shut and cleared his throat, shocked by the low, gruff rasp of his voice as much as the promise. He wanted to kiss the smugness out of her, press her up against the smoked glass doors and take her hard and fast. Show her straight off the bat the kinds of “great things” he had in store for her.

Mike was right to be worried. One look from Kate and Danny’s tongue jumped offside before his brain had even called the play. But there would be no dropping back into the pocket now that the rush was on. Instead, he stepped up to the line she’d drawn between them.

Her smile widened, crinkling her eyes and triggering the most attractive set of brackets around her mouth. “I can’t wait to hear all about them.”

His thoughts went to a fantastically filthy place. This time, he didn’t bother trying to clear the huskiness in his voice. If she wanted to play, he’d play. “I’d love to tell you all about them…Coach.”

Her eyes flared with amusement, and she touched the tip of her tongue to the center of her upper lip. With a nod heavy with mocking solemnity, she stepped down to offer him her hand. He was vaguely aware of the whir and snick of photos captured but intensely tuned in to the feel of her slender fingers wrapped around his hand. Her palm was soft. The spring breeze caught the fresh floral scent of her perfume, and silky strands of hair clung to the pale lipstick she wore. Everything about her was simple, elegant, and as blatantly arousing as a lap dance.

“I’d be happy to offer any advice you might need.” She pitched her voice loud enough for their audience to hear. “You know where to find my office, right? Straight down the hall past the four NCAA championship trophies and turn right at the Naismith awards.”

Turning her brilliant smile on the rapt reporters, she gave a jaunty wave and bounded up the steps, her long legs eating up concrete with the same gusto she’d exerted in smashing his ego. The sunlight cast a halo around her head as she paused on the top step once more.

“Oh, and if you reach the case with my old jerseys and the Olympic team photo, you’ve gone too far. But don’t worry. You’ll find your way eventually.” She winked at the reporters, nodded to the athletic director, then gave Danny McMillan a patently insincere grin. “Welcome to Wolcott, Coach.”

* * *

Kate dropped the pen she’d been clicking manically and glanced toward the window. Intruding on Coach Hotshot’s press conference wasn’t the most mature way to introduce herself, but damn it, this was her turf. She’d spent her entire adult life representing Wolcott University athletics, and she wasn’t about to be brushed aside for some smarmy has-been with a shoulder-pad fetish.

Her phone rang, and she reached for it without looking. “Kate Snyder.”

“That was gold, Katie! Gold! Check the website.”

Twisting in her seat, Kate smirked as the Wolcott Athletics home page loaded on her computer screen. It hadn’t taken Millie long to get a snapshot of Kate nose-to-nose with Danny McMillan posted and released to the press. The university’s media maven was as industrious as she was insidious. Once Millie wrapped her arms around an idea, it was almost impossible to pry it from her grasp.

Kate fell back in her chair. “Does Jerry Seinfeld know you’re stealing his lines?”

“It’s Kenny Bania’s line.” The older woman’s raspy voice might have indicated a three-pack-a-day habit, but Kate knew for a fact Millie had never taken a puff. The woman ran marathons as often as others ran errands.

Heaving a sigh, Kate tucked the receiver under her chin. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it? NSN called. They’re sending the crew in to talk to you this week. Not Brittany, the documentary crew.” Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “They want to shine their Sports Spotlight on you ASAP, Coach.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “I bet they do.” It was hard to keep the edge of bitterness out of her voice. The network had already pitched the documentary idea, and she had signed the papers nearly two years earlier. Somehow, there was always a bigger story to be told. A man-sized story. She tapped her mouse to minimize the screen. “Tell them to bring it on.”

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