Page 54 of Love Game

He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth in a move so insulting, her jaw dropped. “You blow so fucking hot and cold. No wonder Sommers decided you weren’t worth the effort.”

Her mouth snapped shut and anger flared. It grew inside her, a fierce, red glow that spawned searing flames. “Get out.”

“You owe me—”

“Nothing! I owe you nothing but a fat lip,” she spat. “Now get out, or I’ll give it to you.”

“Christ, you are a ballbreaker,” he muttered.

She couldn’t resist taking one last swipe as he yanked open the door. After all, she was a clutch shooter. “Color, Jim. You’ll never make it as a broadcaster because you lack color.” He stopped, his feet planted on the sisal welcome mat emblazoned with a basketball. The same spot where she’d first seen the beautiful rainbow-colored shoes Danny had given her. “And that steak sucked,” she added, letting the door slam between them.

She flipped the locks and sagged against the wall. She wished her niece were staying with her. The silence of the empty house closed in around her. Had it been this quiet before Danny barged into her life with his lukewarm pizza and inane arguments?

She peered into the living room, her gaze darting from the multicolored throw pillows scattered across the couch and love seat to the overstuffed armchair Danny had claimed as his spot.

A deep-purple satin pillow was squished into the crack between the back and the seat. She closed her eyes, remembering the wobbly arc that pillow made as it sailed through the air. She’d aimed for his head when she’d lobbed it at Danny the night before. She would have hit her target if he hadn’t had such quick reflexes. There was no resisting the cocky grin he flashed as he thanked her for her concern for his comfort and tucked the pillow into the small of his back.

She’d fallen for his unperturbed arrogance. Fallen for him. Hell, she’d stumbled all over herself in her haste to make it from the couch to that chair. He’d held her there, straddling him, towering over him. She had him inside her with little more than a handful of pregame kisses and rode him with the kind of driving determination some guys might have found threatening. But not Danny. He just took it—let her take him—and gazed up at her in bright-eyed delight.

What a difference a day made.

Pushing away from the wall, Kate trudged into the living room and switched off the lamp she’d left burning. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and started down the hall, blind to everything but the promise of a full night’s sleep. But when she lowered her hand, she saw a strange light spilling from the open door to her bedroom.

She cocked her head and stared at it. This was not a golden streak of lamplight or even the overhead fixture but the flickering blue-white of a television. She squinted at the eerie light, trying to remember if she’d left the set on when she went out, but she was 99.9 percent positive she hadn’t.

The fifty-five-inch flat screen mounted to the wall opposite her bed was a parting gift from her ex. Frankly, she would have preferred some car wax, but he got the Corvette she’d bought him for his fortieth birthday. Which was okay. Unlike Jeff, she was too tall for the low-slung car. Her head grazed the roof every time he hit a pothole. She would have taken the enormous TV screen down if watching game film in glorious high definition from the comfort of her bed wasn’t so damn good. But she hardly switched the thing on in the off-season.

She backtracked to the foyer, where she withdrew an aluminum softball bat from her collection of sporting goods. Heart thudding against her breastbone, she raised the bat as she approached with caution. There generally wasn’t a lot of crime around campus, and she was fairly certain most thieves would take the goods rather than test them. Most likely she’d accidentally hit the button on the remote and failed to notice. Still, she felt more secure with the bat in hand.

Just outside the door, she bent at the waist until she could peek into the room. The clutter on her dresser looked undisturbed, the quilt on her bed smooth and evenly draped. The brightly colored trainers she’d toed off earlier that evening lay tumbled by the bed. Beside a pair of well-worn running shoes, toes pointed right at the glowing screen.

Danny McMillan sat on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, his face lit in glorious Technicolor.

Pressing her balled fist to her hammering heart, she stepped into the doorway and glared at him. “What the hell? How did you get in here?”

He didn’t look at her as the play he was studying unfolded. “You don’t lock the side door on your garage. You really should.”

Galled by his hubris—and a bit more thrilled than she would ever admit—she crossed her arms over her chest and waited until the refs whistled the play dead. “Maybe I don’t worry about it because most people in this town would know better than to break into the house of a six-foot Amazon who busts balls for sport.”

A slow, sexy smile creased his cheeks and crinkled his eyes as he looked her over. “I thought you liked to toss balls through hoops for sport.”

He paused the next play and tossed the remote onto the bed. His eyes raked her from head to toe. He made no attempt to mask the adjustment he made to his worn jeans as he stood. Broad shoulders rolled back, and she curled her fingers into her palms. Lord, she loved running her hands over those muscles.

“Davenport had exactly thirty-two more seconds to get the hell out before I took him down.”

He spoke so quietly she leaned in to hear him better. When his threat filtered through the haze of lust that clouded her mind, she rolled her eyes, kicked off her flat sandals, and came to a stop right in front of him, her hands planted on her hips. “I told you I could handle him.”

“I knew you could. That’s why he had another thirty-two seconds.” He reached to touch her arm, but his hand fell away without making contact.

Kate frowned at the hand hanging limp by his side. “What?”

He shrugged and turned to look at the television again. “I broke into your house. I’ve been sitting here for the last hour and a half, and I’ve only made it through fifteen minutes of film. Five minutes ago, some guy was crawling all over you, and now another guy is camping out in your bedroom because he’s so eaten up he can’t be anywhere else.”

“Stalker.” She whispered the taunt, hoping to goad him into looking at her again. He didn’t take the bait. Instead, that delicious mouth tightened into a grim line.

“Imagine what your pal Jim could do with that story.”

“I don’t think we’re pals anymore.” She took his hand and carried it to her hip, holding it there until his fingers curled around her. She leaned into him, invading his space just like he’d invaded hers. “Do we need to have a talk about boundaries?”

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