Page 89 of Love Game

Fired up by the notion, Kate extracted her phone again and started typing with her thumbs. It would serve Audrey right to get the news via text. Maybe next time, she wouldn’t be so quick to ignore Kate’s calls. The text read simply: Tried to call U. Married Danny McMillan today. Wanted to tell U B4 you saw it on news. K.

Her duty done, she edged closer to the wall and let her head fall back. It seemed that in the last twenty-four hours, she’d done nothing but revise strategy and set play after play in motion. Truth be told, all this maneuvering was a bit wearing on a girl who simply wanted to stay put.

“Looking good, Coach,” one of the crew members said as he hustled past her and through the double doors.

She did look good. One hell of a lot better than she had at the courthouse, and if that wasn’t ass-backward, she didn’t know what was. A few hours before, she’d gotten married in yoga pants, a yogurt-stained T-shirt, and her fifth favorite pair of sneakers, but for the National Sports Network, she had to dress up. Men wearing earpieces scurried past her, carrying equipment and cable into the hotel ballroom. Kate couldn’t think of a time when she had done an interview anywhere other than a basketball arena.

At center court.

She glanced down the blandly decorated hotel corridor and shuddered. Yards of cable stretched from the front doors to the sectioned-off ballroom. They had to squeeze the interview in quick. Apparently, there was a bat mitzvah scheduled for that evening.

She peeked into the room and spotted the customary canvas chairs placed in the center of the room. There would be no cozy Costas setup for this interview. They’d promised Brittany, the perky, blond junior reporter NSN had sent to cover Danny’s welcome, an exclusive. This interview would be the last hurrah in the Wolcott battle of the sexes.

The girl sat in the middle chair, the tip of one french-manicured finger poised above the tablet in her lap. Her platinum hair spilled over her shoulders, carefully arranged sections veiling her no doubt perky breasts, the rest a shining fall so smooth it looked like a sheet of ice. She wore the heavy makeup the cameras demanded, but even from this distance, Kate could see her face was smooth and unlined.

Twenty-five, twenty-six at the very most, Kate guessed. Millie had mentioned something about her playing on an Olympic volleyball team. Kate thought about her own Olympic jersey hanging in one of the Warrior Center’s many display cases and grudgingly acknowledged the unexpected kinship with the reporter.

But that was as far as her sense of solidarity went. She didn’t want this pretty, young thing seated between her and Danny. What viewer in their right mind would look at Brittany, then look at her and imagine that Danny McMillan would choose her? Despite the normally healthy state of her ego, Kate was having a hard time buying it herself.

She jumped as a warm, broad hand claimed the small of her back. Danny chuckled, and scents of male aftershave and a hint of makeup wound around her.

“Hey.”

Danny stood close, his broad body bracing her back. Strong. Solid. Set. She gave up a little of her weight, and he took it, wrapping one arm snug around her waist. She stroked his sleeve. The wool of his suit coat was smooth beneath her fingertips. The knot of his tie pressed into the back of her skull. Still, she’d wager it had taken him a lot less time to get ready for this circus. While she’d been worked over by an army of minions operating on Millie’s behest, he’d been holed up with their agents.

“Are you still fired?”

“Yeah.”

“How are things looking?”

“How does North Dakota sound to you?”

“Cold.”

His chest moved in a laugh, but no sound came out. “Yeah, well, I touched the people’s princess. I’m sure most of the top-tier schools are busy locking up their women.”

“I’m the queen, remember?” She turned her head and pressed her cheek to his lapel, inhaling the skin-warmed spice of his aftershave. “And there will be no other women for you. I’d crush you with my powerful thighs.”

“Not them?”

“Only you.”

“What a way to go.” He brushed his lips over her hair. “My mother can’t wait to meet you.”

“I tried to call Audrey, but she didn’t pick up. I texted her. I was thinking maybe we could meet in Nashville for dinner one night, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said in a rush.

“I’m going to meet her sooner or later.” His arms tightened around her. “You can’t undo the damage now, Coach. You called the play, and now you’re stuck with me.”

She let her head loll against his shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re stuck doing this interview.”

“I’m just glad we had Millie on our side. That woman could overthrow dictators.”

“I think maybe she has.” Craning her neck, she peered up at him. “And Mike?”

“He’s working it as best he can,” Danny assured her. “Too bad Martin’s such a stubborn ass.”

With a shaky sigh, she turned her head to gaze straight into his piercing blue eyes. “Please tell me they put mascara on those eyelashes.”

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