Page 70 of Play for Keeps

“Millie—”

She pressed a fingertip to his lips to silence him. “Shh. Stop. Breathe. We’re okay.”

He gave his head an incredulous shake. “How can we be okay?” The crack in his voice put a pretty good-sized one in the shell around her heart. “She can’t be… She can’t do this.”

Taking his hand, she started back toward the kitchen. Hard to believe that a few minutes ago, this man seemed like the biggest threat to her happiness. Now, she knew better. Adding presumption to the list of lessons learned, she swore off scotch chasers for the foreseeable forever and vowed to herself she’d get her head and her heart straight. No more messing around. The push-me-pull-you game was over. From this point on, she needed to choose. In or out. And if she wanted to be in, she’d have to go all in.

When they reached the table, she gave him a gentle shove, and he dropped into the seat he’d abandoned to go after her. “First, it takes two,” she said firmly. “And I know you can do anything you choose to do.” Regaining her seat, she sighed. “Second, you can’t react emotionally now. You need to stop and think. Start with possible. Then we’ll deal with probable and go from there. You have choices too. Not the same kind Mari has, but you do have some.”

He massaged the vertical lines between his knitted brows with the side of his index finger, and Millie found herself transfixed. “Three months,” he mumbled. “So, yeah, possible. I guess.”

“You and Mari were still sleeping together when she was…seeing Dante.”

He lifted his hand enough to shoot her a look. “You’re cute when you get all euphemistic. I seem to remember you being more blunt than this.”

She reached across to pat his forearm. “Yes, well, I’m afraid you might cry.”

He let his hand fall palm up on the table. Unable to resist the invitation, she slipped hers into his, sighing as those long fingers closed around hers. He squeezed once, then relaxed his grip. “I’m afraid I might too.”

“We’ve got possible. Let’s talk about probable.” She took a bracing breath, then plunged in with the tough questions. “Were you guys still pretty…regular?”

He pulled back as if he’d been scalded. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

Millie wanted to smile when she spotted the blush darkening his skin, but she settled for a simple lift of her eyebrows. This wasn’t the time for needling him about delicate sensibilities. Still, she liked that he had them. He had an honorable streak a mile wide. One strong enough to overcome the very natural and human impulse to seek revenge, validation, or solace in a woman’s arms when his marriage imploded. No matter how hard the woman in question tried to lure him into temptation. Of course he’d be reluctant to discuss his marital relations with the woman who was now his lover.

“It’s okay, Ty.”

“Not one fucking bit of this is okay,” he snapped, launching himself from the chair. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

Millie nodded once, then pulled her phone from the bag she’d abandoned in an empty chair. “Would you like me to contact Danny? Or Mike Samlin?”

Ty whirled on her. “What? Why?”

She shrugged. “Because they’re men? Because you’re not sleeping with them?”

“You think I can’t do the math on my own?”

“I think you’re upset—which is totally reasonable,” she hastened to add when his lip curled into a sneer. “And maybe you’d have an easier time telling them things you might not want to tell me.”

He tilted his head. “And why wouldn’t I want to tell you?”

“Because wearesleeping together. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll hurt my feelings?”

He pounced on the hint of vulnerability. “Are you telling me you have feelings?”

“Good Lord, Ty,” she blurted, exasperation overcoming her. “Of course I have feelings. I’m not a robot.”

“For me.”

He skirted the end of the table and came to a stop beside her chair. He stood unmoving, waiting for her to expound, but she didn’t. He was a ballplayer, used to intimidating opponents with his superior height and strength, but he didn’t scare her. She found him…breathtaking.

“Do you have feelings for me?” he asked, enunciating each word with precision. Before she could suck in a little oxygen, he leaned down, effectively caging her in with one hand planted on the table, the other gripping the back of her chair. “And if so, what are those feelings? Specifically?”

The intensity of his stare held her in thrall. She didn’t try to bolt or slither from the seat. The truth was, she didn’t want to elude him or them or what they might be able to carve out together. The only part she wanted to avoid was the bit where her heart ended up broken into a million pieces. She’d spent years reinventing herself after her marriage fell apart. If she Humpty-Dumptied again, there might not be enough horses, men, or superglue to make her whole once more.

She started to shake her head but stopped when he leaned in closer. “You know,” she whispered at last, taking the coward’s way out.

“Tell me.”

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