Page 30 of Cross-Checked

Holy shit, did Ronan McCabe just blush?I can’t reconcile that reaction with the anger he has consistently displayed since I came to Boston.

“But also,” he says quietly, “why did you kiss me back?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh, my head shaking slightly. And I really don’t. God, the way I just shed my clothes the second his hands were on me is downright shameful... not to mention wrong. I’mhis boss, and we’re in the middle of a contract negotiation. “You did that thing...”

“That thing?” One of his eyebrows is raised as he glances up at me in the mirror again. I hate the way I’m standing off to his side, with him turned away from me, as we’re having this conversation. But we need to talk, and Abby needs a diaper on her, so it is what it is.

“Yeah, like that thing where you go from scowling to smirking.”

“That’sa thing?”

“You must know it is.”

“I don’t spend a lot of time analyzing my own facial expressions, Alessandra.”

No one calls me Alessandra. Not anymore.

“Maybe you should, because then you’d know that you’re always scowling.”

“I’m notalwaysscowling.” His voice is still quiet, but not defensive. I think maybe he’s teasing?

“Pretty sure you are.”

“I wasn’t scowling when you were kissing me.”

I roll my eyes, and a little voice at the back of my head asks,What if he only kissed you as a last-ditch effort to persuade you to renew his contract?

I know that this kind of thinking—the assumption that everyone’s trying to manipulate me—is a function of my upbringing. My formative years were spent watching my parents barter, likeIf I go to this gala with you, then you need to make an appearance at the club’s golf fundraiser next month.My relationship with my ex-husband was much the same.

It wasn’t until I entered therapy after my divorce that I learned not all relationships are transactional like that. And since then, I’ve had the privilege of seeing some wonderfulrelationships, like the Hartmanns, who are still very much in love, even after almost forty years of marriage.

But sometimes, old habits die hard.

“Yeah, about that. It can’t?—”

“Happen again. I heard you the first time.” He puts Abby’s shorts on over her diaper now that it’s secured, and as he does, he glances at me in the mirror again and lifts an eyebrow. “And remind me why not?”

I take a few seconds to study his face...the razor-sharp cheekbones with dark stubble almost covering his skin below, the full lower lip, the straight nose with a small scar along one side, and those bright green eyes framed in dark lashes. His eyes were the first thing I noticed about him when I scouted him years ago.

Some might describe his eyes as piercing, but I thought they looked hungry. Hungry for success, for victory, for the NCAA championship he was striving for. I wanted that kind of hunger in a player...the kind that would keep them going when things got tough.

But once he was playing for me, there was an unmistakable, different type of hunger in those eyes—the kind that couldn’t hide that he wanted me. He never took a single step out of line, never said or did anything inappropriate. He knew I was married, and he respected that.

Until he walked in on Chet berating me. I doubt he heard enough to know why, but the fact that his first instinct in hearing me disrespected like that was to lay my husband out was proof enough of his feelings. I didn’t mistake them, and unfortunately, neither did Chet.

Not that I ever would have done anything about that back then—not when I was married, and his boss, and he was still practically a child. And I shouldn’t do anything about it now, either.

He’s still younger than me, and I’m still his boss.

But standing here looking at him, watching the heat in his eyes and the open desire in his gaze, has the part of me that should stay frozen melting for him instead.

“Because I’m your boss and we’re in a contract negotiation. It’s not just inappropriate, it’s unethical.”

As if she agrees, Abby lets out some fussy sounds, kicking her feet and clearly wanting to be held.

“Here,” I say, reaching my arms out, “give her to me.”

His eyebrows pinch, but when he lifts her and Abby reaches her arms out to me, too, he hands her over.

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