Page 6 of Go Deep

I open my mouth, but it’s suddenly as dry as the Sahara at mid-day.

Did he just say…?

Words refuse to make their way out. How utterly inconvenient. When the fuck had my mouth decided to harvest cotton? I grab a bottle of water from the table and twist off the cap. Water drizzles out of the corners of my pursed lips, I’m gulping so fast. It wasn’t like I’d never been asked the question, but I’m still caught off-guard because as far as I can tell, he’s calling meout.

“Umm…too much travel. I was trying to build this business at the same time, and I was on planes more than solid ground, trying to woo potential clients.” I avert my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t press.

Thinking about what could have been sucks, plain and simple. Football had been my life, and then my life had been put on permanent hold. A jagged pill to swallow, and it never went down easy, even years later. I’d been perceived as so strong, but in reality? I was fucking weak — my body, mind, and soul to follow.

If I had any shot at a normal life, one not filled with anger and regret, I knew I needed to get away from the NFL…as far away as I could. The fact that I’d had a good run at the sportscasting job made it harder to pull away, but I needed to do it if I had any hope of moving on with my life. Bad enough, I had to deal with my father’s own brand of thinly veiled disgust after my career went down the shitter, and I was unceremoniously yanked from my dreams, like that was something I chose.

My father is all about power — he’s power suits, power job, power wielding. In his eyes, power equals strength. Without one, you could never have the other. Without either, you’re just fucking weak. Like me. And he has zero tolerance for anything that deviates from the traditional.

Like my very closeted sexuality.

“I remember watching you in that Super Bowl against the Rams. Only a rookie, but you were amazing.” Gabe chuckles. “I’d never seen spirals that perfect. Show-off.”

“Thanks.” My claim to fame. What a waste. I stroke the bottom of my chin, wishing like hell he’d get back to his shaky financial future. Gabe is engaging, obviously trying to make a connection, but I don’t want to rehash the past. I don’t want to talk about the game I poured my heart into only to have it trounced, pulverized, and hurled back at me. Change of subject needed.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about your investment goals?” I open a folder and flip through some pages, trying to occupy my hands and eyes since I’m clearly not the conversationalist he’d wanted. I thought I could do this, be in the same room with him and not completely lose focus, but I’m failing. Epically. Besides, if I stare at him any longer, I could easily float away and lose myself and what I’ve tried so hard to protect for…well, a long damn time. Longer than I care to admit.

But Gabe Kelly is pure seduction…his sexy, lazy grin, his ripped muscles, and his piercing blue eyes. Holding his gaze for a second too long would give my secret away. I’m sure of it. And confirming his suspicions, because it’s clear he has them based on the way he’s looking at me, is a luxury that comes with a steep price tag.

One I can’t afford.

Besides, my past is not a topic of conversation I like to keep on the short list for potential client consultations.

“Keeping my money liquid is my primary goal right now. I don’t really want to have whatever is left locked up in a bunch of funds.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I may, ah, need the money soon, and you know, those funds have rules about how fast you can cash out.”

What?He’s too young for money market accounts and CDs. Those investments aren’t even worth my management fee. Some degree of risk is a must for a guy his age. The hacks at Equinox Capital must have done a real number on him. He’s way too gun shy, and I’ll never get him the returns he wants if he doesn’t let me manage the money the way I know how.

“Exactly how liquid? Because if you want really high-liquid, I’d suggest stuffing wads of cash under your mattress.”

Gabe lets out a hearty laugh, one that makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and my gut clench with need.

“You’re pretty funny for a numbers guy. Color me a little shocked.”

I sit back in the chair and fold my arms, allowing myself a small smile. “That’s a pretty harsh generalization.”

“Don’t take it to heart. You’re the exception.” He leans forward, dropping his voice. “And that’s a very good thing to be, from where I’m sitting.”

Gabe’s words drip with innuendo. Oh, Christ. He knows. I can see it all over his face. The knowing glance, the fingertipsdangerously close to mine. He’s waiting for me to make a move, to show him we’re on the same page.

I swallow hard, but my throat is so damn tight I almost choke. His fingers toy with the edge of my folder. I could easily cover them with mine, lacing them and pulling him close so I can finally experience what I’ve been missing, so that I can breathe in his musky scent and let it fill me with a latent desire I’ve never unleashed. But I can’t let him know any of that. And I’m screwed unless I come up with something to alter his train of thought…fast.

My gaze never wavers as the bullshit spews from my lips. “You’re in good company. My girlfriend says the same thing.”

His eyes pop open wide, a startled expression clouding his features. A flash of something that looks suspiciously like disappointment makes my heart thump hard and fast against my ribcage. It lasts for a mere second, so quick, I could have imagined it.

“Well, she’s a lucky lady to have found such a comical financier. I bet they’re few and far between.”

“I keep her on her toes.” Disaster averted. That was too damn close. I have to be more careful, especially around this guy. On second thought, I need to stay away.Faraway. Gabe is just too dangerous. He makes me feel things that I’ve never allowed myself to experience, things I have to keep buried.

Once I go on the road, standing by my father’s side while he rallies his homophobic fans for votes, I’m pretty sure any doubts Gabe may have had about my sexuality will dissipate like a fart in the wind. Hell, he may just be so offended that he’ll pull his portfolio from my company, leaving me drowning in my own deceit.

And in the meantime, I have a team of very capable analysts who will be thrilled to take on his portfolio because I realize that I just can’t trust myself and my lust-riddled mindto focus when he’s in the same room as me. But for now, I have to try.

“Okay, let’s get back to your investment objectives.”

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