Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) (18 page)

“Hmm. Yeah.” His pants pooled down by his feet, and he kicked them away.

“Our jobs are so pressurized. So intense. Everything’s life or death, at least to the spectators who have money on the games.”

He gurgled a little when she squeezed his balls through his boxers.

“Being able to let my body just… move organically, in a way that’s not going to break me, in a way that lets my mind shut off from the panic or the fear… yeah. I love dancing. Even if it gets me into trouble.”

Her soft hands pushed at his boxers until they, too, fell to the floor. He spun, lightning-fast, and caught her by the hips. He tore at her own panties until she was as naked as he was, then hooked a foot behind her knee and did a controlled takedown so they lay stretched on the floor of her living room.

“This… was not what I planned.” Eyes laughing, she watched him from below. “But nice moves, dance partner.”

* * *

H
e hadn’t laughed
at her.

It was the only thing she could think of in that moment. Everything else bled away until all that remained were his piercing eyes and the thought that he hadn’t laughed at her for her dance theory.

“You drive me crazy,” he rasped before kissing her senseless.

Right back at ya.
She curled her hands around his head, feeling the short hairs, scratching a little before running her palms down his back. He shivered as his kisses moved to her neck.

“Crazy can be good, right?” She gasped when his cock nudged at her entrance, colliding with her clit in an electrifying pulse.

“Crazy is crazy. I guess what you take from it is up to you.”

“That was deep,” she said in a mock-serious tone, laughing when he pinched her side in retaliation. “Well, hey. We’re naked on the floor, and you’re spouting off philosophy. I had to poke a little fun.”

“You and your fun.” He shook his head as if annoyed, but he smiled and reached for his shorts. She almost made a sound of regret—he was giving up? No sexy times?—but he reached in and pulled out his wallet and a condom before shoving them back out of the way.

Right. Protection. It paid to be with a responsible man.

He went up on his knees to sheath himself, and she took a moment to compare his body with the only other one she’d seen in the past.

Igor had been muscular but in a more lean way. No body fat and a strong core. But his body was built for speed and agility, for sprinting. No complaints in the looks department. No, it had been Igor’s attitude that was the real problem.

Michael… she nearly sighed. The man was a slab of muscle. Partly genetics, sure—you didn’t get that tall by working out—but his body was crafted for pushing around men nearly the same size. He was built for power. For protection.

He made her feel safe in every way.

“What?” he asked suddenly, busting through her thoughts. The condom was fully on, and he had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

She smiled a little. “Just admiring your body. Is that okay?”

“Only fair since I spend more time than is probably healthy admiring yours.” He crouched back over her, reaching down to pull one of her legs up high until he hooked her calf over his shoulder. “This okay?”

“Hey, I’m no Santa Fe cheerleader, but I’m flexible.” At his snort, she nodded. “Yeah, it’s g-g— Oh my God,” she finished on a strangled moan as he entered her with one swift slide.

“Flexibility. Another fantastic perk,” he said with a satisfied grin before he began methodically pumping his hips. Each pulse in slid the plump head of his cock along her G-spot, making her clench and hiss in enjoyment.

“Found it,” he murmured with self-satisfaction before kissing her and pumping harder. She’d have bitten his lip just to take him down a peg, but it felt so damn good she couldn’t formulate another thought until everything inside her tightened, then simply combusted.

Dimly, almost as if listening to it from under water, she heard Michael’s own orgasm grip him before he collapsed beside her on the floor.

M
ichael waited
until Kat was gone for work—nervously twirling her new car keys around one finger as she kissed him good-bye—before making the call.

“Lambert, what’s up with the evening phone call? Everything good?”

“I need out.”

He heard his agent groan and bit down on his own impatience.

“Need out of what, exactly?” Sawyer asked carefully, like a bomb tech finessing the red and green wires.

“Mentoring Kat, specifically. I’m clocking out of manny duty.”

Sawyer groaned again, but it was more of a sigh-groan. “What did that little shit do now?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Michael warned, feeling his hackles rise. “You’re her fucking agent, Sawyer. Could you at least pretend to show her a little respect?”

There was silence on the other end. Then, quietly, Sawyer asked, “She got to you, didn’t she?”

Michael growled, then took a deep breath.

“Well, if she didn’t, then you can keep on going, right?”

“This was a favor to you, Sawyer,” Michael bit out. “And it’s over now. Consider it a wash.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re… whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“She got to you.”

The next time he saw his agent, Michael was going to punch him.

“So what if she did?”

“It’s an act, you know,” Sawyer said softly. “Look, I like the girl. She’s different, and when she’s not injured or her mind isn’t off somewhere else, she’s a damn good tennis player. But at this point, she’s just clutching at the remnants of a dying career the wrong way. And if you’re not careful, she’ll take you down with her. Igor learned that the hard way.”

“He doesn’t seem to be suffering any added stress from the whole thing,” Michael muttered. Hadn’t the guy just been featured in the latest
ESPN The Magazine
’s body issue? People salivated for that thing.

“I underestimated her pull, thinking you might settle her down without getting hooked. But that’s not working, so we’ll try something else.”

“It’s not like that. That’s not what this is. Don’t simplify everything in your mercenary vision, Sawyer. Not everything is about money or exposure.”

“Okay.” His tone said,
bullshit
. “If she’s not there learning something from you, then I might as well have her come back.”

“She’s got a system in place here now. Why doesn’t she just stay?”

“Looks like someone doesn’t want his new play toy pulled away.”

“Watch your ass, Sawyer, before you’re out a client,” Michael warned in a low voice. “Don’t mistake my calm for being a pushover. I’ve done a hell of a lot for you over the years. I’ve taken immature rookies and guided them into men who can play the game and keep out of trouble. I’ve pulled sophomore idiots from the brink of disaster. And I’ve kept myself in this game without any problems for a decade. I’ll be damned if you make me feel like an incompetent toddler because I don’t agree with your business moves.”

“All right, all right.” All placating now, Sawyer said, “I’ll talk to her later. She’s an adult anyway… when she chooses to act like it. Ignore that,” he added when Michael growled again. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“No, I will.” God knew what Sawyer would say. At this point, Michael was ready to give the guy the boot himself. After a calming breath, he added, “She doesn’t know I called you. I’ll tell her later. She deserves to be told that face to face. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Whatever you say, Lambert.” He heard the scorn in his agent’s tone and hung up thinking through a few things.

* * *

K
at hurried
around Diane at the bar, then waved Sissy down from across the room as she plunked two bottles of beer in front of a patron. Taking their money, cashing out and putting the extra in the tip jar by the register, she waited for Sissy to make her way through the crowd.

“So many people have been asking me about you!” Sissy’s dark eyes lit up. “They all want to know if a real professional tennis player works here or if that was just more of Red’s bullshit, which everyone happily swallows with a smile anyway.”

“She told everyone I was a national cheerleading champion,” Diane said as she walked by carrying two mugs of draft. “Never done a split in my life.”

“Not without a spotter anyway,” Sissy added under her breath. From the way Diane flipped her off, it was clear her voice hadn’t been low enough. Sissy just laughed. Kat chuckled too.

“Not paying you to gossip and bitch,” the redhead in mention said as she sailed by carrying a tray of empties. “Siss, get your ass out there and start bussing glasses, or we’ll run out. Hot damn, it’s hopping early tonight. We’re gonna hit capacity before ten at this rate.”

“All thanks to our sweet Kitten.” Diane gave her a smile and batted her lashes.

Kat just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, even athletes need money to live. Let’s start making some money, ladies.”

“Here, here,” Red said loudly, pushing through the double doors to get back to the dishwashing area.

“Really though, why do you work here?” Diane bumped shoulders with Kat as she reached into the nearby cooler for some more beer bottles.

“I just need the money. Long dry spell.” She turned to greet the next patron at the bar. “Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

“Two whiskeys for my friend and I.” The man leaned his elbows on the bar top, smiling easily. He had a sort of hipster vibe, with a plaid shirt and thick-framed glasses, messy hair and, if her calculations were correct, skinny jeans. Not really her type but cute for some people. Not unattractive by any means. “And we’d be happy to buy you a shot if you’d join us.”

“On the clock,” she said automatically, adding in a friendly smile as she always did. Patrons offering to drink with her wasn’t uncommon. And though Red had made it clear she didn’t give a crap if the servers partook as long as they stayed sober enough to count out change, check an ID and pour a drink, Kat just wasn’t much of a drinker.

There was probably an article somewhere that refuted that claim.
Slut
and
lush
tended to go hand in hand when people were thumping Bibles… or just judgment.

“You’re the tennis player, right?” The customer edged forward, almost leaning on the bar as if to get a better look over it. Looking at her legs, she realized. “No skirt?”

“At the dry cleaners,” she said tightly, passing him two whiskeys. She gave him the price, he tipped lavishly, then didn’t move. After popping the tip in the jar and serving another drive-by patron a bottle, she looked back. “Something wrong with the drink?”

“No, I’m sure it’s fine.” He took a small sip, then nodded. “Great.”

“Good.” She hesitated, hands on her hips. “Anything else?”

“Just wondering what time you got off work.”

“Whenever I’m cut. Sorry, I’ve got to get these,” she added as the receipt from the back room started printing off a drink order from one of the two runners out on the floor. “Enjoy the drinks,” she added as a good-bye.

He tipped the glass to her in salute, then disappeared into the crowd.

“You know, we could make a killing if you’d wear one.”

Kat turned to Diane as she started to pull a local draft. “Sorry, what?”

Diane flipped her blond ponytail over her shoulder and leaned in. “If I wore a cheerleading costume, and you wore one of those little tennis skirts… we’d be millionaires by morning.”

“Not really what I’m shooting for, but thanks.” She gave Diane a small smile to ease the sting. “Sorry, I just mean I need to focus on tennis. I like working here, and it’s fun to dance around and blow off steam on the bar during lip-sync battles or whatever. But I don’t actually want to pick up guys.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Diane shrugged, making Kat wonder what the hell that meant.

“So this is where you go when tennis isn’t on your mind.”

She turned, mentally guarding herself for another unwanted suitor, and found Gary sitting on a barstool. His Hawaiian shirt stood out in the crowd of sequins and dark clothing, and his age alone put him nearly double the average customer.

“Gary, hey.” She held up a finger, then finished the order and trayed it for when Sissy came back for it. Wiping her hands on her bar towel, she approached. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m just here to see what my player is up to when she’s not at practice.” Gary glanced around the bar, his expression completely neutral. “Interesting.”

Somehow she had a feeling
interesting
was code for
what the hell?
“It’s a good place to work,” she defended. “Easy money, which I need right now.”

“Afraid of being forgotten,” Gary said again, and she felt her fists ball in response.

“Nobody’s forgotten me, so I’m not sure how I could be scared of it anyway. But regardless, I don’t have the sponsorships to keep me going without a job. I need to eat. It’s just the way it goes.”

“You could have asked me. We’ve got spaces open for another instructor.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it again for a moment. “Gary, I’ve got to finish my shift.”

He patted the bar top gently. “I guess if you’re exhausted for tomorrow’s practice, I’ll know why. Good luck.” Then he was gone, leaving Kat feeling like she’d had an argument with a ghost.

And lost.

Just then, someone sat in the seat Gary vacated, and when she looked up, she saw Michael watching her intently.

Watching out for her.

And she didn’t feel like she’d lost anymore.

* * *

L
ater that night
, after she’d come home and washed the smell of beer and pretzels off her skin, Kat found herself over in Michael’s apartment. In his bed. Naked.

But not having sex.

She ran the toe of one foot up and down his shin, liking the way the rough hair tickled her skin.

“You’ve got me over here, naked, and you just want to cuddle?”

“Mmm.” He wrapped his arms around her tighter and pulled her in. Her nose bumped his chest, and she breathed in deeply. Clean, warm male, fresh sheets… perfect.

She could exist in this warm cocoon for a long time, happily unaffected by the outside world.

“You need to call Sawyer tomorrow.”

Pop!
goes the cocoon.

“Why?”

“I called and told him I couldn’t mentor you anymore.”

“You did what?” She sat up, bringing the sheet with her automatically, a shield of some sorts. “Why would you do that? You’re kicking me to the curb? What the hell?”

Michael watched her cautiously, like one might watch a feral cat that got into your garage. “I can’t mentor you,” he said slowly, “because we’re involved. That’s not right.”

“I wasn’t paying you or anything. What does that matter?”

“It matters… because. It just does. It matters to me. It feels wrong. Come here.”

She resisted when his hands reached for her. “I need to know why. Do you want me to leave? Are you tired of me being here?”

“Baby, who did a number on your head?” he whispered, then pulled her to him before she could stop him. His lips trailed over her temple, into her hair, ignoring that she stiffened against him. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I’m not tired of you. I want you to stay if you can. You’ve got a good setup with De’Shawn and Gary.”

“And Thomas,” she added.

“And Thomas,” he repeated through his teeth. “I’m not asking you to leave that. I’m just saying… I’m not responsible for you. No more manny.”

“But all the jokes,” she protested on a sigh. “So many wasted opportunities.”

“Deal with it.” His suggestion hung in the air, but she could tell there was more.

“What?”

“Have you considered… trying a new agent?”

Kat rolled her eyes. “Nobody would want me. I’m damaged goods, literally and figuratively. I’m an injury waiting to happen, and I’m ‘unpredictable.’ Plus that whole tape thing…”

“One of those things you can fix, you know. The unpredictable bit can taper off.” He resettled her against him, skin to skin, his arm cushioning her head, lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke. “Why do you really go out of your way to shock people?”

“I don’t ever think I do.” She heard him huff in disbelief. “I don’t. The first one… the sex tape…” God, it made her stomach clench to think about it. “That wasn’t my fault. Yes, it was recorded on my phone, and yes, my phone sent it out. But that was Igor’s doing. Or someone working for him, or with him, I don’t know. He set up my phone, recorded us without me knowing, then used my phone days later when I was in the shower to put the video on my YouTube account. Once it was out…”