Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) (22 page)

After some initial jockeying and playing around with the seating configuration, they were seated and serving themselves family style at the table. It was noisy and messy and a little confusing.

Kat loved it.

“And then,” Mini said, laughing, “I had to meet the chick five freaking minutes after being submerged in the ice bath. And she’s wondering why I’m struggling to…” He cut himself off, looking at the mixed company, then coughing. “Uh, yeah. Anyway.”

“Nice,” Michael said, reaching around to slap him on the back of the head. “Think about the story before you run it through.”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, looking at his salad.

There was a moment of silence, then a chair scraped back suddenly, jostling the table. Mags stood and looked at Stephen with something akin to fear in her eyes, lips pursed together so tightly they were white. Then she quickly walked out of the room. Stephen followed hot on her heels without a word.

Morning sickness was Kat’s best guess. But everyone sat there sort of awkwardly. She could tell the rookies wanted to ask but weren’t sure if they should. And nobody else who had been there to hear the pregnancy announcement would reveal the couple’s secret before they were ready.

“Is she… okay?” Ian asked after a few minutes. “Should someone go check on her?”

“I have perma-THO after an ice bath,” Kat said calmly, taking a bite of her macaroni salad. “It hurts like hell.”

When she glanced up, she saw several pairs of eyes staring at her in surprise. She set her fork down. “What? Like you guys don’t know what THO is.”

“Yeah, we know what it is,” Josiah said slowly in that Southern drawl of his. “We just never expected to hear it at the dinner table.”

Kat smiled sweetly and took a sip of her tea. “I’m sorry, I thought we were comparing ice bath war stories. Mini was referencing his genitals. I didn’t think bringing nipples into the conversation would be that much of a difference.”

“I like her,” Mini said suddenly.

And just like that, Mags and her quick exit were forgotten. She started comparing favorite brands of menthol creams and ankle-taping methods. Best methods to get a more explosive start on quick turns. Which sports recovery drink they favored the taste of—and which were just disgusting but sadly effective. Whether using chocolate milk as a postworkout recovery drink was scientifically sound or bullshit.

At some point in the conversation, Stephen and Mags slipped back in, all but unnoticed except for Michael and Kat, who were watching for her. She leaned into Stephen’s embrace but looked stronger now. Better. Less likely to keel over without notice. Not that Stephen would let it happen; he had his arm so tightly wrapped around his fiancée she wasn’t going anywhere.

Trey had interesting ideas on physical therapy, having just returned to the active roster list after an ankle injury. Stephen was a walking encyclopedia on diet and nutrition for maximum muscle gain and strength conditioning. Josiah had the most fascinating ideas on the best equipment that was both performance-enhancing and environmentally friendly. Matt had some good recommendations for gyms in the area that catered to high-performance athletes… probably too expensive for her budget, but she appreciated the thought.

Michael, however, was oddly quiet during the conversation.

“I have to say, this might be the first time I ever sat around talking about workout tips with a hot woman before.” Ian sat back as dessert—a peach cobbler that looked sinfully good, topped with vanilla ice cream—was passed around.

Michael made a sound in his throat but said nothing.

“Idiot,” Cooper muttered as he stabbed into his cobbler.

“What?” Ian glanced over toward Coop, which forced him to look toward Michael, which had him turning beet red and stuttering out, “I mean, it’s just not… sorry,” he finished, hanging his head low enough his nose was practically dipped in his ice cream.

“While the sentiment was a little crude,” Trey said dryly, “it’s true enough. It’s not often one of us finds a woman who can relate to our career like that.”

“So true,” Cassie added, pointing at Kat with her spoon. “I work in the main offices, and I’ve still got a long way to go. I’ve been busting my ass to try to figure out this whole sport, and I’ve sort of got it down now.”

“After how many seasons?” Stephen teased.

Cassie stuck her tongue out at him. “Anyway, even though I know all this stuff about the sport intellectually, I’m not living it. You’ve got a unique position, for sure.”

Kat nodded quietly, focusing on her cobbler, but did her best to catch a glance at Michael from under her eyelashes. He was quietly mixing the melted ice cream with the peach filling, creating a soup, and not having a bite.

That wasn’t good.

“
Y
our friends are really nice
.”

Michael grunted as they pulled into the underground parking garage for their apartment.

“And Cassie, she’s great.”

He skirted around the corner, pulling neatly into his assigned spot. Two spots down, he saw Kat’s new car, safely tucked into its own spot. And felt the visceral pull of satisfaction. No, not satisfaction. Ownership.

Caveman. He was a Neanderthal. Evolution was a lie.

“Poor Mags, with the whole morning sickness thing.” Kat shuddered as she stepped out of the car. “I can’t imagine how that must feel. But she’s adorable, and Stephen… man, he loves her, like insane love, right?”

She was babbling. He knew it, and he had a feeling she knew it too. But he let her. They walked through the lobby after swiping their security cards, then headed for the elevator. As the numbers digitally scrolled by, he heard her sigh.

“You’re quiet. Are you mad?”

“No.” He hesitated. “Though I’d rather you didn’t talk about your nipples in front of other guys anymore.”

That surprised a snort out of her, then she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him. “I thought it was a good excuse to get people talking about something other than why Mags left the table looking deathly ill.”

“Point, point,” he murmured, kissing her temple. As the elevator stopped on their floor, he guided her to his apartment. No way was he letting her go back to her place.

“I have to leave for work in an hour,” she said quietly. When he glanced at her, surprised, she shrugged. “I have to make some money, Michael.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. She’d be pissed if he offered any assistance. Her pride wouldn’t let her take it, and it would put something ugly between them. “I wish you didn’t have to,” he said honestly, opening his door and letting her in.

She looked like she wanted to say something, then stopped.

“What?”

Closing the door behind her, she shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about the job Gary offered. Teaching lessons. Or coaching… I’m not really sure exactly what it all entails. But it’s just sort of there, swirling around in the back of my mind.”

“Take it,” he said without hesitation. “Solves all your problems.”

“Yeah.” But she didn’t look convinced. She rolled her shoulders, and he began to massage one as they walked toward the bedroom. By unspoken agreement, they’d come to the same conclusion… They were going to spend what time they did have tonight in bed.

“Sore?”

“Circuit training today. De’Shawn didn’t let me rest. I’m dead. Pulling beer all night is going to kick my butt.”

He walked her to the bed, sat her on the edge, then crawled up behind her so she was nestled between his thighs. Then he began to massage, concentrating on the spots where she moaned louder and attempted to avoid his touch. Those points, he knew, were the ones that needed the massage the most.

“Not fair,” she said on a gasp at one point. “You know how to do this.”

“It’s good for you.”

“But—ow!” She tensed when he hit a particularly sore spot on her forearm. “Most lovers give their partners sweet backrubs, where the point is to seduce.”

“Most
boyfriends
,” he said, stressing the word, “don’t have girlfriends who are also professional athletes and need more than just a light touch to get the job done.”

“The dangers of dating inside your work circle,” she muttered.

He kissed her shoulder, then her neck, but didn’t let up on the pressure of his fingers. “It’s interesting,” he said, thinking out loud while her head bobbed and swung loose. “The conversation at dinner tonight made me think. I didn’t realize until tonight what sort of benefits there were to dating another athlete… benefits outside of the bedroom,” he added, nipping her jaw lightly.

“Benefits?” she breathed. Her skin turned hot under his lips.

“Sure. The bedroom benefits are obvious. Added stamina, flexibility, strong core for more interesting… positions.”

She made a sound in her throat that might have been a laugh, or a groan, or a mixture.

He kissed below her ear, then nibbled on the lobe a little.

“But there are different plusses I hadn’t considered.”

“Like?”

Her voice was thready now.

“Like, you can relate to me when I talk about the physical side of my job. It’s not just me complaining to someone who feels sorry for me but doesn’t get it. You do. You’re in the gym, same as me, working toward the same goals. You’ll come home with similar injuries. You’ll face PT like I will, coaching worries, travel shit. It’s all stuff that comes with being an athlete that you instinctively know. You can give
me
a rubdown sometime and put pressure exactly where I need it.”

He did just then, and she moaned and fell back against him as if she’d suddenly become boneless.

“There’s something sort of awesome about that.”

“About what?” she breathed.

He smiled against the skin of her throat. She was putty in his hands. “About knowing your girlfriend not only respects what you do, but
gets
what you do, on a level you can’t achieve any other way than by doing. You’re a warrior, Kelly. That’s sexy as hell.”

And I’m falling in love with you. Each and every crazy cell of your being.

Of course, he kept that part silent as he let his hands wander up to cup her breasts. If he told her now, she’d bolt. He wasn’t sure he could survive it if she up and left him.

Kat turned then, almost as if she’d heard his innermost thoughts, and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for the kiss or the rubdown?” he teased, then quit smiling when she looked at him so seriously.

“Thank you for seeing me as a warrior. That… I don’t know. It means a lot.” She curled a fist by her breastbone as if fighting off an ache. “You’re one of the good ones, Michael Everett Lambert.”

A little piece of him unraveled at that, and he cupped her face and kissed her, pulling her down flat on the bed, and slowly showing her without words exactly how good he wanted to be for her.

B
reathing heavily
, Kat patted Michael’s back so he got the message and rolled over, taking her with him. They settled together in bed, sweaty skin sticking to each other. She’d need another shower before work tonight.

“Quit.”

The word was murmured low against her hair.

“I… shouldn’t,” she said weakly. “They’re expecting me.”

“Take Gary’s offer.”

“I want to,” she admitted. “I can’t keep working myself like this. Too old. I’ve already cut back on the smaller tournaments I used to hit.”

“Why?”

She sighed. It was so hard for someone else who made a living in a sport to understand, especially when he was a male, and on top of that, playing a beloved sport that raked in billions each year. “You mentioned we have a lot in common. The whole athlete-athlete thing.”

His hand crept up her bare back, rubbing circles over her cooling skin. The combination caused her to shiver. He rubbed briskly to warm her, then went back to the gentle circling motion.

“But there’s some stuff that we’ll still never relate to. Like travel.”

“We both travel,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but when you need to go somewhere for a game, how does that work?” He was silent. “You show up in your uniform—”

“Suit,” he corrected. “We travel in suits. Uniform is only for games.”

“Whatever. You show up at the designated time and place, you get on a plane—and that’s no commercial airline, is it?”

He didn’t deny that.

“Then you get flown out to the place where you have a nice hotel prearranged for you, eat food they provide for you, you have team trainers and staff to take care of all your needs, you play your game, and fly back the same way. Did I miss anything?”

“Not in the big picture,” he allowed.

Propping her chin up on her hands, she watched him. “When I need to travel, it comes out of my pocket. I use airline miles, or I fly the cheapest way possible, which usually includes several annoying connections. I’m playing in some bizarre places because I need the points to qualify for better seeding in Slams. I’m sharing a masseuse with thirty-one other women, knowing that masseuse may or may not have time to even see me. I’m paying for a dingy motel because I need my cash to last. I’m eating good food—if I can find it—because it’s something I can’t skimp on, but I can’t always find it when I don’t have a kitchen to make it myself. I’m spending ungodly amounts of money on stringing my rackets each time I play. And then I have to make it back home again. And the best outcome from that tournament? If I add up all my travel expenses, my rackets, the food… best odds is that I walk away from that tournament netting two grand if I win.”

“Two… You’re kidding.” Michael blinked, then chuckled. “That’s absurd. Nice try.”

Kat held completely still and had the satisfaction of watching the truth slowly spreading over Michael’s face.

“You’re shitting me. You’re telling me you could win a professional tennis tournament and walk away with only two thousand dollars.”

“Net,” she reminded him. “The full purse is bigger than that, but I have to consider my expenses. If I lose, I’m in the hole. It’s why I’ve started choosing my tournaments more strictly and earning money outside of playing. When I was young, I’d go anywhere, play anywhere I could for the experience, the exposure, the thrill. Now…” She sighed. “Too many injuries. I need to save my energy—and, well, money—for the tournaments that count.”

“But the bigger ones,” he started.

“Yeah, of course, the bigger the tournament, the bigger the payout. But there’s more competition and more expenses. It’s a wash, odds-wise, on winning more money. And none of this is taking into account paying for a coach whether I win or lose, court time… It’s money.”

“That’s just fucked up,” Michael growled. “You’re ranked in the top one hundred players in the world.”

“Women,” she added.

“Whatever. And you’re barely scraping by on winnings.”

“And endorsements. The few I have left,” she added quietly. “But now you see the ways that I’m never going to be able to relate to you. I’m not bitter. Okay, fine, maybe just a tad.” She held her forefinger and thumb apart an inch when he raised a brow in question. “Not bitter so much as jealous. But you simply play a sport that is more valued economically. I can’t change that. You didn’t create the system. You’re just doing the same thing I’m doing… playing a sport you love and reaping the benefits from it. Yours happens to come with more guaranteed benefits.”

“Still sucks.” He kissed her, then guided her head back down to his chest.

Kat sat quietly for a moment, her ear pressed to his chest. She let the soothing, heavy beat of his heart lull her into a meditative state. Could their lives be like this? Could she work at the tennis center with Gary, playing in the tournaments she deemed most valuable, not worrying as much about money, about her reputation with sponsors and the media? Could she and Michael have a future? To answer that, she had to know…

“You’ve never asked.”

His hand stilled for a moment in her hair. “Asked what?”

“If I really released the video. The sex video,” she added, as if that needed clarification.

It didn’t. They’d both known what she meant.

He was silent for a while. Long enough that she began counting the beats of his heart while she waited.