Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) (23 page)

“
I
don’t need to
.”

Her breath released on a whoosh of air. Then she squeezed him closer, attempting to burrow in. “I’m going to go in tonight. I can’t leave them in the lurch, it’s too last minute. But I’ll give my notice.”

“Good idea. Maybe we can drop this whole fake persona along with the job?”

She grimaced. “It’s not all a persona, you know. I do love to dance. And I’m not a serious person. Never will be.”

“I’m fine with that. But the troublemaking, the idea of living up to a reputation…”

“Yeah. I know.” She breathed in the scent of them combined. It should have been disgusting… but it was soothing instead. “You’re right.”

Michael kissed the top of her head and held on.

Keep holding on. Please, please. Let me be happy.

* * *

T
wo days later
, Kat observed the office she’d once made love to Michael in. “So… this is mine, as far as the eye can see.”

“Yeah. All fifty-two square feet of it. Don’t get too excited.” Gary reached into the pocket of his shirt—a florescent pink one this time, with blue and gold pineapples printed all over it—and handed her a single key. “Gets you into all the locked storage so you can get to the equipment for lessons. When you’re a sure thing, you can have a key to the building.”

Kat grinned at him. “Aw, Gary, you know how to sweet-talk the ladies, don’t you?”

“The desk stays, the chair stays, the rest… bah.” Gary waved his hands in dismissal of the boxes in the corner, the few framed photos on the walls left by coaches of the past. “Do whatever. Just don’t paint, and don’t ruin the carpet.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” She gave him a sharp salute, which he rolled his eyes at. “Hey, can Thomas string a few of my rackets later?”

“Sure thing. He’s got those girls again—fuck all knows why they keep coming back since they clearly aren’t interested in the sport. After that, he’s free. You need to start taking over some of those clients, especially the giggly ones. Maybe you should watch, see what you’re up against.”

Kat grimaced at the reminder of the two cute high school-aged girls, who looked country-club perfect in their bright white tennis skirts and court shoes that hadn’t seen a hint of dirt. They did more chatting than ground stroking, and she knew they drove Thomas up a wall with their attempts at flirting. “Why are you punishing me?”

“You wanted the job. You do the job. Now get yourself situated and come back out. We need to start looking for partners for you.” Gary knocked on the open door, then left her with the mostly empty office.

Hers. All hers. She walked over to the desk, sat down at the chair, then gripped the edge of wood when the chair nearly tipped her backward. “Whoa!” That would have to be fixed.

Digging into her bag, she reached for her cell phone, which she’d kept off since walking into the center two hours before. She needed to call Michael. Or maybe text. She knew when his flight left for L.A., but… how long did that take? Were they still in the air? Maybe she’d text now, asking him to call her later so she could tell him the news over the phone.

Oh, holy shit in the woods, she was in deep with this guy. She wanted to tell him news
on the phone
? God, it had to be love. She never wanted to talk on the phone. This was a true sign.

The second her phone turned on, she was bombarded. Texts, voice mails, e-mails, Twitter and Facebook notifications. She laughed, letting the phone do its thing and catch up. But the notifications just kept coming…

Whoa, something big was happening.

She opened her texts first, ready to send one to Michael, but noticed Sawyer had sent her… over a dozen? In two hours? And from the preview, he was using shouty caps. What the…

ANSWER THE PHONE, KATRINA.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

I SWEAR TO GOD, KAT.

ANSWER ANSWER ANSWER FUCKING ANSWER

TELL ME THIS ISN’T WHAT I THINK IT IS.

The last one included a link. With shaking fingers, she tapped the link, waiting for it to load on the tennis center’s slow Wi-Fi. And when it did, she let out a gasp. Her stomach clutched, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to throw up or pass out.

No, no, no, not again.

No.

T
he second Michael
dropped his bag on the hotel bed in the outskirts of Los Angeles, he reached into his suit jacket and used his thumbnail to flip the ringer from “vibrate” to “on.” And his phone immediately rang. In his haste to answer, he fumbled the phone. He wanted it to be Kat. Needed it to be Kat.

Probably should have created a specific ringtone for her by now. That would have made more sense.

The phone finished ringing before he managed to fish it out. But before he could even curse, it began again. He looked at the display, saw Sawyer Grade’s name, and sighed. “Yeah, Sawyer, what’s up?”

“Jesus, man, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Michael toed off his shoes and went to put them in the closet, out of the way. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m the one who set you up with her. I thought… I don’t know. There was that one little kernel of hope that she’d been telling the truth, you know? She was a damn good liar.”

Michael froze, his suit jacket half on a wooden hanger, half off. “Sawyer, speak slowly please, and use sentences that work. Who and what are we talking about? Kat? Has something happened to Kat?”

“
To
Kat?” Sawyer gave a gruff laugh. “Fucking wish. No. She
did
the happening. To you. To both of you, really. Yet another sex tape. Or an almost-sex tape. Why the hell would she think this was a good idea? She didn’t get away with it the first time. So hey, why the hell not try again?”

Michael’s insides turned to ice. He carefully placed the suit on the hanger and shut it in the closet, his movements clipped, precise. No room for error. Then he turned and stared blankly at the wall behind the hotel bed. “Sawyer, are you saying there’s another video of Kat and that douchebag tennis player having sex?”

Sawyer’s silence was damning, but damning to what, Michael didn’t know.

“Jesus shitting on the pot. You really don’t know.”

“I’ve been on a bus, a plane, another bus, and standing in a hotel lobby for about thirty minutes because the management screwed up the keys and had to get things resettled. My phone’s ringer has been off until just now. I’m not in a mood to be jacked around, Sawyer. Tell me what happened.”

“Kat. And you. In an almost-sex tape. You’re grinding against her, propped up on a desk in some sort of office, with her legs wrapped around you? I don’t know, I don’t recognize the location, but it’s definitely not a bedroom. I don’t know, man.”

Michael’s fist clenched, and his breathing felt tight, like he was running a marathon instead of standing still.

“You keep saying ‘almost-sex.’ So we’re not having sex?”

“The tape cuts out before that, but it’s clear that’s where the little episode is going. Maybe she chickened out before recording the main event.”

“You’re saying she recorded us having almost-sex.”

“Unless you recorded it…”

Michael let his nonanswer speak for him.

“Right. I assumed not.” Sawyer sighed. “Look, clearly she didn’t record it herself this time. It’s too far away, and the camera’s moving, like someone’s holding it and not able to stand still. So no tripod or anything like that. And then a door closes just before the camera shuts down.”

“So someone
else
recorded us. But where?”

“Fuck if I know. There’s a tennis racket in the corner. I assumed—”

But Michael didn’t need to assume. He knew without guessing. The tennis center. The office Kat had dragged him into before they’d gone at it like monkeys against the wall. Fuck. Shit fuck damn it to all fucking hell.

He swung out and punched the wall, denting the drywall with his left fist. Then he dropped the phone on the bed and howled in pain. He’d never done that before in his life, and now he fucking knew why. That shit hurt. God.

“Lambert.
Lambert!
Jesus, don’t go missing on me. I can only handle so much shit a day.”

Michael took the phone back. “So you’re saying someone else loaded the video up.”

“Clearly. But…”

“Say it,” Michael growled.

“Look, I get that you two have something going on, but we can’t ignore this is nearly identical to the last time.”

Michael’s vision hazed with fury.

“She obviously got someone else to take the video and upload it. The video is about thirteen seconds long, posted to Instagram from some account that looks like it belongs to a teenager, though that could be a ruse. While you can’t see your face at all, and you aren’t named… her face is clear. And she’s named. What’s that tell you?”

He sat on the bed, set the phone on speaker and laid it beside him. His left hand curled uselessly on his thigh. With his right hand, he scrubbed at his face. In anger. In frustration. In total helplessness because he couldn’t make this shit go away for either of them.

“It tells me,” his agent continued, taking his silence for encouragement, “that she didn’t want to name who she was with. Maybe for protection, maybe because your name is more important than hers in the media and it would overshadow her attention-grabbing stunt. I don’t know. But she’s front and center, the focus of the video, and the captions that go along with it.”

“She didn’t do this,” Michael said roughly. She wouldn’t have.

She couldn’t have.

She… could have. Of course she could have. Anyone could have. To deny that she had the ability was to be an idiot. But she wouldn’t.

She…

No. He wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t analyze every word she’d said, every little gesture she made as if she were on trial in his mind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sawyer’s voice was steadier now, calmer. As if he were attempting to calm a savage beast. Not far off probably. “You’re thinking she’s the victim again. She’s being taken advantage of. She’s got the worst luck known to man.”

The unspoken
you poor, naïve sap
was left off.

“You don’t know,” Michael said softly. “You can’t know. You don’t know her like I do.”

“You’ve seen one slice of her. I’ve known her for years. Hell, her own tennis coach just dumped her. They’ve trained together for years. Fucking years, Michael. And he’s done with her.”

“Gary?”

“What? No. Peter, her coach in Florida. He’s done. Washed his hands of her. Embarrassed as hell. Final straw. Insert several Russian curses here that I can’t pronounce.”

Michael let out a mirthless chuckle.

“If her own damn coach doesn’t believe her, why the hell should I? Why should you?”

Because I love her.

The thought shocked him. He’d known her less than three weeks. How could love have entered into the equation so quickly? How could his heart, always so cautious in the past, have made such a massive leap from zero to ninety in the blink of an eye?

Because… Kat. That was all it took. The right woman to come along and grab him by the balls, kick him off-balance and steal his heart. She’d done it effortlessly because of who she was.

His silence while he analyzed his heart’s desires clearly worried his agent.

“Aw, Jesus. You’re going soft, Lambert. You don’t let those baby Bobcats manipulate you. Is it because she’s got tits?”

“Fuck off, Sawyer,” he warned in a low voice. His hand was starting to throb viciously. He needed ice.

He needed Kat.

“Answer me this first. Who dragged whom into that office?” When Michael didn’t answer, Sawyer pressed. “Who instigated the whole sex-in-an-office thing? Who convinced whom the office was safe?”

Kat.

No.

He wasn’t going to let his agent poison him against her. She deserved better. “Drop her.”

“What?”

“Drop her. Or, you know what? You should let her have the satisfaction of firing you. She deserves an agent that isn’t going to be against her every step of the way.”

“Lambert, she’s sucked you in. I warned you about this.”

“She’s not some black fucking widow,” he snarled, feeling his insides clench. He needed to fight something. Someone. Why was there no outlet for his rage?

His hand chose that moment to throw pain up his arm.

Oh, right.

“You’re going to be ID’d eventually. It hasn’t happened yet, but within the hour someone is going to recognize you. It’s going to blow back on you.”

“Gotta go.” He hung up without a second thought and ignored the immediate call back from Sawyer. No, he only had eyes for one contact.

She answered on the first ring. “Hi.”

Her voice was tight, and he barely heard her.

“Kat,” he breathed. “Kat, did Sawyer—”

“Yeah.” She swallowed audibly. “Yeah, he told me. Michael…”

Neither said a word.

Then the doubt crept in. Like a termite gnawing faithfully through a thick block of wood, he heard Sawyer’s voice.

She’s sucked you in. I warned you about this.

“I’m sorry,” she said on a sob.

Who instigated the whole sex-in-an-office thing? Who convinced whom the office was safe?

“It’s not your fault.” The words sounded unnatural, not his voice.

“No,” she said slowly, “it’s not. But this stuff keeps happening to me. Just when I thought…”

You’re thinking she’s the victim again. She’s being taken advantage of. She’s got the worst luck known to man.

Her breath shuddered out. And he wanted her to say it. Finish the sentence. Know what she thought.

“It’s probably best if I take off,” she finally said, her voice small and a little… scared.

And though he wanted to say something, he couldn’t.

* * *

H
e didn’t believe her
. Oh, he’d said it, but that voice wasn’t Michael’s. Not really. That was the voice of someone trying to keep the peace. Placating, making everything seem fine until you could handle the crazy situation at a later date.

“You don’t believe me.”

“That’s not…” He sighed, and she read between the lines.

“I get it, Michael. Two strikes, right? How could lightning strike twice in the same way?”

“Kat, that’s not what—”

“Did I bring it on myself? Is that the party line? Or maybe you’re thinking I actually did it. That I set it up.” Tears clogged her throat, but she shoved them down. Shoved them back. She had walked right into this. “I get it. You’ve got things going on, all those mentoring possibilities… can’t be tainted with the scandal.”

“Kat.” His voice was rough, like he was forcing back some emotion.

Probably disgust.

“It might not even come out that it’s you,” she said, noting her voice was tight. Hysterical almost. “Maybe the lawyers can get some sort of injunction and you’ll be kept completely out of it. I’ll leave town tonight, and it won’t be connected to you, and—”

“I believe you.”

Those three words sucked the breath out of her, and she collapsed onto the desk chair.

* * *

M
ichael waited
, then waited some more. “Kat?”

“Yeah.”

Her voice was almost childlike, and it scared him. “Kat. You’ve got to straighten that spine.”

“I know.” But her voice was weak. “You believe me.”

He hated that he’d doubted her even for a single second. That it had even crossed his mind to doubt. That he’d let their former agent—because no way could Michael stay with Sawyer now either—worm his way in and plant the seeds of disbelief.

And he’d never let it happen again.

“I don’t just believe you, Kat. I love you.”

He let that soak in for a moment.

No reaction.

Okaaaaay. Not how he’d envisioned saying those three big words, but they were out there, so time to push forward. “How could I love someone who would do that? I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. You didn’t. We’ll get to the bottom of this, and it’ll all be okay.”

“You’re going to be found out. Cut ties,” she said bluntly. “Don’t walk into this trap. I’m serious. Bad news follows me like gnats on rotten fruit.”

“Don’t talk like that about my girlfriend,” he said in a mocking growl, but it didn’t elicit the chuckle he was going for. “My lawyer is going to be calling you here in a bit. I’ll text you his contact info so you know to answer the phone. Don’t answer unless it’s me or my lawyer.”