Cade
A WET NOSE pokes at my closed eyelid, and I know it’s my rebound-after-Maggie-Grace-left-me cat. I open my lids and she gives me her wake up and pet me stare. White and fluffy with pale blue eyes, she’s the prissiest damn cat I’ve ever seen. The moment Trent, Mom, and I had spied her at the pet store, they’d insisted I bring her home.
“Morning, Killer,” I mumble as I stretch out in my king-sized bed. She purrs and pushes her head against my hand. I pet her while she curls up next to my bicep, her paws tap dancing on my muscles.
“If only all bedmates were as easy as you,” I say.
Stone is on my mind . . . the hot sex we’d had . . . and the way she’d shoved me out her door the next morning.
Flashes of the night come at me, and I scrub my face.
What the hell had I done?
You boned Stone, asshole.
YOU BONED STONE. Three times to be exact.
I heave out a sigh. What must she be thinking?
She regrets it. Wasn’t it obvious?
Fuck.
Scooting Killer carefully out of the way, I jump out of bed and crank up some Stevie Ray Vaughn on my speakers. I push all thoughts of Stone out of my head as I get in the shower.
It’s nine by the time I’m dressed in a slick Tom Ford suit. I pull out a green tie, thinking the color reminds me of Stone’s sultry gaze. But I stop. Nope. Not going there. I whip it off and go with the sapphire blue—which matches my eyes.
After making sure Killer has her mouse toys and her food dish filled, I give her a final pet, exit the penthouse, and take the elevator door to the lobby.
The door swooshes open and I step off—right smack into Maggie Grace.
She takes a step back and I reach a hand out to steady her, easing her to the side to let the other passengers get off.
“Cade! Oh good. I was trying to get up to the penthouse, but apparently you have to have a key for that. Your doorman tried to call you but you didn’t pick up.”
Thank God.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” I say in a curt tone. I want to go off on her. I want to tell her to get the fuck out of my face and maybe check into getting some new meds, but I don’t. She’s a female, and my mom raised me to treat ladies with a gentle hand, so I grind my teeth together instead.
She straightens her shoulders. “Actually, after seeing you the other night, it got me to thinking—”
“What?”
“It’s been forever since I saw your mom, not since her breast cancer, and you may not know this, but my sister was recently diagnosed, and part of me just needs someone to talk to. My sister . . . they caught hers late . . .” she pauses and her forehead puckers with a line of worry.
I exhale and my anger deflates. Her attire is softer today, a yellow sundress, and her hair is down and curling around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry about your sister.”
My mom had been diagnosed a year ago and had just finished her chemo and radiation treatment. She’s clear for the moment, but I know the emotion Maggie Grace and her family must be going through.
She nods as she watches the people come and go in my building. “I don’t have her new address or cell since she moved—so I thought I’d pop by and ask you. She was always so easy to talk to. Do you think she’d mind if I came by and brought her some flowers for her garden? I know how much she loves to mess with plants.” She exhales. “Honest to God, Cade, this isn’t about you. I just want to get in touch with your mom.”
My gut says no, but I see the uncertainty that flits across her features. She grimaces. “My sister . . . she may not make it. I’m scared.”
I sigh, knowing that feeling all too well.
I tell her my mom’s address and cell while she types it into her phone. We walk out of One Park Place to a sunny day. We say our goodbyes, and I turn to head to the coffee shop before getting my car.
“Wait,” she calls.
I pivot and pop an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
She walks toward me and before I can stop her, she grabs my jaw and stares into my eyes. “You’re the best damn thing I ever had, Cade. I wish I could go back and redo what happened between us.” Then she plants her red lips against mine, her tongue begging entry to my mouth.
I freeze. My ex is making out with me, and I let her.
Maybe I kiss her back—like out of some kind of caveman Neanderthal instinct—but I don’t mean to.
After a few seconds, I push her off me, glowering at her.
She stares into my eyes a bit sadly, smiles, then turns and walks away.
God. Women are fucking crazy.
My scowl grows when I catch sight of Stone ensconced in a mob of dogs just a few yards away.
What the hell is she doing here?
But before I can say anything, she turns and sprints in the other direction.
After stopping off for coffee and a bagel, I arrive at work and immerse myself in preparing for the six and ten sports reports. With the weekend coming up, we’re working on football game times and who the big rivalries will be.
It’s after lunch by the time we’re done, and I head to the conference room for our daily editorial meeting.
I slide in and like a magnet my eyes are drawn to Stone. She’s been avoiding me all morning. She must have gotten here late judging by the half-eaten bran muffin next to her notebook full of doodles. Her hair’s up in a messy bun, and she’s thumping her pen on the table and swinging her heeled foot back and forth rapidly.
Someone is antsy.
I grin in her direction and when our eyes meet, I get hot. My lids go low, remembering her pussy clenching around my cock, and she seems to see the place my thoughts have gone because she blushes. A few seconds later, she shakes herself, her gaze turning chilly. She turns her back to chat with the two weeknight anchors, Matt and Lorie.
My lips tighten as I swoop past three empty seats to take the one next to her. There’s no way I can let this . . . this thing between Stone and me go—not with this much chemistry between us.
Plus, even though I’d been trashed, I recall every single mind blowing orgasm she had. She wants me.
Feeling confident, I ease down into my seat, straightening the crease in my slacks as I do so.
She’s glaring at me when our eyes meet again. I lean into her space and take a whiff of coconut. “Morning, Stone. Didn’t know you liked to run. We should go together sometime.” It’s a statement, not a question. I smirk and reach over to grab one of the powdered donut holes in the middle of the table and pop it in my mouth. I chew for a few minutes, eyeing her carefully. I’d give up all the donut holes in the world to know what she’s thinking.
“Don’t hold your breath.” Her face is blank and cold. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was chatting with Matt here before you interrupted.”
And then she turns back to talk to Matt.
Fine. She’s still upset about the hook up. Or it’s because she saw Maggie Grace locking lips with me. Hell, it’s probably both.
I want to explain the situation with Maggie Grace, but Marv and Vicky arrive together and shut the door. They read off the headlines for the day and the on-air reporters perk up. We go through the various options, and the anchors, myself, Marv, and Vicky pick and choose what will make the six and ten show.
I tune them out, distracted by Stone’s body heat. I feel ramped up. I need to get her alone. Maybe the bathroom again—
I come back when I hear my name.
“. . . . of course, he won’t be the one to say it, but Cade’s volunteer work in the inner city schools would be a great feature story. He coaches and you should hear him talk about those kids,” Lorie says, shooting me a big grin.
She’s one of the sweetest people in nightly news. Her husband is a big Falcons fan, and I had been to their house for a couple of dinner parties.
Vicky considers me. Nods. “Might be good for the lull we expect around the holidays.”
Marv gives me a narrowed look. “What’s so great about being a coach for kids? Wouldn’t it be better if you sponsored a fundraiser instead? Those schools need money.”
Savannah pipes up. “We can do a bake sale for them!”
I hold in my eye roll.
Stone stops tapping her foot, and I feel the weight of her eyes on me, but this time, I’m playing hard to get. I refuse to glance at her.
“You’re absolutely right,” I say, speaking to Marv. “I’d like to plan a charity event someday, but I’m just getting started.”
“Which schools do you go to?” Savannah asks.
“Deadrick’s the main one,” I say. “Academically, it’s been the lowest performing high school in Houston.”
A few reporters nod. I hear someone say right. They cover this city. They know the areas where these schools are located. It’s crime-infested and hard for a kid to break out.
It’s Stone who speaks next. “So you just waltz over during the day—in your Armani suit—and show them how to throw a ball?”
Marv smirks.
I don’t just volunteer. Sure, on paper, I coach in my downtime, but I’ve donated over a hundred thousand dollars this year alone for new helmets and food for the kids to eat before practice. I want to do it for all the schools, but Deadrick is where my former teammate Hart coaches.
I turn to Stone and my gaze brushes over her, lingering on her lips before taking in her shirt buttoned up to her throat. “I go on Saturday mornings and help the regular coach out. He used to play with me in Atlanta.”
I glance at Lorie. “If you decide to do the piece, I suggest you focus on the kids and the struggle they face—not the guy who shows up on the weekends. Those kids . . . they’re amazing . . . they just need someone to tell them.”
Stone lets out a little sound like she’s surprised.
Marv purses his lips. “It’s an okay story and since you’re you, people will tune in. The question is do we really need another story about some athlete—”
“It is interesting,” Stone interrupts, her face brighter than it had been when I’d come in. She looks like a reporter after a story. “Honestly, I’d like to know more, like how many hours does he spend with these kids? Does he get to know them on a personal level? Does he feel like he’s making a difference?”
“Why don’t we revisit this closer to November,” Marv juts in, silencing her.
She huffs under her breath and presses her pen into her notebook. She doodles a taco with a frown on its face.
“Let’s move on.” Marv looks at Vicky. “We got anything live and hopping for tonight?”
Vicky adjusts her glasses and checks something on her phone, picking back up with today’s news. We’re constantly getting updates from social media, emails, Reuters and the Associated Press wires. “The new petting area at the zoo opens to the public at three. They’re really doing it up big with a mix of exotic animals, plants and flowers, a waterfall, that kind of thing. It’s supposed to be gorgeous. One of the Bush cousins had her wedding there.” She checks her clock. “We’ve got plenty of time to get a reporter there for the live ribbon cutting at six. A few of the more famous local artists are unveiling murals.”
“Stone, you should take it. You’d be great,” I say to her softly. It’s an impulse remark, based mostly on the fact that she’s been down. I picture her in a garden with flowers, a waterfall . . . I stop that train of thought.
Marv perks up. “Yeah, you take the petting zoo and Savannah can head to the Courthouse for the verdict on the Smith case. They’re saying the jury is close, but they’ll have the verdict by five.”
Stone flinches. “Smith case! Marv, you didn’t mention the verdict in the rundown. I’ll take it. I’ve interviewed the lawyers on both sides. I know more about it than anyone here.”
He waves her off. “Already decided. You get the zoo. Thank your friend Cade here for suggesting it.”
I stare at him, my brow furrowing. “I didn’t know about the Smith case or I wouldn’t have said—”
“Already. Decided. Meeting adjourned.”
I seethe quietly, but my fists are curling under the table. I want to punch his sharp, squirrel face.
I turn to Stone, and her expression is tight as she gathers her things.
“Look, I’m sorry about getting you the wrong story,” I say. “I was trying to help.”
“Thanks,” she bites out as she stands. I rise as well, not wanting her to leave before we hash this out.
“He was hanging on to the Smith case for the end. You can’t blame me for that. Marv has his own agenda.”
She makes an exasperated noise, and I can tell she wants to get past me, but I block her way to the door.
“Look, about the other night . . .” I lower my voice. “I want to talk to you. Will you come to my office?”
Most of the room has cleared out, but there are a few lingering, and I don’t miss that Savannah’s one of them. She cuts her eyes at us as she picks up her notebook and phone.
Stone stuffs the wad of bran muffin in her bag and glares at me. “Sorry. I need to get busy on the petting zoo.”
And with a twist of her hips, she brushes past me, bumping me to the side as she marches away.
I watch her the entire way out the door, her cute little nose in the air.
Damn, I like her.