Chapter 20

Dressed and ready for his time on the air, Danny stepped into an empty conference room off the main hall of the hotel and pulled his phone from his coat pocket. It wasn’t a Wednesday, but it was important that he let his mother know what they’d done before one of her cronies let it slip. Or worse, Tommy tattled on him.

“Hello?”

His mother sounded cautious and a little scared. As if the person who was calling at an unscheduled time might somehow be able to leap through the phone and make demands of her.

“Hey, Ma, it’s Danny,” he said quickly, hoping to reassure her.

A pregnant pause followed. “Danny? It’s not Wednesday today, is it?”

“No, Ma, it’s not. I just…I have some news, and I wanted to tell you before anyone else did.”

“You got fired again,” she said on a sigh.

Annoyance spurted up inside him. “You know, Ma, technically, I’ve never really been fired from a job. I was asked to resign from Northern, and if you’ll recall, they had to pay me a truckload of money to get me out of there.”

“Did the new school ask you to resign because of that woman?” she persisted.

The tremor in her voice and the fact that she couldn’t seem to retain the names of the schools where he’d coached in recent years reminded him that his mother wasn’t a young woman anymore. Hadn’t been for quite some time. And the misadventures of her only sons were probably not adding to her chances at longevity. But how could he answer her without lying or setting his marriage to Kate up for failure in his mother’s eyes? He had been asked to resign because of her. And though his mother hadn’t already heard the news, she would soon. Danny decided it was time to throw the long ball.

“Kate and I got married this afternoon, Ma.”

His mother’s gasp rang sharp in his ears. “You what?”

“We were married in Judge Dennis Baxter’s chambers this afternoon. I wanted to let you know because we’re doing a kind of a joint interview on the National Sports Network tonight. Live,” he added. “You can watch, if you want.”

“Watch?” she repeated, sounding bewildered.

“The interview with me and Kate,” he clarified gently.

“Have you called Tommy to tell him?” his mother asked.

Heaving a sigh, Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “No, Ma, I haven’t called Tommy. I called you.”

“You should call your brother. Tell him about this Kate woman. Maybe now that you’re both married, you can put this whole thing behind you,” she insisted.

“Ma, it was never about Tommy and LeAnn. I’ve told you that a million times.”

“Yes, but now you’re doing well on your own and he’s doing well, you’re both married… Please, Danny, I’d like to have Thanksgiving like a normal family.”

“We never had Thanksgiving like a normal family, because Thanksgiving is on a Thursday. You take dinner to other people on Thursdays,” he said, remembering all the times he and Tommy had seen their own portions of turkey and dressing dwindle away to nothing because someone else needed it more.

“Being able to give to others is a blessing, Daniel,” his mother reminded him sternly.

“I agree, Ma.” And his exorbitant salaries had made it possible for his mother to grant more blessings than most, but he didn’t bother reminding her of that fact.

“And you only have one brother,” she added, segueing into her favorite fallback. “When I’m gone, you won’t have any other family.”

“I’ll have Kate,” he reminded her. Thinking back on the sadness in Kate’s tone when she talked about her strained relationship with her sister, he straightened his spine and steeled his resolve. “We’ll be each other’s family.”

His mother released a long-suffering sigh. “One can never have too much family.”

Danny begged to differ, but now wasn’t the time to argue. “I have to go, Ma. It’s time for us to get ready for the interview. Kate and I are going to take a little honeymoon when she gets done with her summer commitments, but we’d like to fly up to see you when we get back.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you too, sweetheart. And your Kate.”

His Kate. She was his Kate now, for better or for worse. And he was going to do everything in his power to make it for better as far as his new bride was concerned.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Ma.”

“Talk to you on Wednesday, Danny,” she said, the correction a gentle rebuke for his daring to call off schedule.

Danny ended the call but stared at the phone long and hard. He could call Tommy, but he didn’t really see the point in it. The guy was an NSN junkie anyway. He had to have seen the news about the coaching job by now. His brother was a professional strategist. Any connection between Danny’s job and his marriage was not going to be flattering, and Danny didn’t feel up to taking hits from anyone else at the moment.

Pocketing the phone, he smoothed his tie over his stomach, then stepped out into the deserted corridor. It was time for him to find his Kate and get this show on the road.

* * *

Kate checked her phone for the fiftieth time, then dropped it into the pocket of her pale-blue suit jacket. She’d left a voicemail asking her sister to call her, but so far, there’d been no word from Audrey. She and Danny had agreed it would be best to call their respective family members before the live broadcast, but it looked like she wouldn’t have the chance to forewarn her sister.

Not unless she did so via message.

Fired up by the notion, Kate extracted her phone again and started typing with her thumbs. It would serve Audrey right to get the news via text. Maybe next time, she wouldn’t be so quick to ignore Kate’s calls. The text read simply: Tried to call U. Married Danny McMillan today. Wanted to tell U B4 you saw it on news. K.

Her duty done, she edged closer to the wall and let her head fall back. It seemed that in the last twenty-four hours, she’d done nothing but revise strategy and set play after play in motion. Truth be told, all this maneuvering was a bit wearing on a girl who simply wanted to stay put.

“Looking good, Coach,” one of the crew members said as he hustled past her and through the double doors.

She did look good. One hell of a lot better than she had at the courthouse, and if that wasn’t ass-backward, she didn’t know what was. A few hours before, she’d gotten married in yoga pants, a yogurt-stained T-shirt, and her fifth favorite pair of sneakers, but for the National Sports Network, she had to dress up. Men wearing earpieces scurried past her, carrying equipment and cable into the hotel ballroom. Kate couldn’t think of a time when she had done an interview anywhere other than a basketball arena.

At center court.

She glanced down the blandly decorated hotel corridor and shuddered. Yards of cable stretched from the front doors to the sectioned-off ballroom. They had to squeeze the interview in quick. Apparently, there was a bat mitzvah scheduled for that evening.

She peeked into the room and spotted the customary canvas chairs placed in the center of the room. There would be no cozy Costas setup for this interview. They’d promised Brittany, the perky, blond junior reporter NSN had sent to cover Danny’s welcome, an exclusive. This interview would be the last hurrah in the Wolcott battle of the sexes.

The girl sat in the middle chair, the tip of one french-manicured finger poised above the tablet in her lap. Her platinum hair spilled over her shoulders, carefully arranged sections veiling her no doubt perky breasts, the rest a shining fall so smooth it looked like a sheet of ice. She wore the heavy makeup the cameras demanded, but even from this distance, Kate could see her face was smooth and unlined.

Twenty-five, twenty-six at the very most, Kate guessed. Millie had mentioned something about her playing on an Olympic volleyball team. Kate thought about her own Olympic jersey hanging in one of the Warrior Center’s many display cases and grudgingly acknowledged the unexpected kinship with the reporter.

But that was as far as her sense of solidarity went. She didn’t want this pretty, young thing seated between her and Danny. What viewer in their right mind would look at Brittany, then look at her and imagine that Danny McMillan would choose her? Despite the normally healthy state of her ego, Kate was having a hard time buying it herself.

She jumped as a warm, broad hand claimed the small of her back. Danny chuckled, and scents of male aftershave and a hint of makeup wound around her.

“Hey.”

Danny stood close, his broad body bracing her back. Strong. Solid. Set. She gave up a little of her weight, and he took it, wrapping one arm snug around her waist. She stroked his sleeve. The wool of his suit coat was smooth beneath her fingertips. The knot of his tie pressed into the back of her skull. Still, she’d wager it had taken him a lot less time to get ready for this circus. While she’d been worked over by an army of minions operating on Millie’s behest, he’d been holed up with their agents.

“Are you still fired?”

“Yeah.”

“How are things looking?”

“How does North Dakota sound to you?”

“Cold.”

His chest moved in a laugh, but no sound came out. “Yeah, well, I touched the people’s princess. I’m sure most of the top-tier schools are busy locking up their women.”

“I’m the queen, remember?” She turned her head and pressed her cheek to his lapel, inhaling the skin-warmed spice of his aftershave. “And there will be no other women for you. I’d crush you with my powerful thighs.”

“Not them?”

“Only you.”

“What a way to go.” He brushed his lips over her hair. “My mother can’t wait to meet you.”

“I tried to call Audrey, but she didn’t pick up. I texted her. I was thinking maybe we could meet in Nashville for dinner one night, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said in a rush.

“I’m going to meet her sooner or later.” His arms tightened around her. “You can’t undo the damage now, Coach. You called the play, and now you’re stuck with me.”

She let her head loll against his shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re stuck doing this interview.”

“I’m just glad we had Millie on our side. That woman could overthrow dictators.”

“I think maybe she has.” Craning her neck, she peered up at him. “And Mike?”

“He’s working it as best he can,” Danny assured her. “Too bad Martin’s such a stubborn ass.”

With a shaky sigh, she turned her head to gaze straight into his piercing blue eyes. “Please tell me they put mascara on those eyelashes.”

“Sorry. No mascara.”

Poking her lower lip out, she sulked. “So not fair.” She relaxed against him, letting him support a little more of her weight. “Would you let me?”

“Let you what?”

“Put mascara on those inch-long eyelashes.”

“No,” he said firmly, but his hesitation indicated a willingness to let her do just about anything she wanted to him.

Turning her face into his neck, she brushed a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “You’d look so pretty.”

“You’re a cruel woman.”

Another crew member rushed past them, waving some kind of gewgaw that must have been a vital cog in the works, because the minute he ducked into the ballroom, the frenzy of activity became more purposeful. Kate tugged at her skirt and forced herself to stand tall. “I prefer the term ‘tough broad,’ if you don’t mind.”

Danny stepped in front of her, putting himself between her and the scene of their soon-to-come public hand slapping. “I’ll just play it safe and stick with beautiful.”

Only halfheartedly imagining the mile-long lashes coated in glossy black, she searched his eyes until she found the confidence she’d momentarily misplaced. It was there, as always. Right there with the smirks, the stares, and the cocky jock swagger. It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized it at first. This man’s unswerving belief in them looked a hell of a lot like real love, and she’d never loved anyone the way she loved him.

He brushed her hair back, tucking a piece behind her ear. “Why do you do that?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“You always push my hair back behind my ears. Why?”

He cocked his head, studying her quizzically. “I don’t know. I guess I just see you do it, and I like…” Finally, he gave a helpless shrug and traced the curve of her exposed ear with his fingertip. “I like your face. I like your ears. It’s fun to watch them turn pink.”

As if he’d given the damn things a cue, they started to burn. A sly smile cocked one side of his mouth. He planted his hand on the wall and leaned into her. She couldn’t have torn her gaze from his if she’d tried.

“They’re tender and soft and taste so damn sweet.”

“All that from ears,” she whispered.

He gave a slow nod, his expression solemn but his eyes bright. “Just imagine how I feel about the rest of you.”

“I love you,” she blurted.

“Coach? And, uh, Coach?” a young man called, breaking the spell.

“Good. Otherwise, we made a big-ass mistake today.” They both turned toward the scrawny assistant fidgeting in the doorway, tablet in hand and headset draped around his neck. Danny pushed away from the wall, but instead of distancing himself from Kate, he took hold of her arm and urged her forward. “You ready for us?”

“Yeah, we’re all set,” the kid called back.

Danny’s hand slid to its usual spot in the small of Kate’s back as they made their way to Brittany’s side. “Just let me handle most of this, okay? I made the mess, I’ll clean it up.”

“I have a stake in this too. Aside from you, I mean,” she clarified.

“You do?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you and your drama, Danny.”

“I never meant to imply that it did.”

His placid tone set her off. He could pretend to be panicked or at the very least ruffled, damn it. She pulled away from him just shy of the baseline. “That figure I gave Mike? My salary? I asked for more than they’re paying Ransom.”

“Whoa.”

“I won’t settle for less.”

“You shouldn’t. Your record has his beat to shit.”

“Just so you know,” she said, straightening her hem, “it’s possible they won’t pony up. And I wouldn’t be here come fall anyhow.”

“If this doesn’t work, I won’t be here tomorrow,” he countered.

“Always trying to one-up me.”

He smiled and tucked her hair back behind her ear again. “No, just letting you know that, although the choices we’ve heard so far aren’t ideal, it doesn’t matter to me where we end up now. I know we’ll be together.”

“Are you two ready?” the assistant asked again, turning the clipboard in his hands nervously. He grimaced in apology and shrugged. “We’re live in three minutes.”

Her heart hammering, she gave Danny’s hand a squeeze and started toward the semicircle of chairs, adding a little extra sway to her step as a reward. “I’m set,” she said, smiling sweetly at the production assistant, “but I think the pretty boy could use a little pancake. Looks like he has a pimple.”

Danny barked a laugh and caught up to her in three long strides. “She thinks I’m pretty,” he said, affecting a simpering tone. But when the makeup woman hustled across the floor clutching a plastic tube and a sponge, he waved her off. “My face is fine.” He shot Kate a glance out of the corner of his eye. “And she thinks so too.”

Kate refrained from further comment, her focus set on the chair to Brittany’s left. Positioning oneself on an opponent’s weak side was a strategy so fundamental old Mack Nord probably used it to determine which side of the bed his wife could sleep on each night. In watching the young woman prepare for the interview, she’d noticed that Brittany was right-handed. That meant she’d be naturally inclined to focus on the person to her right. Kate would cover the left. Out of the line of fire, but right there to protect Danny’s flank if push came to shove.

She was really good at pushing and shoving.

The interview unfolded at a slug’s pace. To start, Brittany aimed a volley of razor-edged questions at Danny but lobbed only softballs at her. The knowing looks the younger woman darted in her direction made Kate wonder if she was supposed to thrust a fist of feminist solidarity.

Frankly, the sanctimonious little twit was pissing her off. Who was she to question Danny’s integrity? Who were any of them? Everyone made bad choices. People lived with consequences. Danny had, and every time they knocked him down, he got right back up and called his next play.

The questions and answers flew. Brittany kept trying to make each one a knockout blow. She must’ve forgotten she was dealing with a man who spent the majority of his adult life staring down three-hundred-pound behemoths hell-bent on smashing him into the turf.

The reporter paused to take a drink of water, and Danny’s gaze met Kate’s above the young woman’s head. He tried to smile, but the misery he must’ve felt each time those manicured nails picked at another old wound dulled the luminescent blue of his eyes.

Millie had been all about controlling the story, but at the moment, it felt like they had no control. Funny, just a day ago, all Kate had been thinking about was cutting Jim Davenport off at the knees. Well, the schmuck got what he deserved for taking the cheap shot at the press conference. His piddling newspaper story was about to be scooped on air by the biggest sports network in the nation.

But whatever triumph Kate felt in besting Jim was dampened by having to sit quietly and watch Danny field one hostile, impertinent question after another without stepping in. Biting her tongue and sitting on her hands was nothing short of torture. But she couldn’t interfere. Millie was right. He needed to come clean about what happened in his past once and for all, before they could deal with their future.

“Do you ever hear from LeAnn Cushing?”

The question jolted Kate from her reverie. Brittany spoke the woman’s name as if it should be known in every household. This time, Kate didn’t bother trying to mask her scowl.

“Well, she is married to my brother, so I’m on the Christmas card list.”

His answer was stiff and terse. It hurt Kate to hear the pain in his tone, but the realization that the mere mention of LeAnn still had so much impact on Danny cut her to the quick.

Brittany pounced. “She married your brother?”

Danny glanced over at her, his eyes a vivid plea for help. In that moment, she understood why he never spoke about the relationship that caused his fall from grace. The woman wasn’t the one he missed; it was his brother. Sitting up tall, Kate charged into the fray and swatted the question like she was blocking a shot.

“Family connections can be complicated,” Kate said, inserting herself into the conversation for the first time since the interview started. “But I don’t see what his relationship with his brother and sister-in-law have to do with football.”

Brittany blinked as if Kate had ripped a strip of hot wax from between her perfectly arched brows. “I’m sorry?”

The woman’s blank expression made it too damn easy for someone with the instincts of a natural-born winner to go on the offensive. “My ex-husband was too threatened by my success to stay married to me, but no one ever asks why. I just think it’s funny that you’re peppering Coach McMillan with asinine questions that have absolutely no bearing on his ability to be a successful football coach.”

Kate thought she heard Danny groan softly, but Brittany shot ramrod straight in the canvas chair. “I’m sure Coach McMillan has the technical skills to be an adequate tactician,” she said coolly. “What I’m questioning is whether a man who dates students—and according to rumor, fellow staff members—should be the man we look to as a role model for young men in sports.”

Danny leapt into the argument. “Ms. Cushing might have been a graduate student, but she was twenty-six years old when we started seeing each other. I wasn’t that much older—”

“But still quite a bit older,” Brittany interjected.

“Huh. I wonder how much is too much?” Kate turned to Brittany, a frown deep enough to make Millie’s head explode bisecting her brows. “Is three years a better spread? Would five be stretching it?”

“I’m not sure I know why you’re asking,” Brittany replied cautiously.

“Well, you seem to think you’re an expert, so I’m trying to get a feel for what would be an appropriate life choice for Coach McMillan and what wouldn’t.”

“Kate, please…” Danny started.

“Does it vary from man to man? Ty Ransom is eighteen years older than his wife, but I don’t see anyone heating up tar and plucking chickens.” Kate looked directly into the camera. “Sorry, Ty. Nothing personal. I just want to get the rules straight.”

“We’re not here to talk about Coach Ransom,” Brittany said primly.

“No, we’re here so you can peck more holes in Coach McMillan.” She shuddered delicately. “It’s like watching an old Hitchcock movie.”

“Kate, don’t engage.”

Danny’s attempt to intervene was well intentioned, but she had a head full of steam and needed to release it. The poor guy was trying to fight back a hailstorm with a flyswatter.

Swinging her crossed legs toward Brittany, Kate widened her eyes in feigned confusion. “Does it work both ways? Is there some exponent I should be working with to calculate the male-to-female conversion?”

By now, Brittany looked utterly confused and just angry enough to come at her. Kate couldn’t resist. Dusting off her rusty acting skills, she threw her career and life choices down to flop at the reporter’s feet.

“I was six years older than Jeff Sommers.” Her voice dripped with mock outrage. “Where is Mike Samlin? I can’t believe the university would willfully allow a woman who preys on younger men to roam the campus freely.”

“Oh God,” Danny muttered as he propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and dropped his forehead into his hand.

Poor Brittany glanced down at the tablet in her lap, obviously trying to find the spot in her notes where she’d lost the thread. Kate almost felt as sorry for the young reporter as she did when she pounded a Division II school in the preseason using only her second stringers. It was time to stop playing cat and mouse with the poor girl. After all, she was only trying to make a name for herself. Kate respected her ambition. But Kate wasn’t interested in trading courtesy baskets with a journalist. If there was one thing her coaches taught her, it was that true champions showed mercy for the teams they outmatched. Of course, they didn’t let up entirely until the victory was assured. It was clearly time for her to put this game away.

Kate glanced at the red light on the camera and leaned in close to Brittany as if she were about to share a secret, even though she knew the mic would pick up anything she said. “Danny’s three years older than me. Is that okay?”

The reporter’s head jerked up. The overhead lights made her blond hair gleam like spun gold. Her eyes were still clouded with confusion, but instinct kicked in. Her nostrils flared as she smelled blood. White teeth gleamed as she flashed a deceptively sweet smile. “Is the age difference between you and Coach McMillan significant? Are the accusations Mister, uh”—she checked her tablet—“Davenport made true?”

“Kate.”

Danny spoke her name softly, but the underlying note of warning rang through. She ignored it. She was the woman who always made the clutch shot, no matter what the distraction.

Propping her elbow on the back of the chair, she stared past the twentysomething between them and fixed her eyes on her prize. “Well…”

She drawled the word, infusing the single syllable with a myriad of meanings. Of course, Brittany pounced.

“So you’re confirming that you and Coach McMillan are involved?”

“You haven’t seen the pictures?” Kate smiled, slow but sure, letting it unfurl as she raked the man across from her with an impudent stare. “That’s why I’m wondering how this whole age thing figures in and if it swings both ways in terms of the gender issue.” She rolled her hand, gesturing for the young reporter to be more forthcoming. “Hey, is it a problem if a female coach seduces an older man?”

“Seduces?” Danny’s bark of laughter drew every eye to him. He sat forward in his chair. His body language was challenging, but the light in his eyes was the product of pure pleasure. “Are you trying to say you seduced me?”

Recrossing her legs, she let the delicate high-heeled sandal she wore dangle from her toes. “I’m not trying. I’m saying.”

“I seduced you,” he asserted.

“Not at all the way I remember it.” She pressed a thoughtful finger to her lip. “I had the upper…hand, if I recall correctly.”

“Kate.”

This time, she acquiesced with a smirk and shrug. “Relationships are all about compromise, right? If it’s easier on that fragile male ego to think it was the other way around, I can afford to be generous.”

Brittany’s head swiveled like a Wimbledon spectator as she tried to keep up with the volley. “So the two of you are a couple. Has all this fighting been fake?”

“Oh, it’s not fake,” Danny answered without breaking his gaze. “We don’t agree on much of anything.”

“And I never fake anything,” Kate answered with a sly smile. “But there are a few things we don’t argue about.” She straightened from her insolent little slouch and got right down to the business of disarming the press. “But I have no problem letting him buy dinner. I consider it my way of closing the salary gap.”

* * *

Admiring Kate’s ability to look so damn beautiful and composed as she launched grenade after grenade into the conversation, Danny gave his head a shake and held up both hands in mock surrender. “I’m not touching the money thing.”

Brittany’s preternaturally thick eyelashes fluttered as she tried to grab hold of the interview again. Age and experience gave them an edge. Unfortunately, she was too young and ambitious to realize that she was outmatched on both sides.

“Just as well, seeing as how you have no salary now.” Kate arched one eyebrow at her new husband. “But you agree that our salaries don’t accurately represent our contributions to Wolcott Athletics.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything without a bomb squad present.”

“Oh, you were pretty agreeable earlier today.”

“Kate,” he growled.

Kate turned to Brittany with a sweet smile. “He’ll land something pretty quickly, no matter how hard you guys try to tear him down. He’s very dedicated. Watches game film instead of Netflix. Knows just when to blow his whistle.”

Danny narrowed his eyes, knowing damn well it wasn’t his whistle she was thinking about. Poor Brittany looked completely lost. And miserable. This interview was her big break, and he and Kate’s antics were ruining it for her.

Feeling an unprecedented benevolence for Brittany and more than ready to launch a little shock and awe of his own, he readied his ammunition. He lounged in his seat as if he hadn’t a care in the world, then he craned his neck until he could look Kate square in the eye. “I don’t see how it matters. What’s yours is mine now, right?”

He had to give her credit. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she picked up the live round and tossed it right back at him. “I knew I should have insisted on an ironclad prenup covering those glass cases lining the halls.” She leaned closer to Brittany and spoke in a low, confiding tone, but her eyes never left his. “You know he’s only after me for my…trophies.”

Danny laughed again. Out loud. On camera. Damn, but this woman did things to him. Awesome, wonderful things. Tearing his attention from her, he fixed Brittany with an unwavering stare, willing her to catch on. “She drives me crazy. In every possible way. That’s why I’m keeping her.”

The reporter searched his face for clues. “Is this… Are you… What’s going on here? Is this some kind of joke?”

Sometimes there was nothing sweeter than toying with a newbie who thought they had game. Then there were the times you had to cut them a little slack and let them in the game. The fear and uncertainty he saw in those wide, blue eyes told him they’d played keep-away long enough.

“No joke. You just snagged the headline of the week.” Slipping out of his chair, Danny came around to Kate and kissed her full on the mouth. “You’re stubborn and mouthy and totally wrong about the designated hitter.”

Tears filled her green-gold eyes. One tangled in her dark lashes, but she didn’t try to dash it away. “Spoken like a man who never had to play defense in his life.”

He stared at that glistening tear, enthralled by its tenuous hold. “Oh, but you’re wrong. I’ve been playing defense too much lately. I’m ready to score.” He pulled her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles, then looked straight into the camera. “That’s why I married her.”

“Nice,” she hissed, throwing an elbow.

Danny flashed his cockiest grin. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. I need a big, strapping girl like you to guard my flank.”

“Wuss.”

“Wait. You’re saying the two of you got married?” Brittany asked, practically falling out of her chair to get closer to them.

Kate lifted her right hand to reveal the sparkling ring on her left. She grinned when Brittany gasped, and waggled her fingers. “We did. Just this afternoon.”

Danny gave the perky blond gaping at them an “aw shucks” smile. “I need someone to coach me through the next thirty or forty years, and I hear she’s the best.”

Kate started to nod, then stopped abruptly. Her fingers tightened on his. “I told him I couldn’t take him to the next level unless he was willing to commit one hundred percent.”

“I promised a hundred and ten.”

Crew members whooped and clapped as he snatched his amazing Amazon woman from her seat as if she were barely more than a feather. Kate wound her arms around him. Her toes grazed the laces of his shoes. At last, their lips met. He kissed her sweet but deep. The muscles in her thighs tensed, and he could tell she was fighting the urge to wrap her legs around him. God, he wanted her to.

They’d exchanged vows that afternoon, but the day had been too jam-packed to spare the wedding night more than a passing thought. He angled his head and slid his hand into her hair, taking everything he wanted from the kiss, cameras be damned. He was thinking about the wedding night now.

Kate crushed two of his toes when she turned back toward the cameras but thankfully retained enough presence of mind to place herself between the lens and the insistent erection now pressed into the soft cheek of her ass.

“That’s the only way he can ever win an argument,” she said, giving her head a pitying shake.

Her silky hair teased his nose as she cast an affectionate glance over her shoulder. She covered the hand he’d placed over her stomach and wove her fingers through his. All around him, signs and insignia proclaimed pride in a school he used to think of as a joke, but standing there with Kate secure in his arms, he finally discovered exactly how a warrior felt after winning the battle of his lifetime.

“I’ve already won everything I need to win,” he said.

Kate smirked and cast a glance at Brittany, who’d scrambled from her chair but stood there looking lost. “And he always has to have the last word.”

“I do not.”

“Prove it.”

“What? How?”

“By keeping your mouth shut so you can’t shove your foot in it.” Turning back to the camera, Kate aimed the full wattage of that magnificent smile straight at the lens. “Good evening, sports fans. Allow me to introduce y’all to Mr. Kate Snyder.”