Chapter 6

“This one?” Millie yanked a low-cut, leopard-print top from a rack and held it up for Kate’s verdict.

Kate huffed a laugh. “For me or for you?”

Red lips pursed, Millie tilted her head as she inspected the blouse. “You’re right. Mine.”

Hangers clicked as she added the top to the clothing pile draped over her arm. Kate glanced down at the skirt dangling from her fingers. She should have insisted on the wine first. A little dutch courage to get her through what Millie kept calling the “day-to-evening” department. God, she hated shopping.

“May I help you ladies?”

Kate automatically shook her head. “We’re just look—”

With the agility of a point guard, Millie stepped into the space between Kate and the salesclerk. “We’re looking for date outfits for my warrior princess here.”

Kate glared, but Millie was undeterred.

“I must warn you, she hasn’t had lunch yet, and the guy she’s seeing has a stick up his ass and, frankly, isn’t worth the wax. But she wants to look pretty, and I want her to have what she wants.” Millie tossed a playful glance in Kate’s direction. “What do you have in super-tall, I’m-too-sexy-for-you?”

The saleswoman threw her head back and laughed, but the genuine amusement in it made it hard for Kate to take offense. “I’m Julie, and I just love customers like you.”

She beamed at Millie, then plucked the skirt from Kate’s hand and studied it as if she were drawing up the play for the game-winning shot. Kate closed her eyes, teetering between hope and humiliation. A gentle hand on her arm forced her to open them again, but instead of seeing a fashionista’s disdain, Kate caught the sparkle of challenge in Julie’s eyes. Game on.

“Not a bad choice, Coach,” Julie said, wiggling the hanger so the skirt’s filmy overlay flounced.

Kate stiffened, momentarily discomfited, but quickly resigned herself to the recognition. She was a big fish in a tiny pond.

Julie flashed Millie a conspiratorial smile and dove deeper into the sea of racks. “Come with me. I know just what we need.”

“And we need a dress for the banquet tonight,” Millie decreed as she prodded Kate away from the cashier’s station.

“I have a dress for the banquet.”

Millie rolled her eyes. “You wear the same boring black dress every year. What do you say we try living life in color this year?”

An hour later, Kate adjusted the two carriers filled with purchases and planted her feet in a WNBA-worthy pick to catch the slippery dress bag sliding off her shoulder. “I need to put this stuff in the car, and then I need the wine you promised.”

Nodding, her friend motioned toward the exit closest to where they’d parked. “Fine, but after that, we shop for shoes.”

“And underwear,” Kate added in a hushed tone.

“Underwear!”

Millie’s voice carried over the music pulsing from the cosmetics counters and ripped right through the adjacent men’s sportswear department. More than a few heads turned.

“You do love a spectacle,” Kate muttered.

A harried-looking woman wearing a stretch bracelet loaded with keys jabbed a finger toward the far corner of the store. “Lingerie, floor two, southeast,” she said without breaking stride.

“Underwear,” Millie repeated, dropping it down a notch but infusing the word with more consideration than it warranted. “So you’re planning to sleep with Jim?”

Embarrassment set Kate’s ears on fire. Within a heartbeat, the heat of a blush consumed her. Jim wasn’t the first person she envisioned when she decided she needed something new from the lingerie department, but she’d quickly stuffed thoughts of Danny McMillan down deep. He wasn’t the man she needed to be thinking about when it came to sexy things.

“I was only planning to find a bra that doesn’t have a racerback.”

“Bullshit.” Abruptly, Millie started toward the door closest to where they’d parked.

It took Kate three seconds and two full strides to catch up to her friend. “Where are you going?”

“You said you wanted to drop your bags,” Millie reminded her.

The rigid set of her friend’s posture somehow filtered down to her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just hungry.”

Kate wasn’t fooled by the explanation or put off by Millie’s dismissive wave. “I don’t get it. You’re the one who’s always getting on me about how my relationship with Jim has been at a standstill. We were just shopping for date clothes.” She stepped up the pace to get ahead of the tiny torpedo of a woman. “You’re the one who’s always after me to…”

She trailed off, smiling as she held open a door for a young mother pushing a double stroller. By the time she let it go, Millie was halfway to the car.

“Hey,” Kate called as she hustled after her friend. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Leaning back against the fender of Kate’s car, Millie glanced up at the sky as if she were reading the time by the alignment of the sun. “Hurry up. I need that wine.”

Kate dumped her purchases into the trunk and then slammed it with a little more force than necessary. When her friend jumped away from the car, Kate caught her arm. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Millie replied too quickly. Her mascaraed lashes fluttered, but she didn’t meet Kate’s eyes.

Kate stared at the thick fringe in wonder. “Do you have false eyelashes?”

Millie reared slightly, then looked up at last. “Extensions. You really should get some.”

“You put extensions on your eyelashes? Like hair extensions?”

Millie rolled her eyes, showing off the long, subtly curled fringe. “I once told you I went to a party where they injected botulinum into my forehead, and you’re shocked that I wear fake eyelashes?”

“Everyone makes questionable choices,” Kate said with mock solemnity.

“Like sleeping with Jim Davenport?”

Kate threw her hands up and stalked away. “I thought you liked Jim.”

Millie’s kitten heels clicked on the pavement, but Kate didn’t slow. She was still struggling to get a handle on the disturbing ambivalence she felt each time she thought about her upcoming date. She didn’t need Millie’s razzing on top of it.

The dating dance she and Jim had been doing had gone on long enough. Their timing was finally on target. And now, after months of haranguing Kate to push for more, her best friend was doing a one-eighty.

So Kate pulled one of her own.

She spun, and Millie thumped into her, carried by the momentum she’d gained in those ridiculous shoes. “Hey!”

“You’ve been after me for months to do this,” Kate hissed.

Millie smoothed her hair back from her face and straightened to her full five foot three. “That was before Danny McMillan came to town.”

Kate’s eyes popped in disbelief. Did Millie have some kind of psychic power? She needed to deny, deflect, de-Danny this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You can’t be serious. The man—”

Millie held up a preemptory hand. “I’m not saying you should sleep with him.” She paused, pursing her lips as she considered, then shook off the thought. “No. Definitely not. It would spoil the chemistry.”

“There’s no chemistry!”

“Sweetie, the two of you have so much chemistry there’s been talk of handing out hazmat suits to the entire athletics department, but I need you to hold off for a while.”

“I’m not going to sleep with Danny McMillan,” Kate said through gritted teeth.

“Yet.” Millie threw an apologetic smirk in with her qualifier. “I need some time to build the story, so don’t jump him yet.”

“I’m not jumping him.” Kate huffed. “And wasn’t the picture you posted on Twitter bad enough?”

The snapshot of Kate and Danny had been taken at a staff meeting. Whoever snapped it just happened to catch the moment when the two of them had swiveled away from one another. But the earnest look on Mike Samlin’s face made it appear intentional. As if his two high-profile coaches couldn’t bear to look at one another.

“It’s working. People like the whole Bobby Riggs versus Billie Jean King angle.”

“We aren’t tennis players.”

Millie’s face brightened, and the worry lines that defied her beauty experiments disappeared. “I didn’t think of an actual matchup,” she murmured.

Wary of the speculative gleam in her friend’s eye, Kate decided it was time to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. She spoke slowly, so Millie couldn’t blame her enunciation skills for any lack of understanding. “I’m having dinner with Jim Davenport. That dinner will most likely lead to sex. At least, I hope it does. It’s been too damn long, and I’m starting to worry about rust.”

Millie’s face softened as she linked her arm through Kate’s and propelled her toward the mall entrance. “You’re not going to rust.”

“Just last month, you were giving me the ‘use it or lose it’ speech.”

“Then I saw what you could have.”

“What makes you think I could have Danny McMillan?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

“When?”

“Staff meeting.”

Unable to resist, Kate asked, “How did he look at me?”

“Like he thought you’d be tastier than the Danish.”

“Bull.” Kate sighed. “Besides, you just told me I couldn’t sleep with him.”

“Yet.” Millie held one finger up to make her point. “It would be awkward. And probably against some rule.” She added the last as an afterthought, then promptly brushed it away. “But you might want to hold off on doing anything with Davenport too. I have a deal brewing with one of the local affiliates for you and Coach McYummy, and it might involve our old pal Jim.”

“Are you telling me I’m about to get cockblocked by the evening news?”

“God, I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Sleep with him, don’t sleep with him,” Kate muttered, her sights on the Italian restaurant that anchored the food court.

“To be or not to be,” Millie intoned gravely.

“You are the queen of mixed signals.”

Millie chuckled. “Sweets, you have no idea. Now tell me what shoes you’re wearing to the banquet tonight.”

* * *

If Millie Jensen’s intention was to win the award for most awkward seating arrangement, Danny would have to give the woman her due. By the time he’d arrived at the round table closest to the stage, there’d been only one empty seat. The one next to Kate Snyder and her flame-red dress.

Danny caught the glare she shot at the PR director’s back as she sashayed away and took no offense at Kate’s cool greeting. He wasn’t particularly fond of being set up either. But Mike Samlin sat on Kate’s left, and the rest of the table’s occupants—as well as nosy nellies at neighboring tables—were watching his every move. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was playing under pressure.

Danny took the time to shake Mike’s hand and plant a kiss on his wife Diane’s cheek. “You don’t look a day over twenty,” he said, meaning every word. The streaks in her hair obviously hadn’t come from the sun, and a fine webbing of wrinkles fanned from her eyes, but her all-American smile was still the same. If they could get her back into her old cheerleading uniform, he and Mike could pretend their gilt-edged futures still lay ahead of them.

“You always were such a smooth liar, Danny,” she chided.

“Truth, Di. I speak only the truth these days,” he insisted as he moved to take Ty Ransom’s outstretched hand.

The men’s basketball coach looked dapper in a blue suit so vivid it would have looked ridiculous on any man under six five. Ty introduced his wife, Mari, a diminutive platinum blond who, by all appearances, took her role as an athlete’s wife to heart. A good bit younger than her husband, Mari flashed a practiced smile and pointed a stunning set of fake tits straight at him as they exchanged greetings. Her barely-bigger-than-a-napkin dress matched her husband’s suit to perfection. Unfortunately, the orange cast of her spray tan clashed with Ty’s mellow mocha complexion.

Danny moved on with both relief and trepidation. Richard Donner, Wolcott’s biggest booster, and his wife, Jacinda, rounded out their party. As he took his seat between the trophy wife and the trophy magnet, Danny couldn’t help but note that Kate was the only woman at the table who hadn’t somehow altered her God-given good looks. Her dark hair tumbled thick and lustrous over her shoulders, untamed by stiff sprays. The color in her cheeks came from good health, not a cosmetics counter.

She looked absolutely delicious. And he was going to do his damnedest to ignore her and the fact that the neckline of her siren-red dress did everything a dress should do to accentuate the positive without pushing…things…over the top.

He made small talk with the table at large as he studiously ignored the come-hither glances Mrs. Donner shot him from under a thick fringe of fake eyelashes. Oblivious to his wife’s flirty looks, Richard launched into an enthusiastic accounting of all the lucrative opportunities that would come to the university once they brought the football program up to snuff. Hoping to refocus the conversation on the athletic program in general, Danny smiled at Diane and dropped a broad wink.

“The twins need braces, huh? Don’t worry. I’ve come to save the day.”

Diane rolled her eyes in response. “Yes, Uncle Danny, and we’re all counting on you.”

But humor, self-deprecating or otherwise, wasn’t Dick Donner’s strong suit. “We’ve been leaving millions of television dollars on the table by allowing our program to languish.”

Kate snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Perish the thought.”

“Once we prove that we can play with the big boys”—Richard clapped his hands then rubbed them together—“there’s no reason we can’t get just as big a slice of the pie as the other guys.”

Danny shook his napkin and leaned closer to Kate as he settled it on his lap. “No reason other than they have multimillion-dollar facilities and an excess of kinesiology majors, and I have future doctors, economists, and engineers running drills in a cow pasture.”

Kate smiled as she reached for her water goblet. “Horse, I think,” she murmured. Perfect pink lips pressed against the rim of her glass, and a sharp stab of envy pierced his gut. “Or maybe there were goats. I can’t remember.”

“We get the money, we get the facilities,” Richard stated with an impatient wave. “We need a team first.”

“Tell me, Coach,” Jacinda Donner interrupted, placing a bold hand high on Danny’s thigh. “Do you really think we can go all the way?”

He was saved from answering—and the awkward business of removing the woman’s hand—by a student server who chose that blessed moment to serve their salads. He beamed up at the young girl as she plunked the plate of field greens onto the table in front of him.

“Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

“Iron deficient?” Kate asked, lifting an innocent brow as she picked up her salad fork.

“Hungry. Mere moments from passing out.” Eyeing her plate with wary skepticism, he raised an eyebrow. “No dressing? Don’t tell me you’re on a diet.”

A faint smile curved her lips, but she didn’t glance at him as she replied. “No, I never diet.”

“My kind of woman.”

That made her look up. Those startling amber eyes met his directly. “I just don’t see the point in wasting the dressing when I have no intention of eating these weeds.”

He couldn’t help himself. Those golden eyes drew him in like a tractor beam. Leaning closer still, he whispered, “You’re just going to push them around a bit?”

“Or a lot.”

“Bully,” he chided.

“Wait until you see what I do to the poor croutons.”

“Vivisection?”

“I devour them whole.”

He chuckled, but a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. He eyed the stemmy lettuce as if it warranted closer scrutiny. To his credit, he didn’t jump like a scalded cat when Jacinda Donner’s hand landed on his thigh again. Shooting Kate a sidelong glance, he murmured, “I wish I had one tenth of your strength of character.”

Kate rewarded him with one of those wide grins. “Maybe when you grow up.”

With a grimace he hoped would pass for a smile, he turned to the ballsy blond on his other side. “Would you mind passing the ranch dressing?”

Danny spent the entire salad course thanking God above for making Kate Snyder tall. Had she been a few inches shorter, he’d have had a clear sightline down the neckline of that chili pepper of a dress. Just the thought of it was enough to make him sweat.

He should have hated her. Resented her at the very least. This woman made a chump out of him in front of his guys. But despite his competitive nature and her prickly disposition, he had a hard time making himself dislike her. She was her own woman—strong, capable, and completely unapologetic about it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman like her. If she had insecurities, and surely she must have some, she kept them well hidden behind her game face.

In short, the woman made him itch to touch her. Every time he came near her, all he could think about was feeling those lean, taut muscles soften and grow lax. The memory of short, sharp puffs of air hitting his skin haunted his nights. He wanted to hear her panting in his ear. Preferably his name. With maybe a “more,” “please,” or “harder” tossed in just to keep him motivated.

Apparently, he’d let his leg wander along with his thoughts, because the next thing he knew, Mrs. Donner had her hand on his thigh again. This time, she didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with subtlety, because she came high and decisive. He flinched, his torso jerking forward in response to the demanding squeeze. Heat flared inside him, but not the welcome warmth of desire. He looked around in a panic, but everyone seemed to be engrossed in other conversation.

Everyone but Kate, whose gaze drifted toward his lap before moving on to some point in the distance beyond his private hell. Then she knocked the folded program that marked the line between his place setting and hers to the floor.

“Oh!” She smirked as she turned to meet his gaze. “How clumsy of me. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Shifting his chair back, he managed to dislodge Mrs. Donner’s hand as he swooped down to retrieve the program. Kate’s eyes met his as he rose. They glowed with amused sympathy.

“Thank you so much,” she said, her voice husky with overdone sincerity.

“You’re so welcome,” he replied.

Kate placed the program in the center of the table. “There.” She nodded, satisfied with her save. “Now we’ll have a little more room.”

Danny scooted his chair back to the table and a few inches closer to Kate. He made it through most of the main course by keeping his leg far enough away from Jacinda Donner to make her ploys obvious. Unfortunately, there was no easy way of avoiding Richard Donner and his never-ending pontification. The man ran on and on about television rights, expanding seating for bigger ticket sales, and branding and media rights.

“Let’s face it. You’ve done a real good job of keeping Wolcott in the running conference-wise, Coach.” The moron actually nodded to Kate and then brushed her achievements away with a dismissive wave of his manicured hand. “But girls’ basketball will never be where the big money is.”

Hectic color lit Kate’s cheeks. Danny’s spine stiffened when he saw the mottled splotches of red creeping up her neck. Kate remained stoically silent—a feat Danny thought should have earned her a medal—but they all knew the rules to the donor dance. They had to nod, smile, and somehow refrain from reaching across the man’s groping wife to jab a fork into the back of Donner’s hand.

On the other side of the table, Ty Ransom’s eyes were so hard they gleamed. Danny didn’t need to look at Mike to know he’d be in total accord. The tension at the table was palpable. There was no way in hell they’d let a hairless dweeb who probably never caught a ball in his life insult an athlete and coach as fine as Kate Snyder.

They needed a distraction.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Donner, I believe that’s my napkin,” he said, pointedly removing the woman’s hand from his lap. “Let me get yours for you.” He made a show of bumping his elbow against her chair as he presented her with the square of Warrior-green linen he swiped from her lap with a smile so innocent his cheekbones ached. “It’s awful close in here, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Clearly peeved, the woman placed her napkin in her lap and reached for her nearly empty glass of wine. “Thank you.”

“Too many helmet heads in one room,” Kate murmured. When he glanced over at her, he saw that her smile was soft and a little rueful. “You boys should have left your shoulder pads in the locker room.”

“We were told they were back in style,” Danny quipped.

Kate’s smile turned wicked. “I see so many of your players here tonight. Will you be handing out participation awards?”

He grimaced, but it quickly morphed into a grin as he acknowledged the hit. “Apparently I have a lot of graduating seniors on the team. They’re just here for the free food.”

“And more graduating with honors than most any other D-one school, I’d wager.” When he rolled his eyes, she rewarded him with a husky laugh. “This could be a good thing. You’ll get a fairly blank slate.”

“Feels like a small consolation at this point.”

“So, your team seems to have a new attitude, Coach. What did you do? Promise them all ponies?”

“I’ve been taking them out for ice cream after practice.”

“Ah, well, that explains it.” Kate beamed an open, cheerful smile at the young man who bent to remove her plate. “I’ll do just about anything for ice cream,” she whispered.

Danny choked back fifty filthy things he wanted to say and settled on scowling at the gangly, young waiter who held Kate’s attention.

“Thanks, Robbie. How’s the knee?” she asked.

“Better. Looks like I won’t need surgery after all,” the young man said, grinning at Coach Ransom as he collected the other plates. “Coach said to take it easy for a couple of months, then we’ll start building back with the camps this summer.”

Kate nodded, and her already-bright smile amped up a notch as she glanced from Robbie to Ty and back again. “That’s very good news for the boys’ team,” she declared the moment the young man was out of earshot. “Maybe someone with a penis can win something around here for once,” she added, not quite under her breath.

“Ouch.” Danny chuckled as he and Ty shared grim smiles across the table. “I believe we’ve been challenged, Coach.”

“Sounds like it,” Ty agreed.

“In the meantime,” Kate interrupted, blocking any chance he and Ty had to plot payback for the insult, “I need to get ready to sing the praises of my girly little national champions. Coach McMillan, can I ask a favor?”

“Yes?” he inquired, keeping his tone light.

Her lips curved into a tight-lipped smile so serene it belonged on a portrait of a saint. He watched in rapt fascination as she worked the clasp on her evening bag and withdrew a small digital camera. “Since you won’t be busy handing out awards, I was wondering if you’d mind snapping a few candid shots while I do mine?”