Ford’s eyes widen. “Not a bad idea. But I was thinking how about one of your sisters?”

  I nudge Vaughn’s elbow. “Let’s see. Amy, Tabitha, or Quinn? I’m trying to picture—”

  “Hey now. Can we leave my sisters out of this?” Josh laughs, takes a seat, and steers the conversation exactly where I expected him to. “Lady . . . and gentlemen, let’s cut to the chase. How does Delilah, Channing, Grayson, and Summers sound to you?”

  I beam privately. I had a hunch. A damn good one, and this is exactly what I wanted as well. What we wanted. But I know a thing or two about negotiation, so I maintain my game face like I’m staring down a double black diamond run in the Olympics. “I hadn’t thought of that before.”

  “Yeah, me neither. What makes you guys want to do that?” Vaughn asks.

  Josh leans forward, an intense look in his dark eyes. “Listen, you two bring something special to the table. You’re former athletes and you’re sharp as nails. You’re fierce and loyal and devoted. You think outside the box. And the two of us,” Josh says, pointing from Ford to himself, “we know contracts. We know deals. We find loopholes and exploit them. The four of us would be unstoppable.”

  “A powerhouse,” Ford adds.

  Vaughn leans back in his chair and strokes his chin. “Sort of like an all-star team, you’re saying?”

  “The 1927 Yankees,” Josh adds, since the man loves his baseball metaphors.

  “The fab four,” Ford adds.

  Vaughn turns to me, his bluff in full force. “That’s an interesting idea. Huh. What do you think, Haven? Lady and the champs?”

  I take a drink of my wine and glance at the ceiling like I’m considering this partnership for the first time. I turn to the guys across from us. “Tell us more.”

  Josh and Ford share more of their vision, and it’s everything we could want. It’s the perfect match. When they’re done, I look at my business partner again, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  “Not a bad idea at all.”

  “Especially since you put my last name first. Delilah.”

  Ford jumps in. “Hey! She’s not first alphabetically. Vaughn’s is as in Vaughn Channing.”

  Josh smacks his arm. “Dude, ladies first. Don’t you know that?”

  Later that night, I spill everything to Josh. “I wanted the same thing. To work with you two. I just wanted you to think you were first.”

  “You’re so clever. Always working the angles. Negotiating till the end. Should I make you negotiate for orgasms?” He crawls over me on the bed, caging me in with his arms.

  “You would never make me wheel and deal for Os.”

  “And why’s that?”

  I loop my arms around his neck. “Because you love giving them to me.”

  He drops his mouth to my neck, pressing a hot kiss to my skin. “What can I say? All my cards are on the table with you.”

  “And I like it that way,” I say, squirming as he blazes a trail of kisses up to my ear.

  He breaks the kiss. “Like it?”

  I grab his chin. “Love it. Like I love you. Madly.”

  “And for that, you deserve your favorite thing.”

  “Sounds like I won,” I whisper.

  But then, I’m winning at everything with the man I love. The man I missed. The man I’m so damn glad is mine again.

  For now, and for always.

  34

  Ford

  The next morning, I’m awake before the sun. I’m up before the goddamn birds. Hell, I barely slept a wink all night.

  In the last few days, I’ve offered up ten thousand prayers to the universe, and thrown all my coins in all the fountains in the city. Last night I wished upon a star.

  Again.

  I made the same damn wish I’ve made every time I’ve seen a star during the last several months.

  You hear about friends who send the puck screaming into the goal on the first shot. And that makes you think it’ll be that way for you.

  It hasn’t been that way for us.

  It’s been eight months, and don’t get me wrong, the last eight months have been fantastic. We’ve enjoyed the kitchen counter, the washing machine (Viv digs the assistance the spin cycle offers), the dryer, the dining room table (Don’t worry, future Thanksgiving guests, we cleaned up), the couch, the staircase (That shit hurts and my back was a mess for days), as well as the shower (Why doesn’t anyone tell you that up-against-the-wall shower nookie should be an Olympic event? And if you make it to the end everyone gets a gold medal), and, of course, the bed.

  And if we have to try another month and another one too, I will give it my best every damn time.

  But I want a baby, and so does Viviana. And I want to give my gorgeous, brilliant, sexy wife everything she wants.

  I arrange the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter just so.

  I tiptoe downstairs and check on the cupcake I ordered in case it’s the news we want.

  I let the dog out. I let the dog back in. I go upstairs.

  When Viv stretches, yawns, and her eyes flutter open, I flash her a smile. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  “Good morning, hot stuff.”

  She takes a long breath, then swings her feet out of bed. She pads to the bathroom and takes her time brushing her teeth.

  When she spits out her toothpaste, I tap my toe. “Woman, are you trying to torture me?”

  “I don’t want to have morning breath if I kiss you when it’s positive.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “One, I do not care if you have morning breath. Two, don’t jinx us.”

  She shrugs and smiles. “I have a good feeling.”

  I grab her arm, desperate to know if she knows something. “Why? Did you take one last night?” I shoot her a stern stare. “You better not have found out before me. You will definitely get spanked then.”

  “Again, not a punishment.” She wiggles her hips and juts out her breasts. “I just have a feeling. The girls are a little more . . . sensitive.”

  I groan appreciatively then dart out my hands. “Let me check that sensitivity for you.”

  “In a minute!” She shuts the bathroom door, pees, then opens it and holds the stick. The longest two minutes of my life pass . . . till two pink lines appear.

  It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen in my life, and my heart soars.

  “In nine months, you’ll be a dad! Now kiss me because I don’t have morning breath.”

  “And I don’t care if you do, Mama,” I say, lifting her up in my arms and crushing my lips to hers.

  I’ve been kissing this woman for the last five years—through dating and engagement and marriage. But this kiss? This searing, fierce kiss that’s passionate and tender? It’s my new favorite kiss with my wife.

  It goes to my head. It goes to my heart. It makes me fall in love with her all over again.

  I have a feeling I’ll be doing this every damn day for the next nine months, and then long past that into our future, as baby makes three.

  I get down on my knees and press a kiss to her belly. She sighs happily and runs her hands through my hair.

  I lean my ear against her stomach and say, “Ah, he just kicked for me.”

  Laughing, she playfully pushes me away, saying, “Maybe it’s a girl.”

  I rise, drop a gentle kiss to her forehead, then whisper, “Want to go for twins?”

  “I don’t think it works that way, baby. But yes, let’s celebrate.”

  And we do, and it’s as good as the night we had home-field advantage a few weeks ago.

  Wait. It’s even better.

  Especially since we share the cupcake when we’re through.

  35

  Vaughn

  A little later

  * * *

  Look, I’m all for ladies first, but that name was a mouthful. We changed it, and now we’re rocking hard as The Premiere Agency, landing marquee athletes left and right and bringing the old faithfuls over from our prior shops. All-star indeed.

  We rep Jackson Pierce, who is killing it this summer on the court, so Alicia thinks we’re all the best, as she tells us nearly every day, especially since we inked Jackson a deal as a spokesperson for Caviar. Josh brought over Zane, half the Yankees, and a ton of other major leaguers, while Ford handles a bunch of top football players. Plus, most of my client list from hockey, football, basketball, baseball, and golf joined Premiere. And Haven already had her list of stars.

  This gig is epic, and it’s so much better than the prior agency I worked for. I shudder thinking of the last year, when I made some choices I shouldn’t have. But hey, every man has a dark moment in his past.

  I’ve put it behind me, and I’ve moved on.

  But I’ve made one rule now that I’m on the other side of that bad decision: no romantic entanglements. After the way the last gal messed with my heart, I’m wary of dating and I’m suspicious of love.

  And that’s fine, because I have a business to grow, and I have every intention of doing that and only that for the foreseeable future.

  Like right now, as I finish a call with the forward for the Rangers. “Feel free to book that trip to Greece with the missus. The deal is done,” I say, then congratulate him once more before I end the call.

  I look up to see Josh in my doorway. “Epic work on that deal. You ready for our dinner meeting?” he asks.

  “Absolutely.”

  We take off for a nearby restaurant to meet his sister. Quinn’s a party planner, and Josh and Haven want to host a holiday party for our clients, and we need to start planning since November is already here.

  Josh claps me on the back as we reach the eatery. “Now listen, you shouldn’t believe a thing Quinn tells you about me.”

  “Don’t worry. I have sisters. I know how they love to throw brothers under the bus.”

  “I love them madly, but they’re also excellent at blaming me for literally everything.”

  Inside the restaurant, a woman with flaming red hair waves from the table in the back.

  I groan privately.

  Why does she have to be a redhead?

  Redheads are my weakness. Especially smart, fun, witty, and flirty redheads.

  Maybe she’ll be dull, banal, and boring.

  After a quick intro, Josh excuses himself for the restroom, and I extend a hand to the woman in question. “Good to finally meet you, Quinn. I hear your parties are the stuff of legend.”

  “And I hear you’re the easygoing one in the group.”

  I take the seat across from her. “Well, you know what they say—don’t believe everything you hear.”

  “Ah, so you’re actually tightly wound, cross, and a total ogre,” she says with a playful glint in her green eyes.

  “Absolutely. I’m the worst,” I say with a wink.

  “I’ll do my best not to upset the dragon in you, then, when we practice ornament decorating and hot-cocoa tasting.”

  I add witty and fun to the checklist. “Wait. Did you just say hot-cocoa tasting?”

  “Does that tickle your fancy?”

  “No. It sounds awful, horrible, terrible.” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “How’s that for ogreish?”

  She leans a little closer. “You can’t fool me. I can see right through you, and I bet you love hot-cocoa tasting.”

  I quirk a brow. “Is that so?”

  She smiles like she has a secret. “It’s obvious.”

  “And how is it obvious?”

  She screws up the corner of her lips, studies me, then issues a verdict. “You look like a man who enjoys sweet things.”

  Smart and flirty, check. And that’s it. I’m screwed.

  I’m officially screwed, and I’m blaming Josh.

  I’m throwing him under the bus for having a sister who’s funny, sexy, and clever, and who loves hot chocolate.

  But I’ll just stay far, far away from her. I’m off the market, and even if I wasn’t, I know better than to tango with my new business partner’s sister.

  Even though dinner with her is fantastic and we get along so well it should be illegal.

  At the end of the meal, Josh turns to me. “I need to head out of town for a week. Any chance you can handle the party stuff? Besides, you’re way better at it than I am.”

  “Sure,” I say, and when I look at Quinn, I’m not sure if the parties will be the stuff of legend.

  But I already know I’ll need a legendary amount of willpower to resist her.

  Epilogue

  Josh

  * * *

  A little later

  * * *

  There’s a first time for everything.

  Today, it’s for this brand-new T-shirt at Wimbledon.

  I had the shirt custom-made on Zazzle. Haven picked the colors. She insisted.

  And boy, did she ever go all out.

  She picked pink.

  Sparkly pink.

  With glitter on top.

  We enter the stadium and make our way to the best courtside seats, where Alicia practically tackles us. She’s vibrating with jitters.

  “You’re here! I’m so nervous I’ve had ten Diet Cokes. But I can’t tell Jackson, so I’m telling you.” She flaps her hands like she’s going to shake out all those butterflies.

  “Our boy is going to be great,” I reassure her.

  “He’s the best,” Haven seconds. “And no more Diet Cokes for you.”

  “You’re right. Cut me off. Don’t let me have any more. Also, you guys are the absolute best! Okay, I need to go take some pics.”

  She darts off, and I take my seat courtside to watch Jackson play.

  I sit up straight as a ruler next to my woman so the slogan on my shirt is completely visible.

  Perhaps Haven thinks she got my goat. But the words are all true. “Haven Delilah is the top sports agent in the country.”

  And I wear them proudly, making good on our bet.

  “This is it. This is officially the hottest you’ve ever looked,” she says as she runs a hand down my arm.

  “Hotter than the night I wore the suit you practically ripped off me?”

  She shoots me a confused look. “Which do you mean? That sounds like every night.”

  I laugh. “Hotter than the time I went snowboarding with you and you mauled me on the chairlift because you thought I looked hot in a winter jacket?”

  “Snow babes are sexy to me. So sue me.”

  “Yes, my snow queen.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “And hotter than the time I got down on my knee at Wimbledon and proposed to you?”

  She gasps. Clasps a hand to her lips.

  I’ve done it. I’ve shocked her. And I will cherish the look on her face right now—her wide eyes, the way they shimmer, the utter joy etched in her features.

  I flip open the blue velvet box I’ve pulled from my pocket, and speak from the center of my heart, the core of my soul. “Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman who hated each other. They couldn’t stand each other whatsoever. Every time they ran into each other, they brandished their claws. But in the end, all they had to do was talk it out to realize hate was just another four-letter word for love.” I take a beat, swallow, and continue. “Haven, I want to find you in the dark every night. I want to find you in the light every day. You own my heart and my head, and you have since I met you. I never want to let you get away. Marry me.”

  As a tear streaks down her cheek, she nods over and over, choking out her “Yes.” Then she pulls me up, tugs me close, and kisses the hell out of me before the tennis match begins.

  When she breaks the kiss, I slide the ring on her finger.

  She stares at the diamond solitaire, her smile stretching across the ocean. “It’s beautiful. I love it so much. I love you so much.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way, partner.”

  She smiles again. “Partner.”

  We take our seats, and watch our client crush the competition.

  “We brought him good luck with our shirts, don’t you think?” I ask when the match ends in a fantastic victory.

  She plucks at hers. “I do look good in your college jersey.”

  Number eighty-eight looks sexy as hell on her. She didn’t have to wear it, since technically she won the bet for the rising star. But she said she wanted to, that she’d gladly wear her man’s number.

  I play with the hem of the football jersey. “This is the sexiest you’ve ever looked.”

  She pretends to be aghast. “Hotter than the night you slipped into my room in the Hamptons?”

  “You were beautiful then.”

  “And what about the night I showed up at your place to tell you I loved you?”

  “You were a stunning vision that time.”

  “And even so, this is your favorite?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Summers. This is now my favorite, since you said yes to me.”

  She leans her shoulder against mine, grinning. “Once upon a time, a guy thought he hated a girl, but the girl knew better. She knew he’d eventually become her husband.”

  “There you go. You’re always right.”

  “I am.”

  We make our way out of the arena, bumping into Lily, the sports reporter, on the way. She’s walking next to a guy who has his hand on the small of her back. “Hey, Lily!” Haven says. “Long time no see.”

  The reporter whips her head around and flashes a smile. “Hey! Good to see you again. This is my husband, Finn Nichols.”

  She introduces us to the guy, and we all shake hands.

  “Pleasure to meet you all. I heard you were in our hometown earlier this year, and you set the conference on fire.”

  “Sparks were indeed flying,” Haven says, then whispers, “Onstage and off.” She waggles her ring. “And look what happened.”

  “Congratulations,” Finn says. “Glad to see the sparks turned into the good kind of fire.”

  “Let me see that beauty,” Lily says, then oohs and ahhs over Haven’s ring before she meets my fiancée’s eyes. “And now you should ask him to give you an extra special engagement gift.’”