“This is so stupid and childish. You have to make everything a competition. I have nothing to prove.” I roll my eyes.

  He chuckles. “I guess we’ll see about that.” He gives me a challenging stare, and damn my ego because I can’t not want to show him how wrong he is.

  “Okay, I’m all in.”

  He sips his wine, his copper eyes with flecks of green locking with mine over the rim of his glass.

  Whatever. I so have this. And maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll start to believe it.

  I throw Rocky’s ball toward the edge of the water, and he chases it. He’s a Collie mix I rescued a couple of years ago and is always up for a game of fetch. I turn and poke at the firepit that’s right off my backyard on the beach, then go back to my flatiron grill on the deck where I’m preparing shrimp, veggies, and noodles.

  “I swear, sometimes, Kane Burrows…” Jana appears around the corner from the front of the house.

  “You got my note.” I smile bright, but I get a scowl in return.

  “If I’d known I was going hiking, I’d have worn better shoes. Ever hear of a landscaper?”

  “Sorry about that. Coaching is so different than playing. I used to have time to do all that myself.” I flip the shrimp. “Lucky for you, dinner is almost ready.”

  “Good. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can get out of here.” She looks at my patio furniture with surprise and sits down.

  “Not what you expected?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t have a lot of expectations when it comes to you.”

  I smile to myself then spear a piece of the broccoli and hold the fork out in front of her mouth. She shakes her head.

  “Come on,” I urge her.

  She finally opens, and I slide the fork into that mouth I love so much. She moans, chewing and swallowing. “What kind of seasoning is that?”

  I select my own piece and toss it in the air, catching it in my mouth. “My own special seasoning.” I wink.

  “Well, it’s surprisingly good.”

  “Surprisingly, huh?”

  “You are a bachelor. I didn’t think you cooked much since you’ve never invited me over.”

  I chuckle. “Because you liked things on your turf, and since it was just sex, I figured who cares where we had it.”

  “Can we not talk about it anymore? Since that’s over.”

  I put the meal I’ve prepared on a serving dish. “Just want to forget it happened?”

  “Yes, please,” she says, then looks up at me as though she can’t believe she said it out loud.

  “Fine. We’ll forget the fact that I’ve seen you naked and know you like it when I tie you to the bed.”

  “Seriously?” she scoffs.

  I give her a cocky grin just to piss her off. She’s way too on edge these days.

  “Look who I found at my back door, seeing if his girlfriend can play.” My next-door neighbor Emma walks up on the desk with Rocky next to her.

  It takes him two seconds to see the new face and he jets toward Jana.

  “No, Rocky,” I say, grabbing for his collar while balancing the dish on the palm of my other hand.

  When I finally get both things to stop moving, Rocky gives another tug because he loves new people. The serving tray wobbles and ends up face down on my patio. Damn it.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma says. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  “It’s okay.” I let go of Rocky to pick up the mess. He rushes over to Jana, puts both paws on her shoulders, and licks her face.

  “Um… Kane?” Her voice has a definite note of panic.

  “Shit.” I leave the mess and grab Rocky. “Sit, Rocky.”

  He does what I say, but his tail is wagging a mile a minute.

  Jana runs the back of her hand down her face where Rocky left his saliva and coughs what I think might be bile rushing up her throat. She stands. “If you’ll excuse me. Do you have a bathroom?”

  “Yeah, inside to the right.” I motion toward the patio doors.

  When Jana shuts the French door, I glance at Emma. “He hasn’t been like that since he met you.”

  Emma laughs. “And thank goodness I’m a dog person. I’m not so sure she is though.”

  “No. At least not one the size of Rocky.” I pet Rocky’s head. “What got into you, buddy?”

  Emma grabs a piece of zucchini I left on the grill by mistake and pops it into her mouth. “I’d say that it’s that she’s so hot and even though you neutered the poor thing, he still gets horny just like his daddy.”

  I shake my head at her. “Where’s Sam tonight?”

  “Working. She’s on call. I was going to swindle my way into an invitation over here, but I see you’ve got plans.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  “She’s my boss.”

  “Oh, that’s her?” She peeks in through the window, but there’s no sign of Jana. She probably sneaked out the front door.

  “Yeah.”

  “She fits the bill. Not that I shop where she does, but her outfit looks expensive. And then there’s all that gold she’s wearing.” Emma looks down at her paint-covered cutoff jean shorts and tank top.

  While her partner, Sam, is a doctor, Emma’s a painter and owns a small gallery in the downtown area. Rocky is their dog Penny’s boyfriend. We’re one big happy family on this side of the city.

  The French door opens, and Emma stands. I throw all the food in my outside garbage can.

  “I guess it’s pizza for us,” I tell Jana.

  Rocky walks up to her, calmer now, but his tail could leave whip marks it’s moving so fast. Jana hesitantly pats his head. Rocky sits and scoots closer to her, and Jana pets him again.

  “I better get going,” Emma says. “I’ve been procrastinating on this piece, and it’s supposed to be the center focus at the gallery next week.”

  “You’re an artist?” Jana asks. “What gallery?”

  “Sorry. Jana Gerhardt, this is Emma Hayes. Emma, Jana.”

  Emma walks over and shakes Jana’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jana says.

  “You too. The gallery is on the corner of Main and Sunset. It’s just a small place because Sam insisted I show my art, so…”

  “So now your paintings are all over the area. People go mad over her stuff,” I tell Jana.

  Emma’s cheeks redden. “He’s being kind. You two have a great night.” She looks at where Rocky has his head on Jana’s lap. “Do you want me to take Rocky for the night? I’m sure Penny won’t mind.” She looks at Jana. “Penny is our dog. Rocky’s girlfriend, or so he thinks. Imagine your welcome from him but more dry humping. That’s how he says hello to Penny.”

  “Sounds like his dad,” Jana says.

  Emma cracks up. “I guess they witness it long enough, they start to mimic. And here we are, not praising Rocky for doing what his master teaches.”

  “Bye, Emma.” I push at her shoulder.

  She laughs. “Nice to meet you, Jana. Have a great night, you two.”

  “I’ll check out your gallery sometime. I’m always looking for new artists.”

  “Emma Hayes Gallery. Nothing original.” Emma waves and gives me an expression to say good luck with that one.

  “Sorry about the meal.” I face Jana, who’s stiff as a board with the dog a mere inch away. “Rocky.” I clap my hands, but he doesn’t move. I pick up his ball and throw it out to the beach, and he still doesn’t move. “I guess you’re taking him home.”

  I go into the house and grab the take-out menus for nearby restaurants.

  “Maybe we should just skip dinner and have our meeting.” She turns slightly.

  Rocky slides his ass along the patio to stay as close to her as he can. It’s comical, but I’m trying not to laugh. He’s got good taste. If Jana ever opened up and allowed me in, I’d be doing the exact thing.

  “No. I’m feeding you. Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why?” It’s not surprising that she doesn’t just do as I ask.

  “C’mon, do it.”

  She huffs but closes her eyes. I grab her hand and manipulate her fingers so that her pointer finger is out.

  I spread out the menus in front of her. “You’re going to pick without looking and that’s where we’ll eat.”

  “I’d rather just decide.”

  “That’s no fun. We’re doing it this way. Unless you’re one of those picky eaters who will just complain.”

  She peeks one eye open. “Stop trying to bait me. I’m here at your place, eating dinner with you, and your dog won’t leave me alone. I think I deserve some props.”

  I smile because she’s right. I know if she had her choice, she wouldn’t be here, but she is, and she’s being a fairly decent sport. When I suggested we get together at my place, I never considered how great she’d look among my things and my dog. That she could seem to fit here, in this small two-bedroom house that’s not a mansion. There are no marble floors or elaborate chandeliers. My place couldn’t be simpler. I’m the only person on our team who doesn’t have a pool. But I like having her here. I wonder if it was a very bad idea to force her to come here.

  I’m so busy admiring her on my back patio, it takes me a second to realize her finger is pressed on a menu. “Mexican, I guess.”

  “Margaritas to go?” she asks. “Extra salt on the rim.”

  “I can make you a margarita.”

  We open the menu and each figure out what we want, then I call in the order. Both of us decide on tacos and guacamole with chips.

  “Come on in and I’ll make you a margarita. I’ve got all the fixin’s.”

  “I make the best margaritas.” She follows me after I whistle at Rocky.

  When we’re in the kitchen, I pull out my blender, the margarita mix, tequila, and salt. My head is buried in the fridge, looking for the limes, until I look over my shoulder and see she must’ve grabbed them while I was assembling the other ingredients. She has them on a cutting board already.

  I’d be lying if I said the idea of Jana making herself at home in my space isn’t like a shot of warmth to my chest.

  “You have to run the lime around the edge. Do you have a plate?” she asks.

  I lean my back on the fridge and watch her, not bothering to answer. This is a woman who’s probably had more drinks made for her than those she’s made for herself in her lifetime. She notices me watching, and I catch the slightest pink tinge invade her cheeks. I’m already half chub in my shorts because as usual, I want her. It’s so unfair—since I’ve already had her, I know exactly what I’m missing and she’s not mine to have anymore. But damn it, she really looks good in my space.

  “Are you going to help?” It’s not a question but more of a demand.

  I push off the fridge and come to stand beside her. “I was letting you prove your worth.”

  She hip checks me playfully, and finally it feels as though the bulletproof glass she’s put up between us fractures a bit. “Just mix the drink. I’m in desperate need of alcohol after this week and my dad.”

  I pour the mix, tequila, and ice in the blender. “It must’ve been hard to grow up with such a successful dad.”

  I saw her demeanor that night her dad gave us hell for dropping the ball. She was closed up—even more than usual—and looked like disappointing him made her feel about two feet tall. I can’t relate since my dad died when I was still pretty young. After that, my mom didn’t invest much emotionally in either my brother or me.

  She huffs. “The only thing hard about it is that I’m an only child, and I wasn’t born with a penis.”

  I don’t say anything, hoping she continues. The tightness in my chest eases when she does.

  “It’s the classic, cliché story. Powerful and successful man wants an heir but gets his little princess instead. But rather than teach his little girl about fairy tales where the prince comes to save the day on his white horse, he teaches her to ride the white horse herself. But she can never quite live up to what the prince might have done.”

  I walk over to the cupboard, grab a plate, and set it in front of her. “I’d want my own daughter to think the same thing. I wouldn’t want her to rely on a man.” That is, if I had a daughter, which I won’t since I’ll never have kids.

  “I’m appreciative of it. I know what my reputation is, but I’d rather that than be some doormat for some guy to trample all over. But there’s always that one small piece of my dad that only sees my gender. He’d never admit it, but he’s old school at heart and always worries I’ll make decisions based on emotions and not facts.”

  I pour our margaritas into the glasses she’s prepared with heavy salt rims. “I think emotions have to be considered in some decisions.”

  “Maybe that’s why we’re here right now. Maybe that’s the reason the Fury isn’t succeeding.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s it at all.”

  She sips her margarita, and her shoulders fall in relaxation. “Not much I can do to change things. You can’t turn back time and change how you were raised.”

  Isn’t that the truth.

  I’m walking out of my office when Barbara hands me a handwritten note.

  “Have a great night, Barbara. Are you coming to the game?”

  “No, I have to get home. Have fun.”

  I’m kind of getting used to Barbara’s notes, except for the fact that I read them, stuff them in a pocket or in my purse, and forget them entirely. I read the one in my hand.

  Kane Burrows called and said his brother, Lee, is going to attend the game. FYI since he’s the quarterback for the San Francisco Kingsmen.

  Kane’s brother is a professional football player? How did I not know this?

  I dial up Kane on my way to the elevator, hoping that he’s not too busy with his pregame routine.

  “I take it Barbara just gave you my message?” he says by way of answering. There’s the humor in his tone that I’ve missed during the last few months of us being at odds.

  “How did I not know your brother is the quarterback for the Kingsmen? Your parents must be over the moon at having two sons who are professional athletes. I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

  “I guess. My dad’s dead.”

  Foot, meet mouth.

  I cringe. “I’m sorry.” The elevator arrives, but I wait so my phone won’t drop the call.

  “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. But you’re right, he would be proud. Two Canadians playing down in the US. You haven’t made it until you’ve made it in America.” I can hear the humor in his voice.

  I giggle at his way of throwing that in there. “How about I bring him up to the suite? We’re retiring Brock Allen’s number in a ceremony before the game tonight so I’ll be down at the ice for that, but then I’ll be bringing him, his wife Kelsey and their kids up to join me in the box.”

  “No. He’s fine on the floor. I just figured you might want to tell the cameras to be on the lookout or something. It’s good publicity.”

  “Thinking of all the angles, huh?”

  “Anything to get the heat off of my coaching. The chat rooms are horrible.”

  I haven’t had the guts to read what the chat groups say about me. Hearing those fans the other week was enough to make me want to crawl into a hole.

  “Let’s bring him up to the suite. Dad would probably insist on it,” I say.

  “I’m not sure. He’s different than me.”

  My brow furrows. “How so?”

  There’s a long beat of silence. “I’m not sure… maybe more charismatic?”

  “You mean he’s not a grumpy, brooding man with an ego the size of China?”

  He chuckles lightly. “Oh, he’s got the ego. That’s what happens when you don’t have any responsibilities growing up. You get the ego, but you don’t get jaded.”

  “Are you giving me a sliver of insight into how you grew up?”

  “Believe me, if my brother has his way, you’ll know everything about how we grew up by the end of the third period.” He groans.

  “All the more reason to invite him to the suite.” I laugh and press the button for the elevator again. “Good luck tonight. I’ll see you after for the press conference. Your brother’s ticket will be at will call.”

  “We’re playing Oregon,” Kane says. “Tell me you have some lucky charm or superstition that will help us win tonight.”

  “Sure, I wear a special pair of panties every game. Come on. You know me better than that.”

  “If we win tonight, will you wear those panties every game after?”

  “Um… no. You play back-to-back games.”

  “It’s not like I said you couldn’t wash them.”

  “My panties—” One of the women who works here waves to me on her way to the restroom, so I lower my voice. “My panties have nothing to do with winning games.”

  “I know.” He laughs. “I was just hoping you’d tell me what panties you’re wearing. Lacy or sheer? My favorite pair was those sheer dark-purple ones with the small bow in the middle.”

  My body heats with the memory of him using his teeth to drag them off me. How his eyes blazed with desire the first time I wore them for him.

  “I’m wearing white cotton granny panties.” I try to keep my voice even, so he won’t know how much he still affects me.

  “Damn, you just dumped a bucket of cold water over me. Although at this point, I’d take you in those without complaint.”

  “Kane, we don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.” There’s zero censure in my voice. In fact, I think I probably sound more disappointed than anything.

  A long silence follows. “A man can dream. See you at the press conference, lady boss.”

  He ends the call and I step into the elevator, still overheated from his words.

  Lee Burrows is as tall as his brother, with the same dark hair although his is shorter, and he has no beard. Even though he’s close to my age—thanks, Google—he doesn’t seem as manly as Kane. Not in a bad way. The guy is a panty dropper for sure. But comparing the two of them in my mind makes me realize how much I prefer Kane’s big, burly presence. The chin-length hair and full beard, the small crow’s-feet at the corner of his eyes and his gruff demeanor, rather than his brother’s charismatic charm.