Chapter 19

“Kate?” Lorraine leaned into the room housing the handful of cubicles that constituted the Peak Tactical sales department. “Rich wants to see you.”

Kate groaned inwardly as she got up and shoved her feet into her high heels. This couldn’t be good. The month-end results had been issued the day before and she’d just hit her target, but she doubted Rich wanted to congratulate her on a job well done.

As she followed Lorraine down the hall, the fear of failure that had always driven her to success before washed over her in a wave, and for a second she teetered where she stood. When it receded she felt stronger, firmer. Ready to face her boss.

It probably wasn’t the healthiest form of self-motivation, but it worked. Nothing made her study harder or run faster or shoot straighter than the stress of speculating what might happen if she didn’t.

In some ways, getting fired from this job would be worse than failing at any of those things. Her means were stretched more than ever with rent, utilities, gas, and her mom called yesterday to say her doctor switched her to a new blood pressure medication that cost a third more than the old one.

But she also knew he had no reason to fire her. She’d hit her targets this month, despite the slow summer season. Roland was happy with her, and working for Skyline had given Peak Tactical entry into a whole new industry.

Lorraine knocked briskly and then opened the door to Rich’s office. He wasn’t going to fire her, she told herself sharply. He was probably going to lecture her on sales tactics and make some empty threats and suggest he check in on her pipeline at the end of the week.

“Have a seat.” Rich gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Kate dropped into it as Lorraine closed the door and left the two of them alone.

He laced his fingers over the belly that stretched his button-down shirt. “You saw the month-end results yesterday.”

She nodded.

“Matt pointed out an issue with his allocation,” he said, referring to one of her sales-department colleagues. “As a result I had a second look at the figures last night and realized I needed to make some adjustments to your allocations as well.”

She arched a brow. “Adjustments?”

“On the Skyline account. I did a hell of a lot of work on that last month, Kate, and I think it’s only fair that we split it fifty-fifty.”

She didn’t think that was fair at all, but she said nothing, waiting to see where this was going.

“The revised numbers show you didn’t hit your target for July. Not even close, in fact. You’ve struggled with your sales since you got here, and unfortunately I think it’s time for us to let you go.”

She blinked, unable to believe what she’d heard. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry to have to get to this point. We’re always excited to hire veterans, especially females. But I have to put food on the table, too, and you just aren’t hitting the numbers.”

“The numbers you decided to reallocate last night.”

He nodded, and she could swear he almost smirked.

She paused, waiting to feel devastation. Or disappointment. She’d failed—shouldn’t this hurt more?

Maybe three nights in a row of hot, satisfying sex with Oz had done her more good than she realized. Or maybe she was flat-out sick and tired of self-important men telling her what to do. Because the only thing she felt was pissed off.

“Let me stop you there.” She held up a hand. “Let’s schedule a formal meeting to discuss this, maybe tomorrow, to give me a chance to arrange for an attorney to be present. Can you send me the revised figures in the meantime so I can understand the basis for this dismissal?”

“Now, I don’t want this to get hostile.” He leaned forward. “I know this is disappointing, but let’s finish our time together on a positive note.”

“I don’t really care whether it’s positive. I want it to be fair and legal.”

“Are you suggesting I’m being unfair or acting illegally?” His tone sharpened, his eyes narrowed.

“I’m not suggesting anything. Just protecting myself.”

They stared at each other in mutual dislike for a moment. Rich swiveled toward his computer and poked at the keyboard.

“You want to protect yourself,” he muttered. “Have you ever heard about these Internet alerts you can set up? You get a little notification every time someone or something you’re interested gets mentioned.”

“I’ve heard of it,” she said carefully.

He typed, clicked, broke into a smug smile. Then he turned the screen so she could see it.

She gritted her teeth and clutched the arm of the chair when she saw the photo.

“I set an alert for our friend, Oz Terim. Found this nice article about him going to Boston. Apparently he was playing against his old team, and he even scored a goal. Then I scroll on down and see this.”

He tapped the screen needlessly. As if she couldn’t see herself in the corner of the photo, waiting patiently while Oz posed for a picture with the two boys in the hotel. As if she didn’t want to find whoever had taken the photo let the air out of their tires. As if what should have been a harmless, happy moment wouldn’t be burned into her mind forever now.

“I had my suspicions there might be something going on between the two of you, and I think I can safely say I have proof.” He full-on smirked. “Two words: gross misconduct.”

“How?” She’d re-read her contract before leaving for Boston. Because Oz wasn’t the one paying the company’s fees, she knew there was no way he could get her on this except emotional blackmail.

“Your contract says you have to act with the highest ethics. Do you think sleeping with a client is ethical?”

“First, Skyline is our client, not Oz. Second, you have no proof that we’re sleeping together. Third, you couldn’t get me on gross misconduct if you did because the contract isn’t that explicit.”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you a lawyer now?”

“No. I’m a woman being told I’m losing my job due to a discretionary reallocation of my sales figures.”

“Please don’t make this a political correctness thing.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “It has nothing to do with you being a woman. I treat all my employees the same. If you can’t meet the targets that are set the same for everyone, that’s no one’s fault but your own. Pull yourself together, take your two weeks’ notice, and start looking for a job that’s a better fit.”

She looked away, her anger simmering into calm, lethal determination.

She was out of the military. She was out of Saudi Arabia. She was done taking orders. She had a man in her life who respected her more than anyone else ever had, and no one was going to tell her what to do anymore.

“You treat all your employees the same?” she echoed.

He nodded vigorously. “Of course.”

“You definitely don’t give preferential allocations to Matt because the two of you spend the day trading links to porn clips.”

The color drained from Rich’s ruddy face.

Gotcha, fucker.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said tightly.

“Really? I’m sure I saved that e-mail somewhere. And you might want to talk to Matt about the Reply All function in his next review, by the way.”

“Let’s not play this game, Kate. Let’s be adults about this.”

“Agreed,” she told him firmly. “I’ll pack up and leave the office today. You’ll pay me two weeks’ salary and the quarterly bonus I would’ve received if my numbers hadn’t been”—she raised her fingers in air quotes—”adjusted.”

“Then we both walk away.”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

It was over. She won. She got what she wanted.

She was numb. So shocked she didn’t know what to do.

“Goodbye,” Rich said pointedly and she jerked up from her chair. She gave him a curt nod in farewell and strode out of the room.

Safely outside his door she flopped against the wall, exhaling heavily. She wanted to feel triumphant, victorious. Instead she found herself fighting back tears.

No matter the terms, he fired her. She was unemployed.

Just like her mom and sister.

She held it together as she packed her few possessions. The other sales reps looked on but no one spoke. She was sure the situation was obvious, and that she wasn’t the first woman to come and go from this macho-man pit. As she walked out with her cardboard box under her arm she imagined all of them sprinting down the hall, trying to be the first into Rich’s office to take her place on the Skyline account.

She smiled at that image, chucking the box in her trunk and slamming it shut. Rich thought he could get rid of her and hold onto Skyline. Good fucking luck, buddy.

On that note she pulled out her phone but stopped with her finger hovering over Oz’s number. She was seeing him later that night, anyway. She’d tell him then, when she’d had a chance to process exactly what happened, and send out a few resumes.

* * * *

“There you are.” Oz appeared at the head of the line leading into the nightclub and tugged Kate out of it, yanking her to his chest and giving her a quick, tight hug.

She savored the firm planes of his body for a second, then broke away and turned a disapproving face to the bouncer. “I told you I was on the VIP list.”

Oz’s tone was less forgiving. “What the hell, man? You better have an outstanding reason why I had to come all the way out here to get her.”

The bouncer ran his eyes up Kate’s body, toes to head, blatantly taking in her flat shoes, figure-hugging jeans and plain purple T-shirt. Then he looked past her at the long line of men and women dressed to the nines in designer clothes.

“It’s such a common name, I thought maybe I had the wrong Kate Mitchell,” the bouncer offered mildly.

“Sure.” Oz rolled his eyes and slung his arm around Kate’s shoulders, leading her into the nightclub.

He took a sharp right turn just inside the door to climb a set of stairs, and as they made their way along a crowded balcony toward an area labeled VIP she got a glimpse of the glamorous partiers who’d turned out to hear tonight’s DJ.

“The website said no flip-flops or sneakers, but I didn’t realize it was going to be this fancy.”

“You look great,” he told her firmly. The VIP-area bouncer unclipped the velvet rope for them to enter and as the handful of people inside got to their feet Oz announced, “I found her.”

“Did you get lost? We should’ve told you the entrance is on a side street.” Ted gave her a quick hug in greeting.

“The bouncer was giving her a hard time,” Oz said as she embraced Glynn and Sean in turn.

“He was a douche to me, too,” Sean assured her. “Guess we won’t be back.”

She smiled gratefully at Sean, doubtful his slick outfit would’ve been given a second glance at the door. He was trying to make her feel better, and she liked him all the more for it.

“And this is DJ Balboa, better known to us as Jonas, and his girlfriend, Ella,” Oz introduced them.

Kate smiled at the Swedish DJ, the reason they were here tonight. “Nice to meet you.”

They chatted as a group for a bit, but when Jonas and his entourage kept falling into Swedish Kate decided to leave Oz to his native language for a while. She joined Glynn, Ted and Sean on a couch at the other end of the area, beside the velvet rope.

“What can I make for you, hon?” A server in a teeny miniskirt arrived in front of the couch.

“Bottle service,” Glynn explained. “Vodka and mixers.”

Kate wrinkled her nose. “Just a club soda, please.”

“You’re not drinking?” Ted asked.

“I don’t like vodka.”

“We can get a different bottle. It’s all on the record label’s tab. We’re only having vodka because we’re surrounded by Scandinavians.”

“I’m good. I drove here, so.” She lifted a shoulder.

Ella joined them, starting up a conversation about visiting Atlanta for the first time. Kate contributed when she could, but she didn’t have much to offer about high-end shopping or trendy restaurants. After a few minutes she went quiet, taking in her surroundings and sipping her club soda.

She gathered that Jonas would go on last as the headliner, but another DJ was playing in the main section downstairs and she could see the crowd heaving in front of the stage. Those closest to the DJ seemed like genuine fans of the music, but the further back she looked the more the club appeared to be a meat market. The women hovering near the bar certainly hadn’t worn shoes fit for dancing, and she doubted the men buying them drinks would even notice if the DJ walked away and Waylon Jennings’s greatest hits started pouring through the speakers instead.

The space outside the VIP area was getting busier, too, as more and more people approached the bouncer and tried to talk their way behind the velvet rope. She guessed she should’ve felt special, but mostly she imagined all these would-be VIPs looking her up and down and wondering how she got in when they couldn’t.

Sean stood up from the space beside her and Glynn took his place.

“How are you?” he asked, raising his voice above the increasing volume of the music.

They’d seen each other a couple of times since they’d flown back from Boston, but she had an idea he was referring to more than her general wellbeing.

“Good, thanks.” It wasn’t exactly true. In fact it was a big fat lie. She’d just lost her goddamn job. But there was no point in getting into all of that, no matter how much she liked him.

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

Her face heated. “I am. It’s not really my scene, is all.”

“Not mine, either, if I’m honest. Jonas is good, though, and you can’t argue with free drinks.” He raised his in salute.

“True.” She tapped her glass against his.

Glynn looked over his shoulder at where Jonas laughed at something Oz said, then back at her. “Can I be really honest?”

After the day she’d had, she’d rather he wasn’t. “Of course.”

“The fact that you’re sitting here in jeans, being uncomfortable and not drinking, is why I like you. And why I’m glad you’re with Oz.”

She arched a brow. “Thanks?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since Nedda had her…moment. She would’ve loved this. She would’ve known exactly what to wear, what to say, what to drink. Tomorrow she would’ve taken Ella for lunch and shopping.”

“This is supposed to make me feel better?”

“Sorry, I’m circling my point, which is that it’s easy to get sucked into the pro-athlete lifestyle. I’ve known Oz for almost ten years and sometimes I still come close to falling into the trap.”

She shook her head. “I don’t follow. What trap?”

“The perception of life without consequences. That there will always be more money, more time, another party, someone to pick up the tab. I do think Nedda’s feelings for him were real, but there was also a level on which she wanted to be part of the lifestyle. She wanted the clothes, the vacations, the house, the attention.”

“She’s a doctor,” Kate replied incredulously. “That took a lot of hard work. She wouldn’t have gone through all that if she just wanted to be someone’s arm candy.”

Glynn’s expression said he wasn’t convinced. “If Oz had proposed, she would’ve quit. At best, she might’ve continued med school part time for the sake of appearances, but she wouldn’t have gone through interning and residency, and definitely never would’ve worked as a doctor.”

She flopped back against the couch as she absorbed Glynn’s assertion. Nedda seemed so capable and sophisticated and smart. Maybe Glynn saw her motives even more clearly than Oz had.

“You’re saying you don’t think I care about that stuff,” she supplied.

“Ironically, no.”

“Why is that ironic?” she asked, but when she caught Glynn’s regretful wince she figured it out.

“Because I need his money a lot more than Nedda did,” she answered her own question.

“I’m sorry, Kate, I wasn’t trying to imply—”

“It’s fine,” she dismissed him. “Y’all know what I do for a living. It’s no secret that I’m not exactly rolling in cash. I’ll take it as a compliment that you don’t think I’m a gold digger.”

“That’s what I meant,” he said earnestly. “You’re grounded, you’re honest, and you’re not trying to be anyone you’re not. Oz is pretty disciplined but between his intellect and his money, even he gets carried away sometimes. He needs someone to yank him back to earth, and I think you can do that.”

She swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat. She’d had a shit day and shittier ones were probably still to come as she looked for a new job, but in that moment she felt lucky. She was lucky to have Oz, lucky he had such great friends, and lucky they accepted her so easily. “Thanks, Glynn. I appreciate that.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “Now, try to do something about his stupid white décor. I’m afraid to touch anything in that damn house.”

“Is this man bothering you, Kate?” Oz arrived, gestured for the two of them to slide down, then took a seat on her other side. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her temple. She relaxed into his firm, lean body, so grateful for his presence, for his very existence, that she had to breathe through another hot swell of emotion.

“I’ve heard at least seven women claim to be your girlfriend.” She nodded to the press of people unsubtly peering into the VIP area. The bouncer had moved the velvet rope to push them farther back but that hadn’t stopped them craning their necks.

“Yeah, they look like committed soccer fans. I bet they’ve all got season tickets and watch every away fixture on TV.”

“I’m sure. Anyway, Jonas and Ella seem nice.”

“They are. I met Jonas in Stockholm a few years ago at a charity event. He’s a big star in Sweden but he’s only recently broken through in the US. I’m happy for him. He deserves it.”

“When does he go on?”

“Midnight.”

She quickly checked the time on her phone and suppressed a sigh. Still two hours to go.

Oz squeezed closer and asked in a low voice, “You’re not having fun, are you?”

“I’m just tired. I had a shit day at work.”

“What happened?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to get into it here.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“I’m fine, I promise. Anyway, I drove.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, then reached in his pocket and produced a key on a Swedish-flag keychain.

Glynn whistled, which Oz ignored. “You’re not enjoying yourself. Go back, help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“That’s the key to the house,” Glynn told her unnecessarily, his brows raised. “No one gets to be in there alone. This is a big moment for us all.”

“Shut up, Glynn,” Oz said without taking his eyes off her. After a second she accepted the key, slipping it into her own pocket.

“I assume you know how to turn off the alarm,” he continued. “The code is—”

“You should never tell anyone your code or—”

“Or announce it in a public place. I was listening that day, believe it or not. I’ll text it to you, and I’ll give you a hint.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips beside her ear. “There’s no hint,” he murmured, his voice deep and sultry. “I just want you to know I can’t wait to find you in my bed when I get home.”

His words wrapped around her as if she’d slid into a hot bath on a cold evening. Her muscles relaxed, the tension in her spine eased, and the worries that had been hammering her forehead since she left her office went quiet for the first time in hours.

She’d deal with the future tomorrow. Tonight she cared only about the man at her side.

He kissed her goodbye with a long, lingering press of his lips. Normally she would’ve been embarrassed by such a public display, but knowing all those wannabe-VIP women in tall heels and short dresses were watching, she returned the kiss full force. Oz hummed his approval and raised his hand to her cheek, moving his tongue against hers. She relaxed her jaw to give him better access, sliding her palm up his thigh.

“Should I go? Because this is getting awkward.” Glynn’s voice snapped her back to the present.

“No, I’m going.” She stood and said her farewells to everyone she’d met, including the Swedish visitors. Then, with a last glance at Oz, she left the VIP area and made her way to the exit, aware that every head turned to gawk at her as she passed.

The line to get into the club was even longer than when she arrived, and she marveled that anyone would spend that much time and expense on a few hours of partying, and on a Tuesday night to boot.

She rolled down her windows to enjoy the cool nighttime air, a welcome relief from the scorching summer day. She turned on the radio, then turned it off, preferring the quiet of the deserted streets and the dark, sleeping neighborhoods.

When she arrived at Oz’s house she cut the engine and waited in the driveway. Although Citizens First seemed to be embroiled in an internal leadership crisis that had the group splintering into factions, she wanted to be sure no one was watching the house.

She waited five minutes, long enough for a Peak Tactical patrol car to make a circuit down the street. She wondered if they’d phone into the command center with the gossip that they’d seen her car in Oz’s driveway, and then get the news she’d been fired. Maybe they already knew.

Satisfied she was alone, she locked her car and walked up the path to the front door. She checked her phone for the code—his jersey number repeated twice. She’d have to talk to him about picking something more cryptic. She unlocked the door with his key, then quickly tapped in the numbers to disarm the alarm.

She flicked on lights as she moved through the open-plan ground floor. The white walls and furniture made everything look clean and bright and orderly, and she understood why Oz liked this style so much. The house felt calm and organized, a haven in the middle of the bustling city and his hectic life.

She drifted into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but the contents impressed her nonetheless. Big hunks of salmon, two packets of ground turkey, a tub of yogurt, and more varieties of fruits and vegetables than she could name.

She filled a glass from the carton of organic orange juice and slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. The juice was tart and delicious, the counter surfaces pristine, the house silent except for the barely perceptible hum of the refrigerator.

Glynn’s words resurfaced in her mind—his suggestion that she was grounded. Maybe she was naïve not to have thought about it before. She’d been too preoccupied with the emotional bumps and hurdles of their relationship to consider the material side. Of course she liked Oz’s house and his car and all the other stuff his salary permitted, including the hand-squeezed orange juice in her glass.

But she liked those things because they were extensions of him. He could live in a trailer with a hole in the roof and drive a wreck with windows that didn’t roll down and she’d probably find it endearing.

“Anyway,” she said aloud, draining the glass and stowing it in the dishwasher. She climbed the elegant staircase to his bedroom, shucked off her clothes and folded them on top of the dresser, then pulled one of his T-shirts over her head. It smelled like him. The whole house smelled like him.

Not quite ready to settle down, she drifted around the bedroom. She reached for a bottle of cologne on the dresser, then withdrew her hand. Then rolled her eyes at herself.

He’d given her his key. Sent her into his house on her own. She left the military in search of permanency, and now he offered it to her. She just had to find the courage to accept it.

The cologne probably cost as much as two tanks of gas. She picked it up, opened the top, and inhaled. The scent was woody and masculine and tantalizingly familiar.

She replaced the cap and examined the other objects on the dresser. The remote control for the TV. Two rolls of blue kinesio tape. A little red wooden horse with a white- and blue-painted harness and mane.

She touched them each in turn, savoring these glimpses into his everyday life. His house still didn’t feel like home, but he did. He felt like somewhere she belonged.

A yawn took her by surprise and she stretched, suddenly tired. She slipped between the crisp sheets and switched off the lights. She exhaled in pure contentment and fell instantly asleep.

* * * *

It was after two o’clock in the morning when Oz climbed the stairs and crossed the hall to his bedroom, but he was wide awake. The high-energy DJ set left him full of adrenaline, and seeing Kate’s car in his driveway and knowing she was in his bed doubled his excitement. He had to take a calming breath before opening the bedroom door, which he wanted to fling wide on its hinges.

Instead he slipped into the room as quietly as he could, unlacing his shoes and lining them up inside the door. Normally they’d go back into their spot in the walk-in closet as soon as he took them off, but he didn’t want to wake Kate, whose figure he could just about make out in the darkness.

He snuck into the bathroom to brush his teeth and empty his pockets. He always placed his wallet, watch and keys in a neat pile on his dresser, but tonight he arranged them beside the sink instead. He stripped down to his briefs and draped his clothes over his arm to put in the hamper, then grabbed his phone and moved into the bedroom.

After another couple of minutes fumbling in the dark, trying not to make a sound, he finally made his way to the bed and eased in between the sheets.

Kate rolled over and pressed into him. “Hello.”

“I was trying not to wake you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m a light sleeper. Did you have fun?”

He hummed affirmatively. “Jonas was incredible. The whole club was jumping. Awesome vibe.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

“No, you’re not. But I don’t care,” he assured her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I want you to be happy, not try to make me happy.”

“Sounds good. By the way, I rearranged all your clothes to give myself a drawer and moved in a bunch of my stuff.”

Panic shot through his chest and he froze, horrified by the mental image of his carefully ordered drawers in disarray.

“I’m kidding.” She laughed, propping up on one elbow. “I would never. Oh my God, you should see your face. You look like I just told you I crashed your car.”

“Not funny,” he informed her, slipping his hands under her shirt to tickle her sides. She squealed and wriggled in his grip, until his fingers brushed over her nipple. Then she grew serious, placing her palms on his cheeks.

“Hi,” she murmured before she kissed him.

He inhaled sharply as she ground her hips against him, stiffening his already aching erection. He slid his hands to her rear, pushing down her panties to grip her firm flesh. She purred encouragement against his lips and he tugged the garment down to her knees, then pressed his fingers between her legs.

He growled a curse at the wet heat he found. He started to move his hand but she grabbed his wrist and held him still, nipping lightly at his lower lip.

“I want it fast and hard tonight, and I want it now. Think you can deliver?”

“Anything,” he promised, his heart pounding so wildly he could barely breathe.

She pulled her T-shirt—his T-shirt—over her head and tugged impatiently at his briefs. He yanked them off and rolled over to open the top drawer of his bedside table. As he rooted blindly for the box of condoms he felt Kate’s body against his back, and then she reached around to bob her fist once, twice, three times along his shaft.

He groaned involuntarily, his hands shaking as he opened the packet and rolled down the latex. He turned around just in time to see Kate spread her knees on the bed and brace her hands on the headboard, inviting him to take her from behind.

His dick throbbed and he offered a brief, grateful prayer in Turkish to a God he was confident wouldn’t begrudge this happiness.

He moved into position and gently pushed one, then two fingers inside her, assuring himself she was ready. He replaced his fingers with the head of his erection, sliding it along her folds and over her clit, then easing the tip inside.

She shot him an impatient glance over her shoulder. He buried himself in a single stroke.

Her moan was guttural and she repositioned her knees, moving them wider. He took several long breaths, adjusting to the sensation of her warm, encasing flesh, pulling himself back from the brink of climax. Eventually his breathing calmed and he slowly stroked in and out.

Kate met each thrust of his body with one of her own, urging him faster, harder, rougher. He obeyed gladly, sliding one hand up her stomach to thumb her nipple and cupping her sex with the other, holding her against his hips and teasing her clit.

They went from zero to a hundred in only minutes. After a handful of thrusts Kate arched her back, begging incoherently before her inner muscles tightened around him in a way he knew broadcast her impending climax. Just the anticipation of her pleasure rocketed his own to new heights. He rubbed merciless circles over her clit as he increased the pace. She came within seconds, whimpering as her whole body stiffened, then trembled.

The sight of her shoulders heaving with the force of her orgasm pushed him over the edge into his own. He clenched his jaw as he thrust into her and held himself there, pressure building almost unbearably and then exploding into a dizzying climax. He emptied into her, throbbing inside her hot sex, then gingerly pulled out, feeling like every one of his nerve endings was exposed and raw.

Kate flopped onto her back. He tossed the used condom into the trash and stretched out beside her, trailing his fingers through the sheen of sweat between her breasts.

“Good?” he asked.

“Outstanding.”

He smiled into the darkness. “Could’ve been longer.”

“Sometimes I like it quick and intense. Plus it leaves time for a second round.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“I’m in bed with a hot man and I want to take advantage. Can you blame me?”

“Definitely not.”

She laced her fingers through his. “I haven’t always been like this. If anything, sex tended to be mostly awkward. Couple of drinks, guy I was kind of into, twenty minutes of fumbling and I usually had to finish myself off. It’s completely different with you.”

He kept his voice even, although her words had warmth spreading through his stomach. “Different how?”

“Better, obviously. Way better. And it’s not just sex, what we do. It’s intimate.”

“Deliberate,” he added.

“I feel like I know you better after every time. Like we’re getting closer and closer.”

He squeezed her hand, barely able to contain his excitement for another second. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table. “I have something to show you.”

“Something good?”

“Of course.” He unlocked the screen, pulled up his e-mail and scrolled to a message. He opened it and passed her the phone.

She squinted at the glowing screen. “I’m confused.”

“Read.”

“I did. I don’t get it.”

He took the phone and replaced it on the bedside table. “It’s my itinerary for the international friendly this weekend. I booked a second plane ticket. I want you to come with me.”

She said nothing for so long he thought maybe she hadn’t heard. He was about to repeat himself when she blurted, “I lost my job today.”

The phone went into sleep mode, dropping them back into darkness with the same unexpected suddenness as she’d made her announcement.

“What happened?” he asked, not sure where else to start.

“I didn’t hit my target, at least not according to Rich’s special math. It’s probably for the best. I wasn’t good at sales and I didn’t like it anyway.”

He considered the implications of this development, at least as much as a professional athlete who’d never had a job interview could. “So now you look for something else?”

“Pretty much.”

“Roland will dump Peak Tactical as soon as he finds out about this.” He covered her hand with his own, driven by an unfamiliar instinct to protect her. The possessive urge was startling and brand new. He’d always found independence and self-sufficiency attractive, yet here he was, ready to do almost anything to make sure Kate was all right.

“Do you want me to make some calls?” he offered. “I don’t know much about your industry, but I’m happy to pick up the phone to anyone you think could be useful. And your apartment, will you be able to afford the rent? Because if you need a place to stay—”

“I’ll be fine,” she interrupted. “I’ve got some savings to keep me afloat, and hopefully I’ll find something new soon. It’s just annoying to be back to square one.”

He closed the space between them, pulling her against him. “The upside is you won’t have to use any vacation days to come to Sweden. You can get out of Atlanta, clear your head, be fresh for the job search when you get back.”

“Oz,” she said softly, her tone broadcasting that she was about to say something he wouldn’t like.

He eased back, giving her space. “What?”

“I can’t go to Sweden.”

Cool disappointment settled on his shoulders, dousing the hot flare of protectiveness that had overtaken him only moments ago. “Why not?”

“Saturday is my sister’s birthday. She’s having a party in Jasper.”

His jaw tightened. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“It’s Tuesday. I didn’t realize you needed to know my plans for Saturday.”

He withdrew from her, physically and emotionally. He released his hold on her as shutters slammed down around his heart.

“Is it a big birthday?” he asked carefully. “Like her thirtieth or something?”

“She’s my younger sister,” she reminded him.

“I’m getting an award from the Swedish government the night before the match at a black-tie dinner.” He heard himself sounding more and more aloof. He tried to find an anchor in the conversation, to believe that he might still convince her to come with him. “My parents are flying to Stockholm to see it. Yusuf and his wife are coming from London, too. It’s a big deal. It would mean a lot to have you there.”

Her sigh sounded exasperated. “I’ve committed to my sister. I can’t back out. Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you wanted me to go?”

He didn’t answer. They both knew why—because earlier their relationship hadn’t gone as far as it had in the last two weeks. Earlier they weren’t sleeping together. Earlier he hadn’t given her a key to his house.

“Forget it,” he said coolly. “If your sister’s birthday party is more important, you should go.”

“It’s not about what’s more important, it’s about keeping promises.”

“Fine. So keep your promise.”

Her hesitation tightened the air between them. He hoped she was about to relent. Offer to call her sister and explain the situation, then ask increasingly enthusiastic questions about Sweden. Kiss him and fall asleep in his arms, looking forward to their first international trip together.

“Goodnight,” she said instead, then rolled over. He pulled the duvet up to his chest and crossed his arm behind his head, staring unseeingly at the ceiling as he fought to understand what just happened.

Maybe he was being arrogant or self-centered—he’d certainly been accused of both before—but he couldn’t believe she turned him down. He hadn’t just asked her to join him on a weekend jolly somewhere hot and frivolous. He wanted her by his side in front of his family, in front of all his fans, as he was given a nationally prestigious award before strapping on his boots to play for his country. And her reason for staying behind was a party. A party. Not work or a family crisis or any other immoveable, justifiable commitment. Her unreliable, unpredictable sister, whom she didn’t even seem to like very much, was throwing a birthday party. She chose a night of cheap booze over five days in Stockholm.

He shook his head, astonished and bewildered. There had to be more to it. Maybe an overseas trip to meet his family was too intense.

He liked any opportunity to travel, but he supposed that wasn’t the case for everyone. Maybe the idea of hopping a plane to Sweden and putting thousands of miles between herself and her home at a day’s notice was intimidating. In the Army she would’ve had plenty of notice before deployments, and the logistics would’ve been handled for her. Maybe she was nervous about traveling abroad, especially without time to plan for it.

Then again, maybe it had nothing to do with the destination or the notice. Maybe she just wasn’t as all into this as he was.

He devised The Plan to protect himself from the lonely downfall that claimed his uncle, to be an objective framework to ensure he didn’t make rash decisions or emotional mistakes. Yet the deeper he got with Kate, the more he ignored it, bending the relationship criteria and reaching to justify why everything would be fine despite their obviously disparate futures.

The whole point was to find a woman who would commit to him forever. Kate wouldn’t even commit to this weekend.

Unease and doubt settled heavily in his chest, a pair of uncomfortable, unshifting weights as he saw his uncle’s sallow skin and unfocused eyes, his once powerful, unstoppable body bloated and weak. The capable hands that had applauded his childhood soccer skills grown shaky and uncertain. The sure, capable feet shuffling down the hallway in the house where he grew up. The man who was his idol, his inspiration, his everything, slumped in a corner of the kitchen, pathetic and defeated, droning about his lost love with ever more incoherence.

He eased onto his side, turning his back to Kate. He’d rushed into this thing with her, sprinted in with his heart wide open. He had to tighten his grip on the reins, pull himself back under control, recover his detachment and objectivity. He had to evaluate whether this was a good idea or a catastrophic one.

It would hurt—it already did. But a little pain now was better than a whole lot of agony in weeks to come.