Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(25)

That, she was pretty sure, Michael could not deliver. But it did remind her she needed to e-mail Peter and get his advice on finding a temporary coach in the area.

On her way back up to her apartment from the second-floor workout room, she got a text from Michael.

Where are you, and why do you never answer me when I knock on your door?

She smiled, then sent him a selfie from the elevator.

He responded ten seconds later.

My door is unlocked.

Bossy. But she could handle that. Instead of passing his door to head to hers, she knocked once on his and pushed it cautiously open. “You rang, Manny?”

“Stop calling me that.” He walked out from the kitchen area carrying a bottle of water. She froze, looking at him, unsure what to do with this new information.

He was dressed in a sweater that was formfitting but not tight and matched his hazel eyes, dark jeans and simple brown shoes. The white edges of a collared button-down shirt peeked out at the wrists and collar. His hair was combed but not gelled or anything fussy.

He looked amazing. And completely different from any other way she’d seen him.

That must be why it was throwing her for a loop. It was unexpected.

“Going to the prom?” she asked, leaning on her crutch of sarcasm to get her over the hump.

Don’t think about humping. Not when he looks lickable.

He narrowed his eyes in question, then looked down at his outfit. “No, I’ve got a charity thing to go to.” He popped the cap off the water and took a swig. And gave her a fantastic view of his freshly-shaved throat. God, that was sexy, in a really weird sort of way. She still liked the scruff, but that… was pretty delicious.

“Don’t you guys always wear your uniform or something to events? Staying true to the team brand or whatever?”

“I misspoke. It’s a planning meeting for an event, not the event itself. Come with me.”

She blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“I see you already worked out. I had practice early this morning, so I’m done. All I have is this meeting. Come with me.”

“I… I’ll get in the way,” she started to protest, but he shook his head.

“No, you won’t. Go change and come with me. If you’re good,” he added with a wicked grin, “I’ll show you around town a little. I know you’re bored. I would be too.”

The offer was a generous one. She debated for a few seconds, then said, “Can you spare twenty? I want to rinse off.”

He checked his watch, then nodded. “Twenty. Hustle.”

She did, and was knocking on his door again after nineteen. Luckily, she hadn’t had to wash her hair, which saved time. When he walked out, pocketing his cell phone and keys, she gestured down. “Am I okay?”

“It’s just a meeting, but yeah.” He hadn’t even looked. She grabbed his arm, waited until he turned and actually looked. And felt a feminine thrill of satisfaction as he looked a little longer than strictly necessary at the dark slacks that she knew made her butt look good, white blouse and heels. The heels gave her an added few inches so she was nearly eye level with him.

Okay fine, she was still a few inches off eye level. But closer anyway.

“Yeah, you look fine,” he finally said, but his voice was suspiciously raspy, like he’d choked it out.

She walked beside him to the elevator, waiting.

“I think I need a car.”

He gave her a quick glance then turned back to the elevator doors as if he was going to miss them opening when the elevator came. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like being dependent on you for a ride, and using Uber everywhere is going to bankrupt me. Just a beater get-around car, nothing fancy. I could probably sell it for nearly what I pay for it when I’m done.”

“You can just use one of mine,” he said absently as he rubbed his chin. How often did he shave that close? She wondered if this was unusual for him, because he couldn’t seem to stop rubbing around his mouth.

“The Mustang?” she asked hopefully as the doors opened.

“You’re insane if you think I’m letting you drive that,” was his firm answer, and he used his hand at the small of her back to guide her into the elevator.



Michael sat with his business partner and lawyer in the conference room of the law office, going over plans once more for the camp he was working on, ready to rip his hair out.

“The problem is, if we open the camp to anyone who can pay, outside of these scholarship opportunities, then we are inviting scrutiny. Those paying campers—or more specifically, their parents—might be wondering why some kids don’t have to pay for the privilege of being at your camp, when they do.”

Michael turned to his lawyer, Martin Bennett, and sighed. “Fine, then we revert back to the camp being only for underprivileged kids.”

“And it’s not self-sustaining.” Business partner, serial-entrepreneur and business shark, Teddy Chaplin, shook his head and tapped his pen on the conference table. “You’ve gotta have money coming in to sustain the scholarship kids.”

“You don’t think I can afford to keep the camp running,” Michael said dryly. “Seriously.”

“The point is, should you have to afford it?” Ted shot back. “There are thousands of kids who would kill to be at this sort of camp. It’s stupid to say no to their money just so a few more kids who can’t pay can come. You’ll have a better quality of camp with fresh money coming in each year.”