Block Shot (Hoops #2)(65)

“It’ll be good to have you home, if only for a day,” I deflect, making no promises of nudity, and hope Zo doesn’t notice.

No such luck. The silence on the other end swells for a few seconds.

“You’re okay?” I hate the uncertainty in his voice. “You sound . . . I don’t know. Off somehow.”

The trouble with dating your best friend . . .

“No, just a lot of work,” I lie. Only I can’t lie to Zo, thus the conversation we need to have tomorrow. “That’s not entirely, true. We need to talk when you get home.”

“You can tell me anything, Bannini. You know this, yes?”

Tears burn my eyes and my chest aches with the pain I’m going to cause him, with the knowledge that things won’t be the same between us after we talk. I don’t know exactly what that means or how we’ll look, but it will be different. And the “same,” the constancy, is what we’ve always needed and gotten from each other. But maybe that’s the problem. Too much of the same.

“Banner?” Zo asks when I don’t answer. “I said you know this, right?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, I know. There’s so much going on with free agency and work and . . . we just need to talk.”

There’s a small break, a silence in which the man who knows me so well tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

“Whatever this is,” he says. “I love you.”

A runaway tear skates over my cheek, and I swipe at it impatiently. No time for tears or weakness.

“I know, Zo. I—”

Movement at my office door momentarily distracts me. I press my lips into a stiff smile of welcome to Cal Bagley.

“Zo, Cal’s here,” I say in English for my boss’ sake. “I need to go.”

“Of course. We’ll talk tomorrow when I get home.”

I place my phone on the desk and gesture for Cal to take the seat across from me. My spine stiffens at the calculating gleam in his eye and the plastic smile on his face.

“Good old Zo,” Cal says to start the conversation.

“Not that old,” I return with a small smile.

“Do the Titans agree? Lowell says there’s still no deal.”

I lean back so my ergonomic chair tilts.

“Checking up on me, Cal?” I ask casually. Too casually. He knows I’m the last shoulder he needs to look over.

“No, I happened to run into Lowell.” Cal crosses one ankle over his knee. “But I have heard some things that I wanted to address before we have any . . .”

He squints and waves his hand in the air.

“Any issues,” he finishes.

“Issues?” I cross my legs, too. “Uh huh. Go on.”

“I know you and Jared Foster are working on a project together.”

“Yes, Kenan and August, one of Jared’s clients obviously, are doing a fundraiser together.”

“The golf tournament, yes.”

That gives me pause. He and I haven’t spoken about the specifics of the project. Why would we? He hasn’t interfered in my business for years. If he and I haven’t spoken about the project, he’s obviously spoken to someone about it. And I have to wonder why.

“What’s going on, Cal?” I lean forward and set my elbows on the desk and rest my chin on folded hands.

“Now, you know I trust you, Banner.”

“I thought I knew,” I reply, deliberately keeping my voice light.

“I do trust you,” Cal assures hastily. “It’s that damn Foster I don’t trust.”

“Jared?” My heartbeat stills and starts again. “Why? I mean I know he’s at another firm, but we’re coordinating sponsors for our clients’ fundraiser, not swapping company secrets.”

“Nothing like that. I think he means to lure you over to Elevation.”

I laugh because it’s ridiculous.

“You’re mistaken.” I shake my head, relieved that this is all. “He doesn’t.”

“He definitely has an interest in you.”

I won’t stop until you’re completely mine.

An interest. That’s one way to put it. I bite into an involuntary smile and suppress a shiver. As complicated as Jared has made things with Zo, I haven’t felt so alive in ages. Anticipating the next time I’ll see him. The intimacy of his kisses, the fire in his touch, how he stimulates my body and my mind. I shift in my seat and uncross my legs.

“Don’t worry, Cal,” I tell him with a wry smile. “Jared’s no threat.”

“Really?” Cal looks anything but sure. “He told me himself that my prize mare, as he put it, was safe, but that he could take better care of you at Elevation.”

All the gooey residual feelings congeal and thicken, settling like a lump at the bottom of my belly.

“Prize mare?” I ask numbly. “He said that?”

“Word for word,” Cal says, watching my face closely. “He all but warned me. You’d tell me if he made any offers, right? At least give me a chance to match whatever he presents, Banner.”

“Uh . . . he hasn’t made any offers,” I say absently.

Of the professional variety anyway, but maybe that was his end game. Even though Bent told me Jared wasn’t in on Prescott’s cruel joke, doubt floods me again. It’s like a habit, doubting myself. From the outside, no one would suspect, but there’s a crack in every wall. I’m no exception. I’ve lost a lot of weight. I’m in the best shape of my life, but I’m not, nor will I ever be a Quinn. A Tanya. A Cindy.