Page 37 of Playing for Keeps

Checking the giant wall clock, I see it’s six thirty-five and I should probably be revved or stoked about meeting the woman, but curiosity and determination are all I can muster. We’re all talking at once, and I’m sipping my ice water, when the doorbell rings.

Everyone stops and we look at Cat. She puts aside the bowl of salad she was working on and says, “I want you all to promise you’ll be on your best behavior. No rude comments.” She leaves the kitchen, headed to the front door, and Hunter steps into her wake, blocking the threshold.

“What the hell?” Gabe says what I’m thinking. I try and take a look past Hunter into the hallway, but he doesn’t budge.

“Cat will bring your date into the kitchen, where we can all hang out,” he says. “That’s why we have this enormous island. May as well make it worth the cost.”

We’re all sitting around the island on barstools and I’m thinking I should get up to meet her when I hear Cat talking as they get to the arched entry to the kitchen. I hear the laugh, the unmistakable familiar laugh, of the last woman I want to see tonight. Goddamn, leave it to Cat to invite Chloe. I don’t bother turning around and wonder how Cat could invite a reporter into her home. Glancing at the clock again, I realize my mystery date isn’t big on promptness, but I don’t care.

The minute Chloe steps into the kitchen behind me, every hair on my body rises in awareness. One deep breath before I turn to greet her and her scent fills me, sending mixed signals shooting all around my brain, messing with the wiring, putting my fucking indiscriminate cock on alert.

If I’d never met her before, I’d think she looks like a dream. She’s all done up like she took a wrong turn on her way to the Miss America pageant. Sean wastes no time letting out a whistle and I elbow him because it’s disrespectful to his date, no matter how casual.

“I think you know most of us here, Chloe,” Cat says. “This is Mia and Lydia.”

Then Cat turns to me and I’m about to ask her where my date is when she says, “And of course you know Tate. Your date for the evening.”

The room goes still and quiet and even if there was anything to hear I wouldn’t because my brain freezes and my heart stops for an endless tick of the clock like we’re in some kind of Twilight Zone suspension in time.

“What the fuck, Cat?” Chloe says before I have a chance.

“You forgot to tell Miss Sports Reporter your directive to behave,” I say, keeping my eyes on her and the simmering in my veins on low.

Cat takes her arm and says, “Don’t tell me you two don’t have chemistry because I’ve seen it for myself. I saw how you looked at her that night at Louie’s, Tate.” Then she turns to Cat and says, “And you gave me a list of everything you wanted in a man that describes Tate perfectly. Now let’s behave and try to enjoy the evening. Let’s leave the job at the office for one night and not talk about football. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make a lip-smacking dinner.”

Because he’s a smart man, Hunter says, “Can I get anyone a drink?”

“I’ll have a Maker’s Mark. Straight up,” I say.

“Make that two,” Chloe says and takes the chair next to me.

Then everyone jumps in to talk at once, explaining to Mia and Lydia why Chloe and I are an unlikely pair.

“Hey, we’re sitting right here and we’re not deaf,” I say.

“Mind changing the subject?” Chloe says as she picks up the glass Hunter puts in front of her. I pick up mine too, and Cat takes control of the conversation to talk about food. She puts out some shrimp rolls and fried calamari for appetizers.

“Here’s to spending a civil evening together,” I say as I click my glass against Chloe’s.

“Wow, you really know how to romance a girl, don’t you?” She takes a healthy swig of her drink and I refrain from telling her it’s the kind of whiskey that should be sipped.

She says under her breath, “What the fuck is Chloe thinking?”

“In all fairness, she doesn’t get exactly how deep our differences go.”

She says, “That makes two of us, Tate. Why don’t you explain to me why you blame me for something that happened years ago?”

Taking a deep breath, I can’t help smiling because she’s such a ridiculous troublemaker. I lean in and whisper, “How about if we call a truce for the night?”

“You sure? Because you know where that might lead.” She gives me a sultry look, but I pretend it has no effect on me.

“I’ll try to control myself.”

“What about me?” she says. “I’m not so sure I can control myself for a whole night, big boy.” She runs the tip of one of her heels up my pants leg and I grip my glass tighter than I should, hoping it doesn’t break.

“No flirting,” I say.

“I’m only playing.”