The Deal with Love (One on One) (6 page)

About thirty seconds after Mack left, Christian said, “I’ll be back. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Elise said. “It’s down the hall to your left.”

He exited the office and spotted Mack waiting up ahead. He followed him into a room—Mack’s office, obviously—and braced himself for what was to come.

He didn’t feel angry. He’d been living in a state of numbness ever since he’d found out his father was living in the same town. He didn’t blame his sister for not calling Mack out for the bastard he was like she’d originally intended, but he couldn’t do the whole father-child reconciliation thing that Mack and Caitlin had engaged in. That just wasn’t him. He wasn’t interested in getting to know someone who’d shown his true colors long ago. Mack hadn’t ever wanted to get to know him. He’d made that blatantly obvious when he’d given Christian’s mother five thousand dollars, and told her to take a hike. People encouraged him to give Mack a second chance, but Mack had never given
him
a chance, so why should he?

“Thanks for coming,” Mack said pleasantly.

Christian just stared at him. He refused to see his resemblance to this man, though others had been quick to point it out once the news had hit.

Mack cleared his throat. “How are you?”

Christian’s jaw tightened. “I’m doing fine. I’m always fine.”

“That’s good to hear. I have a few things to say.”

“I’m not interested in hearing them.” Mack had had years to reach out and find out what happened to the children he’d abandoned. He never had until he was forced to. “I’m only here to tell you we can be polite and professional. That’s as far as it needs to go. That’s as far as it
will
go.”

Mack straightened to his full six feet six inches, giving Christian a glimpse of the ultra-confident pro athlete he’d once been. “I’m glad you had your chance to speak, because that means I can talk without fear of interruption. I’ve tried to be cognizant of your feelings and not push too hard too fast, but you’re going to be here every day, and I know I’m not going anywhere.”

Christian felt a begrudging sense of respect rise in him for Mack standing his ground. Before finding out Mack was his father, he’d never disliked the other man. He’d always liked him as a player. As a fan of the Stampede, he’d been excited when they hired Mack as head coach. He’d always admired his toughness, his assertiveness, and his leadership skills. It had been hard to reconcile that image of him to the man Christian learned he really was. Though he couldn’t match Mack in height, he was more than a match for him in toughness. He spoke clearly. “You’re right. I am going to be here, and I have no intention of not doing the job I was hired to do. Give your speech, and then I’ll leave and we won’t have to speak ever again.”

Mack’s jaw tightened, but his gaze remained steadfast. “What I did to you, Caitlin, and your mother was shitty. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“Yet you’d still be living in that denial if my sister hadn’t found out the truth,” Christian bit out.

Mack nodded. “You’re right, but she did find out, she did seek me out, and I’m happy that she did. You probably won’t believe me, but I regretted my actions for years, and I didn’t handle my guilt in the right way. Instead of looking for your mother to see how she’d fared, I pushed it to the back of my brain and tried never to think about it.”

The anger, the disgust Christian had held back for months refused to be silenced any longer. “You thought my mother had an abortion. You
wanted
her to have an abortion. You gave her a check for five thousand dollars and told her to never contact you again. Why in the world would I
ever
forgive you for that?”

Mack’s face fell, the bravado holding up his shoulders seemingly deserting him. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been so determined and gone after what I wanted in my life, but I’m asking for your forgiveness anyway. There’s nothing I want more in my life right now than for you to give me a second chance. I’m not saying I deserve it. I don’t deserve it, but I’d like it anyway. I’ve gotten to know Caitlin, and it’s been amazing.
She’s
amazing.”

Christian hated hearing the pride in Mack’s voice. He didn’t deserve to feel pride. “You don’t know shit about my sister. I wish you would leave her alone.”

Mack shook his head. “I know you want to believe I don’t know anything about her, but that’s not true. She and I have spent a lot of time getting to know each other these past nine months. I’m not going to say it was all a hunky-dory fairytale, but we’ve both tried, and it’s gradually gotten better. I just want that same chance with you.”

Christian didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The anger, the hurt, the confusion—it all raged in a tight boil inside him, crowding out the numbness. Growing up, he’d never let himself hope for a father. He’d understood at a young age that if his father wanted to be a part of his life, he would have been. His mother had never lied, never pretended his father was dead. He hadn’t wanted to be a part of their lives, so Christian hadn’t wanted him to be.

Mack waited a few seconds, clearly waiting for Christian to reply. When it didn’t come, he sighed and said, “Just think about it.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Christian turned on his heel and strode out of the office, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. Outside Elise’s office, he paused with his hand on the knob, struggling to get his breathing under control. She’d notice in a heartbeat if he went storming into her office. He was here to do a job, not cause trouble or bring undue attention to himself. Still, it took a few more deep breaths to bring his heart rate under control.

When he stepped inside, he found her pacing. She rushed up to him when she spotted him. “Where have you been?”

He gave a moment’s thought to lying, but she was looking like she already knew the answer. “With Mack.”

Her brow wrinkled. “That’s what I thought.” She paused. “I know you’re in a tough spot, and I shouldn’t butt in.”

“But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you?” he asked with a brief smile.

“Yes.”

He held out a palm. One thing he’d learned about Elise—when she wanted to, she had no problem speaking her mind. “Then go for it. I’m not going to stop you.”

Elise bit her lip. “I’ve gotten the chance to know Mack over the past few years, and I respect him. I like him.” He couldn’t stop the small growl that spilled from his lips. Still, she straightened her shoulders and soldiered on. “I know this situation with you and your sister hasn’t been easy for him.”

The anger he’d tried to put a lid on threatened to boil over again. “Yes, because it’s hard to maintain a good-guy image when everyone knows your deep, dark secret.”

“I won’t defend what he did. He won’t defend what he did. But it was thirty years ago, and I know he would like to make amends.”

“I don’t care what he wants. I’ve lived my life for thirty years without him, and I’m doing just fine.”

She studied him, her brow still creased. “Are you? There seems to be a lot of pent-up anger inside you.”

He held up a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t. I’m handling this the best way that I see fit.”

“Christian.” Her beautiful eyes pleaded with him.

He wasn’t in the mood. Why was everyone so damned determined to discount his feelings and tell him he was wrong? “Why do you care? It’s not like you have the best relationship with your father. Do you think I forgot how you ran out on him the night of my sister’s engagement party without speaking to him? Or how you came to me a few days ago determined to thwart his wishes? Or how upset you were with me when I agreed to do his bidding?”

She didn’t flinch at his harsh questioning. Instead, she nodded and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were clear and resolute. “Those are fair questions. Yes, my father and I have had our differences, and we continue to have our differences, but the one thing I can say, and that I will always be able to say, is that my father loves me. He believes he has my best interests at heart. Do I always agree with his reasoning? No, but I know I have his love, and he knows he has mine. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.”

He wasn’t swayed. “That’s great for you. But I have my mother and sister for those types of relationships. I don’t need him. I want you to stay out of it. This is the last time I plan on speaking to you or anyone else about this. My mother has tried. My sister has tried. I’ve made up my mind. Just like he made up his mind thirty years ago.”

Again, she didn’t wilt under his heated demand. Not Elise. She held her ground and swept her gaze up and down his figure. “It must be hard for people in your life to live up to your high expectations.”

He jerked back. “Are you saying I expect people to be perfect?”

She shrugged. “If the shoe fits, then yeah.”

Her accusation hit him square in the gut. He lived his life with certain expectations, and he didn’t think they were unreasonable. “I don’t know if I expect people to be perfect, but I don’t think I’m asking too much for them not to be assholes.”

She sighed. “You’re not, but people make mistakes. Sometimes, they even regret them. Maybe you should learn to acknowledge and accept that fact. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

He stared at her, stunned into silence. How had she seen into him so easily? They’d shared only one incredible night together, and yet she just dug straight into his soul, right to the core of his issues. He’d looked at this Stampede documentary as an opportunity to discover the real Elise, but it seemed like she was doing her best to find the real Christian. Except he had nothing to hide. He was who he was, and he wouldn’t apologize for it.

“Are you going to be able to do this? I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you.” She touched him then, gripping his hand.

Just like that, the turmoil that had been weighing down his shoulders since Mack walked into the office lifted. Her concern touched him. Made him feel like he wasn’t alone on this crazy rollercoaster of emotions. He smiled. “Do you think you can get rid of me that quickly?”

Her expression lightened. “Pfft. No, if I want to get rid of you, I’d think of something better. Something crazy to make you really want to leave.”

“I’m pretty sure the emotion I’m feeling right now is fear.”

“That’s ’cause you’re smart. I’m tough.”

“I’ve never doubted that for a moment.” He gripped her hand when she started to retreat. He didn’t question his actions. All he knew was that he wanted her close at that moment. “Seriously though, I’m okay. I hadn’t thought about the fact that I would have to see him when I decided to do this, but I’ll be fine.”

She searched his eyes, then nodded and patted him on the chest. “Okay. That’s all I want for you.”

He kept her hand locked to his chest, loving the feel of her hands on him, even through his shirt. What was she doing to him? She cared about him. She’d made that clear. But she’d also made it clear she didn’t want anything more between them. He’d dealt with enough rejection in his life. Seeking it out wasn’t an option. Except he was afraid he was starting to feel something he didn’t want to name. And that simply could not be.

Chapter Six

Christian released her hand and stepped back. “Do you want to get lunch or something?”

It took a second for the question to register. For her to break the spell he’d cast over her. For her to stop thinking about the way he’d been looking at her a moment ago. Like it was only a matter of time before he went from having lunch to having her—a prospect that heated every corner of her body and made her heart race. She smoothed her hands down the sides of her skirt. “Are you trying to ask me out on a date?”

He trained his dark eyes on her. “No, if I was trying to ask you out on a date, you’d know it. There’d be no question about it.”

“Uhh… Right.” She glanced at her watch to give herself a moment to recover from the arc of electricity zipping through her system. “Yes, I guess I should eat. I get so consumed with work that I forget a lot of times.”

His brow wrinkled. “That’s not good.”

Her stomach chose that moment to make its presence known with a loud grumble. “Tell me about it. Let me get my purse.” On the way to her desk, she froze and looked over her shoulder. “Wait. You’re not going to take the camera, are you?”

He shook his head. “No, we’d need to get permission to film in whatever restaurant we go to, and that can be a time-consuming headache. I don’t think your stomach wants that.”

Her stomach grumbled its agreement. “No, it doesn’t. Let’s go.”

They went to a Tia Maria’s, a Tex-Mex restaurant a few blocks away from the arena.

“I love this place,” Christian said, opening the door.

“Me, too,” Elise said.

A hostess led them to a table next to a window that served as one wall of the restaurant. The other walls were covered with murals and inspirational quotes from artists like Frida Kahlo. The place was packed, which was to be expected considering it was lunchtime in Texas at a Mexican restaurant. The tables were close enough together that she could hear what others were saying at nearby tables. For better and definitely for worse.

“She’s the new general manager for the Stampede,” a balding man wearing a T-shirt said at a table a few feet away. At least he whispered, a point that got defeated thanks to the bass in his voice, which carried easily through the air.

“Pretty, but I don’t want my GM to be pretty,” his companion, a skinny guy in a blue polo shirt, said. “I want my GM to get the job because he deserves it, not because her father owns the team.”

“I know,” bald guy said. “What does she know about the NBA? It’s not like she played in the league. I hope she doesn’t run the team into the ground. We just won a title. Why did the old GM have to quit?”

Elise clutched her menu, anger and frustration welling up inside of her. A small slice of hurt, too. These were the team’s fans, and they didn’t believe in her. They were ready to dismiss her just because of her gender and who her father was, neither of which she had control over. They didn’t care that she’d been a huge fan of the team for as long as she could remember. They didn’t care about her advanced degrees in business and applied economics. They didn’t care that she’d worked for another NBA team before joining the Stampede, diligently working her way up through the organization until she was the assistant director of basketball operations. They didn’t care that she’d served as the Stampede assistant GM for the past two years. Not that any of that should have mattered. Most GMs in professional sports had never played professionally, but no one questioned their credentials once they got the job. They cared about their results. All she wanted was that same consideration.

A low growl caught her attention. She hastily lowered the menu she hadn’t been reading.

Christian looked livid, his body poised like he was ready to spring out of his chair and rip into the guys next to them. She shook her head slightly, hoping the men at the next table didn’t see her. She appreciated his concern, but she was a big girl and could fight her battles herself. Besides, she was a representative of the team. Getting into arguments with fans in public was not the way to go. Not that she had any desire to get into arguments with fans anyway. Fans were the lifeblood of the team and the reason everyone associated with it, including her, had a job. They were the reason her father had bought the Stampede a few years ago. They were entitled to their opinion. All she could do was put her head down and work hard. She’d win them over eventually.

Christian didn’t look inclined to heed her warning. Reaching across the table, she gripped his hand and sent him a pleading look. Though his eyes still glittered with anger, he settled back in his chair.

She released a silent breath of relief. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Let’s order.”

He nodded and picked up his menu. “The lunch special is enchiladas, rice, and beans. I’m having that. What about you?”

Elise picked up the menu and actually perused its contents this time. “The chicken fajitas.”

After the waiter took their orders, Elise took a sip of water and eyed Christian over the top of her glass. “My father proved he’s a better researcher than I am. But I have an excellent memory. He said you were an award-winning documentarian. What award, or should I say
awards,
did you win? What was the documentary about?”

Christian studied her. “Excellent memory, hmm? I’ll have to remember that. When I was a kid, I was fascinated by the news. I still am, if I’m perfectly honest. I made a documentary about cutbacks in newsrooms and how that negatively affects new coverage, the communities the news outlets cover, and the morale of reporters. It’s hard to be looking out for justice when you’re told to get a story out as quickly as possible or told to work on a story because it will get ratings.”

“And the awards?”

“I won ‘Newcomer of the Year’ at a few film festivals.”

Elise tilted her head to the side. “A few? How many is a few? Are you being modest?”

“Will I get brownie points if I say yes?”

She laughed, the tension that had taken residence in her shoulders thanks to the loudmouthed Stampede fans melting away. The delicious aroma of sizzling fajitas filled the air. Their waiter had returned with their food. “Lucky for you, you’re saved by the food.”

They tucked into their meals.

He looked up a few minutes later. “I just remembered I forgot to tell you I have a conflict Monday. I won’t be able to film you until the late afternoon.”

A dart of disappointment pinged through her body. Ridiculous. She should welcome a few extra hours of solitude. “What’s up?”

“We’re having a career day, and I’m hosting a panel for my students. Local professionals are going to talk about their careers and answer questions.”

“Sounds cool. Do you need another panelist?”

“Are you offering?”

“Yeah. I happen to think my job is pretty cool.”

A big smile bloomed across his face. “Then consider yourself a member of the panel.”

On the way back to the office, Christian glanced her way from the driver’s seat. “You’re not the only one with a good memory. Are you okay?”

She didn’t need to ask for clarification. “I’m all right.” She couldn’t and wouldn’t let rude people get her down. She knew what she brought to the team.

“You sure?”

Man, he didn’t let her get away with anything. Worse, she couldn’t decide if she liked or was annoyed by his intuitiveness. “Yep.”

He stopped the car at a red light and turned to her.

She offered up a smile in return. “I’m sure you’re upset you didn’t catch that craziness on film.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like everything is perfect when it’s not.”

Stung, she sank back into her seat. “I’m not.” He did that thing where he remained silent, but studied every inch of her face. She met his eyes squarely. “I’m not.” She looked out the windshield. “The light’s green.”

“Have it your way.” He pressed the gas pedal a little harder than was strictly necessary but didn’t say anything else on the way back to the office.

She marched inside the building, ready to put the encounter at the restaurant behind her and get back to what was important—doing everything in her power to make sure the Stampede repeated as champions. And certainly not thinking about why Christian’s disappointment wounded her. Or why his opinion mattered to her.

…

“That wraps up the first day of taping,” Christian said. He pressed a button on the camera and lowered it to his side.

“Thank God.” Elise had never been so happy to see a red light disappear. While Christian packed his equipment, she turned off her mic pack and unclipped the device from the waistband of her skirt. She tossed it on her desk with a happy sigh. She stood and walked around her desk to stretch her legs. After lunch, she’d tried to get back to her routine and forget the camera was there filming her. Occasionally, she’d succeeded. It never lasted long. Not with the man behind the camera watching her every move. Making her remember. Making her frustrated. Tense. “Got enough footage for the special? You don’t have to come back tomorrow, right?”

He sent her a side-eyed glance. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

She sniffed. “So says you. You didn’t have a camera in your face all day, recording your every move and inadvertent sound. There’s a reason I never felt compelled to audition for
The Real World
when I was in college.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“Because you weren’t a wild child?”

She smiled in remembrance. “Oh, I definitely had my wild moments. They just weren’t captured on film.”

“I’d like to hear more.”

“I’m sure you would.” Turning to pick up a piece of paper off the desk, she rubbed the back of her neck again. And stiffened when his hands landed on her shoulders. But she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t force herself to do that. Not when what he was doing—touching her, applying just the right amount of pressure—felt so good.

“You can tell me what’s going on,” he murmured, his lips too close to her ear for comfort. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

As enticing as the offer was, as enticing as he made it seem, she couldn’t take him up on it. Letting people in wasn’t something she did. Not when they could be taken away so easily. She forced a lighthearted note into her voice. “Oh, is that what your students say?”

“Some of them, yes.”

She waited for him to say more. He didn’t, damn it. He did continue his ministrations, loosening muscles that had been tense for way too long. At first, because she’d been worried about whether she’d get the promotion. Then because she worried she wouldn’t be able to do the job justice. It took all the willpower she hadn’t known she possessed not to moan and lean into his touch. To let him know he was getting to her. “Mr. Patient, that’s who you are. You’re going to stand here until I spill my guts, aren’t you?”

“Something like that. I saw you at lunch. The hurt on your face before you remembered others could see you. The way you held that menu like your life depended on it.”

He pressed a thumb against a stubborn knot in her right shoulder. God, that felt good. She barely managed to suppress an embarrassing whimper.

“So are you going to accept my offer?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said.

“You don’t have to sound so chipper about it,” he said, his tone laced with humor.

She turned to face him and missed his touch immediately. What would he say if she demanded he return his hands to her body—umm, shoulders? “Well you know me. I can’t keep the excitement out of my voice.”

His deep voice lowered an octave. “I remember.”

Elise shivered. She’d walked right into that one, but whenever he was near, she lost her ability to think clearly. She found it hard to keep him at arm’s length like she did with everyone else, especially when he expressed concern about her. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue to do so. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to. No other man had ever made her feel the way he did and so effortlessly. She liked it. She liked him. An admission that terrified her.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured.

“I remember, too,” she confessed before she could remember not to be so open.

The first touch of his lips on hers caused her to sigh. A light touch that conjured up memories of how it felt that night to kiss him. Good. So good. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his, anxious for more. She wanted to forget her worries. She wanted to get lost in him. She wanted that oblivion he offered. She wanted him.

He didn’t acquiesce.

No, he didn’t pull away. It was worse. He went slow. He played homage to her bottom lip, licking, then gently nipping at it, causing her breath to speed up like she was running a marathon. How could he do this to her, make her feel so much? He wasn’t even doing much, yet the liquid heat was building between her legs.

His heat consumed her. She had to touch him, so she did, pressing her hands against his back. She lamented the shirt that kept her from his hot skin. But at least she could feel the hard muscles in his back moving underneath her seeking hands.

Christian crowded in closer, stepping between her legs, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Finally,
finally
he stopped concentrating on her bottom lip. He teased her mouth with his tongue, coaxing her to respond. She knew what he wanted and because she wanted it, too, more than she wanted to admit, she opened her mouth. The touch of his tongue to hers was almost more than she could stand. But still he didn’t rush. He was content to explore and let the pleasure slowly build.

She wasn’t.

She bit his lower lip and swiped it with her tongue. When he sucked in a surprised breath, she slipped her tongue inside, craving the fire he’d built inside her. She pressed against the hard planes of his chest. The fast thumping of his heartbeat sent a jolt of arousal through her. He wanted her. His slow approach was killing him as much as it was killing her.

Elise nearly moaned again when his hand landed on her leg and slipped under her skirt. She silently cursed the item of clothing. Pencil skirts were her favorite, but their tightness offered an impediment to him touching her where she wanted to be touched the most.