The Player Next Door (18 page)

“Tori needs to be with me,” Edward said firmly. Clearly the man had just convinced himself it was true.

“So wait until she gets tired of the mundane assets and impress her with your other attributes.”

The man still wasn’t convinced, but Mike was now beyond tired of this conversation. He didn’t make a habit of measuring himself against other men, but Edward was making him do it with an unusually clear eye. Except for the really hot sex, what did he and Tori have in common?

Nothing.

“Look, I’m going to take a shower. You want me to give her those bagels or not?”

Edward gave in with little grace. He shoved the bagels at him and one of the coffees. “It’s all her favorites in there. Even the strawberry cream cheese. This is her favorite mocha. It had whip cream and sprinkles too, but it’s probably all melted.”

Mike grabbed the bag and coffee, doing his best not to throw them at the guy. Jesus, he didn’t want Tori to want this bastard, but he had to let her make the choice. He had to let her live her life even if it meant she chose a dickhead instead of… Of what? Him? Life on the road, hanging out with basketball jocks and their bunny wives? She’d hate all the publicity and the lack of privacy. Sure, she’d handled the one guy in the restaurant with poise. But how would she deal with dozens of them banging on their door every day? He’d seen strong women crack under that kind of pressure.

“I’ll tell her,” Mike said as he turned for his house. And Tori.

“Tell her I’ll call her. That, you know, I’d like to take her out to lunch or something.”

Not even a candlelight dinner. How cheap could one man be?

“Tell her I’m saving up my money to buy her a really big ring.”

Ouch. It was a good thing Mike was at his front door because he really wanted to deck the guy. Instead, he gave the bastard a half-hearted wave and pushed into the house. And just to put the icing on the crapola cake, Tori was there at the living room window. She’d been watching the whole exchange. But how much had she heard?

He looked at her blank face wishing he could read her mind. He couldn’t, so he held up the bag and cup. “Offerings from Edward.”

“Yeah, I saw.”

Then she closed her eyes. “Let me guess. A mocha with whip cream and sprinkles.”

He nodded.

“Moron.”

“What?”

“And the bagels are blueberry, French toast, and cinnamon apple crunch. With strawberry cream cheese.”

They were moving together to the kitchen, so he couldn’t look. But the cream cheese was right. “Aren’t those your favorites?”

She shook her head. “They’re his favorites. But to be fair, I don’t think I’ve ever really told him my preference. I’m just not all that excited about bagels.”

“What about the mocha?”

She shook her head. “Too sweet. I like almond milk lattes.” She shrugged. “He probably called his mother for advice. She’s the one who loves mochas.”

Mike set down the bag and looked inside. Yup, she’d called the bagels spot on. “He called his mother for dating advice?”

“It’s not like his friends have a clue.” When he looked up at her, she shrugged. “Geeks and posers, most of them. Though there are a few who are really sweet.”

“So you don’t like his friends?”

She reached forward and pulled out a bagel, grimaced, then tossed it back. “They’re fine.” Then when he was silent for a beat, she looked back at him. “I don’t really like a lot of people, Mike. Just about everyone is fine. Some more annoying, others less.”

“Fine.”

She nodded, then she stepped closer to him. “Others are really
fine
.” She drew out the word, making it sound luxurious. Like a fine wine or fine dark chocolate. On her lips, the word was sexy, and he couldn’t help the response of his body. His dick thickened and his hand wrapped around her waist, drawing her close before he remembered that he was hot and sweaty. And not in a fine way.

“Damn. Let me take a shower.”

“Don’t you remember? You’re really hot when you’re sweaty.”

“And…” He cut off his words. There were too many other things competing for his attention. Like the way her hair looked like summer wheat in the sunshine where it wasn’t touched with gold. Like the way she always smelled like lemons and spice to him. Like… “Take one with me,” he said.

She grinned. “Okay. Then I’ll make you an omelet for breakfast.”

He nuzzled the side of her neck, nipping the skin just enough to make her shiver. “Take a shower with me and then we’ll go out for breakfast. I’ll have a French chef make you the best omelet of your life.”

“I can cook one, you know. And not burn the eggs.”

He straightened. “I know. But why would you when I can buy—”

“Are you avoiding my cooking or trying to treat me?”

“Can’t it be both?” It was a joke. Even Tori couldn’t screw up a basic omelet. Then he sobered. “Honestly, I just want to give you the best while—” He slammed his mouth shut, narrowly missing his own tongue.

She sobered. “While we’re together,” she finished for him.

God, he hated the ticking bomb hanging over their relationship. They were together for the rest of the summer, and then… Then she would be free to go back to Edward or whatever damned pasty-faced prick she wanted.

She touched his lips with her fingers then extended the caress up his face. She stroked his cheekbone and over the curve of his ear. “In ten years, Mike, what’s your plan then?”

“To look back on a glorious career.” It was a knee-jerk response. That was his pat answer whenever he thought about the end of his basketball days. It was the only way he could deal with the clutching panic that came with the idea of the end of professional basketball. But Tori was smarter than the average reporter and she wasn’t about to let him get off with an automatic response.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just wondered.”

But he did want to tell her. When he usually ran screaming from the very thought, he suddenly wanted to talk out the details with her. To get her opinion. To wonder if maybe he was just blowing smoke up his own ass. After all, he’d already built to the top of one career. Only sheer arrogance made him think he could do it again in another field. One that didn’t involve a big body or amazing ball skills.

“That’s not a small question, Tori. It’s going to take me a while to answer it.”

“We’ve got all summer.”

He chuckled, catching her hand so he could press a kiss into her fingers. “How about I tell you over omelets?”

“Hmmm,” she said, while he nipped at the tips of her fingers. “After the shower, right?”

“Yeah. After the shower.” And whatever other fun and games they happened to do.

“Okay.” She stretched up on her toes to nip at his lips. Not a kiss, but a tiny bite that might have been painful if she’d misjudged the distance. But she had it right, just as she had a way with giving him an incentive to do something uncomfortable. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll make your shower especially memorable if you tell me about your plan at breakfast.”

He caught her chin. “Every shower with you is memorable.”

“I said
especially
mem—”

“Deal.”

She grinned. “Just give me a second to get it ready.” Then she dashed upstairs. He had no idea what she meant to do, but damned if he wasn’t hot and hard just thinking of possibilities.

One summer, he told himself. If he only had the summer with her, then he was going to make damn sure he lived every second to the fullest.

Even if it meant he spilled his guts while eating overpriced eggs.

Chapter Fifteen

Tori knew that good sex worked up an appetite. Apparently, phenomenal sex made her ravenous. Fortunately, the very best pancake house in the country was not so far from her. Great omelets. Great fresh squeezed orange juice. And best of all, they were past the morning rush and not on a weekend. That meant a quiet booth in the back where she could pick Mike’s brain to her heart’s content.

Unfortunately, he seemed more interested in filling his gut than spilling it. So she put down her fork, drained her coffee, then fixed him with her most intimidating teacher stare.

It took him a moment to notice, but when he did, he started laughing. “You really are cute when you try to looking threatening.”

“It’s a devastating combination: cute menace. Is it working?”

He set down his fork. “Maybe.”

“Good. So spill.”

“Tori, I’m really not that deep. I don’t have any dark secrets—”

“But you do have plans. Like I have stray thoughts, you have plans. So what’s your five-year plan?”

“Basketball. Two more championship rings.”

She frowned a bit. “Why not five?”

He snorted as he grabbed his juice. “Plans are supposed to be a stretch, not pie-in-the-sky impossible.”

She shook her head. Whenever she made plans, she always shot for the stars. Saved her the effort of actually being realistic. Which is another reason she never went for long-term thinking.

“So glorious basketball for another ten years.”

He nodded.

“Then what?”

He was silent, staring at the remains of his omelet. She let him think for a bit. She knew he had plans, but obviously he needed to work up the courage to tell her.

“I swear I won’t tell,” she said.

He looked up, startled. “That’s not it. I’ve never put this into words before. I don’t like thinking about it even in my own head.”

“That scary?”

“I was never good at school. Not bad, but not…” He gestured at her with his finger. “Not your kind of smart.”

She snorted. “My kind of smart is simply being anti-social. I like to learn and I don’t like hanging around with a lot of people.”

“You do just fine with me.”

“You’re a lot of guy, not a lot of people.”

He grinned, then took a deep breath. When he spoke, the words came out all in a rush. “I want to go back to school, Tori. I want to learn how to manage money for a charitable trust.”

Well that wasn’t what she expected. She’d been guessing endorsement deals, coaching, or something to do with basketball. “You’re talking an MBA. In finance, I think. But you don’t need a degree to run a charity.”

“I know. But it helps.”

She dropped her chin on her hand. “What kind of charity?”

“Boys and Girls Club. I’ve visited different facilities, talked to the kids. I didn’t have one when I was growing up. Obviously it hasn’t hurt me, but it could have helped my friends. Girls who got pregnant because they were bored, guys who started drinking or doing drugs for the same reason. Kids need a place to go when school’s out. I thought I could help with that.”

“You don’t have to wait ten years to do that.”

“I already donate, but I want to get involved. I want to really reach those kids who need some guidance and a lot of structure.”

She leaned back, trying to understand why it was so secretive. “That’s great, Mike.”

He flashed her a wan smile. She waited, but he didn’t say more. Eventually she had to ask.

“I don’t understand. Why are you acting so weird about it?”

“Tori…I don’t just want to run the charity. I want to work every day in it. And I want to support it with my money, too.”

She nodded. “I got that.”

“Most of my money. You think that because I make millions in a year, I’m going to be rolling in it all my life. I’ll never be poor, but I keep myself to a strict budget. I’ve never wanted a flashy lifestyle, so the rest goes to—”

“Your charity. I get it.”

“I wish. I’ve got family to support. My sisters are getting their graduate degrees. My mother has lots of medical expenses.”

“I’m sorry—”

“And my cousins are always around looking for a handout. I’ve got a business manager, and one of the things he does is track the freeloader part of my family. I pay them to work at a Boys and Girls Club. If they want my help, then they have to work for it.”

She kept her mouth shut, waiting for him to explain. But he stopped talking and after he’d drained his orange juice he just sat there with a sullen expression.

“I’m still waiting for why this is so bad. Why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry,” he said, his tone curt. She arched her brows, and eventually he sighed. “People only see the game part of my job. They don’t see the practice, the daily nutrition, the work of all that media bullshit. Do you know they want me to have a website updated weekly, and social media that gets an hourly message?”

She tried to think back. “I’ve never seen you tweet. And your Facebook page hasn’t been touched since last season. Well, not by you.” His fans posted all the time.

“I know. I hate that stuff. I didn’t used to, but it gets to be a grind. I’ve hired someone to help with it and he’s working with the media people about my come-back this fall.”

“How much do you have to do for that?”

He huffed out a breath. “As little as possible. But they like the story. Injured in a charity tournament, has it cost him his career? Buy tickets now and see the end live and in person!”

“That’s not what they’re saying.”

“Of course it is. Everyone wants to know if basketball is over for me.” He leaned forward. “Tori, no one cares if I just play well. I have to be spectacular somehow. Either with phenomenal play or a glorious disaster.”

She dropped her chin into her hand as she dredged up what little she knew about sports and the culture around it. “I don’t think that’s true. The fans just want to watch you play.”

“I don’t work for the fans,” he said softly. “I work for the guys who want me to sell tickets.”

Ah. There it was. Sure everyone wanted him to win games, but money was harder and harder to come by. The owners of the team paid Mike very well to sell tickets. That meant putting on a show. Add that to the pressure of being at the top of his physical ability despite his age and injuries, and that added up to a whole lot of pressure.

“You’re handling it very well.”

“I—” He shrugged. “I like the pressure. It keeps me sharp.”

“Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“That’s why I’m hiding out in Evanston this summer.”

“But in the fall you’re going back to it.”