Kiss Hard Page 4

  4

  MR. SIZZLING BACHELOR OF THE YEAR AND THE DRAGON’S DEN

  “Gabe’s right.” No laughter in those brown eyes, nothing but the understanding of a fellow athlete. “Secrets just come back to bite you.” She pointed her fork in his direction. “I say put it out there to nip off any rumors of a cover-up down the line. You know how things are—just takes a whisper to threaten to ruin a good career. Then there’s your squeaky-clean sponsorship deal.”

  “Shit.” He’d known his brother was right, had still hoped she’d disagree. “I guess I better get myself to the police station.”

  Catie glanced at the snow falling beyond the balcony doors, the world outside blurred white. “See if they’ll log the complaint over the phone—they can’t want people out in this weather. Especially when no one’s used to snow in the city. It’s usually limited to the higher elevations.”

  Antsy now that he’d made his decision, Danny picked up his phone.

  “Wait. How’s your head?” Catie tapped the side of her own temple. “All marbles retrieved?”

  Scowling, he checked those marbles. “Heaviness is gone,” he confirmed. “I’m fucking pissed off but not feeling dull and foggy.”

  He made the call and—once he got through to a detective in drug crimes—received an unexpected response: “We’re still mobile. I’ll come out to you to take the report.”

  Danny stared at his phone for a second before putting it back to his ear. “You sure? I know you have far more serious drug issues on your plate.”

  “I’m positive.”

  Not certain what to make of that, Danny next called his agent, Matthew. He and Jake had different agents—on their big brother’s advice.

  “Stop any conflicts of interests before they arise,” Gabriel had said, the steel gray of his eyes holding the calm that came with years of experience. “Any decisions you two make over whether you both want to angle for an opportunity or not will be between brothers. You don’t want to put that on an agent.”

  Today Matthew was in full agreement with Danny’s decision to put it all on the record. Most players would’ve contacted their agent first, before they did anything else, but Matthew knew Danny—and he understood that on certain things, Danny would make his own call. That was why their relationship worked.

  “It’ll be fine,” the agent added. “Similar thing happened to another player on an international tour a few years before your time, and it was classified as a medical incident. No one’s going to be idiotic about it. I’ll touch base with team management now.”

  Feeling better with all that done, Danny got stuck into his food. When he looked up to find all the scrambled eggs and bacon gone, he made a mournful face.

  Catie laughed. “I’ll make you more.”

  “No, I can do it.” He’d been raised by parents who both pulled their weight, had seen the same thing in the marriages of his older brothers.

  Not only that, after Danny was chosen for the national squad at a bare nineteen years of age, his father had taken him aside and given him a piece of advice that Danny had never forgotten. “This kind of fame and money so young,” Joseph Esera had said in his quiet way, “it can change you. Especially when it comes to how you treat others.”

  He’d patted Danny on the shoulder, his stubble already more salt than pepper and his eyes warm with pride. “I can’t see you ever going that way, son. You have your mother’s heart. But I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t warn you of the dangers—I’ve seen too many young players fall victim to it, end up surrounded by people who only wear the mask of friendship. In the end, it’s a hollow life.”

  But Catie waved him down today. “Special dispensation on medical grounds. One time only.” A glare. “If you ever tell anyone I was nice to you, I’ll kick you where it hurts—with my pointiest prosthetic foot.”

  He winced. “You’re mean in the morning. But I like your eggs.”

  “Humph.”

  Watching her in motion was a pleasure he didn’t deny himself. She moved like a dancer, no trace remaining of the awkward teen who’d transitioned from prosthetic limb to prosthetic limb through her erratic growth spurts. At least she’d had an excuse for her awkwardness; he’d just been all skinny arms and legs and a total lack of coordination.

  “You feeling okay after having your legs on all night?” He knew she was a full-time user of prostheses, but that didn’t mean twenty-four hours a day.

  “I’m fine, but I’ll probably take a little time-out after breakfast.” As she sprinkled herbs into the eggs, she said, “I forgot how much you can eat. Are you still on like six meals a day?”

  “Yup. Where do you think this big, beautiful body comes from?” Leaning back in the chair, he spread his arms wide.

  A jaundiced look up and down. “Seen better.”

  “Oh, ouch.” Grinning, he rubbed a hand over his abdomen. “You have a gym in this building?”

  “Building?” A snort. “Have you met my mother?” She pointed to the corridor that led in the other direction from the kitchen area. “The Dragon never does anything by halves. Her private gym’s thataway.”

  * * *

  When Danny rose and wandered off to check out the exercise area, Catie let him go without comment. He was wound up, stressed, needed the familiar. And for an athlete, a gym was familiar territory.

  She heard his admiring whistle from the kitchen.

  “Damn, princess,” he said when he walked back down the corridor. “You’ve got over a hundred grand worth of equipment in there.”

  “Probably closer to a quarter mil,” she said. “I told Jacqueline I didn’t need all that, but you know how she is.” She shrugged, well used to her mother’s way of throwing money at her children in lieu of affection.

  In fairness, she was better these days, and a good grandmother to Ísa and Sailor’s two demons—said demons having learned all their tricks from Catie—but Catie couldn’t simply forget her own childhood.

  Danny grimaced. “Money talks and emotion is for sissies, right?”

  Oh yeah, Danny knew Jacqueline.

  “Don’t get me wrong.” Catie put a little bit too much power into mixing up the eggs. “I’m grateful for her money and all it’s meant for me.” It had given her a quality of life she’d never otherwise have had, especially after the accident.

  That was indisputable fact.

  “But I still resent how it’s always been her first priority.” She threw the egg mixture into the pan, began to move it around using the cooking spatula. “Then I hate myself for being an unappreciative brat.” It messed her up at times, that confusion inside her. “I know exactly how much others in my position would give for that kind of financial support.”

  Walking around the counter, Danny leaned against it with his back, his hands braced behind him. “I dunno,” he said. “I think you can be mad. I mean, your mum already had two gazillion dollars by the time you were born. Even if she had to duck out on Ísa to build her empire, she didn’t need to do the same with you.”

  Catie made a face and waved the spatula at him. “See, that’s when I hit the wall. Because why should it have been on her to raise me and do all the kid-friendly stuff? I have a father who had plenty of time on his hands.”

  Danny, who’d been a part of her life for so long that he was like furniture—annoying, irritating furniture with sharp edges that snagged her favorite sweaters—made a face back at her. “Yeah, but you didn’t choose Clive. She did. And she knew who he was—er—how honest can I be without you throwing my eggs in the garbage disposal?”

  “It’s fine. I know who my dad is.” A good-looking gambler and cheerful companion allergic to responsibility. “He hit me up for money yesterday.”

  Danny straightened, his expression tight. “Jesus, Catie. That is not on. The man needs a swift kick in the ass.”

  Catie dumped Danny’s eggs onto a plate. “Shut up. Only I get to dis my dad.”

  Not calling her out on her sudden about-face, Danny took the plate and went back to the table. Though he ate in silence, she could all but hear the gears turning in his brain, could predict what he was thinking. Because Danny had grown up in a wholly different kind of family. Far more traditional than her own if you wanted to put labels on it.

  Catie had picked up enough bits and pieces over the years to know that, prior to marrying Joseph, Alison had worked her fingers to the bone to support herself and her two boys by her first husband.

  Danny, however, had been born into a family where the father was the breadwinner while the mother took charge of the household and the children. More, he’d been raised by a man who believed the care of his family was his responsibility, making sure they were provided for an integral aspect of his masculinity.

  It was as old-fashioned as anything… but it was nice too. Catie could still remember how she’d almost cried the first time Joseph Esera had hugged her, then given her five dollars to go buy herself an ice cream from the ice cream van that had stopped by their beachside campsite.

  She hadn’t needed the money. It hadn’t been about that. It had been about seeing how a dad could be—giving, responsible, stable.

  “Enough about my hang-ups,” she said as she stacked the dishwasher while Danny finished up his food. “How’s your mum doing in her studies?” Alison had gone back to university the previous year, was in the midst of a history degree.

  “Loving it.” Danny’s scowl melted away. “I always knew she was into ancient cultures, but man, she glows when she talks about that stuff. She’s started writing a historical novel—fiction based on actual history with a bit of a romantic thread in it.”

  “What? I didn’t know that!” Having finished with the dishes and wiped down the counter, Catie grabbed a seat at the table. “Tell me everything!”

  “I don’t know any specifics yet. I think she’s a bit shy about it.”

  “What’s your dad think of her being so busy?” After all, Joseph was used to a stay-at-home wife.

  “He bought her a brand-new laptop for her birthday, loaded with special writing software he asked Ísa about.” Danny’s grin was wild with affection. “My dad’s not a reader, but he’s been asking to read her draft chapters as she finishes them—only Mum says he’s a terrible critic because he tells her he loves every word.”

  Again, Catie felt that heart squeeze. “Jeez, you realize your parents are disgustingly adorable?”

  “Nah, they’re real,” he said with the easy comfort of a man who’d grown up surrounded by an enduring love. “They have their arguments—last time I was home, Dad was in the doghouse because he forgot to line the bin with a bin liner and Mum dumped a bunch of gross trash in it before she realized and it got all filthy.”

  “World War III right there, hotshot.” She’d been a toddler of three when her parents divorced, and while Clive was too charmingly slippery a character to get into fights, she’d seen the look on Jacqueline’s face when Clive dropped Catie off for visitation with her mother: a kind of pained disappointment that went to the core.

  At some point in her teens, Catie had put a label on that look—it had been of a woman who knew she couldn’t rely on this man. What kind of mother, Catie sometimes wondered, would Jacqueline have been if she’d had a true partner for a husband—someone who not only pulled his weight but who called her to account when necessary? Instead, it was Ísa who’d been thrust into the role of ensuring Jacqueline didn’t totally abdicate her responsibilities as a parent.

  Danny had parted his lips to reply when the intercom buzzed, and suddenly there was no more smiling. Rising, he went to answer and let the detective up. She cleared the table in the interim, not wanting this stranger to see any hint of vulnerability. Danny was feeling exposed enough.

  It turned out Detective Green had brought his partner along with him.

  Catie figured the heavy presence had to be because of Danny’s status as a well-known athlete, but after the two had taken their statements and gotten Viliame’s details so they could interview him as well, the younger of the pair—Detective Shan—put away her notebook and said, “I don’t know if this’ll make you feel better, but you’re not the first person this has happened to in the past month.”

  Danny’s face was granite. “I figured it happens.”

  “No, this specific drug combination at this specific bar,” she clarified. “All males with no associated assault or theft. One target was out alone and collapsed in the street; a few inches to the right and he’d have hit the curb, almost certainly suffered a severe head injury. Then there’s the problem of dosage—the individual doing this is getting reckless, might accidentally give someone too much.”

  Seated right beside Danny, their bodies touching, Catie fisted her hands on her thighs. “You mean some sicko is doing this for the hell of it?” Exactly as Dr. Smitherson had theorized.

  “That’s what it looks like,” Shan confirmed. “The good news is that there are a lot of photographs of you at the bar.” A nod at Danny, her hair a shining black pulled back in a neat bun. “All over social media. We’re trawling through them to see if we can pinpoint anyone also caught on camera at the previous scenes.”

  She’d felt Danny’s body tense at the mention of social media, took the lead. “The photos—any of them—?”

  Detective Green was already shaking his head, his scalp a freckled paleness where it showed through his extreme buzz cut. “No compromising shots,” he said, then glanced from Catie to Danny and back, one eyebrow slightly cocked. “Unless you’re concerned about the images of you two with your arms around each other. Those are blowing up on every network that we checked.”

  That was when Catie realized her phone was still on silent; she’d forgotten to switch the sound back on after leaving the hospital. Because no freaking way Veni wouldn’t have called her by now. Especially since the last message Catie had sent her best friend had been to tell her that she’d be missing their flight.

  “We can handle that,” she said, nudging Danny’s shoulder—or, more accurately, a lower part of his arm. Seated, she was still shorter than him. “As if anyone would believe I’d hook up with hotshot here.”

  Danny shot her a narrow-eyed look. “Did you or did you not see that I am considered the Sizzling Bachelor of the Year according to the biggest women’s magazine in the country?”

  “The editors obviously need glasses.”

  Coughing into her hand in a failed effort to hide her grin, Detective Shan rose to her feet. Beside her, Detective Green was making no such effort, his grin creasing his cheeks and bringing an unexpected twinkle to the hazel of his eyes.

  However, that amusement had faded by the time they reached the door. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said to Danny. “But by reporting the incident, you’ve helped us gather more evidence.”

  Shan nodded. “It might be exactly what we need to stop anyone else being ambushed.”

  Catie saw a little of the tension go out of Danny’s spine. Again, she thought of Joseph and how he’d raised his boys. As protectors. It would matter to Danny that his actions might help someone else escape the same sense of violation.

  “That does help,” he said to the detectives and held out his hand.

  After everyone shook, the cops left. But Danny’s work wasn’t yet done. For one, he had to organize a copy of his medical report for both the cops and his agent.

  While he disappeared into his bedroom to do that, Catie sat down on the living room sofa with her legs stretched out in front, the snow a steady fall beyond the balcony doors, pulled a cozy blanket over herself, and decided to see how bad it was on social media before she returned all her—many—missed calls and texts.

  What she discovered almost set her phone on fire.

  5

  TINGLES, PRIMORDIAL TINGLES

  “People are nuts,” she muttered to herself as she scanned the explosion of heart emojis and smug “I told you so” comments alongside the gushing hope that their “new love” would last so the fans could enjoy the “wedding of the year.”

  All because someone had caught her looking up at Danny in concern while he leaned into her. Okay, she could see how her concern might be interpreted as intense interest in the gems of delight falling from his lips—while the way his body was positioned made it seem like he was being all protective.

  Meanwhile, he’d been trying not to fall over, and she’d been stressed out over how long Viliame was taking to get back to them.

  Rolling her eyes, she took a quick peek at her diary and saw that her memory was spot-on: Veni was doing a partial shift at the hospital today. Since she didn’t carry her phone with her on the ward, Catie sent her a quick text saying she’d call once Veni was back home.

  Then she got to returning work calls. Including one from her sports agent, Soraya, who immediately looped in Catie’s publicist, Ani.

  “This is uh-mazing, babes!” Ani gushed. “The coverage is fantastic and so positive!”

  “We are not together,” Catie muttered.

  “Keep saying that.” Soraya’s far more pragmatic tone. “It’ll just make everyone speculate. I’ve already had multiple companies get in touch about the possibility of dual marketing deals with you as a couple.”

  Given Jacqueline’s wealth, Catie didn’t need sponsorship. She accepted it because she wanted to support herself and because it allowed her to help fund smaller charities that Jacqueline had declared not worth the tax deduction. Also, her mother had a way of trading money for control, and while Catie gritted her teeth and bore it when it came to major charitable endeavors, she refused to permit it in her private life.

  “Listen to me,” she said, word by word, “we are not together. There will be no couple deals.”

  Ani paused in her ecstatic burbling. “Really? Babes, a one-night hookup between you two will be a catastrophe! People are invested. They need at least a short-term relationship.” Her voice was suddenly two pitches higher. “I need a drink.”