Traded by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 11

Brenda opens the slider door, and I follow her in.

I hear him before I see him...but when I see him, my eyes practically pop out of my head.

“Brenda, where’s my orange Gatorade?” he asks.

He’s wearing just a towel and a smirk.

Just.

A.

Towel.

And a smirk.

It’s overwhelming. He is overwhelming. His freaking abs are overwhelming.

“There’s more in the fridge in the laundry room,” Brenda says, like seeing Jack Dalton wearing nothing but a towel is an everyday occurrence.

We had sex.

That man right there, the one asking about the orange Gatorade as he just stands there in a towel with all those abs everywhere, screwed me on a nightclub couch.

He’s watching me. I know he is, and his abs flex a little. I can’t stop staring, and his smirk turns into a laugh. “You need anything, Kia?”

“It’s Kate,” I grit out, and I hate him and how he can so easily read me. I’m the one here to get inside his head, not the other way around.

He stalks out of the room to grab his drink from the other fridge, and I settle in at the kitchen table with my phone while I wait around to see what my next job responsibility is going to be.

A short while later, I hear Jack coming down the stairs, his voice carrying through the house. Brenda’s already gone for the day and Brooke is occupied with JJ, so I’ve just been hanging around by myself on my first day as I wait to see what’s up next.

“Hey Tom.”

“It’s official,” the voice on the other end of his speakerphone says. “You’re the newest quarterback of the Vegas Aces.”

Jack is quiet at that news.

“Congratulations, Jack,” Tom says.

“Thanks,” he says, and he stalks into the kitchen. His eyes fall onto me. “You know Bennett hired me a babysitter?”

“Good,” Tom says. “You probably need one.”

“I’m a grown-ass man,” he says, his eyes on me as he talks. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“Clearly you don’t, Jack. Did you really think going to a strip club with Ben Olson the night before the trade was made official was a smart move?”

I raise a pointed brow in his direction. I like whoever this Tom guy is.

Jack laughs. “Smart or not, we had a hell of a lot of fun. Besides, the paperwork is filed. It must’ve solidified Zimmer’s decision to get rid of me, so mission accomplished.”

“What will you tell people?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Jack tilts his head as his eyes shift out the window.

“I mean people are going to want to know who she is when they see some new chick tailing you everywhere. The press already knows you’re engaged to Michelle, so you can’t fake a relationship with her.”

He laughs. “That’s more my brother’s MO.”

His brother faked a relationship? That’s an interesting tidbit I tuck away for later.

“I thought maybe it ran in the family,” Tom says lightly.

Jack’s eyes move back to mine and he raises a brow. “I’ll think of something.”

Tom blows out a breath. “Just try to behave yourself, all right?”

“Eh, we’ll see.” He cuts the call and slides into the chair across from me. He sighs.

“I’m going to need access to your calendar,” I jump in before he can start up the conversation about how we’re going to lie away my position here.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, and he’s so freaking arrogant. “You have access to whatever Cal gave you, so that should be good enough.”

“It’s not.” My nostrils flare as I force myself to remain professional. Calvin didn’t give me access to anything, so I have no idea what’s on his agenda—even when it’s Aces-related. “My job is to stay on top of you at all times, not just for Aces events.”

He raises a brow. “Stay on top of me?” He leans in and lowers his voice so it’s all raspy and husky. “You mean like you did in a private suite of a nightclub last Halloween?”

My eyes widen and my cheeks burn with mortification. “You remember?” I squeak.

“Of course I do.” His eyes lock on mine for a beat, but then he seems to think better of it. He shakes his head. “You look different than that night.”

The gruffness of his voice presses an ache between my thighs.

Shit.

“I cut my hair.”

“I can see that.” He nods and narrows his eyes. “But why?”

He’s teetering on the edge of something unprofessional, something that’s the opposite of what I’ve been brought in to do. I change the subject as quickly as I can. “Let’s just put it behind us.”

“I think we should at least address it.”

“Really?” I ask. “You really want to do this right now?”

He glances over his shoulder, which tells me Michelle must be around somewhere. He shrugs. “Yeah, I really want to do this.”

“Okay then. I thought we were having a nice time on Halloween, and then you kicked me out because your girlfriend showed up. What kind of asshole screws a girl on a couch when he has a girlfriend?”

“So you cut your hair?” he presses, ignoring the baring of my very soul.

I stare down at the table. “Every time I saw that meme, which was everywhere right after it happened...hell, you were everywhere...you are everywhere—and every single time, I was reminded of what a douchebag you are. I chopped my hair off for a fresh start.” I finally lift my eyes to his. “You and my best friend are the only two people in the world who know the real identity of the cat burglar, and it will stay that way for the rest of time.”

He sighs. “She wasn’t really my girlfriend at the time.”

My brows dip. “What?” I’m quite sure I didn’t hear him correctly. It was such a defining moment in my history, and to hear that it wasn’t what I thought it was plows into my stomach like a ton of bricks.

“We weren’t together, not really, but I didn’t know what else to call her. She was seven months pregnant with my kid. It was just a strange situation, and I panicked.”

“You panicked?” I ask, shocked by that revelation. I think of the defensive linemen plowing their way toward him every Sunday. He’s always so controlled and precise. Panic just doesn’t seem to be a part of his vocabulary. “But you’re not the panicking type.”

“On the field, no, I’m not. But sometimes...” He blows out a breath. “Fuck. I know this is five months too late, but when you and I met, my father had just died, and about a month before that, I found out Michelle was carrying my kid. Michelle and I were never serious. We slept together once in a while. She was in love with my brother. When I learned the baby was mine, I made some poor choices.”

“Poor choices? Like me?” I guess, clearly affected most by those words despite the other revelations he just admitted.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly.

“I found out my boyfriend had been cheating on me about a week before Halloween. And then we had our thing, and you had a girlfriend. You were as big a piece of shit in my eyes as my cheating ex was.”

I leave out the whole thing about how he stomped on my already beaten down self-worth and how I haven’t been able to really date anybody since those two things happened back-to-back. I leave out the part about how I’m damaged now in part because of what he did. To be honest, he just added more shit on top of the shit sundae Blake left behind. It wasn’t totally his fault, but he certainly didn’t help. And then I made a fool out of myself in front of Vince, and I think it’s fair to say I’m not jumping into any dating pools any time soon.

His gaze drops to the counter. “I was in a bad place. I did things I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry you got caught in that. I’m sorry I hurt you. And after those poor choices, excluding you, I ultimately decided to give it a try with her for JJ’s sake.”

“And that’s where you’re at now?” I guess.

“At the corner of whatever you’d call that and regret,” he mutters just loudly enough for me to hear.

My chest tightens. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, and the sharp, stormy look in his eyes tells me this conversation is over.

That’s all he’s going to give me.

For now.

I never really expected I’d ever run into Jack Dalton again after that night. What are the chances of a regular girl like me running into the same celebrity twice in a lifetime, let alone a third time? But I assumed that if I ever did see him again, all I’d feel is hate.

That’s not what this is.

Yeah, I hate him. But I’m also inappropriately attracted to him. It’s not just an attraction. It’s visceral. It’s imprinted on my soul.

It doesn’t matter. I’m working with him now, and he’s engaged to another woman, and there are lots of lines here that would be wrong to cross for both of us.

It’d be my own ass on the line if I acted on that attraction.

Of course he remembers that night.

Of course this is just going to get more and more awkward.

Of course I can’t stop thinking about what it felt like to kiss him.

A quarter of a million dollars.

Owning my own interior design firm.

Building the life I want for myself.

If I do anything to mess this up, I’m losing my chance at everything I’ve wanted for my future.

I can do this.

I’m locked in. I’m the degreed professional in psychology, and yet I can’t seem to figure out how to act. I guess just because we’ve studied a certain field doesn’t automatically mean we’re destined to behave a certain way.

“So can I have access to your calendar?” I ask quietly.

“No. I said it back in Cal’s office, and I’ll say it again. I don’t just let anybody into my inner circle. I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Fine,” I mutter. But that’s twice now he’s mentioned his inner circle, and I can’t help but wonder who, exactly, makes up that circle.

He glances over his shoulder and lowers his voice again. “You know I still get meowed at everywhere I go?”

I can’t help a soft giggle.

He raises a brow. “You think that’s funny?”

I lift a shoulder. “You see why I cut my hair now?”

He chuckles, but before he gets a chance to respond, Michelle strolls in. She leaps over to Jack and tosses her arms around his neck before she plants a kiss on his cheek.

I catch the look on Jack’s face before he smooths it over.

He doesn’t want her arms around him...but she is in that circle.

Why?

“Hey sweetie.” Her voice is all syrupy sweet and I want to gag. “I’m heading out with Savannah and Krista. Do I look okay?”

“You’re going out with Savannah?” he asks, ignoring her question.

She looks gorgeous, though my personal choice for a night out with girlfriends wouldn’t be a revealing dress with heels six inches tall, but I guess I prefer comfort over style most of the time.

And also...who’s Savannah?

“Yeah. We’re talking football wife stuff. Is that a problem?” Her tone is innocent, but something about her facial expression tells me she’s anything but.

“No,” he says, and his voice is a clear contradiction to his single word. “But she’s not going to be a wife much longer.” He smirks. “Have fun.”

“You know I will.” She smiles sweetly at him and catches his lips with hers. He pulls back quickly, and it could be because they’re in front of me—the newest employee living in their home, or perhaps he’s sparing me their affection since we once slept together, or maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to be kissing her at all.

My brain tells me it’s the first reason or maybe the second, but my stupid heart is hoping it’s the third.

I continue to analyze their interaction even after she has bolted out the door. Not only do I have questions about Savannah, Krista, and football wife stuff, but this Michelle chick is something else, too.

She never even looked at me. I’m nothing to her, just someone on daddy’s payroll. She smothered him with affection in front of me to stake her claim on him.

And that is the root of it all. I know nothing about Jack Dalton, not really, other than the fact that he’s engaged to Michelle and they share a child. But my analytical mind is already piecing together that he doesn’t want to be with her, and I can’t help but wonder why he is.

He could be with any woman he wants. Why is he marrying her?

Calvin is paying me to help him make good decisions.

Is marrying her a good decision?

Or is he doing it to keep his new team owner happy?

These are all questions I want the answers to, and not just because I’m attracted to him. It’s because that’s what I’m being paid to do.

But I have a sneaking suspicion that getting Jack to dump Michelle is the last thing Calvin would deem good behavior.

I’ve only been on the job a few hours, and I’m already having moral dilemmas.

“It hit the media,” he says quietly as he stares down at his phone.

“What did?”

“The trade.” He presses his lips together as he scans something on his phone.

“Is that good news?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I knew it was coming. It just makes it official, and it means my phone’s about to start ringing and I have to put on the act, you know?”

“The act?” I press. I’m surprised he’s telling me this. Isn’t this a conversation he should be having with his fiancée? Maybe not since her dad owns the team.

“Like this is what I want.” He says the words flatly.

“You don’t want to be here?”

His eyes lift from his phone to me. “You think I want my future father-in-law to have this sort of control over my life? You think I want a fucking babysitter? No offense, Kia. I’m sure you’re great, but this wouldn’t have happened if literally any other team in the league picked me up.” He shakes his head and stands as his eyes return to his phone. “It had to be the goddamn Aces.”

“It’s Kate,” I grit out.

He ignores me and picks up a call with an enthusiasm I haven’t heard from him before. “Hey, Dean!” His demeanor flips in an instant from the truth under what he just told me to the persona he clearly puts on for the media.

He heads toward his office, and I’m not quite sure how much I’m supposed to shadow him, but I figure he wants to be alone in there. Hearing his cheerful Hey, Dean tells me he’s handling at least this part of his life with professionalism.

Now if I could just get him to handle the rest with the same attitude, it’ll be an easy, breezy path to two hundred fifty grand.