Traded by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 9

I’m focused on the road as I navigate my little Kia toward the practice facility on Monday morning. My suitcases are shoved into the trunk and the backseat is filled with my duffel bags. Today’s not just the start of a new job. It’s the start of a new residence for nearly the next year.

The radio is on, but I’m lost in my own thoughts until I hear a name that catches my attention. I turn the volume up a little to try to catch what they’re talking about.

“...so many rumors swirling about him right now,” the female deejay, DeeDee says.

Her counterpart, Rick, adds, “He was spotted at a strip club last night with Ben Olson.”

“Ben Olson as in the newest tight end for the Aces?” DeeDee asks.

“The one and only,” Rick says.

“You think Jack Dalton is in town visiting his brother? Or you think there’s more to it?” DeeDee asks.

“Word on the street is that there may be more to it,” Rick says. “I mean, his fiancée does live here. And speaking of the word on the street, after the break we’ll play Street Smarts for tickets to see the Sin City Crue. This is Rick and DeeDee in the morning on Hot Ninety-Four-Three.”

I turn the volume down as my chest starts to race.

I wonder if it’s Ben Olson that I’m being hired to babysit—to coach. I saw his name on the list of players recently traded to the Aces.

You know who wasn’t on that list? Jack Dalton.

I did my research this weekend. He hasn’t been traded to the Aces. Once a trade goes through, it hits the media right away—at least that’s what Kevin told me. And from what I know of Ben Olson, well, he’s kind of a party guy. He might need someone to keep him on track.

He’s freaking hot as hell, too, but that’s beside the point.

It might even be fun to hang out with him if I wasn’t going into this from a professional standpoint.

I park my car and I spot a big, black truck in the parking lot.

It’s not just any big, black truck.

It’s black all over, from the tinted windows to the black trim and black accents, and the license plate is familiar: JD5.

My chest tightens.

I know that truck.

I feel like this is one too many coincidences, and suddenly I have a really bad feeling about this new job I’ve been hired to do.

You know, the one I can’t back out of.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I check in at the front desk then start my walk through the hallways I memorized the first time I came here. I wish this was a shorter walk, because right now my heart is racing and I feel like I don’t have enough oxygen pumping inside of me to make it all the way there.

I’m so nervous, in fact, that I take a wrong turn and end up on totally the wrong end of the building.

I backtrack to try to figure out where I went wrong, and I feel tears heating behind my eyes at the sheer embarrassment of getting lost in this building. I’m going to be late to meet this person I’m coaching for the next ten months and is there really anything worse than showing up late on your first day when you’ve been hired to be the good example?

This is all wrong.

I’m a damn hot mess in my everyday life, let alone in a situation like this. Calvin hired the wrong psychologist for this job.

Just knowing Jack Dalton’s truck out there is setting me on edge. It’s not him. It can’t be him.

Some older man with kind eyes nods a hello as he passes me down the hallway. “Can you help me find Calvin Bennett’s office?” I ask, my voice riddled with sheer desperation.

“Of course,” he says, and I follow him back the way I came. He walks me almost all the way there, and I can’t help but express my eternal gratitude once I spot Lily’s desk three minutes ahead of schedule.

My hands are shaking and my knees are knocking together as that bad feeling in my gut only worsens as Lily looks up at me. “Good morning, Ms. Harmon,” she says brightly. “Mr. Bennett is waiting for you.”

She nods for me to head right in.

I draw in a deep breath, rooted to the spot for a beat, and then I force one foot in front of the other as I move toward Calvin’s office. As soon as I’m in the doorway, I spot the back of his head, and I immediately know.

Oh my God.

I close my eyes for a second as I try to wake up from this nightmare.

Jack Dalton isn’t just some hot football star with a penchant for getting into trouble.

He’s the guy who screwed me in a nightclub a few months ago and kicked me out when his girlfriend showed up.

And I’ve been hired to help him manage his decisions for nearly the next year.

I hate him.

I hate how freaking hot he looks sitting there casually in a white t-shirt and black shorts.

He’s a huge presence even from behind. This may be Calvin’s office, but he owns this room just like he owned that nightclub.

I hate that I can still remember what it felt like when his finger pushed into me and when he cupped my breast in his hand and when his tongue moved against mine. I hate that I still dream of him moving inside me and sometimes when I touch myself I pretend it’s him.

I hate that he was such an asshole.

God, I don’t think any man has ever raised such conflicting feelings in me.

My only hope here is that he doesn’t recognize me. If he does, then it’s game over.

“Kathryn, good morning,” Calvin says, and at his words, Jack turns around.

My heart stops beating for a second as our eyes connect. I swear to God there’s this heat that passes between us, but it’s probably only me who feels it. His eyes are navy blue and stormy, and they widen as they fall onto me with a bit of recognition.

There goes that ray of hope, but then his single word restores it a little as his lips broaden into a smile. “Kia!”

He recognizes me from our run-in at Dunkin’ the other day...not from our one night together. It was dark, and I had a mask on for most of it. But God help me if he ever figures out that I was the one he fucked on a couch last Halloween before we became a viral cat meme together.

“It’s Kathryn,” I grit out between my clenched jaw, and then I force it to loosen as I realize nobody on planet Earth ever calls me Kathryn. “Kate, actually.”

“You two know each other?” Calvin asks.

“We had a, um, run-in at Dunkin’ Donuts the other day,” I explain.

I sure as hell don’t mention Halloween, but Jack’s eyes flick to my chest before his eyes rise to mine. He raises a brow as he gives me a long, meaningful look that tells me everything I need to know.

Oh shit.

I am so screwed.

“She was driving like a grandma and I was in a rush to get coffee home to Michelle,” he explains to Calvin, and wait just one hot second.

Who the hell is Michelle?

I vaguely remember Calvin mentioning the man in my charge has a fiancée and a kid...

“I was driving like a normal person and he cut me off,” I protest.

“You should’ve seen her try to tell me off when she walked in.” He laughs at the memory. “So what are you doing here?” he asks.

“Mr. Bennett has hired me to—”

He cuts me off. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me you are my babysitter?”

“Behavioral coach,” Calvin and I say at the same time, though my voice holds a touch more exasperation than Calvin’s.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Wait.” He holds up a hand. “Hell no.”

“You don’t have a choice, Mr. Dalton,” Calvin reminds him.

“I don’t just let anyone into my inner circle,” he says.

Calvin sighs. “If you want to play next season, you need to be on your best behavior. Kathryn is here to help ensure you do that.”

“Or you’ll bench me?” Jack guesses, and he’s totally pushing Calvin’s buttons on purpose.

“You bet your ass I will,” Calvin booms. “We have standards here, Dalton, and if you can’t meet them, you won’t play. Understand?”

Jack doesn’t falter for even a second. “Yeah, I got it. Can I go now?”

“No,” Calvin says. “Kathryn, have a seat. I’m going to go over the expectations, and once you’re finished asking questions, you’ll be free to go.”

Calvin launches into every single detail from my contract (barring what he’s paying me), and Jack pays exactly zero attention to him as he talks. Instead, he keeps glancing over at me, and when I feel his eyes on me and turn toward him, he looks away.

It’s a pattern that happens over and over again, something that’s already beyond frustrating. I feel like he wants to say something to me but obviously he isn’t going to do it in front of Calvin.

Once Calvin wraps up the contract discussion and expectations, he pushes some papers across the desk. “This is the nondisclosure agreement Kathryn has already signed,” he tells Jack. “I want you to review it and sign it. It’s up to you, Jack, whether you want to admit the real reason Kathryn will be with you at all times or if you want to craft a reason for the media. I haven’t told a soul about this arrangement barring Charles, my lawyer who drew up the contract. I understand the personal implications that might come along with a new woman tailing you everywhere you go, so I’m giving you the discretion of explaining her presence.”

“Gee, thanks, boss,” Jack says sarcastically. “Can we just say she’s my side chick?”

God, I hate him.

Can I get a behavior coach, too? Because I might just throttle my client before this contract is up.

How do I babysit someone I can’t stand for the next ten months?

A quarter of a million dollars, a little voice whispers in my head.

Right.

I can totally do this.

Maybe.