She was always working. I’d never met a woman who was so on-call for media damage control. If one of the Bobcats did something stupid, she was their go-to person. As team captain, I came a distant fourth after Gia, then the player’s agent and lawyer.
“I’m not talking to you,” I said as I turned back to the television. I got precious little time to see my sister, and I was not going to give that up.
Unfortunately, Gia wasn’t one to be put off so easily. She stalked around my couch, and I saw her eyes go to the ice packs on my knees and the prescription anti-inflammatories next to my water bottle. Then she rapidly scanned my face, torso, and bare feet, in that order.
“See something you like?” I taunted. It was a sleazy thing to say, and the words tasted bad in my mouth. But she was getting damn close to discovering my secret. Cassie was due here any second. If I had to drop this encounter into the mud to get rid of her before my little sister showed up, I’d do it. Even if it made me feel like a first-class asshole.
But Gia surprised me. Instead of getting angry, she answered honestly. “Yeah,” she said, her voice all breathless. I watched her eyes widen at her own response. Or maybe it was the come-hither tone. Hard to tell. But she seemed as shocked as I was.
What the hell? Gia never played those kinds of games. Painfully professional, that was Gia. At least, that’s what I’d thought…until our time in the bathroom last week.
Meanwhile, she blew out a breath as she squared her shoulders. “Yes,” she said, her voice calm and businesslike. “I want to interview you. And since I can’t grab you at work, I followed you home.”
I frowned a moment as I processed what she’d just said. “You seriously followed me home?” It was possible, I guessed, since almost no one knew where I lived. All my mail went to a PO Box where it was sorted by an intern at my agent’s company. Even Joe DeLuce didn’t know where I lived. But Gia did now. And she looked like a wet dream, just before the good parts.
She snorted. “No, I didn’t follow you. I’ve known where you live since a week after I started with the Bobcats.”
Really? How?
She must have seen the questions in my expression because she answered them without pause.
“Because I’m good at my job, which involves keeping track of all you randy boys and saving the team from embarrassment. The fact that your address was an uber secret set off all sorts of red flags. So you were the first person I checked out.” Her gaze traveled around my small, stark apartment. I had bookcases in two corners—one with books, the other with videos—and a large entertainment system. Nothing else of note, and there wasn’t a thing out of place. I even used coasters for my water bottles. “I thought you had a sex den or something,” she murmured.
“I’m not Jake.”
“He doesn’t have a sex den, either.”
I glared at her. And when she didn’t speak, I threw up my hand. “Why are you here, Gia?”
“I told you. For an interview.”
“I’m not doing those articles.”
“So you’ve made clear. Even though Joe told you to do it. And your agent has been screaming at me for copy. And—”
“Get a reporter to do it.”
She folded her arms, the most defensive posture I’d seen her use in a while. “I’m writing it. Get over it.”
“No.”
She threw up her hands. “Why not?”
“You know why.” And the flush to her cheeks told me she did. “Why won’t you hand it off to someone?”
“Because it’s my baby. It was my idea, and everyone loved it. Because I can’t control what a reporter writes, and there are all sorts of logistical issues in letting someone get that close to you and the team. Who knows what someone could say casually and be overheard? Or God forbid, recorded.”
I snorted. “This isn’t the mafia or the FBI. We’re a ball team. Nobody cares what we say.”
She arched her brows, clearly calling my bluff. “Do I need to remind you that your sister made a snide remark about my salary, and I spent the next two weeks squashing rumors that we were in financial trouble?”
Okay, so people did care what we said. And more important, Joe DeLuce had this whole thing about the team’s image. He cared what his players said and did. He’d made that very clear from the beginning.
So Gia had a point, and I was being an idiot for ignoring it.
I shrugged. “I can’t do it, Gia. Not with you.”
She sat down on the coffee table, facing me. Her expression wasn’t angry like I expected. Instead, she seemed to be thinking hard as she studied me.
