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Worry knotted in her chest. It was one thing for her father to toss out a ludicrous suggestion during an emotional argument because he was worried about her. But it was another for him to have thought about the notion enough to actually be concerned how he presented it to her. That meant the full wisdom of megasuccessful Daniel Blair III had been applied to the equation and he still thought Rick Warren might have orchestrated some elaborate setup to pave his way to another team in the league.

“But the Rebels are over five hundred.” It was a stronger position than they’d been in the last several seasons after the All-Star break. “He can have the shot at the playoffs here.”

“Sure,” her father agreed, nodding while he continued to flip around the cufflink. “But he’d have a better chance in New York or Boston.”

The truth of his assessment sent her back a step. Sure, she’d been the one to make the overture toward Rick. But could he have capitalized on the moment for reasons all his own? No, no, and hell, no. This was simply what her father did—plant enough doubt to make her second-guess herself. But it wasn’t happening this time.

Behind her father, the intercom buzzed on his desk, followed by his secretary’s voice.

“Mr. Blair, Rick Warren is here to see you.”

The news of his arrival felt like confirmation of her fears. Why would Rick be at her family’s home so soon after the story broke? Could he be here for the kind of closed-door meeting that got players shipped out in record time? Had her father even summoned him, or had Rick arrived to do some negotiating of his own?

“Send him in please,” her father said, before turning to her. “Perhaps we’ll be able to decipher the young man’s motives sooner rather than later.”

She’d barely blinked away her surprise when Rick charged into the room without being announced, her father’s personal secretary hurrying in behind him to apologize for the intrusion. With a flick of a weary wrist, Daniel Blair waved away the employee while Rick looked back and forth between Delaney and her father.

“I want the first flight out of here before this mess snowballs any more.”

4

RICK HAD BEEN PREPARED for Delaney to argue with him. She’d made it clear he shouldn’t have to leave the team because of this.

But he hadn’t expected the color to wash out of her cheeks before a fiery flush took over. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was furious. Her old man had invited him out to the house to hash through this today, but now Rick wondered if the team owner had set him up for a big fall. Certainly Dan Blair didn’t jump in to defend Rick even though the guy had been reasonable enough on the phone. He’d told Rick he was sure he’d do the right thing as far as this scandal was concerned.

From what Rick could tell, that meant removing himself from the equation to squash interest in those pictures and to protect Delaney. Once Rick left the team, there’d be no more lurid speculation about what happened. The media would be too busy dissecting how he fit into a new roster. As for Rick, he’d be busy figuring out how to put his heart back together.

“Dad, will you give us a moment alone, please?” Delaney spoke to her father, but her gaze remained fixed on him.

She bore no resemblance to the woman who’d brazenly shed her clothes for him last night. Right now, Delaney appeared every bit the powerful executive, from her sleek navy suit and understated gold bangles, to her all-business pumps.

But then, Rick had always admired that about her. She had a cool, unflappable facade that he now knew hid a passionate, warm-hearted woman inside.

“Of course.” Daniel Blair III stood from his spot on the desk and walked toward the door, clapping Rick on the shoulder on his way past while two matching Irish wolf-hounds followed their master. “We’ll speak later, son.”

No sooner had the door closed behind the older man and the dogs than Delaney speared a hand through her thick, dark hair.

“Is that what last night meant to you, Rick? A speed pass out of Atlanta to a team with a better shot at the playoffs?”

Rick had a moment of empathy for the big game animals shot with a tranquilizer gun on those wildlife shows. He halted his forward momentum, stunned still by the accusation.

“Excuse me?” He’d come to the house with every intention of making things right between him and Delaney. He’d never expected this kind of cold reception. “Were you present for the same night of passion as I was? I thought you approached me.

“Because I thought you were honorable and upstanding.” Her voice caught and he had a glimpse of the anxiety beneath the anger, but she was quick to hide any hint of vulnerability.

Any hint of caring about him.

That hurt.

Without a doubt, Delaney Blair had developed the power to wound him after just one night together.

“Maybe that’s because last night you trusted your gut instead of—” he gestured vaguely with one hand “—your father? The media? Whoever is giving you ideas that you know in your heart don’t apply to us or what happened.”

He wanted to cross the room and touch her, pull her against him and remind her how electric their connection had been and how powerful it could be if they fed it. But what if she was the kind of woman who fled at the first sign of trouble? Maybe her upbringing in this privileged world on a family compound in Buckhead hadn’t prepared her for the kinds of challenges his career put him up against all the time.

Although, in truth, the locker room escapade had more far-reaching consequences than the usual media flare-ups.

“Well, excuse me for second-guessing myself when you barge in here demanding a trade to get away from me.”

“Didn’t you watch the news conference?” He looked around the room and realized the gargantuan home office was like some British country house from the turn of the century. No electronics except for a couple of lamps. “I met with the media this morning and they’re going to be swarming you and your dad. Having me around isn’t going to help the team.”

Geez, just looking around this room and seeing the legacy of the Blair family and the Atlanta Rebels reinforced his decision to leave. Rick had too much respect for the game and for the club to drag the organization through a personal scandal that would distract the players and management alike.

“And that’s what it’s all about for you, isn’t it? Winning.” Delaney stepped toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the massive gardens outside the house. Flowers bloomed despite the relentless heat of Georgia in midsummer.

“No. It’s about protecting you and playing the game like it’s supposed to be played.”

He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed between them since he left her office last night, but something had made her distant. Was she really that upset at the idea of him leaving? The thought that it would tear her up as much as it was going to tear him up wasn’t any great comfort.

He joined her at the window. She leaned on one side of the casing while he rested a shoulder on the other. Daylight streamed between them, but the reality separating them seemed far more murky.

“Forget about me for a minute. I don’t understand what you mean about how you play the game.” She shook her head. “How do you think it’s supposed to be played that’s any different than anyone else in the league?”

“For my whole career I’ve wanted to be a part of a club that makes it to the playoffs as a team. No one-man bands. No big-ticket guys assembled just to win a series. But a group that picks each other up. A team that plays with as much heart as talent, you know? Like the game means something.”