“Hmm...” He scratched his temple. “Not exactly the apology I would’ve expected from him.”
“Why would he apologize? Nothing’s changed. I’m still the fat girl he ditched for a beauty queen when he realized dating Duke Delgado’s daughter wouldn’t propel his career into the stratosphere. Now that he’s no longer playing ball, he thinks he can bounce back into my life and use me to up his real estate creds. Like I’m some kind of big-girl trampoline.”
See? She wasn’t as soft and gooey as Bertie thought. She saw right through Jordan’s game.
Bertie shook his head. “I can’t believe I was so wrong about him. I always thought better of Jordan.”
“So did I—once. Now, I know he’s a user and a creep.” Her voice cracked on the last word as the pain pierced her heart yet again, as it always did when she thought about the man she’d once loved. Despite her exhaustion, she tightened her frame as if braced for battle.
If Bertie noticed, he didn’t remark on her sudden stiffness beside him. “At least tell me you got in the last word with the bum.”
“I did.”
He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “That’s my warrior woman. Now, you listen to me. No matter what you decide to do about the midtown center, your dad’s legacy is safe in your hands and always has been. If you really like the space, go for it. Unless your bitterness won’t be happy until he’s penniless and sleeping in the street...”
“That’s not it at all! You know me better than that.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, wringing them in her lap. “The truth is, I don’t think I relish sitting across a board table from him, Bertie. I mean, when I saw him tonight, trapped in that chair, I felt so bad I wanted to cry. I don’t think I could work with him and maintain my composure.”
“I’ll do it if you can’t. Frankly, I’d welcome the opportunity to give him a piece of my mind. Despite your history, he owed you better than what you got in Houston. Say the word, and I’ll take over the acquisition.”
“And let him think I’m still so hung up on him that I can’t face him over a business deal?” God, wouldn’t that be humiliating! “No, thanks. I’ll handle him, and I’ll get that property. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll wish he’d stayed in Houston. If I have to, I’ll kick his ass back there.” She mimed dropping a ball and kicking it over the goal posts.
With a low chuckle, Bertie kissed her cheek. “I know you will.”
JORDAN HAD PLENTY OF time to review the evening’s events when he returned home. After a hot shower, a warm towel, and dry clothes, he would’ve expected sleep to overtake him easily. But, no. In bed, he stared at the ceiling, reviewing the mistakes he’d made in trying to reach Cameron. He’d really underestimated the power of his charms. Why was she so mad at him anyway?
Okay, so maybe they hadn’t parted under the best of circumstances, but he would have always lived under her father’s shadow if he’d remained with the Vanguard. Regardless of his success on the gridiron, the whispers that he only had his position because he was dating Duke’s daughter—his coach’s stepdaughter—had grown too loud to ignore. So when the Houston Privateers sought a veteran quarterback to provide leadership for their group of young, talented but inexperienced players, Paris pitched him as the perfect candidate. Lucky for him, the Privateers agreed, and he signed on the dotted line without consulting Cam.
As soon as she heard, she shut down, broke off all communications, and cut him out of her life. He should have realized her loyalty would always remain with the Vanguard. Daddy’s girl, Daddy’s team.
God help him, he still wanted her. Seeing her had been a big mistake. Bad enough he’d ceded home court advantage, but then she looked down on him from her dressy sky-high heels, making him feel vulnerable and small with one glare. A devastating fall when she was the one person who’d always looked up to him in the past...
Once again, as Marcus had predicted, the what-ifs invaded his thoughts. If he hadn’t signed the Houston contract, how would their lives have turned out?
Would he have taken the hit that destroyed his pro career during a different game? And if he had been injured while still playing for the Vanguard, would she have cared enough to come back to him? Or would she have kept him on her cut list, the way her mother treated Bertie? Persona non grata.
He shuddered. Big mistake, he chided himself again, going to her apartment building tonight. Huge, honking mistake. She was always brittle after the annual awards dinner, primarily because Bertie couldn’t attend and Bertie was her primary shelter from most storms. Jordan should’ve remembered how, whenever he’d accompanied her to the yearly fete while they were dating, she’d cling to him all night, and then, at the end of the evening, she’d collapse in his arms and weep herself dry. Why hadn’t he remembered that?
He spent most of the night mentally kicking himself for his lack of empathy, for forgetting how fragile she could be. Had he imagined that haunted look in her eyes? Recalled it from some past evening when he’d been the man to soothe her tumult after a similar event? Had she really laughed, or was the sound he’d heard before she disappeared inside been more a bitten-back sob?
Sleep evaded him, refusing to allow him any respite from his conflicting thoughts.
The next morning, bleary-eyed and irritable, he rolled into his office only to spot his boss waiting at the reception desk, wearing a grin wide enough to eat the Cheshire Cat. Susan veered around the desk, clapping in short bursts. “Congratulations, Jordan.”
“For what?” he grumbled. Was he about to get the boot for not earning that double commission
