Alicia hesitated, but she needed to tell someone. She heard the caution in her voice when she said, “He’s here on a spousal visa.”
Casey sputtered, “Who the hell did you get to marry him?” There was only a slight pause before Casey gasped. “You. You married the guy? That’s your trouble.”
Although that would have gotten her ankle deep, she said, “Not exactly.”
“There’s more? Are you pregnant?”
Quick to re-assure her, she insisted, “No. It’s not that. I haven’t…yet. That’s the trouble. I want to do some pretty disgusting things with him.”
“Allie. He’s a ballplayer. Have you forgotten you don’t date them?”
Her stomach dropped with what felt like dread. It was a creed that had somehow gotten lost in translation. She said caustically, “We didn’t date. We skipped right to the chapel part.”
Casey’s chuckle should have annoyed the shit out of her, but she had to admit her predicament might be laughable from another perspective.
“Of all the people to be married to a jock, I never thought it would be you.”
“That makes two of us. Even worse, Dan wants me to stay with him until he has his feet on the ground. I’m in his guest bedroom as we speak.”
“What are you going to do?”
She had no idea. That was the reason for the call. She needed someone to bounce things off, help her get her head on straight.
“The plan was to get a divorce as soon as we got here. Now he wants me to wait so I can sponsor his mother. I’m not sure I can hold out that long.”
“For what? The divorce or the…sex?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Casey had pretty much laid out her dilemma.
“I’m thinking maybe we can get the decree and then have sex. That way I don’t have to trust him.”
“The alternative would be celibacy, right? You can’t expect him to agree to that, can you?”
“I’m celibate. Where’s my sympathy?”
“That’s by choice.”
“I didn’t twist his arm.”
“No, you just offered him a way to get a contract and play for the big leagues.”
“Throw that in my face.”
“Allie, there’s no way you would have done this without feeling something for the guy. Maybe you could—”
“No way. I learned that lesson and it’s not worth repeating.”
“They’re not all bad. My dad was faithful.”
“I know. And for as often as I’ve told myself most of the guys are, I can’t move beyond it.”
Not that she would have dated any of the players she worked with. That would be a gross conflict of interest.
Like marrying one of them wasn’t.
She let her head drop back against the headboard. Hard. She thought maybe it would knock some sense into her.
Casey whispered, “I’ve gotta go. My dad just got home. He’s been squirreled in his office at the complex making plans, organizing, figuring out who to bring in to coach with him. I want to find out what happened. Are we still on for the morning?”
They worked out a couple of times a week at the sports center when she was in town. It had a great gym, with all the bells and whistles, and was close enough to Harborside that it would take only ten or fifteen minutes for her to get to work. And it allowed her time with one of her closest friends.
Casey asked, “Six thirty as usual?”
“I’ll be there. I’m hoping you can talk me out of doing something even more insane than what I’ve already done.”
“When have you ever listened to my sage advice?”
“Since I’ve become older and wiser?”
“Is that a recent development?”
“It happened a couple of hours ago when I moved into the bedroom down the hall from my…husband.”
Casey had the audacity to laugh outright this time, but assured, “I’ll do my best. See you then.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mateo stirred when he heard noises out in the kitchen. The bed was comfortable and all he wanted to do was roll over and go back to sleep. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, wanting to slip down the hall and into Alicia’s room. It had taken all his discipline not to give in. This morning he was groggy and rock hard from the fantasies that had plagued him.
When the loud whir of a blender buzzed through him, he sat up and leaned on an elbow, glancing at the time on his phone. It wasn’t even six in the morning. Did Alicia always get up this early and turn on ear-splitting machines? Or was this just his lucky day? He crawled out of bed and slipped into his sweatpants before striding out to see what the hell she was doing.
He rubbed at his tired eyes and asked, “Have they also assigned you as my alarm clock?”
She jerked her head toward him, a tinge creeping up her cheeks.
“Sorry. I’m used to living alone.”
No longer half-asleep, the vision of her in form-fitting spandex too much for his tired brain to process, he gulped hard before the drool pooled out and shook off the stupor. His brain cells finally kicked in, giving his man parts a breather.
“I thought you had roommates?”
“I share the house with three other people, but we all have separate quarters, like mini-condos. That was the reason we went in on the rent. We thought we were a little old to share a bathroom or kitchen.”
She never looked up. She was concentrating on pouring her drink into a glass.
“And yet here you are sharing space with me.”
She ignored his comment and sipped from a glass canning jar, her lips white from the smoothie foam.
He wanted to go over and kiss it off, but he kept his feet from moving by sheer force of will.
The urge was even stronger when her tongue flicked across said lips and wiped them clean.
“I’m sorry. This is breakfast when
