Playing to Win

what?”
    “I spent some time with the other receivers, and I offered advice to Kenny. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
    “I’m glad.”
    They headed outside.
    “You’d make a good coach,” he said.
    She let out a soft laugh. “That’s not really my area, but thank you for thinking so.”
    He walked her to her car, opened the door for her. She turned to face him. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”
    He’d put on his sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes, but she imagined he was surprised by her question. “Uh, no. Why? Are we still on the clock?”
    “I’m on the clock twenty-four hours a day. I thought we’d have dinner.”
    “All right. What did you have in mind?”
    “Actually, something simple. If you don’t mind, I’ll bring some food over to your place and cook for you.”
    “You cook?”
    “I do.”
    He leaned an arm against the top of her car. “Are you a good cook?”
    “I’m an excellent one.”
    “It just so happens I like food. Fixed by excellent cooks. Come on over.”
    “Does seven work for you?”
    He seemed to be staring at her, and she wished she could see his eyes. “That works fine. See you then.”
    She slid into the car and he shut the door, then walked away.
    She couldn’t help the thrill of anticipation, but tamped it down immediately.
    This was work, not a date, which she mentally reminded herself all the way back to her place. Her body, though, had other ideas. It tingled in all the wrong places.
    Work.
    Not. A. Date.



ELEVEN

    COLE PICKED UP THE HOUSE, WASHED THE DISHES IN the sink, and even ran the vacuum cleaner in anticipation of Savannah’s arrival. On impulse, he changed the sheets on his bed, then laughed, wondering what the hell he was doing.
    Savannah wasn’t going to end up in his bed tonight. She was cooking him dinner. That was all.
    But she had been throwing out some pretty clear signals lately. And despite what happened that night at the wedding, she’d wanted him to kiss her at his parents’ house.
    Or maybe that was just his imagination. His imagination liked to think that every woman wanted to get into his pants.
    He’d sure as hell like to get into Savannah’s. But it would be a smart idea to keep things between them professional. She’d made some keen observations about him on the field today. He could use her expertise, and screwing things up between them with sex might fuck up their relationship. He could end up losing her, and right now that would be bad.
    He needed her. He might not know much about this whole image consulting thing, but he knew a good thing when he had it, and so far Savannah’s advice hadn’t hurt.
    Getting his carrer on the right track was his number one priority and he needed to be smart and remember that.
    Then again, when had he ever done the smart thing?
    He threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then organized the living room so it wouldn’t look like a jock lived there.
    When the doorbell rang, he did a once-over of the place and decided it was going to have to be good enough.
    He opened the door and held his breath. Her hair was down, like a waterfall of gold around her shoulders. She wore a yellow sundress and sandals—cute and casual, but she still managed to look elegant and beautiful.
    He took the grocery bag from her hands. “I would have bought this stuff.”
    “It’s no problem. Next time, you buy.”
    “Deal.” He led her into the kitchen.
    “I assume you have pots and pans.”
    “Yes. My mom insisted I not live on take-out food. I know how to make basic stuff.”
    Savannah laughed. “I can imagine her saying that to you.”
    He showed her the layout of his kitchen and she started grabbing things while he unpacked groceries.
    “I like steak.”
    “Good, because you’re cooking them. I also made an assumption that you have a grill.”
    “You assumed right.”
    She got out a plate and did some basting and seasoning to the steak, but not a lot, which made him happy. Meat should taste like meat, not like other junk. She slid the steaks off to the side, then pulled out lobster.
    He arched a brow. “Aren’t you fancy.”
    “I like seafood.”
    She set water boiling in two pans. One for the lobster and one for the rice dish she was making.
    “You get your grill ready. I’ve got everything covered in here.”
    He shrugged. “Okay.”
    He went outside to start the grill, watching her through the sliding glass door.
    It was interesting having a woman in his