Cara’s breathing grew more ragged and she grabbed his wrist, the color of her porcelain skin high in a way he thought he’d forgotten. Swallowing hard he let go of her, trying to come to grips with how much he wanted her then—how desperately he needed someone like her, someone who understood him, his history, his life.
Fury rushed in on the heels of that realization. He shook so badly he had to put his glass down lest he slosh onto the bar. Ignoring her as best he could, he shifted in his seat to release some of the pressure building behind his zipper.
“Sorry,” she muttered into her glass, elbows on the bar, staring downward.
“I lost my job. I mean it was only temporary I guess but I thought they’d keep me.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” She looked so distraught it made him feel like a shit heel. He frowned down at the warm palm she’d put back on his leg.
“Goddamn basketball ruined me.”
“You got a degree though, right?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, trying to conjure the correct emotion for the awkward, yet somehow pleasant moment. He downed the glass of wine and raised it for a refill. She kept toying with hers and waved the hovering bottle away. “For whatever good that does. General studies with an emphasis in American history, because I love reading about wars. Jesus.” His head dipped lower.
“Well, are there other jobs in the district? It’s huge now you know. Way bigger than when we were here since it merged with the county.”
“My application is system-wide. There aren’t any more temp spots. I have to get a master’s degree to get a real teaching job. Like I have money for that.”
“You made some dough in the NBA, I thought.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, that’s a common misconception. My agent took a huge cut. And she never got me a decent endorsement. Claimed she had to wait for me to get more playing-time exposure. And we all know how that went, don’t we?”
Cara sipped then put her glass down and rotated so her thighs were on either side of his chair in a way that made him more than a little dizzy. He gripped his glass and kept his gaze forward. “But, your fiancée is loaded. She’s a partner in a huge firm in Lexington. What’s the problem? Go to school. Surely she’ll pay for it?”
Kieran looked at her, taking her in, relearning the angle of her jaw and the curve of her full breasts under the little black dress, willing his libido into its cage. Words failed him. Shaking his head and refocusing on the depths of his newly refilled glass, he figured getting shitfaced again seemed like a really great plan. Anything that would force his life into reverse gear to that moment when he’d rushed in to defend the basket on national television. Or even further, when the woman currently in his personal space had looked at him and emphatically stated, it’s over, I don’t love you anymore so he could grab her and kiss her out of that ridiculous concept.
They sat side by side in silence for a solid five minutes. Kieran’s phone buzzed in his pocket over and over again, but he ignored it in favor of downing two more glasses of wine. The room had gone blurry around the edges when he faced her again. He needed to taste her lips, to hold her, to drown in her, and forget the black hole his life had become. Cara shifted away from him when he reached for her.
“Listen, I don’t know what you’re going through but I...I’m sorry for you. I guess I don’t get why you can’t go to school if there’s money for it.” She kept her gaze averted during her little speech.
“It seems pretty straightforward, yes.” Taking the phone out of his pocket, he noted the multiple messages from the lovely, sexy, bossy, bitchy Melinda. He did love her. But when he looked over at Cara, memories of their years together washed over him like a warm ocean wave. “So how is life being absorbed into an old-money Louisville clan?” Unable to resist, he reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She shook her head.
“Fine, I guess. If you like being made to feel like the poor-white-trash relation every time you walk into the mansion.”
“Well, I’m sure once you guys are on your own....”
“I’m sure, too,” she said, her voice low. Mesmerized by the freckles on her chest exposed by the dress’s neckline, he flinched when she tilted his chin up. “Okay, so, my face is still up here.” Her eyes were dry but dark, and her skin had reddened in a way that sent shockwaves down his spine. He yanked her close, his lips near hers, breathing her in. “I...I want....”
“Shhh....” The soft tumble of her hair covered his still-shaking fingers, sending the last shred of rational thought flying from his brain. “Just shush...please...for a second....” When he slanted his lips over hers, parted them with his tongue slowly, gently, loving the tiny noise she made, he realized he’d missed it for far too long.