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Chapter 1
Austin
Favoring his right knee, Austin Barrick limped his way through the crowded locker room and lowered himself onto a bench with a grunt. It was the only verbal acknowledgment of the pain shooting up his leg he allowed himself.
He was getting too fucking old for this.
At thirty-two, most people were just getting into the swing of things, career-wise. But he was racing head-on towards retirement and he knew it. What was worse, the rest of the team knew it, too. It was impossible to miss the sideways glances of the rookies and the sympathetic smiles of the more seasoned players.
A pair of naked, hairy legs appeared in his peripheral vision as he worked at a knot in his neck. “You okay there, Barrick?”
Tony Fucking Torres. The Washington Hawks’ newest shining star. Brand new recruit from the University of Michigan, and still young enough for a smattering of pimples along his otherwise perfect jawline.
And, although nobody had come right out and said it yet, Austin’s replacement.
Without looking up, Austin waved a hand, dismissing his young protegé. “I’m fine. Just a headache from listening to you hens clucking all damn day.”
Grumbling and laughter filled the locker room, but the legs didn’t move. “You sure you’re okay, man? I thought I saw you limping.”
Finally lifting his head, Austin peeled his lip back in a sneer. “Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but you ain’t getting rid of me that easy.”
Ignoring the twinge of guilt at the hurt on the younger man’s face, Austin made his way to the shower, forcing himself not to limp, which meant his knee was screaming at him by the time he’d showered and dressed for his meeting with the new financial planner his agent had pushed on him. Apparently, this chick was the cream of the crop when it came to investments and shit, and it had taken some serious fast-talking to get her to even accept a meeting with him.
She was obviously not a baseball fan if she wasn’t falling all over herself for a chance at Austin Barrick’s finances.
Most of the team had dispersed by the time he made it to the parking lot, so he allowed himself a slight limp on his way to the monstrous SUV that had been his first big purchase when he’d signed with Chicago ten years ago. He could afford a dozen just like it every year with his current contract with the Hawks, but he was loath to part with his first.
The money chick’s office was nearly an hour drive with traffic, and his mood hadn’t improved any by the time he found a spot at the far end of the parking lot and limped his way to the shiny glass building. “At least there’s a fucking elevator,” he mumbled to himself as he punched the button for the tenth floor.
The elevator in question zipped up to the requested floor almost silently, and the doors opened to reveal a wall of windows withKatherine Callahan, CFPprinted on the spotless glass entrance.
A severe-looking older woman with her silver hair clipped back in a bun from which not even a single hair dared to escape, glanced up from her computer when he opened the door. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Yeah. Barrick.”
The woman’s gaze flicked downward, and her unpainted lips came together in a time-honored expression of disapproval. “You are fifteen minutes late, Mr. Barrick.”
“Sorry about that,” he glanced at the name plate on the sleek metal desk, “Donna.” Despite his irritation at not just being late but being called on it, he flashed her a grin. “Traffic, parking, all that jazz.”
“Ms. Callahan has a very tight schedule.”
Gritting his teeth behind the smile, he nodded. “Understood. Won’t happen again.”
With a noncommittal hum, Donna stood and rounded the desk. “Follow me.” Sturdy, practical heels clicking on the tile, she led him down a short hallway to a corner office and gave a quick, brisk knock on the closed door.
“Mr. Barrick is here for your four o’clock,” she announced, opening the door to a huge, sparsely decorated office.
Austin followed her inside, expecting a similar version of the gatekeeper. But the woman behind the desk nearly had his tongue rolling out of his mouth when she stood to greet him.
Hair so dark it was nearly black fell in sleek waves over her shoulders, brushing against the swell of breasts she’d tried to hide behind the perfectly cut business suit. Lush, full curves instantly filled his imagination with visions of her bent over the polished wood of her desk, welts covering her gorgeously round ass as he gripped her hips and pounded into her.
Giving himself a mental shake, he stepped forward and stretched out a hand. “You can call me Austin. Katherine, right?”
Pale pink lips turned up in a polite, professional smile and almond-shaped eyes met his as she accepted the handshake, but there was no warmth in the brown depths. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Barrick.” She held out her unoccupied hand and the efficient Donna placed a thick, white folder in her palm. “Thank you, Donna. Would you bring us some ice water, please?”
Jesus, the woman was as cold as the refreshments she’d just requested. “Thanks, Katie.” It was petty and rude, but the snotty way she’d called himMr. Barrickhad gotten under his skin.
If she’d been ice before, her voice turned glacial at the nickname. “Katherine or Ms. Callahan, please.”
