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“For him,” Conn said. “It’s going to end bad for him. He needs a lesson in humility, and I’m the man to give it to him.”
By the time they hit the locker-room door, Coach was in between Conn and Malone, and he waved off the press, sealing the locker room. Luke knew when to get lost, and this was one of those times. He went to his locker, undressed, heading to the shower for a fast escape, Coach mediating the shouting match behind him.
Fifteen minutes later, he and Rick were both dressed, about to shut their lockers and head out, when the fight broke out. Conn and Malone were on top of each other. Luke cursed and moved to the side where Malone crashed against the lockers a few inches from where Luke had stood. The next thing Luke knew, his bag was on the ground, and Malone was on top of it.
The team gathered in observation, with shouts of encouragement and otherwise, all vocalized loudly. Rick cursed and grabbed Conn by the shirt. Luke used his good arm and yanked Malone off his duffel. And that was when it happened. The syringes fell out of his bag.
Malone grabbed one and stood up. Coach rounded the corner. Malone held up the syringe and shook it in the air. “Is this how you manage that fast pitch?” he challenged Luke. “With drugs?”
The room went silent. Luke’s eyes latched on to Malone’s, and Luke knew in his gut that Malone had done this. Luke’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, his gaze lifting to where Coach stood. Malone was a sick bastard. The kid had problems, and Luke had been too busy dealing with his stalker to see that. Now he was paying the price and so might his career.
“Drug test me now, Coach,” Luke said, his spine stiff. “Because I can promise you, I won’t fail. Those are not my syringes or my drugs. I’ve been set up.”
***
IN A PINK SATIN ROBE, with a can of whipped cream in hand, Katie went in search of Luke. She found him sitting exactly where expected—on the leather sofa in the den watching SportsCenter, just as one of the commentators speculated about his use of steroids and how he might have beaten the drug test.
For days now, he’d tortured himself watching his own press, grumbling that Carl Malone had set him up, which was true, she had no doubt. And they were watching him, waiting for him to screw up.
Katie loved Luke too much to allow him to wallow in self-pity, she knew that now. There was no denying it. She loved the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he drank from her cup without asking. She loved him. That meant she needed to take care of him, as he had taken care of her the other night after her panic attack over her sister, who was, thankfully, out of trouble. No more loan sharks. No more danger. So Katie was armed and ready to take action. She’d stop at nothing to get Luke’s mind off his troubles. She was a woman on a mission.
Tilting her chin up, she marched into the den, rounded the couch and went straight to the television, not bothering to reach for the remote. It was in his hand where it stayed. Instead, she hit the manual button and turned it off.
“Hey!” he started to complain. “I was—”
Katie dropped the robe. She was naked underneath. “No more SportsCenter,” she said. She held up the whipped cream. “I bought this almost two weeks ago, and we never used it. Remember?”
He tossed the remote to the floor. “No more SportsCenter.”
She smiled and ripped the top off the whipped cream and sprayed it on her nipples. “Would you like to help me decorate?” she asked, crossing the small space between them and straddling him. “Or just lick off my handiwork?”
“Both,” he said, his hands closing around her waist as his tongue twirled the whipped cream around her nipple. “More, please.”
She pointed to the opposite nipple. “This one first.”
A smile touched his lips a moment before it touched the whipped cream on her other breast. She sprayed more, on her nipples, between them. Lower. She planned on going much lower.
“Stand up, baby,” he urged. “Let me decorate my favorite little V.”
“Katie! Luke!” It was Noah.
“Oh, my God!” Katie said, and tried to scramble away.
Luke licked her nipple clean. “I’ll hurry.”
“Katie! Luke!” Noah’s voice got closer.
“Let go, Luke!” Luke chuckled and freed her. Katie scrambled for her robe, pulled it on. “Why is it I am always scrambling to get my clothes on around you?” she asked, tying her robe not a second too soon.
Noah appeared in the doorway and charged toward them. “Josh was right,” he said, crossing the room. “He—” His eyebrows dipped as he looked at Katie. “What’s all over you?” His eyes went wide. “Is that whipped cream?” He started to laugh, his gaze spotting the can on the couch. “It’s whipped cream.”
