Page 50 of Striking Heat

I shake my head. “No, I was at home when I wrote that. At the home office,” I tell her.

“I see. I didn’t notice an office at your place.” Her voice has quieted.

“You didn’t ask for a tour, so you wouldn’t have,” I remind her.

“You seemed to have another agenda.” Her cheeks flush rosy.

I like it when she blushes. I like that I get this kind of reaction out of her. It’s cute. Makes me think there’s more than just me interviewing her and screwing her into oblivion just because I didn’t like that some guy was trying to pick her up at the bar.

“I did that night. I had other plans for you. You can come back, and I’d be happy to give you a tour.” I wonder if I looked under the table if I would see her thighs clenching together. Her pupils have dilated and she’s biting her lip. “I’d like to be the one biting that lip.”

“Uh.” I have her at a loss for words, which is not how I’m used to her. Usually, she has a witty come back for everything.

“What’s the matter, Mac? Cat got your tongue?”

She doesn’t have to answer me, because a waitress comes over to take our order and, of course, it’s one I know.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Taylor,” she says. “What are you doing here? I thought you only came to see me during the week.”

“Hi, Sal. You know, I was thinking I don’t get in here enough and a Saturday lunch date with my favorite girl was in order.” I wink in Sal’s direction, but she calls me on my bullshit.

“Are you talking about the woman in front of you or am I your favorite?” She grins. “I can never tell with you, Danny.”

I steal a glance at Mac and she’s laughing. But she definitely looks uneasy, shifting in her seat and eyes searching Sal like she’ll give her the answers she’s searching for.

“I’m talking about you. There isn’t any reason why this one over here would be happy to be seen with me in public,” I tell her.

Sal laughs. “Why is that?”

“Because I’m here to interview her. She’s with the Tampa Bay Blaze,” I explain.

“Wow, so you’re a professional soccer player?” she asks Mac.

“I am,” she replies. She keeps her response simple. She’s humble like that, and it’s one of the things I plan on including in the article. The woman never lets her ego get in the way. She plays the game and tries to be good. Tries to make the team better. But little does she know; she does a hell of a lot more than that. I’m writing about that too.

“Well, good for you, my dear. What can I get you guys to eat?” Sal asks, getting back to business.

“I’d like an egg white omelet, please. Wheat toast and no meat,” she tells Sal and then takes a sip of her water.

“I would like the club sandwich and fries, please. All the fries,” I say, looking over at Mac with a smirk. “You don’t get a cheat day?” I ask her when Sal leaves us.

Mac smiles at me, leaning back in the booth. “Yeah, I get a cheat day, but I’m not sure I’m going to use it today.”

“I remember those days. Having a cheat day and splurging on something really good.”

“What was your favorite cheat day meal?” she asks me.

“Easy—a burger and fries. Sometimes, if I had some extra calories in the plan, I’d add a strawberry shake to it.”

“Ah, that sounds good. I would love to have that, but right now, I think I’m safer with the egg white omelet.” She shrugs.

I nod. “Yeah, well, we can always go for ice cream when we’re done here.”

“Ice cream? Aren’t you going to be full after your club sandwich and all the fries?” She laughs.

“No, not necessarily. I might be able to fit in some ice cream. It’s like drinking a milkshake or something,” I say, winking at her. “What’s your favorite cheat day meal?”

She sighs and her blue eyes track up at the ceiling like she’s thinking the question over. It’s a tough decision. When you’re an athlete, you don’t always get to eat all the decadent things you would like to. Because food is fuel, and you can’t be swimming or running while a sub or burger is sitting in your stomach.