to help me out. But as you’re so worried about offending my non-existent sensibilities, we don’t have to discuss this any longer.”
Abruptly, he took her hand and clasped it tightly to his own. “Mia ….” He bent his head, his eyes intent and focused on her in a way that made her heart flip. “Can we start over?”
“With what?”
“With this … project. I want to help, only I’d prefer we established some clearer boundaries.”
“Can’t handle penis talk. Check.” Despite her flippancy, she was currently in a hormonal frenzy because Cal Foreman was holding her hand. That should not have been sexy, but oh how it was.
He smiled. “I’m a delicate flower.”
She laughed nervously. “I suppose I did jump right in the deep end. Should have realized you might be a touch sensitive.”
He gave her a dark look. “What do you mean?”
“Because of Vadim being your friend. It’s too close to home.”
His expression smoothed out. “Sure. Vadim.” But he’d thought she meant something else. What did Cal Foreman have to be sensitive about?
He was still holding her hand. The intimacy of it made her heart thunder.
“Tryout’s in a couple of weeks,” he murmured.
“Well, November.”
“I thought you were headed to Biddeford the first week of October for the Team USA evaluation camp.”
“Oh, that tryout.”
“What tryout are you talking about?”
She’d mentioned this, but of course he’d forgotten. “This guy—the one I like—he’ll be at Isobel’s charity event in early November, so I was aiming for that as D-Day.”
He released her hand, leaving her cold. “You’re considering that a tryout? Like you’re auditioning to be this guy’s girl?”
“Isn’t that what every potential encounter with someone who might be relationship material is? A tryout to be in this person’s life?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but Harper’s door opened at the same time. Quickly, they both withdrew from the close huddle, not that there was anything going on. But lately all her conversations with Cal had a dangerous intimacy to them she hadn’t experienced with anyone else, man or woman.
Perhaps he was right. They should aim for some level of detachment.
“Mia! So sorry to keep you waiting.” Harper emerged, looking her usual competent and dazzling self. A cool, Hitchcockian blonde, petite in stature, large in personality, Harper ruled the Rebels with steely strength and fabulous stilettos. “And Mr. Foreman. Did we have an appointment?”
“No, Ms. Chase. Just in the neighborhood, thought I’d keep my student company.”
“Ah, I see.” Cool green eyes assessed them both.
Mia stood, anxious to put some distance between herself and Cal. It was bad enough she was getting ideas of her own, she certainly didn’t want anyone else to get them. “Are we still on for lunch?”
“Yes, of course,” Harper said. “I had a surprise drop-in—”
“And I won’t take up another minute of your time, Harper.”
Mia froze at the sound of that voice. Smooth, silky, honeyed tones that threw her back to a time she had tried to forget.
“Mia, you know Selena, don’t you?” Harper gestured to a buxom brunette in a smart business suit.
Yes, Mia knew Selena Fabien, Commissioner of the Women’s Hockey League.
Or as well as you can know the person who destroyed your life.
11
Mia nodded slowly, feeling like she was working her way through molasses. Everything had slowed down—her body, her mind, the world around her.
After what felt like hours, she found her voice. “Yes, I do.” Then she added a small-sounding, “Hi.”
“Oh, I know Mia,” Selena said. “She and my son were classmates at Harvard.”
Technically correct. Sure, she went to the same college as Drew Fabien. Mia would sacrifice her left tit to be able to say she hadn’t. But as was often the case, the devil was in the details, specifically the ones Selena had neglected to mention.
How she threatened to sue Mia after she accused her precious son of sharing intimate pictures of her with his friends.
How she persuaded the school that Mia was a troublemaker and just as “misguided.” Maybe more so because she should have been on guard. After all, women have a responsibility to be ultra-aware of these things, an unfortunate but realistic double standard (Selena’s actual fucking words.)
How she promised Mia there would be no repercussions if she would agree to let it lie.
How she went back on that promise and left Mia flapping in the wind.
Selena said none of these things, but her smile—that snake’s smile—told the tale.
“How are you, Mia?”
“I’m fine.” Mia waited for the gods to strike her down but they must have been out to lunch. Fine?