a piece of ass and then move on to the next woman? Hara had given him the freaking milk—he wasn’t going for the cow, especially not when he could easily get himself a unicorn.
Breaking the seal on the heavy cream envelope bearing her name, she found a single sheet of paper.
Ms. Isari,
The organization paid your way to Boston and gave you an exclusive interview. I would appreciate your abeyance of our agreement and that you do not go outside the club. Mr. Butler’s family and friends wish to maintain their privacy. I’ve been informed the storm caused you to miss your return flight. Contact my assistant Madeline Bingley immediately if you are in need of a replacement airline ticket, or if my office can be of further service. Thank you for your respect and restraint in these matters.
—C. O’Donnell
Well, that was fast.
How in the hell did Connor O’Donnell find out where she was staying? The only people she’d told in Boston were Derek and Naomi. Ms. Butler had obviously informed her son of Hara’s visit. Would the player be that put out over Hara talking to his mother? O’Donnell certainly was enflamed. Why would the owner care so much? And who was it that ratted out her location, Naomi or Derek?
She didn’t feel very good. This was already going off the rails and she’d been investigating for maybe six hours.
Her excitement waned. Abeyance. Who freakin’ says “abeyance”?
* * *
Derek stood in his bedroom, his nose buried in her bathrobe, inhaling her scent, wondering what he should do next. She’d texted where she was, but should he go? Or at least call?
In the beginning, he’d had nothing but contempt for Hara, believing her to be an inept reporter and just another good-looking young woman in a push-up bra wanting to hook up with one of the big boys. Derek had no more faith in her being a good human than any other person he’d ever interacted with. But. But there was something about her that was different from other people. She was so much more. She was beautiful, obviously—a dusky-skinned goddess with translucent eyes and that long, silky hair he could run his fingers through all night. And her smell. Mmm. So heavenly. But it was her spark—her kind and charismatic soul—that made the blue of her eyes so piercing. Something deep in him had been triggered, a desire to be close to someone else. To let someone in. To be loved.
He wasn’t thrilled she was a reporter; that for sure was confusing, knowing Hara’s job was to report on his every move. To judge and report.
True, she had found out about Ms. Butler’s bad move and had agreed to not run a story. Not yet, anyway. He wasn’t 100 percent on trusting her, but … 80 percent? He really needed someone to talk to right now, about O’Donnell. Was 80 percent good enough?
His doorbell rang, and then there was a loud banging. Someone was in his foyer, pummeling his front door. What the fuck? Was the doorman asleep at the switch?
The security camera revealed his teammate pounding on the thick wood with one meaty hand, a case of beer in the other. Derek swung open the door and Charles stumbled in, drunk. It was only five in the afternoon.
“The doorman just let you up here, without asking or even giving me a warning. That guy is so fired.”
“Dude. He’s a fan. He’s seen me here before.” Charles swayed on his feet. “I brought beer.”
They did need to talk. Beer was never a bad thing. “Do you want me to put those in the refrigerator?”
“No. I plan on drinking them.”
Derek helped himself to a bottle from the case, which only had a few left. Bad sign. They cracked their drinks open at the same time, gulping in unison. Finally, Derek swiped at his mouth, put down the bottle. “Bro, you got some explainin’ to do.” He sat down at the kitchen table.
Charles hung his head, dropped into a chair. “I know.”
“O’Donnell is losing it, man. He told me I had to lay off. To not play so hard.” Derek jumped back up and started pacing. “To feed you the ball and not take so many shots. He said you”—he jammed a finger in his teammate’s face—“started the convo, Charles. That you told him I was hurting the team.”
Charles huffed. “That fuckin’ guy. Not me. He is the one trying to control you. Just like he’s controlling me. Even Naomi. Do you