Game On (Game On 1)

I had a packed schedule, but being busy made the hours whizz by. Just when I thought I was going to get through the day without dealing with McCoy, he barged into my office fifteen minutes before the clock signalled leaving time.

“What did you say to Richard?” he demanded, slamming the office door behind him so hard my pinboard fell off the wall and thudded on to my desk. His eyes burned with rage and I stepped back as if his glare had thrown me off balance.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What about?”

“About me, Leah! He’s taken me out of the match!”

Oh, I should have known this would be my fault.

“You were there when the doctor gave me the all clear! Tell Richard and get me back in the game!”

“Take it easy. This decision was not mine, and you’ve had all day to talk to Richard. Yelling at me won’t change anything.”

“You could change his mind. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger!”

Not true. I got on well with Richard, but business was business and once he made a decision, it couldn’t be changed. McCoy knew it too, so throwing a hissy fit at me was a complete waste of breath, not to mention dangerous while he was recovering from a concussion.

“First of all,” I said, “if you want me to do something for you, ask nicely. Screaming at me isn’t going to make me rush to help you. Secondly, Richard is doing this for you. For your health, so quit acting like a spoilt brat and enjoy the time off.”

“What am I supposed to do tonight?”

“Why don’t you flip through your little black book and call one of your many, many lady friends?”

“Excuse me,” a third, softer voice said from the doorway.

McCoy and I had been so involved in our argument we didn’t notice Taylor watching us nervously.

“Hey Taylor,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Jesse.”

“Try the restaurant. I think I saw him heading that way.”

She nodded her thanks, but her eyes lingered on Radleigh and she smiled in a way that suggested they had a secret. He smiled back in response, and not-so-subtly leered at her arse as she walked out.

“She’s barely past the age of consent,” I said. “Back off.”

He flicked his head round to look at me. “I can’t help it if she’s got a great ass.”

“Are you sleeping with her?”

His lips curved into a smug grin, his frustration about the match forgotten. “Jealous?”

Was that a yes?

“I’m serious. There are plenty of available women who would happily service your penis, so leave Taylor alone.”

“Relax. I’m not sleeping with her.”

There was no reason for me to trust his word, but if I pushed the issue, I would be faced with more of his idiotic theories that I was asking because I wanted to service his penis.

“Are we done here?” I asked.

When his only answer was his famous, irritating smirk, I finished putting my things away, picked up my bag and walked out. I wished more than anything that I could erase the events of the last few days.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.

****