Kit (Chicago Blaze 8)

Even though I’ve read books with epic-sounding sex, I figured it was just a fantasy. I thought the quick, perfunctory sex Zach and I had was just reality. But now I’ve experienced mind-blowing, all-consuming sex. Kit shredded all my inhibitions, showing me just how amazing it can be.

I want more. The voice of doubt in the back of my mind has been quiet since our date. I’m not second-guessing myself or wondering if he really likes me. Kit erased all the doubt. He made sure I know how much he burns for me, and I feel the same for him.

This is what it’s like to date a real man, I guess. He doesn’t play games. He tells me how he feels. He’s not keeping his options open. I thought dating was complicated, but actually, it’s not. I just had an immature, sad excuse for a man in Zach.

“Lynch!” Lou barks as he walks past my desk. “In my office, now.”

Grabbing my notebook and pen in case he’s about to give me a new assignment, I follow Lou all the way to his office. He’s out of breath when he sits down behind his desk and says, “Close the door.”

“What’s up?” I ask, sitting down.

“Maybe you should tell me,” he says, giving me a pointed look.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I just came from a meeting in Deb’s office. John Powers was there, too. And also Ted Lamont.”

I furrow my brow, wondering why the Gazette publisher, executive editor and Lou would be meeting with the disgraced alderman I wrote about.

“And?” I say, impatient.

“And that smug bastard Lamont told us you’ve been spending a lot of time with a certain Chicago Blaze player. The one you wrote about for the special section.”

My head spins and my cheeks warm as I think about that conversation. How the hell does Lamont know about me and Kit?

“How would Lamont know any of this?” I ask Lou. “And how does he know I’m writing about Kit?”

“He doesn’t. He’s assuming that some associates of Olivier Durand, the Blaze owner, must have tipped you off to the story. He’s bitching and moaning about conflict of interest.”

I’m mortified. I’ve never been in trouble at work. Not once have I ever been late, missed a big story or bent the rules. I pride myself on being a good employee. This feeling of being called to the principal’s office for an ass chewing is crushing.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask, steeling myself for his answer.

“For what, having a boyfriend?” Lou scoffs. “I’d love it if you’d just work for the Gazette around the clock, Lynch, but I know that’s not feasible.”

“I got an anonymous tip on that story, and I verified it myself. Those records someone sent me came from inside City Hall.”

“I know that. Lamont’s just hell-bent on revenge because he’s in trouble with the city and his wife left him. But no, you’re not in trouble. I’m just saying a heads-up would’ve been nice, Lynch.”

“Since when do I tell you when I’m dating someone?”

“Don’t play dumbfounded millennial with me. If it’s someone you just wrote a fucking story about, you should’ve told me.”

“You’re right,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck it; it’s over now. And Deb let him know the Gazette will take legal action if he doesn’t leave you alone. Watch your back, though. I think Lamont had a private eye following you. He may still have someone on you. Deb said we’ll provide you with a security escort to get you to and from work for the next couple weeks.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I carry pepper spray and there are always lots of people around when I’m walking to and from the office.”

“Yeah, I got the impression this was Lamont’s last-ditch effort.” Lou leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “He still has his job, so I don’t see him doing anything criminal that would jeopardize that.”

“Okay. Is there anything else?” I ask, glancing at the clock.

“What, you’ve got a date with your hockey player?” he quips.

“No, I have two stories to file and I’d like to get home before nine tonight.”

He waves at the door. “Get the hell out of here, then.”

I get up to leave, my hand on the doorknob when Lou says, “Hey, Lynch.”

“What?” I turn to look at him.

“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me. If Lamont messes with me, I’ll call the police.”

His expression is gruff. “I’m not talking about Lamont. I mean with this guy, the hockey player.”

I’m puzzled as I look at Lou, trying to figure out what he means. He grunts with impatience.

“You’re a nice girl, that’s all. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

I just stand there, a little stunned. Does my grouchy editor actually…care about me? He does a great job of making it look like he can barely stand my presence.