Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

Ryan failed to suppress a grin. “You need to work on your subtly.”

“I don’t really think so.” She glanced at me. “You have any plans this summer?”

Only by sheer dint of willpower did I keep my eyes from lifting to Mike’s. “Um. Actually, I’m going to Ireland in two weeks.”

Mike coughed explosively. “You’re what?”

Rachael looked between us with quick eyes. “Oh?” She directed

the question at me. “What part?”

I dug some of the sweet raisins out of my couscous. “A little town in Cork. Called Dundoran.”

Mike pinned me with those steel eyes. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to Dundoran.”

“Well,” I said delicately, very aware of the eyes of half the Leopards, “I’m sure it’s big enough for both of us.”

Mike snorted. “Why would you even go when you’re not excavating?”

“My advisor lives in Ireland. Even if we’re not able to dig, I’ll need to talk to locals and do research that will only be possible in the area.” I paused. “Of course, a dig would be preferable. There’s a wealth of information just waiting to be discovered.”

Mike set his fork down with a loud clatter. “Then it can wait a little bit longer.”

“You know,” I said, “there’s so much development going on that if it doesn’t get excavated now, there’s probably going to be a rushed contract archaeology dig before a bunch of condos are built there. A handful of state mandated archaeologists will go in, do a quick excavation, and they won’t even have finished typing up their notes by the time the bulldozers destroy everything. Wouldn’t you prefer the land’s protected?”

“You’re forgetting the most important factor—no one’s building anything there without my permission.”

“So why don’t you want anyone building anything?” Rachael asked.

Mike took a deep, frustrated breath and turned his gaze to the hostess. “Rachael.”

She smiled sweetly. “Michael.”

I watched, fascinated, as Mike O’Connor locked gazes with Rachael Hamilton, and then lost the anger that had been simmering toward boil. Just like that. One moment, he was ready to yell at me, and the next he was laughing and apologizing to Rachael, and throwing even me a sheepish grin, and he’d changed the topic to Rachael’s job without anyone really noticing.

After dinner, everyone migrated back toward the east side of the giant room, with the window overlooking Central Park. I hovered in a small circle with Rachael while Mike sat on a couch directly before the window.

“Sorry about Mike.” Rachael frowned. “He’s usually a lot more—charming—than he was tonight.”

I let out a scoff. “Charming? Him? Yeah, sure.”

Rachael looked at me consideringly.

“I bet that’s just his agent talking.” The wine felt warm and fuzzy, like a blanket draped over my sensibility. “A selling point. Each player needs a distinctive trait, something that will make them stand out. Mem’rable. Memorable.”

“Interesting. What’s Ryan’s?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “That he’s pretty.”

Rachael laughed until she had to sit down. “That’s true. But don’t tell him. He’s vain enough as is.”

Across the room, Keith got up, leaving the seat next to Mike open. I eyed it.

Rachael nudged me. “Go on.”