Hot Target

She started the coffeepot, and then washed her face and brushed her teeth. Scanning her bookshelf, she chose a thriller, a scary story to fit the weather.

A glimpse in her full-length vanity mirror drew a grimace. Donna was right. She was skinny. She hadn’t been eating. For a moment, she contemplated stepping on the scale, but then decided against it. She didn’t want to know. She’d eat. Lunch. Later.

With coffee and book in hand, she headed back to bed and the expensive, snuggly, down comforter she’d bought on a whim and never regretted. She had managed to get through page one of her book when her cell phone jangled on the nightstand. She considered ignoring it. Her sister was fine, even dating a nice, respectable doctor. A real change from her ex.

She snatched up the phone and noted the caller ID—Donna, of course. She answered. “Hello.”

“Turn on ESPN,” Donna ordered.

“Are you going to say hello?” Katie asked, rolling her eyes.

“Do it!” Donna demanded.

Katie sighed and grabbed the remote, also on the nightstand, and did as she’d been told. “Cable’s out,” she said. “What can possibly be so urgent on ESPN? Because if you want me to ogle some guy’s backside, I have to tell you, I prefer the novel I just started.”

“Oh, you want to ogle this backside, honey,” Donna said. “Guess who just took a coaching job with the New York Comets?”

Katie sat up, tossed her book aside. “Luke?”

“That’s right, sweetheart, and he’s in town,” she said. “ESPN interviewed him live here this morning.”

Her doorbell rang. “Someone’s at my door. I… You think? No. No. It can’t be.” It rang again. “I have to go.” She hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed. “It can’t be him.”

Katie started for the door, but stopped. She wasn’t dressed. Robe. She needed a robe. She grabbed the one at the back of the bathroom door, and made the mistake of looking in the mirror. Cringing, she reasoned, “It’s not him anyway.”

Whoever had been ringing the doorbell was now knocking. She pressed her hands to the door and forced herself to calm down. “Who is it?”

Silence. “Katie, it’s Luke.”

She couldn’t seem to find her voice. And she tried. She tried so damn hard. She gave up and yanked the door open. “I… Luke.” He was as gorgeous as ever, maybe thinner by a few pounds. His hair a little longer than she remembered, curled a bit over his brow. “You look good.” She thought of that image of herself in the mirror. “I was in bed.” He smiled.

“I mean. Reading. I was reading in…”

He arched a brow. “Bed?”

What was she supposed to say? Care to join me? Of course he wouldn’t. Not after all that had happened between them. She stepped back to allow him entry. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room, inspecting her little apartment, which was about the size of his kitchen and den and nothing more. He still had that sexy Texas saunter that made his nice, tight backside oh, so drool worthy. She shut the door and leaned against it. “I have coffee. You want coffee?”

“Coffee sounds great,” he said.

She rushed to her sparkling, all-white kitchen and grabbed a coffee cup. When she was done, she set his mug on the counter. He took a sip. “You remember how I like it.”

She remembered a lot of things. Couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried. They stood there at her kitchen counter and stared at each other, and Katie was melting. Melting and she didn’t know what to do about it.

“I just heard congratulations are in order. You’re coaching. That’s wonderful, Luke. Really wonderful.” She studied him. “Is it wonderful to you, Luke? Are you happy about it?”

“I think it has the potential to be wonderful,” he said after a short pause.

“Good. That’s good.”

“I’ve missed you, Katie.”

Her heart squeezed. “I’ve missed you, too, Luke.” She wanted to explain about leaving, but she didn’t know how, and wasn’t sure she should.

“Ron told me why you left,” he said.

She swallowed hard. “He did?”

He nodded. “Now you tell me.”

“Because I didn’t want to distract you. Because I didn’t want you to lose baseball. Because…” Emotion welled in her chest. “Because I was an idiot to ever listen to that man. You lost baseball anyway, and I wasn’t there to help you get through it. But you did. I’m glad you did.”

He didn’t move, didn’t immediately respond. “I’m not through it, Katie. Some days, I’m hanging by a string. But I’m trying. I’m getting there.” Thunder rumbled again, shaking the windows. “The rain makes me think of that day—”

“In your kitchen,” she said softly, awareness fluttering in her stomach, sexy images of them making love teasing her mind. “I woke up thinking about it this morning.”

His eyes warmed. “What if I told you I could have coached in Los Angeles, but I came here for you? So you could be close to your sister and I could be close to you.”