“Welcome to the media,” Aileen said unapologetically. Well, she would know. This was her business.
Kat sighed and then played the video that accompanied the short, uninformed article. It was of her and Rodman doing their burpees in the weight room, both of them collapsing at the end, then the coach announcing her the winner. The cheers and jeers were cut off as the video ended. Kat handed Kristen the phone back. At least this one hadn’t mentioned her sex tape.
“Sorry,” she said, handing the phone back with a sheepish smile.
“No worries,” Kristen murmured.
“I should do a segment on you while you’re here,” Aileen said suddenly.
Again, it was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but she shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Kat’s pretty busy these days.”
All three of them turned around at the masculine voice to find Michael standing in the doorway of the conference room, arms crossed, shoulder propped on the doorjamb. He looked freshly showered, wearing a different pair of clothes from when she’d last seen him.
And, she admitted silently as her body reacted, looked delicious at that.
Fighting back the attraction, she turned back to Aileen. “Maybe,” she said again, firmly. A silent message to Michael to mind his own business.
“Kat, we’ve got a phone call to make.”
His voice was so firm, so sure of his position of authority she just wanted to kick him. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, fork dangling over her salad insolently. “Hmm? I don’t remember any phone calls.”
“It’s with Sawyer,” he said, teeth gritted. His arms tightened in frustration, making his muscles bunch deliciously under his Henley.
Stop that, Katrina. Not for you.
“Sawyer knows my number.” She crossed her legs, the running shoe dragging her foot down. Still in her workout gear, it wasn’t as pretty a picture as she’d like when in a showdown with an alpha male, but it’s all she had to work with.
“He wants to call us together. Now,” he added with exasperation.
“We can leave,” Kristen said, standing up and gathering the remains of her soup and baguette. “In fact, my lunch hour is nearly over. It was wonderful to meet you, Kat.”
“Likewise,” she said. “Thanks for the tips on the area. I’ll be sure to check some of those restaurants out.”
Kristen’s smile was warm as she gathered her things up, dumped the trash in the can by the door, and walked past Michael on her way back to her desk.
Aileen waited a moment, her eyes darting back and forth between Kat and Michael, a mischievous smile tilting her lips.
“Aileen,” Michael rumbled.
With a sigh, she stood and crumpled her sandwich wrapper. “Fine, fine. Kat, great to meet you. I’m serious though, I want an interview before you leave.”
“We’ll see,” Kat said, and Michael just sighed.
Aileen tossed her trash away, then paused beside Michael, watching him. He turned his head to look down at her, expression softening slightly as he did. Finally, she reached up and patted his cheek in a friendly manner.
“Be nice, cutie.” With that warning, Aileen excused herself, closing the door behind her.
Michael watched Kat hang back at the conference table, acting like there wasn’t a care in the world for her. Her posture was posed in a relaxed manner… but that was just it. It was a pose. Studied, not natural.
Despite her devil-may-care attitude, she worried about her career. Worried about what others thought of her.
“You’re still here.”
“I’m still here,” she agreed, pushing the lid back over what remained of her lunch and snapping the plastic closed.
“I thought you were getting a cab home.”
“I was going to, but then Kristen introduced me to Aileen, and they invited me for lunch, and…” She shrugged. “It was nice to have a girl chat.”
Was she lonely? “You could have waited and had lunch with me.”
“You hate me. Why would I do that?”
“I don’t hate you,” he denied automatically. It was true. He didn’t particularly like the position he was in, but he didn’t dislike her. Despite her antics, he knew she was intelligent, and clearly hardworking.
“Well, you’re not a fan,” she summarized. Standing, she tossed her closed salad container in the trash. It landed with a solid thunk. Brushing her hands off, she straightened. Her tight body arched and moved with a grace one might think almost balletic, except for the fact that her body didn’t fit the ballerina type. No waif-thin elegance for her. No, her body was tough. Muscular and lean at the same time, with bulges and dips that he wanted more than he should to trace, touch, explore.