Page 46 of Match Point

Leo shrugged his shoulders, wishing he could focus his mind on anything but her. She took up too much real estate in his head. Hell, she had a permanent home.

Buck Miller, the team’s owner and Raina’s father, approached the women. Sorcha’s smile froze, a line of worry forming between her eyes. Miller was a notorious asshole, and it was his magazine that hired Pap to stalk Sorcha. It made sense that she’d be upset.

“Looks like that’s our cue.” Howler nudged him towards Sorcha. “Better go rescue your woman.”

“Excuse me?” Leo said, heat burning its way up his neck. Had Howler guessed Leo’s preoccupation with Sorcha off the court? A small part of him wanted the relationship to be true while his common sense put the brakes on the idea.

“That’s what I thought,” Howler said with an anemic smile. “Raina made me promise not to leave her alone with her father. By the look on Sorcha’s face, he’s said something to shock her. Not a big surprise. The man is a douche. Come on before my wife divorces me.”

Fuck. He knew there was something between them. Son of a bitch.

As he headed toward Sorcha, the Pioneers quarterback blocked his path. “Howler, Leo, we need to talk.”

From the paleness of the man’s face, it was serious.

Sorcha would have to fend for herself a bit longer.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Sorcha couldn’t remember ever being speechless, but when Miller had approached, she’d lost her ability to formulate anything but a grunt. A grunt. She’d just met her father and she grunted at him. Pathetic.

“Sorcha Templeton, Scandal magazine’s favorite celebrity athlete.” Miller grinned, his overly white teeth in direct contrast to the unnatural tan of his skin. He was a little over six feet, with blond hair and a nose that looked rather too perfect to be real. “I have to say, you’re much prettier in person, and that accent, very sexy.”

Oh. My. God. He was hitting on her. Horror along with hysterical laughter bubbled into her throat. Keep it together. He has no clue who you are. “It’s hard to take a good photo when the obnoxious photographers are chasing me down the street.” Or assaulting her in the stairwell.

“You make good cover, top tennis star with a fiery temper on and off the court. It’s gold.” He tucked his hands into the pocket of his Pioneers green and gold windbreaker. Either he’d missed her sarcasm, or he was ignoring it.

Obnoxious didn’t begin to describe the guy. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She feigned ignorance. Surely, he wasn’t rude enough to insult her to her face, or perhaps he’d either lost the ability to filter himself or didn’t care. Either way, he hadn’t made a good first impression. But what did she expect from a man that got her mother—a minor—pregnant and then left her to fend for herself?

“You’ve fallen in the rankings behind Nina Garcia. She’s a powerhouse and a force to be reckoned with. Scandal is sponsoring her this year, and as much as I appreciate the money you’ve made for my magazine over the years, I’m afraid I have to root for her to win. It’s nothing personal.” He had a Boston accent, drawing out his vowels, and a bad pair of veneers that gave him a slight overbite. With all the money he had, she’d think that he could afford better dental work.

“Of course not.” Unlike the non-disclosure he’d forced her mother to sign. Sorcha had a mad desire to accuse him outright, but she held the words back. It wasn’t the time or the place. She’d read up on him and hadn’t been surprised at what she found. Miller was from old money and a trust fund baby. He’d squandered his inheritance and married an heiress to an ice cream company. Multiple bankruptcies later, he was one of the richest men in the world. Or so he said.

“I’m sure Sorcha doesn’t want to talk about the competition,” Raina said through tight lips. Impatience radiated from the other woman. He might be her boss, but she could barely tolerate him. Sorcha couldn’t blame her.

Miller placed his arm around Raina’s shoulder and squeezed her close to his side. She stood stiff in his embrace but didn’t pull away. Holy hell, he was sexually harassing her in front of Sorcha. Where the fuck was Howler while the guy was molesting his wife?

“She’s a competitor. I’m sure she wants to kick Nina’s ass. Don’t you, Sorcha?” Miller asked, undaunted by the way Raina tried to pull out of his embrace.

“Yes, I would.” Sorcha curled her fingers around the glass in her hand, ready to say something, but she pressed her lips together. Miller rested his head against Raina’s, and everything fit into place. They shared the same eyes, same brow, and the same jaw. Raina wasn’t Miller’s mistress; she was his daughter.

And if she was his daughter, that make Sorcha her half-sister. Tunnel vision threatened to derail her. How many children did he have? She knew of six from his three wives. With Raina, that meant there were eight, counting her.

“That’s the spirit. If you can beat Nina, you can have her sponsorship.” Miller dropped his arm from Raina and tilted his head. “Perhaps we can discuss this over a drink.”

“Any requests need to go through my agent.” The man was creeping her out big time.

“You’re supposed to be with your wife and children. This is a family event,” Raina said, high color dotting her cheeks, her eyes shooting daggers at her father. Their father.

“Oh, right, dinner with the family. Perhaps a nightcap?” He handed Sorcha a business card.

When hell freezes over. No, you need to talk to him. She took the card and glanced at the number without really seeing it. “Thank you.”

“Where’s your son?” Miller asked Raina, hands on his hips.

His grandson. Her nephew, Ash. Sorcha had yet to meet the little boy. Now she could hardly wait.

“He’s with my mother,” Raina said with a mischievous smile, tucking a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear.

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