Page 2 of Marring an Athlete

“Oh, my gosh,” Betsy breathed next to her.

When Anna glanced up, she saw Betsy staring at someone behind her. “What are you looking at?” she asked, turning around. As her gaze fell on Michael Jones, she nearly choked on her spit. What was McKenna’s brother doing here?

The coffee shop’s door shut behind him. All six-foot-three glorious inches of him stood there like a Greek statue. Just with clothes on. Every emotion that had raced through her at McKenna’s wedding two years ago came flooding back. This was not what she needed right now. Not when she was hanging onto her sanity by a fraying thread.

Desperate to protect herself, she dropped her gaze and ducked down behind the counter. As she stared at the bottles that were lined up under the cash register, she closed her eyes. The image of Michael seemed burned in her mind. The way his blond hair swooped up in the front, and his bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce her soul. Or the way his lips had felt on hers two years ago. . .

She shook her head. There was no need to go down memory lane right now. She needed to prepare herself for why he was here. Secretly, she hoped it was just to get coffee. But this was Madison, New Jersey. There were more than one hundred coffee shops between here and New York City.

“Why are you hiding down there?” Betsy asked.

Anna snapped her eyes open as she glanced up to see Betsy peering down at her. “Is he gone?”

“Are you talking about the incredibly handsome New York Ranger?” Betsy’s cheeks flushed pink as she glanced toward the door.

Anna nodded. “Yes.”

“You know him?” Betsy had an approving expression on her face.

This was a history that Anna didn’t want to get into. She wanted him to leave and never come back. He was good at walking out on people. After their spontaneous kiss, he’d called her Rebecca and passed out.

She should have known better than to believe that a party-boy would have ever cared about her. He was only interested in himself. At least that was what the tabloids seemed so happy to report on.

“Something like that.” Anna grabbed a rag and started wiping down one of the shelves. She wanted to look. She wanted to see if he was still in the shop. But she couldn’t do that. She was such a mess at it was.

“He’s coming this way,” Betsy squeaked.

Anna’s heart began to pound. Was he here to see her? What was happening? Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

“Good morning,” he said.

Anna closed her eyes. His voice was so familiar. Growing up, Michael had been such a constant in her life. Being there for her through all her highs and lows. Maybe that’s why what happened at McKenna’s wedding had hurt her so much. She’d trusted him.

“Morning,” Betsy breathed out. “You’re Michael Jones.”

“Fan of hockey?” The richness of his voice sent shivers down Anna’s back. Maybe she should check herself into a mental hospital. She must be having a nervous breakdown.

Betsy nodded. “Who isn’t?”

“I’m wondering if you could help me.”

“Sure.”

“I’m looking for Anna Short. I was told she works here.”

Butterflies erupted in Anna’s stomach. He was looking for her. Why? Was she dreaming? She reached down and pinched her leg. A searing pain shot across her skin. Yep, she was awake.

“You’re looking for Anna?” Betsy nudged her with her shoe.

There was probably no chance that she could sprint to the exit now. Taking a deep breath, she counted down from ten and then stood up.

Michael’s eyes widened when his gaze fell on her.

“I found it!” she exclaimed, holding up her hand. How else was she going to explain why she had ducked down there for as long as she did?

Michael glanced over at her hand. “What were you looking for?”

“A—contact. Betsy’s contact.” She reached over and pretended to drop something into Betsy’s hand. “You can go put it in now.”

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