Page 40 of Wicked Player

Connor arrived and gave me a smug look, swiping his gaze down the length of my body. I used to adore that possessive gleam in his eyes, but right then I was choking down the taste of vomit.

Maybe I needed to try to the rotten sushi route. Or tell my boss I didn’t care much for the promotion at this time.

Anything to get me away from men who were driving me absolutely insane with too many conflicting emotions.

I had my long blonde hair styled back into a low ponytail, and a baby blue dress on that not only fit my frame to perfection but hugged every inch while covering everything to keep me professional. The heels of mine and other female reporters clicked like old-fashioned typewriter keys as we moved down the linoleum-floored hallway to the family center.

We’d come up the elevators, the same location where I followed Gage the week before, and as we passed the mouth of the hallway where I assumed Brandon still was, my gaze drifted down.

Maybe I’d stop by afterward to see him. Over the last week, being around Brandon was the only time I’d felt the least bit calm and centered. Shame that it took being around a sick nine-year-old to give perspective on what was important in life.

I repeatedly tapped my iPad to my forehead.Forget about the weekend. Focus on the story. Don’t think about Velvet for a another single second.

Repeating it didn’t help. Neither did the slight sting on my forehead from the iPad smacking it.

A hand pressed to my arm on my next whack and I jumped.

“What?”

Jason’s brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. He looked at me like I was a freak.

Awesome. I was doing a bang-up job being professional.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, taking the tablet out of my hands. “And don’t break the company’s shit. That’s not cool.”

I snatched it back from him. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m distracted.”

“Well, get focused ‘cuz we’re here.”

“Wonderful.”

He wasn’t wrong. As we hit the mouth of the hallway, bright teal and blue double “R’s” linked together lit up beneath a row of lights.

Above the team’s logo, “Bryant Children and Family Center” was painted in bright teal.

Jesus. The guy had his name on a wing of a hospital. What did he think of it?

My eyes slid to Gage. He was off to the side, answering questions from the national syndicate reporter. But his arms were crossed and his gaze was laser-focused on the window across from him, like he was headed to the line of scrimmage and the game was tied in the fourth quarter. His answers were quiet, brief enough not to be rude, short enough it was clear he didn’t want to elaborate. Eventually the reporter gave up and waved her hand toward the cameraman with her.

“Where do you want to start?” Jason asked me. The camera was already on his shoulder and his face was hidden from me behind the behemoth old school looking thing.

“Let’s wander,” I mumbled. I flicked across the agenda on my iPad even though I’d had it memorized since last night.

Tour the wing. Ask questions. Get one-on-one time with Gage and leave when we were done.

It was laid back and relaxed, the perfect kind of interview and set up, but that didn’t mean I was either of those things.

Nope. I practically felt Gage tracking me with every move we made. I gave Connor a wide berth. When he moved right, I waved Jason left. Amusement danced in Connor’s eyes when he caught me avoiding him. If he thought this was a game, he was completely wrong. I didn’t trust myself not to slap him and end up being the one on the six o’clock news. I could already see the headlines.

Reporter assaults ex while on assignment helping promote cancer wing of children’s hospital.

Yeah. That wouldn’t get me a seat at the nighttime news desk.

I zigzagged my way through the expansive area. The footage would be a bitch to edit. More than once Jason grumbled something that didn’t sound polite. Already mic’ed up, I turned it on and stopped every once in awhile to give a brief, off-the-cuff statement about the hospital, where we were, a reminder when it was opening and more than one rundown on Gage’s responsibilities with the project. Usually, I found passion in my work.

Not then. Every word left my throat like someone was yanking them out on a poorly connected string. And every time either Gage or Connor moved, I shied away.

Avoidance was my best policy even if I ended up looking like a fool.