by Jaci Burton
Football season was gearing up, and he was due to the practice facility in St. Louis in two weeks.
He was ready. He'd been in training and was in shape, and was more than ready for the season to start. This was a nice mini vacation prior to getting back to work, though. Soon enough he'd have his head in the game, and it would be all he thought about.
After getting dressed in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt, he made his way to the main bar at the hotel and ordered a beer. He grabbed a seat at one of the tables outside, content to sip his beer and people watch, one of his favorite pastimes.
He saw a few of the models come outside. They sat at a table not too far from where he was, all of them talking and laughing.
They were all beautiful women. Tall and slender, with great hair, pretty smiles, and amazing bodies. But he found himself searching for only one woman.
He had no idea why, when she'd clearly blown him off. She was probably out on a date tonight with some hot male model. He'd seen a few of those guys today as well.
But then he caught sight of Katrina coming through the bar. She was by herself, carrying a tote bag. She stopped to talk to the bartender, who nodded. Then she walked past Grant without saying a word, and pulled up a chair at a table by herself.
Not with the other models, who seemingly ignored her as much as she was ignoring them.
She pulled out a book and a pair of glasses, and one of the waitresses brought her a tall glass of what looked like iced tea with lemon. She opened the book and started to read, oblivious to everything--and everyone--around her.
Huh. Not at all what he'd expected.
He watched her for a while, waiting to see if she was meeting someone. After about thirty minutes, he realized no one was going to show up. He stood, grabbed his beer, and went over to her table and pulled out a chair to take a seat.
She lifted her gaze from her book and settled it on him. She didn't offer a smile.
"Did you get lost on your way to some other table?" she asked.
"No. But you were alone."
"Precisely. On purpose."
She waited, as if she expected him to leave. He didn't take a brush-off all that easily. "I thought you might want some company."
"You thought wrong."
"Does that icy-cold stare work on all men?"
"Usually."
"Why aren't you with your friends over there?"
She took a quick glance at the other table, then back to him. "Do you think models travel in herds?"
She had a sharp wit. He liked that about her. "Sorry. I guess not. What are you drinking?"
"Iced tea."
He signaled for the waitress, then held up two fingers and motioned to their drinks. She nodded and wandered back inside.
"Really, Grant. I'm fine. And I'd like to be alone."
"No one wants to be alone."
"That's bullshit."
"Okay, fine. I don't want to be alone. I figured we'd have dinner together."
With a sigh, she set down her book and took off her glasses. "Just because we worked together today doesn't mean we have anything in common, or that we shared a moment or anything."
"Didn't we?"
She paused for a few seconds, and he held her gaze. Damn, there was something about her eyes. He liked women just fine, and always had a good time with them. He'd had a few relationships that had lasted awhile and had ended amicably. But not one woman had ever shocked him with the same spark he'd felt with Katrina today.
He wanted to explore that, see if he could push through her frosty exterior.
"I'm reading a book."
"So you said. It's a good one. I've read it before."
She frowned. "You didn't even look at it."
"I saw it when I sat down."
She crossed her arms. "Okay, fine. What's it about?"
"There's this guy, and he works for the CIA. But he's a double agent, working both sides. You don't know throughout the book if he's a good guy or bad guy, or if the other CIA agent he hooks up with in Seoul is on his side, or out to kill him. So when they both show up on the train--"
She held up her hand. "Stop. I haven't gotten to that part yet. Fine, I get it. You've read it."
"You thought I was bullshitting you."
"You wouldn't be the first."
The waitress brought their drinks. "Thanks," Grant said. "Can we see some menus?"
"I don't want to see a menu," she said to the waitress, who walked away anyway. She turned her attention back on Grant. "I don't want you to sit here with me. Honestly, are you always this rude?"
"Not always. You bring out the best in me."
She rolled her eyes.
"So tell me why that book."
"I like suspense and crime fiction."
"You don't strike me as the type."
Her brows lifted. "Type? Why? Did you expect I'd be thumbing through a fashion magazine? Or perhaps you thought I didn't know how to read, so I would just look at the pictures. Do you expect all models to be dumb?"
Man, was she ever sensitive. "That would be stereotyping, and I'd be the last person to do that. And no. You looked like the type to read books on ... I don't know. Psychology or something."
She laughed. "Why?"
He picked up her dark glasses. "You look so smart wearing these."
"I am smart. With or without the glasses."
He could tell he was digging the hole even deeper with every word he said. "Sorry. I'm not getting this out right. I've dated a few models."
"So I've heard."
He sighed. "A lot of them have different interests. One was a certified scuba diver, so I learned to dive when I was dating her. One was a hiker and a climber. I did some heinous climbs with her."
"You dated Elesia?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She wrinkled her nose. "She's a pit viper."
He laughed. "I'm not even going to comment."
"You have interesting taste in women."
"I like women who intrigue me and challenge me. Not just a pretty face."
"Good to know the modeling world isn't growing old and moldy with no men to date as long as you're around. After all, where would we be without our sports stars to take care of us?"
"Now who's stereotyping? I've also dated a schoolteacher, an accountant, a microbiologist, and a landscape architect."
She took a sip of her tea. "It's nice you're spreading it around."
He couldn't help but laugh. "So tell me what interests you, Katrina?"
KATRINA DIDN'T WANT TO LIKE GRANT CASSIDY. SHE didn't want him sitting at her table, yet there he was, drinking his beer and looking absolutely gorgeous.
She'd wanted to be alone, and she thought about spending the evening in her room, so she could read. But it was too beautiful here, and the beach and sea air beckoned, so she'd put on a pair of shorts and a tank top to come sit beachside for dinner.
Obviously a huge mistake, because no matter how hard she tried to insult the man, he simply wouldn't leave.
And no matter how hard she tried to deny the chemistry she felt during their photo shoot today, she couldn't.
She posed with male models all the time. Sometimes fully naked. She'd never felt anything. It was her job. She knew it, and so did the guys. But making eye contact with Grant Cassidy today, there'd been some kind of ... she didn't even know how to describe it. A zing somewhere in the vicinity of her lower belly. A low warming that had spread when he'd laid his hands on her.
Even now, hours later, she could still feel his touch, the way he'd looked at her. She'd wanted ... more. And if there was one thing Katrina never wanted from a man, it was more of anything. She was too focused on her career to spend any time at all thinking of men. Work was everything to her, and men were a distraction.
Like now. He sat across the table from her, all big and tan and smiling at her like he had exactly what she wanted.
Only she didn't want it. She wanted no part of anything he might have
to offer.
She couldn't want it. Still, she couldn't help herself.
"I'm surprised you read that book," she said.
"Now who's stereotyping? You think I'm a dumb jock, that all I read is sports magazines."
"I didn't say that."
"I actually have a degree in accounting. And yes, I did graduate before I went out for the draft."
She studied him. "Accounting. I don't see it."
"I was going to go for a law degree, but I like numbers better. I minored in finance. I wanted to make sure I could oversee my earnings with knowledge. I've seen too many football players blow it all or not know where their money is going, and a few years after they retire, the money is gone."
He was smart, too. She liked that.
She leaned back and looked at him. "Do you have an investment portfolio?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. With the high income a successful model commands, I imagine you do as well."
"I do. And I know exactly where my money is going."
"See? I knew you were a smart woman, Katrina. Smart and beautiful--a lethal combination."
She couldn't help but appreciate that he mentioned the smart part before the beautiful part. Too many men never paid attention to the fact she had a brain. All they saw was her face and body and never even wanted to have a conversation with her. Which was why she didn't date. She didn't have time for men who were that superficial.
Grant seemed ... different. Yes, there'd been that spark of chemistry at the photo shoot today, but so far all he'd done was talk to her. He hadn't sat down to ogle her or hit on her. It was kind of refreshing.
Not that she had any interest in dating him, but when was the last time she'd spent time talking with a man she wasn't connected to in the industry? She wasn't going to bed with him, but there was no harm in sharing conversation and having a meal with him, was there?
"Okay, fine. Let's see what's on the menu for dinner."
TWO
FOR SOME REASON, KATRINA AGREEING TO DINNER felt like he'd won some kind of battle, that she didn't do this type of thing all that often. Grant would take that as a victory, even a small one.
"How long have you been a model?" he asked her.
"I was signed by an agency when I was seventeen. Close to my eighteenth birthday. So almost ten years now."
"That's a lot of your life. Ever want to do anything else?"
She shrugged, and took a sip of water. "I make good money, and modeling isn't something most of us do all our lives. I'll do something else later. Since I started modeling early, I didn't get a chance to go to college, so that's one of my long-term goals for after the modeling career is over."
"College is a good goal, especially since you didn't get to it after you graduated high school."
"Unfortunately, no, I didn't. It wouldn't have been an option for me anyway."
"Why not?"
She stared at him for a few seconds, then waved her hand back and forth. "Not an interesting story. Forget I said that."
"Why don't you let me be the judge about what's interesting or not? Why wasn't it an option for you?"
Their waitress brought dinner, so she didn't answer him. But he got the idea she'd said something she wished she hadn't. Now he was curious and wanted to know more about her.
"Are you going to make me guess in a twenty questions kind of way, are you going to tell me, or will you just tell me it's none of my business?"
She lifted her gaze from her plate. "What?"
"The reason you couldn't go to college."
"Oh. That." She hesitated. "It was nothing."
He wasn't buying it, because if it was nothing, she would have just told him. Like something inane to talk about over dinner. "So you did jail time and had to put your college career on hold?"
She laughed. "No."
He waved his fork at her. "You're an international spy?"
That made her laugh harder. "Nothing that exciting, I'm afraid."
She went back to eating. Her way of dropping the subject.
"You're really not going to tell me. This makes me think you're harboring a deep, dark secret. Maybe I wasn't so off the mark about the spy thing. Or maybe you were held prisoner in a foreign country during your formative years."
She laid her fork down and gave him a direct look. "My mom died and I had a younger brother and sister I had to take care of. Around the same time, I got the offer from the agency and started booking modeling jobs, so it all worked out great. That was the reason I didn't go to college. Sorry, nothing nefarious or exciting."
She made it sound so matter-of-fact, when it must have been a nightmare for her. "Katrina. I'm sorry about your mom. You were seventeen, right?"
"Yes."
"That must have been so hard for you. Your dad--"
"Was not in the picture. It's just me, Leo, and Anya."
"Leo and Anya are your brother and sister?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about them. How old are they?"
"Leo is fifteen. Anya is seventeen."
Having finished his fish, he pushed his plate to the side. "They're young. So they must have been really young when your mom died."
"Yes."
"Who took care of them after? Did you have aunts and uncles?"
She laid her fork on her plate. "No. It was just me. We had no other family."
This story kept getting worse. "Jesus, Katrina. You raised those kids? And worked full-time as a model?"
"You make it sound like it's a big deal."
"It is a big deal. You were just a kid yourself."
She shrugged. "They're my family. We're a family. We had no one else but each other. What was I supposed to do? Child services wanted to take them away and put them in foster care. Can you believe that? I wouldn't allow it--couldn't allow it to happen. I booked jobs right away and fortunately I turned eighteen not too long after my mother passed away, so I filed for custody of the kids. Since I had immense earning potential, the courts let me have guardianship over them."
Grant's chest tightened at the thought of what Katrina must have gone through. Losing her mother, being all alone, and having the burden of raising her two younger siblings thrust upon her all at the age of seventeen. The pressure of her situation must have been overwhelming.
"You had no one to help you?"
"I hired a really good au pair, because I had to travel for work. I put the kids in good schools and I bought a really nice apartment in New York. I was home as much as I could. We've managed just fine."
"I'll bet you did." He looked at her. "I have to admit, I'm damned impressed. You could have bailed."
She lifted her chin. "I would have never done that. I love my sister and brother."
"A lot of girls that age would have, faced with that responsibility. I admire you for taking it on, for having the balls--or the courage, I guess I should say. You're an amazing woman."
"I did what anyone else would have done, given the same circumstances."
"I don't think so. You don't give yourself enough credit. I'm not sure I would have done the same thing. At seventeen all I wanted to do was play sports and party. The thought of that much responsibility--of having to raise my siblings?" He dragged his fingers through his hair. "No way in hell would I have been able to take that on."
She smiled at him, and it was like the sky had lit up. "Oh, I don't know, Grant. You don't know what you're capable of until you're backed into a corner. I'm sure you would have done the same thing."
He thought about his brothers. Hellions, all of them. A lot like him. He wasn't the oldest, Flynn was. But still, with three brothers? Plus a little sister? Could he have done it? He didn't know.
Hell, he did know. No way.
"Maybe. I'll never know because I have two parents who raised me, and I lived a very comfortable life."
"Then you're very lucky."
"Goddamn right I am. And you just made me realize how very lucky I am. And how very special you are for wh
at you've done."
"I didn't tell you that story to make you admire me, Grant. I shouldn't have told you at all."
She was uncomfortable. Embarrassed, even. He had no idea why. "I'm glad you told me. It's nice getting to know you."
She shook her head. "I never tell anyone about that."
The waitress came and took their plates. "Can I get you something else?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you," she said, and started to gather her things, sliding them into her bag. "I should go."
"Wait. What?" He signed the ticket, charging the meal to his room. "Why are you leaving?"
"I've told you enough." She stood. "Too much."
She hurried away. Grant followed, though she was hard to keep up with because she was practically running.
"Katrina, wait."
She ignored him, so he hustled to catch up with her, grasping her arm as she made it down the walkway in between the restaurant and the cabanas.
"Stop. Talk to me."
She wouldn't make eye contact. She had her arms wrapped around her bag.
"Hey. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, if I made you say something you didn't want to say."
She lifted her gaze to him. "I never tell anyone about my past--about the kids. That's ... private. I don't know why I told you."
He took her elbow and led her down toward the beach, where it was quiet. Fortunately, she came willingly. Whatever was bothering her was clearly upsetting. "I'm glad you did, but don't worry. I'm not planning to broadcast it to anyone."
"I don't like those models with those sad backstories, you know? They use it to get media attention and that's just not me." She slung her bag over her shoulder, seeming a little more relaxed now. "I want my work to speak for itself. And I need to protect the kids. They have enough to deal with without having the media hounding them."
He grinned as they walked along the beach. She glared at him.
"What?"
"You go all protective mama bear when you talk about Anya and Leo."
"Shut up. I do not." But her lips tilted upward. "Okay, maybe I do. You don't even know what it's like--" She stopped herself. "Right. Of course you know what it's like."
"Is that why you don't date anyone famous? To keep the cameras away?"
"I have enough cameras on me in my work. I need to keep them out of my personal life. And it's not like I'm going to meet a guy at the corner coffee shop."
He nodded. "You are a little intimidating. You probably scare the shit out of men."