"Sheesh, Brody, how many of those extortion contracts has your agent executed for you?"

Her mouth twitched slightly at the corners and Brody realized he desperately wanted to see what she looked like when she smiled. h.e.l.l, he wanted to know everything about her.

"You said yourself the piece of fish is larger than I need. Don't you want to make sure I eat it all? Or do you have other plans for the evening?" Even as he asked the question, he didn't want to know if the answer was yes. Jealousy clawed at his belly, there was no mistaking that for hunger. Unless it was his hunger for her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't handle not getting your way, can you, Brody?"

"Is that a yes or a no?" he ground out.

"I really should get home. I have lots of data a.n.a.lysis to finish tonight."

Triumph surged through his veins. She wasn't meeting another guy for dinner. "Fish is brain food. Stay and eat a quick dinner first."

She shot him a measuring glance before turning and placing the salmon in the oven. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her mumbling something about him being spoiled as he grabbed two plates out of the cabinet.

"So what type of data are you a.n.a.lyzing?" he asked.

Carrying the lackl.u.s.ter salad to the table, she studied him carefully, as if to a.s.sess whether or not he could understand what she was researching. It galled him that she apparently thought he was nothing more than a dumb jock.

"Actually, I'm studying the effects certain foods have on the body's athletic performance," she said, evidently deciding he could grasp the basics. "That's how I was familiar with reactive hypoglycemia. I've been using a group of high school swimmers to gather my data, but now I can use you instead. And, since I'll be able to really regulate what you eat, my data will be more precise."

Brody wasn't sure he liked the idea of being her human guinea pig, but he had been the one to force the contract. She'd just found a way to use it to her advantage. As he pulled a bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge, he reminded himself again that Shannon was a force to be reckoned with and he couldn't manipulate her the way he would any other woman.

He poured the wine into a gla.s.s.

"You can't have that!"

He turned to find her staring in horror at the winegla.s.s, the basket of bread in her hand, nearly a casualty.

"Give me a break. I'm not that stupid, Shannon. The wine's for you." He took the basket from her hand before she dumped it on the floor, putting it and the winegla.s.s next to their plates.

Shannon had the grace to blush. "Oh, well you shouldn't have bothered. I don't drink wine. It makes me silly."

Brody laughed. "All the more reason you should have some. You're the most serious person I know."

Her face dimmed and he felt like a heel. "Shannon, come sit down and tell me about your research while the fish cooks," he pleaded.

She looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but in his kitchen as she reluctantly slid into the chair at the wide breakfast bar. Her mind seemed to be warring with itself as she scrunched up her brow and contemplated the winegla.s.s in front of her before finally taking a sip.

"It's pretty boring, Brody. Are you sure you want to hear about it?" she asked shyly.

Brody would listen to her explain the theory of relativity if she kept looking at him like she was just now. He nodded his encouragement.

"It's complicated, so keep up."

So much for her vulnerability.

The next half hour flew by as she explained carbohydrate burn and ketones and how his body processed glucose. He ate his dinner-capers included-in rapt fascination of her knowledge and exuberance about the science of nutrition. Despite her earlier warning about the subject being complicated, she took her time to explain the concepts in a way he could relate and easily understand. She would make a wonderful teacher.

When she'd finished, their plates were clean and her winegla.s.s was empty, leaving a soft glow on her cheeks. He wasn't sure if it was the wine or her excitement for the subject matter, but he did know he liked this relaxed Shannon. Somehow he didn't think she let herself enjoy this state too often.

"No wonder Nate is so nasty to you," he said in all sincerity. "He's afraid of you. You're brilliant, Shannon."

Her face flushed deeper and he felt a measure of satisfaction at making her happy.

"Why did you pick nutrition?" he asked as he cleared both their plates to the sink.

"I was the cook in the family. Mama always worked in the evenings and Meemaw fried everything until it was unrecognizable as anything other than a shoe." She actually laughed and Brody was transfixed. "It was a matter of self-preservation, I guess. Then I discovered that if I ate properly, I would swim faster and what was once a ch.o.r.e became part of my training regimen."

"You swim?"

"Since I was seven. It's how I was able to go to college. I swam backstroke for the Longhorns for four years."

He wasn't sure why he was so surprised, she had the build of a sleek backstroker.

Shannon twirled her fingers around the stem of her winegla.s.s. "It was nice to have something I was good at."

"Did your sister swim?" He sat back down next to her, his own fingers itching to reach out and stroke her the same way she was touching the gla.s.s.

"Yeah, every morning until we were twelve. Meemaw made her stop because the chlorine was too damaging on her hair. Teryn could have argued that it didn't matter, she wore a wig for pageants, but truth be told, she hated getting up at five thirty every morning."

"Your grandmother didn't care about your hair?" Brody wasn't sure why, but he felt defensive of Shannon.

She gave a self deprecating laugh. "No, my hair didn't matter. I wasn't the pretty one."

An ugly burn settled in his stomach.

"So tell me your secrets, Brody. For instance, why does a grown man in his late twenties have a basket full of Tonka trucks in his great room?"

Brody relaxed in the chair again, ready to divulge anything she asked of him. "I'll give you three reasons: Adam, Chandler, and Rachel, my nephews and niece."

Her eyes danced. "Do they come over to play with you often?"

"Like I said, my family is in and out of here a lot. One of my sisters is working on a big cla.s.s action case with a law firm here in Baltimore, so she's in every other week. My oldest sister Gwen, mother to Adam and Rachel, is my a.s.sistant, so she tries to visit a couple of times a month. The sister closest to me in age, Tricia, is getting married in a few weeks, so she hasn't been down lately. Chandler's mom, my sister Ashley, is my stylist so she comes down to go through my clothes once a month."

"Pardon?" she asked. "Did you say your sister is your stylist?"

Okay, maybe he should have been a little more circ.u.mspect with the types of things he shared with her. "She's in the fashion business and she figures it's a reflection on her if I look bad in public."

Shannon's smile was wide now. "And what exactly does she do?"

"I don't know." He was growing a little more defensive. "She coordinates my clothes so everything looks like it goes together."

"Does she leave you a list or something?"

"No. She organizes them in my closet." Yep, he'd definitely gone too far if the twinkle in her eyes was any indication.

"Like Garanimals?" She sprung from the chair. "Oh, Brody, this I have to see."

Shannon was out of the kitchen before he could stop her, those long legs eating up the distance to the center staircase. The house's lighting system was operated by sensors, the hallway lights illuminating her path up the stairs with each step toward the master bedroom.

"Shannon, wait!" But it was no use, her rich laughter taunted him from the just inside the door to his bedroom. It stopped suddenly as Brody crossed the threshold. Shannon stood still, her eyes glued to the king-sized bed in the center of the room, the pillows mussed from where he'd laid down earlier, a pair of his nylon running shorts lying on the floor beside the big bed.

He leaned up against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you wanted to check out my bed, Shannon, all you had to do was ask." He'd meant it to be flirtatious, but when she turned around, her face was a contortion of desire and embarra.s.sment. Once again, he was reminded she was a conundrum.

"Next time you come over, Texas," he warned softly, "you should probably wear a hairnet."

Her face aghast, Shannon bolted from his bedroom and his house.

Eight.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this blogger, Miss Everett."

Shay's palms had begun to sweat. She tried not to squirm in her chair under the shrewd gaze of Donovan Carter, the director of security for the Blaze. He studied her carefully from his perch on the corner of general manager Hank Osbourne's desk. Fortunately, Mr. Osbourne's eyes held more amus.e.m.e.nt. Once again, she'd acted on impulse, seeking out management before coming up with a plan. She blamed her rashness on lack of sleep brought on by studying and working long hours. It was either that or acknowledge a deep character flaw.

"Not really, Mr. Carter," she said. "I just know whoever is writing the blog can't be everywhere at once. Someone is feeding him or her information. And for some of the more personal stuff, it has to be someone with access inside the organization."

"She has a valid point, Carter," Mr. Osbourne said, peering at Shay through his steepled fingers. "The league is pursuing the blogger, but maybe there's something we can do to step up security so nothing else gets out about Blaze players."

Mr. Carter bristled at the affront on his current security measures. From what Shay had seen, he was a man who took his job seriously. "There's not much else to step up. Ever since the abduction of Carly and Troy Devlin and the coach's daughter last season, we keep a pretty tight watch on who comes and goes into this facility, our hotels, and any stadium we play in."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but it might be someone who's already in the organization. Perhaps an employee who needs money?"

Both men stared at her. "Is this just supposition, Miss Everett?" Mr. Carter asked. "Or do you have some actual knowledge?"

Shay was walking a fine line here. If she shared too much, she risked implicating herself. She unfolded the piece of paper in her lap, its edges frayed where she'd been gripping it in her damp hands. "This was inside my cubby last week." She handed the paper to the director of security. "I saw them in all the kitchen staff cubbies. The housekeeping cubbies, too."

Mr. Carter scanned the sheet, swiping a hand over his bald head in exasperation before handing it to Mr. Osbourne. The silence stretched in the room as the GM read the text. He heaved a sigh. "So, she's offering money-a lot more than I presumed-for the stuff she reports. And she's soliciting the low-income staff on the teams to obtain it. She's aggressively diabolical, I'll give her that. But it still begs the question, what's her bigger purpose? And who's bankrolling the whole thing?"

"We still aren't even sure it's a she."

Both men's eyebrows shot up at Shay's statement, but as a scientist, Shay knew it was foolish to rule out half the population without proof.

Mr. Carter picked up the paper that Mr. Osbourne had flipped onto his desk in disgust. "I'll call around to the other teams to alert them to be on the lookout for one of these. Can I keep this?" The question was obviously a formality because he quickly stood, his body poised for action.

Shay waved a hand. "I don't want it."

The director of security contemplated her. "Thanks for bringing it to our attention." If he wondered why it had taken her a week, he didn't ask.

Shay stood, too, ready to make her escape.

"Miss Everett?" The amus.e.m.e.nt was back in Mr. Osbourne's tone. "My sincerest apologies if this incident has upset you personally in anyway."

"Pardon?" She wasn't sure where the GM was going with his apology.

"Your . . . relationship . . . with Brody Janik. I'm sure a woman like you couldn't be too happy to see it spread all over the Internet."

Oh, snap. She'd left the door wide open for him to weigh in on her relationship with Brody. What if the GM wasn't as tolerant as the coach and he dismissed her right on the spot? She'd lose her internship for sure. All because she didn't want Brody to think she was the snitch. What was her mama always telling her? Pride goeth before the fall.

Shay was embarra.s.sed that the GM thought she and Brody were involved. No doubt the man believed she was incredibly unprofessional, a starry-eyed student who looked at the job with the team as an opportunity to score. Heat stained her cheeks at the thought. She stammered, hoping something intelligent would come out of her mouth.

Before it could, she caught sight of Brody sliding to a halt in front of the open door of the GM's office. His eyes went wide as he spied her looking very much like a chastised schoolgirl standing in front of Hank Osbourne's desk. He was obviously dressed for practice, in gray knit shorts and a white Blaze T-shirt stretched over well-defined muscles. Shay was confused as to why he'd be in this part of the building.

"There you are." Brody stepped into the office, his normally cool composure seeming a bit frayed.

He came to stand beside her, thankfully not touching. Her own nerves were still fraught from the night before when she'd been in his bedroom. Her skin burned more furiously at the thought. She'd been so forward, charging up to his room. How many women had he brought to that mammoth bed? All of them more beautiful than her. How he must have laughed at her when she charged out of his house.

"Everything okay here, Hank?"

A bemused smile spread over the GM's face. "Yes, Brody, everything's fine. Isn't that right, Miss Everett?"

Shay nodded, hoping that was her cue to head for the door.

"Cool." Brody gestured for her to precede him out of the office.

"By the way, Miss Everett," Mr. Osbourne called after her, halting her progress. "Thank you for helping out with food services. I know it wasn't the intern experience you expected, but with the catering liaison out unexpectedly with a serious illness, Nate has had to fill in to coordinate the nutritional aspect of training. He tells me you've been a big help. I just wanted you to know how much the team appreciates it."

Shay was so stunned she could barely manage a thank-you. Nate was singing her praises to management? What could he possibly want from her?

"I believe practice is about to begin, Brody," the GM warned.

"On my way," Brody said as he herded her out of the office.

Shay pulled on her hairnet and quickly made her way toward the stairs leading down to the commissary. She needed to get the protein shakes ready before practice began. Apparently whatever had Brody in the management side of the building was forgotten because he was shadowing her stride for stride.

"What the h.e.l.l were you doing?" he hissed.

"What I said I was going to do." She bounded down the stairs, trying to distance herself from him, but the attempt was futile. "I'm trying to catch the snitch."

"Jeez Louise, you're one bull-headed woman. Will you give it up already about this supposed snitch?"

Shay had to catch herself to keep from stumbling at the base of the stairs, she was so angry with his refusal to believe her. Brody quickly grabbed her elbow to steady her. Unable to bear the reaction her body had to his touch, she tried to yank her arm free.

"Go away, Brody. I can take care of myself."

"That's debatable." He opened one of the training room doors, tugging her inside before closing and locking it behind him.

Shay was too angry to panic about being alone in a room with him again. "You're going to be late for practice."

"Yeah and it's your fault. I had to track you down all over this building to make sure you didn't do something stupid."