Defending Hearts. Rebecca Crowley

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СКАЧАТЬ walked away. Are you proud of me?”

      Sean lifted a shoulder. “That depends.”

      “On?”

      “What you do when you find out your beefy buddy is getting handsy.”

      Oz spun in time to see Kate leaning out of Jared’s grip, Jared’s hands settling on her waist, Kate removing them and stepping backward.

      Oz planted his smoothie on a table and steamed in, his rational mind politely stepping aside to give way to a wave of white-hot anger.

      “Keep your hands off her,” he seethed, shoving Jared with a flattened palm on his bulky chest.

      Jared’s answering smirk was like a red flag to a bull. “Is that the best you’ve got, bro? Or should we take this outside?”

      Blood pounded in Oz’s ears and he saw Tucson’s enormous center-back, felt the faint press of the man’s cleats against his calf in a borderline illegal tackle, relived the defender’s exaggerated effort to haul him back up onto his feet, and the boiling frustration when the referee ignored Oz’s appeal and motioned for them to play on.

      Jared moved in. Got in his face. Set his jaw. Narrowed his eyes.

      Oz stuck his foot behind Jared’s ankle, led with his shoulder, knocked the bigger man off-balance and sent him sprawling onto his back.

      Jared’s head hit the floor with a thud and Oz instinctively raised his hands in innocence, fully aware he’d fouled his opponent.

      Except he wasn’t on the pitch, he was at Glynn’s party. Where everyone was staring at him. And Jared lay gasping on the floor.

      Too late, he looked at Kate. She glared at him as she knelt beside Jared’s supine form.

      “Come on,” she urged Jared, although her glacial stare was clearly meant for Oz. “You just got the wind knocked out of you. Get up and let’s get out of here.”

      He should apologize. He was out of line. But then he recalled the image of Kate removing Jared’s hands from her waist and he decided to follow the two of them out of the apartment instead.

      “Kate, hang on, I—”

      “Stop,” she hissed, spinning to face him just outside the door as Jared limped down the hallway, coughing and spluttering.

      “He was bothering you. I was trying to help.”

      “You were trying to make a scene, and you succeeded. Happy?”

      Sheepish. Embarrassed. Maybe even a little guilty. But no, definitely not happy.

      Oz’s complex discomfort crystallized into a simpler, more readily accessible emotion. Anger.

      “You brought him here,” he countered. “You brought him to my box, pushed him on my friends. Don’t blame me for intervening when your bad decision got out of control, and certainly don’t trouble yourself to say thanks.”

      She rolled her eyes. “The situation was under control. I can take care of myself. And if I did need someone to fight my battles for me—which I don’t—frankly I’m not sure you’d be the one I’d call.”

      It stung, because it was so obviously true. Oz shoved his hands into his pockets. Why did every conversation he had with Kate turn into a fight—and why did he always lose?

      She sighed, looked down the hall, then back at him. “I have to give Jared a lift home. Thanks again for the tickets. I had fun.”

      She didn’t sound like she had fun, but he offered no reply as she jogged down the hallway and into the stairwell. Within seconds her footsteps echoed to nothing.

      For a minute he stood, alone, listening to the dull thump of music through the door. His head throbbed. His shoulder ached. He should go home and try to sleep.

      Instead he pushed back into the apartment, into the noise and movement and wide, anticipatory gazes of his friends.

      “So,” Glynn remarked dryly. “That went well.”

      Chapter 5

      “And that includes installation? And a month’s subscription. Wow. No, I can’t match that price, but you know with us you get the benefit of—hello?”

      Kate sighed, typed a note beside the client’s name in the database and dialed the next one. A female voice answered after two rings.

      “Hi, this is Kate Mitchell from Peak Tactical. I’m calling to let you know that we’ve signed a preferred-provider agreement with your neighborhood watch association, and as part of that deal we’re offering twenty-five percent off in-home security—”

      “No thanks, we have a Rottweiler.” The line went dead.

      Kate coded the client’s name as not interested, dialed the next. Waited. This time a man’s voice picked up.

      “Hi, this is Kate Mitchell from Peak Tactical. I’m calling to—” Dial tone.

      She groaned inwardly. She thought winning the contract with the neighborhood watch would open the door for sales to all the resident members, but after two hours on the phone she’d sold only one response-service subscription, and it was the barest-bones option at that.

      Hopefully things would get easier the longer she was in the job as she grew her network and client base. The Skyline account was the only reason she’d reached this month’s sales target, but next month already loomed.

      And chances were the Skyline account was bust before it ever boomed. She sat back in her chair, staring unseeingly at her computer screen.

      Only forty-eight hours had passed since the incident at Glynn’s apartment, but she must’ve replayed it in her mind at least a hundred times.

      Jared wasn’t exactly on his best behavior, but Oz’s response was worse. She hadn’t asked for his help—she hadn’t needed his help. She was a veteran, a security contractor—she’d spent a year in Saudi Arabia. Did he really think she couldn’t hold her own against one tipsy asshole in a room packed with people?

      Of course she could. She was strong. Fearless. Tough as any of the men she’d served alongside.

      Then why did it give her an illicit, guilty thrill every time she remembered the fury in Oz’s eyes? Or the unhesitating purpose in his movements. Or the cool, calm way he’d dumped Jared on the floor.

      She shook her head in self-disgust and refocused on the database. For a self-proclaimed pacifist Oz was rude and aggressive, and she shouldn’t find that attractive. She didn’t need a protector, and this was just one more way her mother’s lifelong desperation for male attention had taught her that her own strength wasn’t enough, and that her value depended on how much a man liked her, and—

      “Those guys are here for you again, Kate.” Lorraine leaned into the room she shared with five other sales associates.

      Kate frowned at her over the top of her cubicle. “Which guys?”

      “They СКАЧАТЬ