Yeah, he really was mad for her, and damn if that didn’t drain the rest of her temper, and also do something else entirely—turn her on just a little bit. “Oh, gee, Pace.” She stepped close enough to put her hands on his chest. Yeah, suddenly she was feeling a whole lot better. “I feel so put out, having to kiss a man who kisses like heaven on earth.” She pushed him back to the shower wall then turned so that it was she who was trapped as she brushed her mouth over his jaw. “I really do . . .”

With a rough exhale, he turned his head and met her lips with his own, soft and gentle at first, then hungry and fierce, and the amusement faded right out of her lungs, replaced by an instant, staggering, brain-cell destroying heat—

“Okay, that’s it,” Gage said after letting himself in. “That’s great, thanks.” He wedged himself in between them. “That’s all we have time for.” And he unceremoniously pushed her out the door.

She turned back. “But—”

“We have another home game tomorrow,” Gage said. “Same time, same place.” And then he shut the door in her face.

Pace watched the Heat play while warming up the bench with his own sorry ass. They won, which helped some. Afterward he was checked again by the team docs, the news not good.

He wasn’t improving on PT. But another MRI didn’t reveal anything new. He went straight from testing to the big bash in the clubhouse, thrown by management with the sole purpose of bringing their popularity rating back up. It was a massive affair, heavy on the celebrities, press, and booze, cleverly designed to put on a good show.

Pace hated that kind of a show, and he went straight to the bar and ordered two Dr Peppers, full caffeine, full sugar. While he waited, he turned and surveyed the crowd, pretending he wasn’t searching for Holly.

Tucker came up to him, clasped a hand on his good shoulder, and smiled with genuine empathy. “Sucks being on the sidelines.”

For days people had been tiptoeing around him and his injury. Tucker was the first person to acknowledge to his face that he was screwed, a fact which Pace greatly appreciated. He was damn tired of empty platitudes. “Yeah.”

“Look, man, just take the time to heal.” Tucker nodded at Pace’s surprise. “Yeah, I know. No one else is going to tell you that, not during the season—hello, you’re their moneymaker. But you have to do whatever you have to do to get healthy, or you’ll end up selling fucking vitamins.”

With a heavy weight on his chest, Pace watched him limp away, then searched the crowd.

“She’s not here yet,” Wade said, coming up to his side, nodding to the bartender as he handed Pace the two tall Dr Peppers.

“Who’s not here yet?” Pace asked.