Playing With Temptation. Reese Ryan

any such thing as privacy anymore in the social media age.

      A car door slammed. Nate glanced at his watch and smiled. On time, as always. Kendra was right; in many ways, she hadn’t changed. Organized and efficient, she’d never been late for anything.

      Nate opened the door before Kendra could ring the bell, startling her. She dropped her leather portfolio, her papers sailing across the porch.

      He planned to help her recover them, but froze, mesmerized by the perfectly round shape of her curvy bottom in a narrow black pencil skirt as she bent to retrieve them. Finally shaken from his daze, he stooped to pick up a few sheets that had landed near his feet. He handed them to her, his fingertips grazing her soft skin.

      Kendra withdrew her hand, as if she, too, felt the spark of electricity that charged his skin when they touched. She gave him an uneasy smile as she accepted the papers and stuffed them back into the portfolio. “Not the graceful entrance I hoped to make.”

      “Also not quite as entertaining as your entrance to the junior prom.” He grinned.

      “You did not just go there. You’re never going to forget that, are you?”

      He chuckled. “Don’t think anyone in Pleasure Cove ever will. Principal Dansby nearly crapped himself when you came strolling up to the stage in your purple Prince tribute gown with your right butt cheek on display.”

      Kendra shuddered, shifting the portfolio to her other arm. Her cheeks glowed red beneath her dark brown skin. “You know the ass-baring feature was completely unintentional. I told my mother wearing panty hose was a bad idea. If I hadn’t been wearing them, my dress couldn’t have gotten tucked into the back of them. I still blame her for the entire fiasco.”

      “We managed to have a good time, despite getting tossed out—thanks to your indecent exposure.” He smiled at the warm memory of the two of them strolling on the beach that night, hand in hand.

      They’d crashed a sunset wedding on the beach. Kendra had been moved by the ceremony, her eyes brimming with tears. She said it was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. He wiped the tears from her face and promised to marry her one day in a sunset ceremony right there on that beach.

      He’d attempted to keep his promise, but look how that turned out. Nate shook his head, purging the memory from his brain. Jaw stiff, his hands clenched into fists.

      Kendra seemed aware of the shift in his mood. She clutched her portfolio. “Is this still a good time?”

      “As good as any.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow her to enter.

      “This place looks incredible.” Her eyes danced as she glanced around the open space. “I haven’t been here since they first broke ground.”

      That had been by design. He’d bought the land and had this place constructed because he expected to build a life here with her. To one day watch their children surf the same beaches they’d surfed together as kids. When everything fell apart, he’d done his damnedest to keep her out of the space that was meant to be theirs.

      “Thanks.” He crammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Can I take your coat or get you anything before we get started?”

      She removed her wrap, unveiling a low-cut silk blouse that complemented her curves nicely. “That coffee smells great. I’d love a cup.”

      “Coming up.” He headed for the kitchen. “Is it okay if we work in here today?”

      “Of course. I want to make this as convenient as possible. I’m willing to accommodate your schedule in any way necessary.” Kendra set her portfolio and laptop on the black, poured concrete kitchen countertop.

      He grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, filled her cup, added cream and handed it to her.

      Kendra thanked him and settled onto her seat, then opened her laptop and pulled two copies of a thick, bound document from her leather bag. She handed him one and opened the other. “I’d like to give you the overview of the plan Marcus and I agreed on.”

      Nate thumbed through the document quickly. Neat, efficient, color-coded. Very Kendra. He dropped it onto the countertop with a thud. Leaning back in his seat, he sipped his coffee. “Shoot.”

      * * *

      Nate was determined to make her turn and run, just as she had seven years ago. Well, they were beyond that. She’d signed her name to a contract and walked away from her most lucrative client.

      No turning back.

      She’d stayed up late the past few nights working on the proposal, and Nate wouldn’t give it more than a cursory glance?

      Fine.

      She hadn’t expected him to give in easily. But if he was already annoyed with her treatise on how to get his career back on track, he certainly wasn’t going to like the steps she’d outlined.

      Too bad.

      This was what needed to happen if he wanted to get out of this predicament and land his new contract and endorsements.

      Kendra met his defiant gaze. “Our campaign will focus on three strategies. First, you need to meet with each person you mentioned on that tape and apologize. Talk to them man-to-man and explain what happened—before we go public. Call anyone you can’t get a sit-down with. Then we make the public apology.”

      Nate was growing more agitated by the minute. He folded his arms. “If I’m apologizing to each of them individually, what’s the purpose of a public apology?”

      “You said your tight end was more concerned with his individual stats than winning a championship. That your quarterback, and long-time friend, has been dialing it in all year. You slammed your defensive players for skating on their natural talents and having poor work ethics. And you claimed your running back is three years past his expiration date. All of that is public. So your apology needs to be, too.”

      “It’s not like I didn’t call myself out for my mistakes, too. Funny how they didn’t include that part.”

      “I get it. That makes me believe that this Stephanie Weiss who broke the story is out to get you. This was calculated. Vindictive.”

      Nate bristled at the mention of Stephanie’s name. “If they were going to leak the video, I just wish they’d shown everything.”

      “Fortunately, someone leaked the full video. Probably the person who actually recorded it. At the press conference, we’ll play the missing part where you skewer your own mistakes, too. Then you’ll make a statement. We’ll go from the emotional angle of the disappointment you were feeling—with yourself and the rest of the team. Any sports fan can sympathize with that. Explain that while the critique was your honest assessment of what led to the loss, you regret the harsh words you used to express it.”

      Nate’s lips puckered like he was sucking on a lemon. He nearly drained his coffee mug. “Fine. Anything else?”

      “Be honest. Tell them your team is your family, and like most family disputes, this one will be resolved behind closed doors, not in the public arena.”

      “Won’t they want to ask questions?”

      “Doesn’t mean you have to answer them.” She shrugged. “We’ll establish from the outset that you won’t be entertaining questions.”

      “That’s an idea I can get behind,” he mumbled. “What’s the second strategy?”

      “We have to change the narrative out there about you on our terms. We’ll cherry-pick media outlets that are trustworthy, but we’ll lay the ground rules about which topics are off-limits.”

      “If I’m not talking about the tape—which is what they’re all going to want to talk about—what am I there to discuss?”

      “At this time of year, there are a million opportunities to discuss the play-off games—on radio, television, newspapers