Her excuse sounded incredibly lame, even to her own ears.
"Not a problem." He grabbed his clothes and got dressed, then came to her, sliding his hands up and down her arms, generating heat despite her discomfort.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for the water and for . . . you know--being there. It was just a silly nightmare. Zombies or something. I don't even remember most of it now. Honestly." She finished it off with a shrug.
He didn't look like he believed her. "If you're sure."
"Absolutely."
"Okay. I'll see you in the morning."
She was already walking him to her bedroom door. "Okay."
As soon as he left her room, she shut the door and leaned against it, tears pricking her eyes again.
Why did she throw him out? Why couldn't she let him stay and offer her comfort? And why wouldn't she tell him about her dream about her dad?
Because that would have required her to open up emotionally, and she needed to maintain her distance. She'd already made a mistake by having sex with him, and she couldn't afford to get any closer to him.
It was better this way. She pulled off her clothes and climbed back into bed, which now seemed colder, bigger, and emptier without Trevor's body to warm her, and memories of her father still lingered after her dream.
She was lonely, which was her doing. It was for the best, right?
She knew she'd never go back to sleep the rest of the night.
TREVOR SAT IN HIS ROOM, STARING OUT THE WINDOW. Part of him wanted to go back over to Haven's wing, knock on her door, and make her talk to him about that nightmare.
She'd been upset. More upset than just a run-of-the-mill bad dream. It had to be something deeper, but hell, she'd asked him to leave. What the hell was he supposed to do? Force her to let him stay? He had to go, had to give her the space she'd asked for.
Though he didn't think being alone and upset like that was what she'd really wanted.
He dragged his fingers through his hair and paced his room, wide awake now and knowing he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, clicking through until he found the sports channel. He settled back on the bed and tried to concentrate on the rehash of yesterday's baseball games, but he couldn't concentrate.
His thoughts kept coming back to Haven, on how she'd been crying out in her sleep, how he'd had to wake her and how she'd thrown herself against him, sobbing.
His gut tightened as he remembered how it felt to feel her body wrapped against his while she cried. He'd wanted to offer her comfort, but instead, all she'd wanted was to be left alone.
That wasn't right. No one should be alone when they were hurting like that.
He shouldn't have left her.
Dammit. He didn't know what to do about her--for her.
But he was determined to figure her out.
SEVENTEEN
HAVEN DOVE INTO WORK THE NEXT DAY, DETERMINED to focus on her job and the arriving camera crew and forget all about the bad dream she'd had the night before, as well as the fact that she'd had sex with Trevor.
If she could concentrate on work and nothing but that, she'd be fine.
She staved off the exhaustion from lack of sleep by drinking several cups of coffee and eating the awesome breakfast Hammond had provided. She'd also avoided Trevor by asking the crew to pick her up at the house early that morning so they could go over the battle plan for the interviews and camera shots at the ballpark for the game tonight against Los Angeles. She'd left Trevor a text message telling him she'd meet him at the ballpark later that day.
They were nearing the end of the regular season. The Rivers were doing okay, but still three games out of first place, and the teams in the other division were breathing down their necks trying to get the wild card spot. It wasn't going to be easy for them to make the playoffs. In fact, unless they won every one of their last seven games, it was going to be damned near impossible.
She was going to make that the thrust of her on-camera interview today with Trevor, so they'd have a sound bite to send in for tonight's sportscast as part of a teaser for her upcoming feature, one of the things she'd discussed with her producer. Even though her assignment wasn't going to be completed for a while, her producer wanted to lay the groundwork, to get the audience invested in advance.
No pressure or anything, right?
She went through her notes and she and the crew went over camera angles and where they planned to set up prior to the game. Trevor agreed to meet with her early, before warm-ups, at the field. They'd made arrangements with team management, as well as with a few of the players, so they'd be able to conduct on-camera interviews today.
Her plate was full--exactly what she needed. No time to think about anything personal, which suited her just fine.
Because professionally, things were going smoothly. It was the personal side she'd royally screwed up by sleeping with Trevor last night.
That wouldn't happen again.
When Trevor arrived, he came up to her, his expression filled with concern.
Which was the last thing she needed.
"How are you?" he asked, smoothing his hand up and down her arm.
It was just that kind of gentle care she didn't need. She took a step back, giving him a bright, very professional, not at all personal kind of smile. "I'm doing great today. How are you?"
She could tell he knew something was off, but at least he seemed good-natured about it. "Good. Did you manage any sleep last night?"
Aware of the camera crew lurking nearby, she gave a short nod. "Slept like the dead. I realize you're going to need to get to warm-ups and I have several of your teammates to interview as well today, so let's get your mic on so we can get this interview rolling."
He gave her a sideways look, but then he nodded. "You're the boss."
Grateful he didn't press her any further about last night, she put his mic on, then sat next to him and started the interview. She started with innocuous questions about the current season, including what he thought the Rivers' chances were to make the postseason. Trevor, as always, was filled with confidence about the team's chances and said they'd play as hard as they always had, but it was always a game-by-game situation.
Typical player response, but he gave a great interview and she was grateful for that.
Then she got into some of the background questions she'd asked during the preliminary interviews, about his childhood and the sports he'd played, mainly a reiteration of what they'd already gone over, but this time, on camera. It went well, and it went quickly, so they finished on time.
"Thanks," she said when they were done. "That's all we'll do today. We'll get some shots of you playing tonight's game, and we'll use that as promo for the piece."
"So what are you on to next?" he asked, handing over the mic equipment to one of the crew members.
"I've arranged to interview a few of your teammates. And your coach has agreed to give me a few minutes."
Trevor arched a brow. "You're getting camera time with Manny? How'd you manage that?"
"I asked. I'm very nice, you know."
"Yeah, I know." He started toward her again, but she took a step back.
"We really should get going. There isn't much time and I have a lot to do."
He seemed disappointed. "Good luck with your interviews."
"Thanks. Good luck with the game tonight."
She was being cool and remote and she knew it, but she had to maintain a level of professionalism around the crew. And to protect herself.
She was being ridiculous. But she couldn't help herself. This was who she had to be, how she had to act. She was making the right decision.
Right?
The other interviews went well. She talked with Gavin and Garrett, and they gave great commentary about the team, and Trevor's place in it. They weren't bitter about him only playing part time and both stated he was a valuable asset to the
team. They understood when he had to drop out to handle football duties, and they were used to it. The team accommodated him because he was good at what he did, and he didn't act like he was any better than the rest of them.
Actually, none of the guys she interviewed professed any jealousy or bitterness toward Trevor. They teased him on camera about being a hotshot, but, as Gavin said, if you had the skills to back it up, then you should do what makes you happy.
They were good interviews. Maybe her producers wanted some professional jealousy on some of the players' parts, or someone calling out Trevor for being a dick, but clearly that wasn't going to happen. At least not with any of the players she'd talked to so far.
And then she got to his coach. Manny Magee was known to be grouchy, and he hated giving interviews. She was actually surprised he'd agreed to this one, so when he sat down with her, she knew she'd have a limited amount of on-camera time with him.
"Tell me about Trevor Shay."
Manny shrugged. "Good player. Shows up on time, does his job."
"How do you feel about him playing two sports?"
"I hate it."
She knew she'd get blunt honesty from Manny. "So you'd like to have him full time."
"Of course I would. But I'm not gonna get him to play for the Rivers full time. So I'll take what I can get."
"He's that good?"
"He's that good. With someone as talented as Trevor Shay, what coach wouldn't? I'm just glad he's playing for our team and not someone else's, you know what I mean?"
Haven didn't comment, but yes, she did know. They talked about tonight's game and the Rivers' chances to make the playoffs, which they'd use for tonight's clip. Haven thanked Manny for his time, and they finished up.
The camera crew took some shots of the players warming up, including a few close-ups of Trevor fielding the ball and throwing it back. And when he took some swings in the batting cage, Haven stood there with the crew and watched. She couldn't help but be impressed. He was tall, athletic, a strong presence as he knocked the ball with power. And as his muscles flexed, she remembered him moving over her last night, the pure mastery he had over her body.
It was cool outside today, but her body heated as she recalled every moment they'd spent together, the way he had taken her with his mouth, his hands, and his cock.
No. That was definitely not going to happen again, and thinking about him in that way wasn't helping the situation at all.
"I think we have enough shots," she said to her camera guy.
Once the game started, the camera crew worked independently to take some game shots of Trevor, while she did some edits on her laptop up in the club suite. She'd look up on occasion to watch the game. The Rivers were down by three runs in the fifth when Trevor came up to bat.
He took the first pitch, high, barely even moving. He read pitches well. The second was low and in the dirt and Trevor didn't budge, refusing to be fooled into swinging.
He'd been out on a fly ball his first at bat, and had gotten on base with a single in his second, only to be left stranded.
On the third pitch--a decent one--he swung, blasting it foul into right field.
On the fourth pitch, he connected, sending it sailing.
Home run. Too bad no one else was on base because he'd rocketed that pitch into the bleachers. Haven swore she could see the grin on Trevor's face all the way up in the club suites where she was sitting. She cheered along with everyone else, and hoped her camera crew had gotten a decent shot of that home run. She texted down to Andy, her head camera guy, who texted her back that he'd definitely gotten the shot.
Awesome.
Unfortunately, Trevor's solo home run didn't help the Rivers, who ended up losing the game. They'd come back and scored three more runs in the sixth, but Los Angeles had scored two in the eighth, closing the door on the Rivers' attempt to win it, and since Atlanta had won their game tonight, it was looking more and more like the Rivers were not going to make it to the postseason.
But it wasn't over yet, and anything could happen.
She was disappointed for Trevor and for the team, but she still had her job to do.
She met with her camera crew after the game, and they submitted their work to the network in time for the broadcast that night. The crew was finished with the work they'd do for now, and they'd meet up again once Trevor started up in Tampa.
After the game, Trevor was quiet. She stepped up next to him as he walked to the car.
"Tough loss," she said.
"Yeah."
"Great home run, though."
"Thanks. Didn't help the team, though."
She wanted to console him, to put her arm around him and make him feel better, like he'd done for her last night. Her fingers itched to touch him.
Why couldn't she bridge that gap of inches and just lean into him to offer him comfort? What would it cost her to do that?
Nothing.
So why couldn't she make the move? What held her back? Did she think if she touched him, he'd read something into it and want more? More than she was willing to give?
In the end, she couldn't do it, just walked to the car and climbed into her seat, keeping her distance, which felt all kinds of shitty.
"There's still hope for the team, Trevor," she said as they drove back to his house.
"Yeah, there is. Until the last game. Unfortunately, we have a road trip to Atlanta up next, and if we lose even one game to them, we're out of the postseason."
"When does the road series against Atlanta start?"
"Friday."
"Then you'll have to kick ass against Los Angeles and make these games count."
"We'll do that. Believe me, we will."
She did believe him. She was impressed by how fast he shook off the loss, because they went out to eat, and he was his happy, animated self again, signing autographs for fans and joking with the waiter. After dinner, they went back to his house, where she was once again faced with being alone with him.
Maybe it was time she moved into a hotel, to give herself some distance. Instead, when they got inside, she turned to him.
"I have a lot of editing to do. If you don't mind, I'm going to close myself up in the office and work."
"That's fine. I'm going to go watch TV."
He seemed okay with her decision, which relieved her. "Great."
She grabbed her laptop and notes and headed into the office, closing the door behind her. She dove into work, going over her notes, uploading the photos she'd taken, and after several hours, she had made serious progress. She sent the file off to her producer.
She got up and stretched, gathered up her laptop and notes, and turned off the light in the office. She was about to head to bed, but decided to stop in the kitchen for a glass of water first.
It was late, so she didn't expect to find Trevor in there, fixing himself a sandwich.
"Oh. Hey. You're still up?"
He smiled at her. "Yeah. I was watching a movie and I got hungry after." He pointed to the sandwich on his plate. "Want one?"
"No, thanks. I was just going to grab a glass of water before I headed to bed."
"I'll get that for you." He dropped ice into a glass and filled it with water, then handed it to her.
"Thanks. Good night, Trevor." She turned.
"Haven?"
She stopped, her eyes closing for a fraction of a second before turning back to face him. "Yes?"
"What's wrong? Did I do something to upset you?"
Laying her stuff down on the counter, along with the glass, she went over to him, knowing she shouldn't get so close, but unable to help herself. She laid her hand on his forearm, feeling the instant connection, that sizzle of chemistry she couldn't deny, no matter how much she wanted to. "No. Not at all. I'm just . . . tired tonight. It's been a long day, and I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I just want to go to bed and crash."
He swept her hair away from her face, and before she could take a cautionary step away,
he cupped her face between his hands and brushed his lips across hers. A burst of heat ignited inside her.
"Sleep well tonight. No bad dreams."
With that short kiss he'd awakened all the longing she'd tried to push away, but couldn't. She wanted to linger, to lean against him and soak up his strength. She wanted to get him naked and devour every inch of him right there in his kitchen, then take him to bed with her again so she didn't have to be alone. Instead, she nodded. "Right. No bad dreams. Thanks, Trevor."
She grabbed her stuff and walked down the long hallway toward her wing, feeling the loneliness of another long night wrap around her like a cold chill she wouldn't be able to shake.
It didn't have to be this way, but she had no one to blame but herself for being alone.
When she got to her room, she undressed and got ready for bed, then climbed in, pulling the sheet over herself. She'd already finished work for the day, so there was no appeal to her laptop, though she could surf the net.
She didn't want to, so she decided to read a book instead, settling back against the pillows, hoping getting lost in one of her favorite series would help her unwind and maybe she'd get tired.
An hour later she was still wide awake, and she kept reading the same page over and over again. Not the book's fault, because it was a great romance. The problem was, the characters in the story were hot for each other--and they were actually doing something about it. They were communicating, and having awesome hot sex.
She, on the other hand, kept doing her best to avoid her own feelings, and as a result, she was not having awesome hot sex with a man she should be having awesome hot sex with.
Even fictional characters faced their demons better than she did.
She glared at the book, right now hating those characters, and threw off the covers and got out of bed. She went to the window and stared outside, wishing she were at home.
She missed her mom.
She really missed her dad, missed their long talks. She could use a long talk with him right now.
Not that she could have had a conversation with her dad about Trevor. She and her father could talk about anything--except men and sex. Those conversations had always been reserved for her mom. Sports and television and books and anything else? Her dad. But whenever she'd had boy trouble, he'd grown decidedly uncomfortable and had suggested she talk to her mom.
She looked over at the bedside table. It was late--too late to call her mom, and really, what would she say? That she and Trevor had had sex, and then she'd pushed him away because--well, she didn't even have a valid reason.