Marrying an Athlete Page 9

  Anna took a breath and opened the door. She wasn’t too scantily clad. But it was a silk nightgown. And for some reason, the thought of Michael seeing her in it made her heart pound.

  Thankfully, he was turned around when she stepped out. He had on a pair of pajama bottoms but when she saw the tight muscles of his back, she tried not to groan. Of course, he slept shirtless. Why had she expected anything different?

  When Michael turned around, his eyes widened. Heat raced to her cheeks as she felt his gaze sweep over her.

  “Those are your pajamas?” he asked, dropping his gaze and making his way over to the bed.

  She glanced down at her nightgown. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. Just a step up from the My Little Pony set you used to wear.”

  Anna made her way over to the bed and began to pull off the pillows. “Yeah. They don’t exactly make them in my size anymore.”

  He glanced up at her, a smile playing on his lips.

  She decided to ignore whatever it was that he was thinking about. “What about you? Do you just not believe in shirts? I swear, I’ve seen your chest more times in the last two days than in our entire childhood.”

  Michael straightened, brought his arms up, and flexed a few times. “These babies just hate to be confined.” He leaned over and kissed one.

  Anna rolled her eyes as she pulled the comforter back and slipped into bed. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculously handsome, maybe,” he said as he climbed in as well.

  “It’s good to know that your ego is healthy.” She leaned against the pillows, trying to calm her nerves. She didn’t like being this close to Michael. His presence was becoming too familiar, and that frightened her.

  “In all seriousness, I can’t stand sleeping in a shirt. It makes me too hot.” He glanced over at her. “But I can put one on if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  Uncomfortable, no. Not ready to admit the feelings racing through her, yes. But she couldn’t say that. So she decided to laugh it off as she pulled the covers up to her chin. “Nope. No problem over here.”

  “Good.”

  Silence fell around them.

  “Well, I’m going to get to sleep,” Michael said as he flipped to his side, turning so his back was to her.

  “Good idea.” She turned.

  “Anna?”

  Her heart quickened. “Yes?”

  Michael was quiet for a moment. “I’m happy you decided to come here with me. I know it’s for McKenna, but I couldn’t imagine trying to do this with anyone else.”

  Great. Why did he have to say that to her? A warm feeling spread through her body. This was the Michael she knew. Despite his flirtatious demeanor, he was kind and sweet. But still, the last person she should have feelings for.

  “Of course,” she said. “Anything for you and McKenna. You’re like family. And family members help each other.” If only she could convince her emotions that they were just family, then she’d be set.

  “Family,” Michael whispered.

  Anna needed to end this conversation before it went into uncharted territory. She faked a yawn and said, “Goodnight, Michael.”

  “Goodnight, Anna Banana.”

  The next morning, Anna rushed into the bathroom the minute she woke up. There was no way she wanted Michael to see her with bed hair or morning breath. Once she was showered, she glanced around and cursed herself.

  In her haste to get into the bathroom, she’d forgotten her suitcase or a change of clothes. She tightened the towel around her body and took a breath.

  She quietly pulled open the door and peeked out. Michael was still a lump on the bed. Thankful that he hadn’t stirred, she tiptoed over to her suitcase and grabbed it.

  Back in the bathroom, she dressed and put on her makeup. She pulled her hair up into a bun on the top of her head and headed back out into the room.

  Michael was up, leaning against the railing of the deck outside. Anna glanced over at him, and for a moment considered joining him. But from the butterflies racing around her stomach, she decided against it. Instead, she made her way over to the phone and located Javier’s number.

  After a few rings, his spicy accent filled the receiver.

  “Javier,” he said.

  “Hey, Javier. It’s me. Anna.” She squeezed her eyes shut as she scolded herself.

  “Did you want to order room service?” he asked. “There’s another number to do that.”

  Anna shook her head. “No, that’s not why I’m calling. I actually want to see if I can set something up. Something for McKenna and Sam.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you have cooking classes here?”

  “Sure. I’m sure I could come up with something.”

  Anna smiled. This was perfect. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. “Great. Can we plan for something around lunchtime?”

  He clicked his tongue a few times. “I should be able to make that work. Head on over to the restaurant at one.”

  “Perfect. Thank you for doing this.”

  Javier chuckled. “Of course. Anything for you. I’ll see you soon, mon chéri.”

  Anna parted her lips to respond but wasn’t sure what to say to that. Did she thank him? What did ‘mon chéri’ mean?

  “Okay,” she said as she hung up. She stared at the phone. What had just happened? Was what Michael said about Javier true? Was he flirting with her?

  She shook her head. That was ridiculous. There was no way an attractive, mysterious man would be interested in her, and she cursed Michael for putting those thoughts in her mind.

  “Who was that?” Michael asked from behind her.

  She yelped and whipped around. “Nobody,” she blurted out.

  He raised his eyebrows. As if he suspected that what she said wasn’t true.

  “I mean, that was Javier.”

  Michael faked an excited look. “Yay. Javier. What did he want?”

  Anna studied him. What did he have to be jealous of? But then she shook it off. “I was asking him if we could arrange a cooking class for McKenna and Sam.”

  Michael glanced at her as he crossed the room and pulled open his suitcase. He grabbed out a few items and then disappeared into the bathroom. Anna took this time to head out to the deck.

  The sun beat down on her, warming her skin. She couldn’t help the sigh. The feeling of stress from her encounter with Michael left with her breath. How could anyone feel anxious when they were literally standing in paradise?

  The water was so blue, that it almost didn’t look real. With the sun beating down on it, she could see all the way to the bottom. The air smelled sweet like summer perfume.

  Closing her eyes, she let the wind surround her as she took a deep breath. She’d come here to relax, and she was going to. She just needed to push out all the confusing thoughts that seemed to be bogging her down.

  “You ready?” Michael asked from behind her.

  She turned to see him leaning against the door frame with his arms folded in front of him. A smile hinted on his lips.

  She nodded and crossed the deck. “Yep.”

  They made their way through their room and over to the door. They’d grab McKenna and Sam, and when they were all together she and Michael could finally begin operation “get Sam and McKenna” back together.

  Chapter Twelve

  Michael

  The sound of metal pots and pans banging together could be heard from the dish room at the end of the kitchen. Michael stood next to McKenna and Anna who were both slipping on cooking jackets. They each had their hair pulled up, and Michael couldn’t help it when his gaze fell to the soft lines of Anna’s neck.

  He clenched his fists, and turned to Sam who was watching one of the chefs next to him stir something in a bowl.

  “How’s your room?” he asked. Truth was, he was not extremely interested in what Sam had to say, but right now, he needed a distraction. Anything to keep his attention away from Anna.

 
; Sam shrugged. “It’s nice, though McKenna banished me to the couch. She said that I made her nauseous when I turned throughout the night.”

  Michael nodded. Good, this conversation was just what he needed. “That’s strange. Kenna has always had a stomach like a rock of steel.”

  “She thinks something happened on the plane, and now everything makes her feel sick.” Sam shuddered. “I just hope I don’t catch whatever it is.”

  Anna was walking McKenna around and showing her all the different kitchen supplies, so Michael took this time to finally have a heart to heart with his brother in law. After all, that’s what he should be focusing on. Not his growing attraction for Anna.

  “So, what’s the deal? I’ve heard McKenna’s side of things but not yours.” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms.

  Sam’s gazed snapped over to him and then back to the chef. “I—um. It’s complicated.”

  Michael straightened. “It’s not though. As long as you haven’t cheated on my sister, whatever is happening between the two of you can be fixed.”

  Sam cleared his throat and shifted. “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s start simple. You haven’t cheated on my sister, right?”

  Sam shook his head. “Of course not.”

  A wave of relief washed over Michael. That’s what he wanted to hear. “Good. I didn’t want to have to pummel you because you cheated. I’m not sure what Bora Bora’s extradition policy is.”

  An uneasy look passed over Sam’s face as he forced a chuckle.

  “Okay. Since it’s not cheating, what is it man? Is it the baby thing?”

  The look in Sam’s eyes told Michael, that was it. Sam’s skin paled and he dropped his gaze to the ground.

  Michael felt like he should say something. Reassure his brother in law that he could do this. “It’s not the end of the world. There’s always adoption.” He reached out his hand and rested it on Sam’s arm. It felt strange, but he forced himself to keep it there.

  Sam stared down at Michael’s fingers and then up to his face. “I don’t know. That wasn’t what McKenna’s dream has been. I don’t even know if I’m part of that dream anymore.”

  Michael opened his lips to say something, but then closed them. How was he supposed to advise his family on something that he himself was struggling with? Relationships were a mystery that it seemed he could never solve.

  “Listen, all I know is pulling away isn’t the solution either. You need to face these issues head on. You can fix what’s broken. You just need to try.” His words echoed in his ears as he dropped his hand and shoved them into his front pockets.

  Why was he even talking? He was telling Sam to not do the very thing he had done. Running away from New York—from Daisy—was probably the stupidest decision he’d ever made. Why did he think avoidance was the solution to all his problems? If anything, it just created more.

  Sam nodded and shrugged, turning his attention over to the chef who had clapped his hands like a school teacher. Anna and McKenna made their way over and stood next to Michael.

  Grateful for the distraction, Michael leaned over and nudged Anna with his shoulder. “You’re back,” he said, giving her a smile.

  Anna pinched her lips together and nodded.

  “You’re like a moth to a flame,” he whispered.

  “Excuse me,” the sous chef said in a deep French accent.

  Michael turned to see the man staring him down. “Yes?” Michael said, snapping to attention.

  “It is important that you listen to our directions,” he said, emphasizing his words with a jab of his finger.

  Michael held up his hands and nodded. “Of course. I apologize.”

  The man gave him a final pointed look and then went on to introduce himself as Pierre. Once he started talking about the difference between a hollandaise and a béarnaise sauce, Michael tuned out.

  Watching Anna nod and smile as she studied the sous chef, captivated his attention. She looked so serious as she jotted a few notes down on the pad of paper that Pierre had supplied her with.

  “What are you writing?” Michael asked, nudging her with his elbow and peeking over her shoulder to see her notes.

  The pad of paper flew to Anna’s chest as she narrowed her eyes. “No cheating,” she whispered.

  Michael widened his eyes. “Cheating? It’s called marriage. What’s yours is mine.” He shifted around, trying to get a look at her paper.

  She chuckled. “That’s for a real marriage. This, honey, is a fake one. Those rules don’t apply.”

  Michael plastered on a hurt expression as he brought his hand to his heart. “That’s no way to talk to the husband that you swore to love your entire life.”

  Pierre cleared his throat, and Michael turned to see his glare. “Perhaps, Mr. Michael would like to give us a demonstration as he seems so confident in his cooking ability that he feels that it is not important to pay attention.”

  Pierre waved his hand at the stove and continued to stare Michael down.

  “Me?” Michael pointed to his chest. “You want me to cook?”

  “Unless you feel that this is a task you cannot do.” Pierre’s accent did not hide the challenge to his words.

  Michael was never one to back down from anything. “I can cook. I’ll make whatever you want. Scratch that”—Michael held up his pointer finger—“I’ll make double of whatever it is that you want.”

  Pierre’s eyebrows went up. “You will demonstrate a hollandaise and a béarnaise sauce?”

  Michael swallowed. “Yes,” he said and then cleared his throat.

  Pierre grabbed two sauce pans and set them on the stove. “Very well. I’m excited to watch you work.” He waved at McKenna and Sam. “Feel free to get started. I have a very strong feeling that we will not be eating for a while.”

  McKenna nodded. She looked uncertain as she brought her gaze over to Michael. He shot her a confident smile. Maybe this would be a good thing. If the pressure was taken off of McKenna and put on him, maybe she would let her guard down enough to be vulnerable. Right now, that seemed like the first step in getting her and Sam to talk.

  Pierre led them over to a stove on the far end of the kitchen, so Michael turned and glanced down at Anna. She was studying the ingredients laid out in front of them. Her brows pushed together as she chewed her lip.

  “What’s wrong?” Michael asked. He was ready to focus on something other than his sister’s failing marriage. Or how to fix it, when he couldn’t even solve his own problems.

  “I don’t know how to make any of this,” she said as she sighed and blew a strand of hair from her face.

  Michael shrugged. “We can figure this out. It can’t be that hard.”

  “Are you going to start?” Pierre asked from behind them.

  Michael turned and nodded. “Of course. We’re just doing the pre-cooking stretch.”

  Pierre’s manicured eyebrows rose. “Pre-cooking stretch?”

  “Um, yeah.” Michael smiled at him. “Only after it, can I work the magic.”

  Pierre nodded and then turned, muttering “American,” under his breath.

  When he turned back to Anna, she saw him staring at her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Why are you being so weird?” She grabbed the notecard on the counter and started reading it.

  “How am I being weird?” he asked.

  She brought her gaze up to meet his and then moved to grab a few of what looked like tiny purple onions. She held them in her hand as she continued studying the card.

  “Well, you’re acting strange about Javier and now Pierre. Are you jealous of foreign guys?” She put the card down and picked up a knife and cut into the onion thing.

  Michael leaned his hip against the counter and watched her as she peeled off the skin. “What are you doing?” he asked, hoping that turning the attention to her would help dispel the feeling of awkwardness that had settled in his gut.

  “These are shallots. We n
eed to chop and sauté them.” She glanced over at him. “I thought you were this cooking guru. You seemed confident enough to commit us to making two sauces.”

  He shot her a sheepish look as he picked up a shallot and started copying her. He hadn’t meant to do that. Sometimes situations just got away from him. “Yeah, sorry.”

  Anna shrugged. “I’m used to it. You can be rash when it comes to decisions you make.”

  He wanted to respond. To tell her that it wasn’t true. But the more he thought about it, the truer it became. He was rash. He’d always been. It was his lack of thinking things through that had gotten him into the Daisy situation.

  “I’m sorry,” Anna said. Her tone had softened.

  He glanced over at her. What did she have to apologize for? He was the idiot, not her. “Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re right.” He pushed the knife into the shallot, and it clinked when he hit the cutting board. After both ends were off, he peeled the skin. The shallot was tiny.

  Anna was watching him when he glanced back up. She shrugged and returned to dicing. “Well, I could be nicer about it.”

  “Yeah. You could. But sometimes us boneheaded men wouldn’t pick up on that.”

  She giggled as she dumped the shallot pieces into a bowl. She was quiet, so he peeked over at her. There was a contorted look on her face as she stared at the pieces he was cutting.

  “Am I doing this wrong?” he asked, glancing down at the mangled mess on his cutting board.

  “No,” she said and then shook her head. “I mean, yes. You’re pulverizing that poor shallot.”

  She moved over to him and grabbed onto his hand. “You need to cut it so the pieces are uniform.” She glanced back at him, and her expression was serious, like she felt the zaps of electricity that raced up his skin from her touch.

  “Uniform?” he asked. He swallowed, hoping it would return his voice to normal.

  “Yes. This piece?” She held up a section that was the size of half his pinkie finger. “It’s too big.” She brought it back down to the cutting board. Then she reached over and touched his hand.