Instead, he’d ended up with the drunk blonde in his pool who couldn’t care less which athlete she was with, as long as she got to say she slept with someone from the team.

Looked like Ten-Spot was going to get lucky with both of them, because after Trevor made it clear to Petra that he wasn’t interested, she’d pouted for about three seconds before joining Audrey in making Ten’s night.

Which suited Trevor just fine. He was tired, and he needed to figure out how to better help Haven.

He’d do better tomorrow.

FOUR

WHEN TREVOR GOT UP THE NEXT MORNING, HE FOUND Haven in the sunroom, the smell of coffee drawing him there. He grabbed the pot and poured himself a cup.

“Hey, you’re up already.”

“Yes.” She sat at the table, her laptop and notepad sitting next to her. “Hammond was here early, cleaning up in the kitchen. He makes great coffee, too.” She looked around. “Where are your . . . friends?”

“They left not long after you went up to bed.”

“All of them?”

He crooked a smile. “Yeah. All of them. Petra isn’t my girlfriend. Or even a one-night stand, Haven.”

She diverted her attention to her laptop. “It’s not any of my business who you sleep with.”

Yeah, right. Except she’d looked irritated last night. And he had to admit that made him curious. Was she jealous? Why would she be? Was she interested in him? He looked over at her, so focused on whatever it was she was doing on her laptop.

“Ready to work so soon?”

“Whenever you are.”

“Coffee first. And then breakfast. Have you eaten yet?”

“I had some yogurt.”

He poured a cup of coffee. “Yogurt? That’s it?”

“It’s enough for me.”

He laughed. “No, it’s not. How about some bacon and eggs and pancakes? Maybe some biscuits and gravy?”

She finally drew her attention away from her laptop and looked at him. “Hammond’s not here. He said he had errands to run.”

“I told you I know how to cook.”

She gave him the once-over. “Maybe I should cook.”

He laughed. “I think you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Really. I’m good. The yogurt was fine.”

“It’s not fine. And I need to eat anyway. I need fuel for the day, and breakfast should be your biggest meal.”

“Uh, no thanks, really. I’m good.”

“Come with me. You can sit with me and drink your coffee while I’m cooking.”

She seemed to agree with that, following him into the kitchen and taking a seat at the island.

He pulled out several skillets. “I’ll make extra, just in case you change your mind.” She looked like she could use some calories, like she’d lost some weight since the last time he’d seen her.

“What are you working on over there?” he asked as he put bacon in the pan, then cracked eggs in a bowl.

“Just the outline for our program together.”

Deciding against pancakes, he took out bread and popped some in the toaster. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”

“It can wait until after breakfast.”

“Do you like orange juice?”

“What?”

“Orange juice. Do you like it?”

“Oh. Yes, I do. Why?”

He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. “I also have carrot juice, apple juice, and cranberry juice. What would you prefer?”

“Um . . . orange juice is fine.”

He poured two glasses, then flipped the bacon over and got out two plates.

“Really, Trevor, I’m not hungry.”

He slid a smile her way. “No one said you had to eat.”

He finished the bacon, then put the eggs in the pan. In a couple of minutes, they were scrambled perfectly. He split them onto two plates and slid one in her direction. Not paying attention to her, he pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar and started eating.

It didn’t take her long to push her laptop to the side, grab the fork he’d laid on the plate, and dive into the food.

Never underestimate the power of the smell of bacon. She ate at least half of what he’d put on her plate, which he’d call a success.

When she finished, she pushed the plate to the side. “That was really good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re a good cook, Trevor.”

He leaned back in his chair. “This surprises you?”

“I don’t know why it should. You’re good at so many things.”

He shot her a grin. “Darlin’, you don’t know the half of it.”

She rolled her eyes and slid off the bar stool. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.” He got up and took her plate, and his, to the sink, rinsed them, and loaded them in the dishwasher. Then he washed the skillet.

“You’re just on your best behavior because I’m here, right?” she asked as she once again took her seat at the breakfast bar.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“First you cook, then you do dishes, too?”

He stacked the skillet on the dish rack, then grabbed the towel to dry his hands. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“This isn’t the Trevor I know.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

She studied him. “Maybe I don’t.”

“Good. Then you’ll have a lot of questions to ask for your super feature story on me, won’t you?”

She laughed. “I guess I will. Which, now that breakfast is over, we should get started on.”

“Sure. Let’s spread out a little. The breakfast bar isn’t comfortable. Where would you like to go?”

Haven looked around, trying to decide where to set up. “Uh, living room.” Trevor would likely be more at ease, more at home there, and more amenable to answering her initial questions. Plus it seemed a little more formal than the sunroom.

“That’ll work.”

He took a seat in one of the leather chairs, while Haven spread out on the sofa, her notes and laptop in front of her.

“So how’s this going to work?” he asked.

“I’m going to start by asking some background questions, just a few things we’ll fill in on the narrative side of the equation. After we’re through with all the background story, we’ll start filming.”

“Which will consist of?”

“You at work. And at home. Where you grew up, where you went to high school and college, plus some of you at leisure activities. People want to know about you—who Trevor Shay the person is, as well as the athlete. I’ve looked into some of the charities you sponsor. I’d like to showcase those.”

“I’d like that, too.”

“Then we’re set.”

“Do I get to interview you, too?” he asked.

“Ha-ha. And no. You already know all there is to know about me.”

“Do I?”

“Sure. We’ve known each other since college.”

“We’ve been around each other, Haven. But do we know each other all that well?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Look. If you knew everything there was to know about me, you could write the background without needing to interview me, right? But you can’t, because while we went to college together, we didn’t really hang out, did we?”

“No, we definitely didn’t.”

“And it’s not like we’ve spent a lot of time around each other. We know each other because of your mom and dad. We’ve hung out some, but you don’t really know me all that well. And I don’t know you, either.”

“Do you know everyone who interviews you?”

“No. But you’re the daughter of someone I greatly admired. Someone I thought of as a mentor. You’re not just a random interviewer. You’re someone I’d like to get to know better.”

She didn’t understand why he was interested. Or why it even mattered. “You’re certainly playing a different tune now than you did in college. You couldn’t wait to get away from me then.”

He dipped his head, then gave her a very sexy smile. “In college it was different. I wasn’t much for learning back then. The only thing I was interested in was the ball—either football or baseball. I wanted to be out on the field playing. Academics got in my way. And you represented academics.”

“I see.” Not exactly the same way she’d seen it back then. “So you saw me as a way to help you pass your classes so you could stay in school.”

“Something like that. Why? Was I mean to you?”

“No. Not at all. You just did everything in your power to avoid studying.”

He laughed. “Yeah. That really wasn’t my thing.”

“So I noticed. Unfortunately, charm could only take you so far, Trevor. At some point you had to get a passing grade.”

“And you helped with that. So thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. Though I don’t know that I really helped, since you managed to elude most of our study sessions, or rarely paid attention to what I was trying to say.”

“Hey, I passed, so it sank in. Trust me, you helped.”

The earnest way he looked at her, the easy smile on his face, and, oh, God, she could get so lost in the sea green of his eyes, how dark and long his lashes were, and his mouth—

“So . . . where do we start?”

Haven blinked, and realized she’d been staring at him. He’d done this to her in college, too, making her lose her focus.

Damn the man anyway. And now he was smiling at her, as if he knew exactly the kind of effect he had on her.

“Let’s start with your childhood.” At his wary look, she said, “We’ll walk gently through here, and if anything makes you uncomfortable, we’ll stop.”

She turned on her recorder. Trevor looked down at it. “No.”

She switched it off. “No?”

“Not for this part.”

She didn’t know why, but she wouldn’t ask, at least not yet. “Okay. I’ll just make notes on my laptop. Anything you’re uncomfortable with, we’ll discuss.”