Jaci Burton - Straddling the Line

“How much acreage do you have?”

“Four acres. Like I said, I don’t like having neighbors I can hear.”

“I’d say you’re good to go, then.”

He directed her toward the back of the house. “There’s an exercise room back here, along with a spa and a sauna. And then this door leads out to the pool deck.”

Haven was amazed by all the equipment. “You have an entire gym in here.”

“Yeah. It’s handy, especially during the off-season, if I need to have my trainer over for workouts.”

She turned to face him. “You have an off-season?”

He laughed. “A few weeks here and there. Come on, we’ll head on over to the other wing.”

As they passed the staircase, she stopped him. “What’s upstairs?”

“My bedroom.” He gave her a grin. “Want to see it?”

“Actually, I do.”

He seemed to hesitate. “I think housekeeping staff is in there right now cleaning. So maybe another time?”

“Oh. Sure.”

“Come on.”

He walked her across a long hallway to another section of the house.

“This is your wing. Like I said, you’ll have plenty of privacy here. There are four bedrooms here, and an office. You can use the office whenever you need to, and choose whatever bedroom you want. Each one has its own bathroom.”

She wandered into each of the bedrooms, all of them bigger than her apartment in New York City. She chose one with mocha walls and a beautiful bed, plus an oversized bathroom that just felt perfect to her. Plus, her bedroom had a view of the pool and the acreage out back.

“This one will definitely do.”

“Great. I’ll go get your bags and bring them up.”

“I’ll help you.”

They did it all in one trip. “I’ll just unpack and change clothes,” she said after Trevor set down her bags.

“Okay. Are you hungry? I’ll get us some dinner ordered.”

“Ordered?”

“I have someone on staff here who cooks. Salmon or steak tonight? Unless you’re vegetarian. Hammond makes kickass tofu stir-fry, too.”

“I’m not vegetarian, and either sounds great to me.”

“Okay. See you downstairs.”

After he shut the door, she shook her head. Not only was she living in a huge house, he had people to help him take care of it.

Did he even live alone, or were there other people here?

A girlfriend, maybe? She hadn’t even asked.

He’d been so polite, too. Not at all like his typical teasing ways. He hadn’t seemed like himself, which was . . . odd.

Haven shrugged it off and chalked it up to maybe Trevor treating her differently because he was doing an interview with her. It wasn’t like before, when she was just Bill Briscoe’s daughter, and he could laugh and tease with her. Though she certainly wouldn’t care either way. She knew when to get into professional mode, and right now she was just . . . Haven. She hoped he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable around her. That was the last thing she needed. She felt uncomfortable enough in her own skin these days.

She took a look around, pretty damned impressed with what she saw. The house was huge, the furnishings expensive but tasteful. He’d obviously put some care and effort into this place, unlike a lot of guys who might just buy a condo and get a couch and a TV and not care. It was clear that he cared, that this place meant something to him.

Trevor had certainly come a long way. Much further than she’d expected. He had a chef, and people to clean his house. He’d certainly surprised the hell out of her. She had no idea he was doing so well for himself. He’d always seemed so laid back. A blue-jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy. She’d just never given much thought to his salary, though she knew he made a lot of money playing both baseball and football. And he had all those endorsement deals, too. He was a popular athlete, both on the field and off.

She went over to the bed where Trevor had laid her suitcases and pulled out her notebook to jot down some notes. She’d known Trevor since his freshman year of college, just like all the guys who’d passed through the university and stayed in the dorm managed by her mom and dad. She’d like to think she knew more about him than anyone else she’d ever interviewed.

But she still had questions, and needed to develop an interesting angle to approach the interviews. There were very few athletes who played dual sports, at least few who did it successfully. Trevor had managed to be lightning quick at tight end for Tampa, and also put up some impressive statistics for the St. Louis Rivers baseball team. How did he do that? And how did the teams feel about a player who couldn’t really give his all to either team? Did his agent negotiate his ability to move between the two? How did his teammates feel about a hotshot player like Trevor dividing his time between the two sports? She was eager to ask those questions.

She had a lot of questions about his personal life, too. Like this house, and his lifestyle.

Would he answer those?

For the first time since her father died, she felt stirrings of excitement about her job.

She unpacked and changed into capris and a short-sleeved shirt. Even though it was late September, it was a very warm day. Maybe Trevor would give her a tour of the grounds.

She took her time walking down the long hallway that connected her wing with the main section of the house. Wide windows gave an expansive view of the wooded area she’d seen while coming up to the house.

It was a beautiful view, and there were so many windows in this place, she understood the appeal.

She wound her way through the myriad of rooms, finding a tall, thin, gray-haired man in the kitchen.

“You must be Hammond.”

He smiled at her. “And you must be Haven.” He wiped his hand on his apron. “Very nice to meet you.”

They shook hands. “You, too. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding. I was just cooking up some steaks for dinner. And now that you’re here, you can tell me how you like yours, since Trevor didn’t know.”

“Medium well, please.”

“Okay, then, Haven. I’ll just get back to dinner.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Trevor is, would you?”

“I saw him heading toward the sunroom a little while ago.”

“Okay, thanks, Hammond.”

She made her way toward the sunroom. At least every room led into another via the hallway, so she couldn’t get lost.

Trevor was on the phone, so she hung back, watching him. Sunlight glinted off his dark hair. His long legs were stretched out and he looked . . . completely relaxed, at ease, so casual, incongruous with this behemoth of a house.

He was living in Wayne Manor. Was he Batman? She smiled at the thought of Trevor as some superhero. On the field, definitely. But off the field? Not really. He wasn’t the type of athlete who made a spectacle of himself. He was very low profile, easygoing, just an everyman kind of guy, not a superstar. Whenever he’d been around her, he’d always seemed so at ease with everyone. Whereas Haven . . . well, she’d never been comfortable around him, had she?

Her thoughts drifted back to the tutoring sessions she’d given Trevor in college. Her father had suggested them, and she’d balked. She’d loved the idea of gaining experience in one of her chosen fields, since back then she hadn’t yet decided between a career in journalism or teaching. So she’d done a lot of tutoring. But spending one-on-one time with Trevor had made her freeze up.

He’d intimidated her, likely because she’d been crazy in love with him—at least the kind of crazy in love a nondescript girl could have been with the unattainable type of athlete Trevor was. He’d only half paid attention to her because she’d been Bill Briscoe’s daughter, and all the guys had worshipped her dad. And when her father had offered her up as a tutor, Trevor had known better than to say no. Besides, he had to pass his classes, or risk losing his scholarship, so he’d agreed.