watching the TV reports outlining the damage, filling them in on every single detail, flashing up familiar scenes of devastation, until Kat’s head buzzed with overload. She glanced at Marco and then away, focusing on her plate until the silence began to cloy and she was desperate to break it.
When it got unbearable, she finally said, “So, I hear you’re up for a Hall of Fame award at the FFA dinner next month.”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“You taking anyone?” she asked casually.
When his gaze met hers, she winced. That totally sounded as if she was fishing, when it was definitely not the case.
“You, if you want.”
“Sure.” Her response was automatic. The Football Federation of Australia’s annual awards dinner, a three-course dinner in a five-star Sydney hotel, was always a good night. Ironically, in a nation where sport ruled supreme, soccer barely rated a mention on the national networks, and that included the biggest soccer awards event of the year. Which suited her low-key life down to the ground.
June. Three weeks away. Three weeks plus ten weeks means... She scowled. No. Don’t think about that. “So you’re staying in Australia until then?”
He nodded. “I have the coaching clinics to set up, plus a new shoot for Skins. And a guest appearance on The Big Game when the new season starts in October.”
She smiled. “Still in demand. I knew that knee injury wouldn’t slow you down.”
His mouth curved. “Always right, aren’t you?”
“Always.”
As they finished their food, Kat asked, “So what else is news?” Marco took such a long time to answer that she glanced up from her empty plate with a frown.
“Ruby’s on the cover of next month’s Playboy, ” he finally said.
Oh. She waited for him to share, and eventually, with a clatter of fork on plate and a deep sigh, he did. “She’s my ex-wife. I shouldn’t care what she does.”
Kat nodded. “True.”
“We’ve been apart for four years, divorced for two.”
“Yes.”
He sighed, linking his fingers together on the table. “Call me old-fashioned, but I draw the line at having my ex-wife’s hoo-ha on display for every guy who’s got ten bucks to spare. Those things are private.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I agree.”
He picked up the fork and continued to toy with the remains of his food in silence for a few more moments. “She didn’t even ask me. I don’t care about the whole media thing. I just would’ve liked to be forewarned.”
She nodded again, knowing that the situation cut deeper than he let on. It wasn’t about the damage to his reputation, although the media attention had already started to swell following the sneak peek of Ruby’s cover two days ago. It was more personal than that. It went to the core of who Marco was—a deeply honorable man who respected women, who valued manners and was known in the French futball league as a true gentleman, despite his multitude of girlfriends and on-field arrogance.
“You know, we should get married.”
She stilled, the fork halfway to her mouth. “I’m sorry. Did you just say...we should get married? ”
He nodded, his expression deadly serious as he leaned in. “Totally.”
She gaped for one second. “Why?”
He stared at her, as if waiting for her to say something more. But when she just continued to gape at him in shocked silence, he shrugged and said, “Why not?”
Because you should be madly in love with me when you propose. Kat swallowed the words as her brow dipped. “Because we don’t have to?”
“So you’re not worried about your pregnancy hitting the papers?” He tipped his head.
“Of course I am. I’m worried about everything hitting the papers. But I can’t live my life in a bubble because of it.” She eyed him. “Anyway, what does that have to do with marriage?”
“Because we can lessen the damage. If we—”
She held up a hand. “I’m sorry, what?”
He sighed. “Look, just hear me out. For over
When it got unbearable, she finally said, “So, I hear you’re up for a Hall of Fame award at the FFA dinner next month.”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“You taking anyone?” she asked casually.
When his gaze met hers, she winced. That totally sounded as if she was fishing, when it was definitely not the case.
“You, if you want.”
“Sure.” Her response was automatic. The Football Federation of Australia’s annual awards dinner, a three-course dinner in a five-star Sydney hotel, was always a good night. Ironically, in a nation where sport ruled supreme, soccer barely rated a mention on the national networks, and that included the biggest soccer awards event of the year. Which suited her low-key life down to the ground.
June. Three weeks away. Three weeks plus ten weeks means... She scowled. No. Don’t think about that. “So you’re staying in Australia until then?”
He nodded. “I have the coaching clinics to set up, plus a new shoot for Skins. And a guest appearance on The Big Game when the new season starts in October.”
She smiled. “Still in demand. I knew that knee injury wouldn’t slow you down.”
His mouth curved. “Always right, aren’t you?”
“Always.”
As they finished their food, Kat asked, “So what else is news?” Marco took such a long time to answer that she glanced up from her empty plate with a frown.
“Ruby’s on the cover of next month’s Playboy, ” he finally said.
Oh. She waited for him to share, and eventually, with a clatter of fork on plate and a deep sigh, he did. “She’s my ex-wife. I shouldn’t care what she does.”
Kat nodded. “True.”
“We’ve been apart for four years, divorced for two.”
“Yes.”
He sighed, linking his fingers together on the table. “Call me old-fashioned, but I draw the line at having my ex-wife’s hoo-ha on display for every guy who’s got ten bucks to spare. Those things are private.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I agree.”
He picked up the fork and continued to toy with the remains of his food in silence for a few more moments. “She didn’t even ask me. I don’t care about the whole media thing. I just would’ve liked to be forewarned.”
She nodded again, knowing that the situation cut deeper than he let on. It wasn’t about the damage to his reputation, although the media attention had already started to swell following the sneak peek of Ruby’s cover two days ago. It was more personal than that. It went to the core of who Marco was—a deeply honorable man who respected women, who valued manners and was known in the French futball league as a true gentleman, despite his multitude of girlfriends and on-field arrogance.
“You know, we should get married.”
She stilled, the fork halfway to her mouth. “I’m sorry. Did you just say...we should get married? ”
He nodded, his expression deadly serious as he leaned in. “Totally.”
She gaped for one second. “Why?”
He stared at her, as if waiting for her to say something more. But when she just continued to gape at him in shocked silence, he shrugged and said, “Why not?”
Because you should be madly in love with me when you propose. Kat swallowed the words as her brow dipped. “Because we don’t have to?”
“So you’re not worried about your pregnancy hitting the papers?” He tipped his head.
“Of course I am. I’m worried about everything hitting the papers. But I can’t live my life in a bubble because of it.” She eyed him. “Anyway, what does that have to do with marriage?”
“Because we can lessen the damage. If we—”
She held up a hand. “I’m sorry, what?”
He sighed. “Look, just hear me out. For over
Similar Books
