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I'm British, buttoned-up, and at forty-two, I've built my career on control. Reckless? Not my style. Younger men with devastating smiles? Absolutely not.
As the first female head legal counsel for the Boston Breakers, I have something to prove. So when I met him at a Montana dude ranch, we kept it anonymous. No names. No real life. Just two nights of freedom. He called me Catnip. I called him Lucky. And for once, I let go.
We were never supposed to see each other again.
Ten weeks later, Lucky walks into my office—all six-foot-five of him, infuriatingly thrilled to see me. Only now he has a real name: Law Danson, the Breakers' thirty-year-old star pitcher with a playboy reputation and a morality clause threatening his dream of playing for his hometown team.
Oh, and I'm pregnant. A miracle I was told would never happen after years of heartbreak and miscarriages.
Law's all in. He's golden-retriever energy wrapped in a baseball uniform, shouting "Catnip!" across hallways and looking at me like I hung the moon. But if anyone discovers this pregnancy was an accident, his contract is finished and my credibility goes with it.
So we're fake dating to protect his career and my hard-won reputation. The press buys it. The owners love it. And somewhere between staged kisses and his hand on my stomach, the lines blur.
He wants to be the father he never had. I'm terrified I'll lose this baby like I lost the others. He thinks I'm extraordinary. I think he's impossibly young. But maybe, just maybe, the best love stories don't follow the rules.
If love really is a game... this time I'll stop playing defense and let myself be caught.
I'm British, buttoned-up, and at forty-two, I've built my career on control. Reckless? Not my style. Younger men with devastating smiles? Absolutely not.
As the first female head legal counsel for the Boston Breakers, I have something to prove. So when I met him at a Montana dude ranch, we kept it anonymous. No names. No real life. Just two nights of freedom. He called me Catnip. I called him Lucky. And for once, I let go.
We were never supposed to see each other again.
Ten weeks later, Lucky walks into my office—all six-foot-five of him, infuriatingly thrilled to see me. Only now he has a real name: Law Danson, the Breakers' thirty-year-old star pitcher with a playboy reputation and a morality clause threatening his dream of playing for his hometown team.
Oh, and I'm pregnant. A miracle I was told would never happen after years of heartbreak and miscarriages.
Law's all in. He's golden-retriever energy wrapped in a baseball uniform, shouting "Catnip!" across hallways and looking at me like I hung the moon. But if anyone discovers this pregnancy was an accident, his contract is finished and my credibility goes with it.
So we're fake dating to protect his career and my hard-won reputation. The press buys it. The owners love it. And somewhere between staged kisses and his hand on my stomach, the lines blur.
He wants to be the father he never had. I'm terrified I'll lose this baby like I lost the others. He thinks I'm extraordinary. I think he's impossibly young. But maybe, just maybe, the best love stories don't follow the rules.
If love really is a game... this time I'll stop playing defense and let myself be caught.