Free Game On by Tracy Solheim Page A

lined up uniformly behind pristine, postage-stamp lawns.
    “Money. Isn’t that what women are always fired up about? That and shoes,” Donovan joked as he matched Shane stride for stride.
    “Last time I checked, Gabe made some pretty good cash.” Shane swerved to avoid a small sinkhole in the pavement.
    “Dude, a woman like that can
never
have too much money. Their wedding alone had to cost a fortune. They held it on a beach in Kauai with nearly five hundred guests. Those people partied for
three whole days!
” Donovan checked his stride to look for oncoming cars before crossing a side street.
    Shane paused to look at Donovan quizzically.
    “You know this
how
?” he asked as they took off at a jog again.
    “
TMZ. Access Hollywood
. Hell, they had a four-page spread in
People
. You didn’t see that?” Donovan looked at him incredulously.
    “Nope.” Shane shook his head. “It’s not my preferred bathroom reading.”
    Donovan gave a little snort.
    “I figured you’d have a free subscription to some of those rags, as often as you’ve appeared in them,” he teased. “Anyway, Carly handled the little Paris Hilton wannabe. She even tried to make friends with the ugly dog, but the little rat was just bad to the bone. Even a diamond dog collar couldn’t make it look pretty. It was growlin’ at its own shadow.”
    Shane had no problem picturing Carly reading Gabe’s wife the riot act. Her crazy blue eyes would be wild in her agitation. Her breasts all perky as she stomped around reciting the signing bonus rules chapter and verse. He was getting excited just thinking about the two women sparring. Despite a Herculean effort during the past week to banish Dorothy from his fantasies, he hadn’t been too successful.
    “I missed a girl fight?” he asked reverently.
    Donovan laughed. “Not quite, but
that
probably would have made
TMZ
.”
    “Damn.” Shane slowed briefly to call to the Labrador retriever who’d been sidetracked from the jog when a passing scent caught his attention.
    “Probably would have been a good fight, too. According to the office scuttlebutt, there’s no love lost between Carly and the little bridezilla.” Donovan bent down to massage his knee.
    Shane lifted his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. “How’s that?” he asked through his shirt.
    “Who knows,” Donovan said as he stretched his leg. “Probably has something to do with her being jealous of Carly and Gabe. She practically accused Carly of purposely withholding his bonus because she had a thing for him.”
    “Carly and Harrelson?” His pulse, already racing from his run, ratcheted up a point or two.
    Donovan looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “No,” he said. “They’re just friends. Carly was recovering from a serious burnout in a relationship. Gabe is more in touch with his feminine side. In fact, I’m surprised he even married, if you get my drift. Anyway, he was more like a confidant to Carly while she got over that crazy Italian soccer player she was engaged to. Guess Gabe’s new wife is just the jealous type.”
    She wasn’t the only jealous type, Shane thought. Not that he’d admit to being jealous; more like curious. The first opportunity he’d gotten after overhearing Carly’s conversation in her office, Shane had searched the Internet for details about her former fiancé. The story played out like a soap opera within the European media, specifically the tabloids. Maxim Vicente charmed “Darling Carly” while having a secret relationship—and a child—with a married woman, eventually leaving Carly a month before the wedding. Unfortunately, the paparazzi painted Carly as an unstable victim, unable to hold on to her man.
    “About you and Carly . . .” Donovan’s sharp tone brought Shane out of his reverie. Neither man had broached the subject of the incident in Carly’s office the other day. Shane had hoped his friend would just let it lie, but apparently not. Donovan stood facing