Free Risky Game by Tracy Solheim Page A

below her ear. His breath was warm as he lingered a moment before whispering just loud enough for the coach to overhear, “I’ll see you tonight.”
    Shay didn’t bother answering. She couldn’t. After that kiss, she was too busy reaching a hand out for the wall, trying to keep her body from melting into a puddle on the floor.

Seven
    Shay shouldn’t have been shocked by Brody’s house, but she was. It wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. Not that she was expecting a stripper pole in the living room, but she wasn’t prepared for the bachelor athlete’s house to be so—homey. Comfortable oversized furniture took up most of the great room. Books and magazines—surprisingly suitable for both men and women—were spread out on the oak coffee table next to a well-used backgammon set. Most startling of all was the basket of toys in the corner of the room.
    “Somehow, I figured there’d be more TVs and gaming systems decorating your place, as well as . . . other things.” Embarrassed by the path her thoughts were taking, she turned away, opening the wide double doors of the Sub-Zero refrigerator in the roomy kitchen.
    Casually dressed in a pair of well-fitting jeans and a designer T-shirt, Brody leaned a hip against the granite counter, watching intently as she inspected the contents of the vegetable bin. “Sorry to disappoint, but my mom isn’t a big fan of all that crap. There’s a TV downstairs in the man cave if there’s something you just have to watch.”
    Shay jerked her gaze back to Brody. “You didn’t tell me you live with your mother?”
    He had the audacity to laugh. “I don’t. But she and the rest of my family visit often.”
    “How often?”
    “I don’t know. One of them is here at least once a week. Does it matter?” His lips curved into that dangerous smile. “I’m more curious about the other things you pictured in my house. What were you thinking of, Texas?”
    She let out an exasperated sigh, ignoring his second question. “It does matter, Brody, if you eat what they’re eating. I’m putting you on a strict diet here; one you can’t veer off of if you want to keep your blood sugar level.”
    Brody scoffed at her. “My mom’s a diabetic. I can have what she has.”
    “Oh and that’s been really successful so far.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Look, Brody, just because your mama has diabetes doesn’t mean you’re going to get it. Even if you do, you burn twice, maybe three times as much glucose as she does just by virtue of the fact you’re a professional athlete. You can’t control your blood sugar the way she does. But your low blood sugar may be caused by something else. Didn’t your doctor mention a thing called reactive hypoglycemia?”
    His smile long gone, he remained silent, which Shay took as a no.
    “You
have
been to a doctor for this?” She was a little afraid of what his answer might be.
    “Of course,” he replied, his tone indignant. “My cousin keeps an eye on my blood sugar.”
    “And your cousin is a medical doctor, right?”
    Brody crossed his arms over his chest. “Funny. He graduated first in his class at Tufts.”
    “So your family knows about your blood sugar issues.”
    “Just Jerry, but he’s not talking.”
    Shay pulled a bag of arugula out of her shopping bag and began searching the well-stocked cabinets for a colander. “You either paid him off with Super Bowl tickets or your Machiavellian agent has something on the good doctor.”
    The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t answer.
    “Are you sure your agent isn’t the leader of a Mexican drug cartel?” She mumbled as she rinsed the lettuce in the sink.
    “I’m sure. Now, tell me what I need to know about this reactive hypoglycemia.”
    “It’s pretty simple, actually. Hypoglycemia occurs when your body uses up more blood glucose than your food intake supplies. Ninety percent of blood glucose in the body is used and disposed of by the skeletal muscles.