Free Winner Takes All by Erin Kern Page A

bench him altogether.”
    “Well, I guess that’s a start,” she muttered, grateful he was at least willing to heed her caution.
    He blinked and his mouth twitched. She almost swore he was about to smile, but that wasn’t possible. Because Blake Carpenter didn’t smile.
    “I don’t like people interfering with my work, Ms. Turner,” he told her.
    Gee, really?
    “And I don’t like people telling me what to do,” he added.
    Again. Shock.
    “You’re used to having your way, aren’t you?” he asked with a tilt of his head.
    Always. “Sometimes,” she lied.
    “Well, so am I,” he stated.
    “No kidding? I never would have guessed that.”
    This time he did smile. A slow curling of his lips that matched the curling of her toes in her cross trainers. “So who do you think will win, Ms. Turner?”
    “You might if you ever stop calling me that.”
    He grin grew. “Why would I want to do that?”
    Because it turns me on. “Because it’s too formal. Just call me Annabelle.”
    “That’s not why you don’t like it,” he countered in a low voice.
    They stared at each other like two caged fighters waiting for the other to wave the white flag. Only Annabelle didn’t give up, and she wasn’t about to start now. If Blake Carpenter thought she’d admit defeat, he had another thing coming.
    She lifted a shoulder in what she hoped came off as nonchalant. “Call me whatever you want, Mr. Carpenter. It doesn’t really matter.”
    “Oh, but it does,” he argued, then leaned even closer. So close that she could smell his shampoo mixed with his early morning sweat. “Because you don’t like being defied. You need that control, don’t you?”
    She lifted one brow. “You’re going to talk to me about control?” she countered, rather than give one hint he was right. Because she did need a certain amount of control. Because if she didn’t, things tended to spin out of control. Like a cheating spouse. Like a mother with failing health and no one to share the burden, worry, and stress.
    “You’re right, I do like to be in control,” he admitted. “The difference between you and me is I have no problem admitting it.”
    She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Mostly to keep him from noticing her heart thumping against her ribs. Because he’d already noticed way too much about her.
    “At least I’m not afraid to admit when I need help.”
    He sat still for a moment, she swore, not even breathing. “You think I need help coaching this team?”
    “No, that I think you can do. Probably better than anyone else could. I’m just wondering how much longer you’re willing to go with that bad knee of yours.”
    A muscle in his square jaw ticked. Direct hit.
    “You should know enough about old injuries to know they never fully go away,” he muttered.
    “True.” She nodded. “But I think we both know it’s more than just an old injury. It’s still a problem for you. In fact, I’m willing to even bet you still take medication for it.”
    “What’s your point, Ms. Turner?” he asked.
    She chewed her lower lip. “My point is that I can help you with it. I see you favoring and rubbing it when you think no one else is watching.”
    “In other words, you can’t take your eyes off me,” he countered.
    She lifted her gaze to the ceiling and prayed for patience. “Joke all you want, but I’m serious.” She tilted her head to one side and studied him. It was barely lunchtime and his strong jaw already showed a five-o’clock shadow. The kind that could rub a woman’s skin raw.
    “It’s just an old injury that aches sometimes. I have it under control.”
    “Really?” she asked. When he nodded, she continued. “You know when most people come to me, it’s only because their doctor has ordered physical therapy. Most of them don’t think they really need it. But they’re always glad they came.” She snagged a tablet of Post-it notes from his desk and a pen from the holder. Then