Free Heather Graham by Dante's Daughter

“It is the Cougar!”
    “Hi,” Kent said, stepping forward and bending down on a knee to offer him a handshake.
    The little boy looked at the hand touching his as if it were magic. “Hi,” he breathed.
    Katie glanced past them as she heard the sound of hurried footsteps padding across the carpet. A woman was approaching with another, smaller boy in tow. She was in her early thirties, very pretty if a little harassed, and obviously very distressed. She caught the little boy by a shoulder and pulled him to her, staring at Kent a little awed herself and looking very apologetic.
    “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hart. You really are the Cougar, aren’t you? I’m—I mean, we’re fans. From Sarasota. We flew out for the game. I told Matthew that he could get closer. I didn’t mean for him to bother you. I know that you don’t care much for the press and the like and I’m so sorry—it’s just that he’s such a fan—”
    “Please!” Kent interrupted with a quiet laugh, rising from his knee. Katie noted that his tone remained quiet and a little reflective when he spoke again. “I’m not fond of the press, but I’m very fond of children, and it was a real pleasure to meet Matthew—and his mother and his little brother, I presume.” He smiled at Matthew. “You live in Sarasota, huh?”
    It took Matthew a second to find his tongue. “Yes, sir!”
    “What’s your last name, Matthew?”
    “Jenkins. I’m Matt Jenkins, sir!”
    “Are you with us even when we’re down?” Kent teased.
    “Oh, yes!” Matthew assured him solemnly.
    Kent ruffled his hair and looked over Matthew’s head to his mother again. “Mrs. Jenkins, call our main offices in March if you get a chance. Some of us do a workshop with local kids during the summer, and I’d love to see Matt there. If you call the offices, I’ll have left his name and they’ll set it up for Matt.”
    “Oh!” Mrs. Jenkins exclaimed. “Oh, I—thank you so very much.”
    Kent gave her a crooked smile and wave, taking Katie’s elbow again. But Mrs. Jenkins was gazing at her now. “Oh, and thank you, too, miss, for allowing the interruption.”
    Katie was totally startled by the woman’s sincere words. She didn’t want to tell the nice Mrs. Jenkins that she was welcome to take Kent Hart and go hang him!
    And apparently Mrs. Jenkins was assuming she was much more to Kent Hart than what she was.
    Katie managed a weak smile. “He loves kids,” she mimicked a little stupidly, remembering then that she was “the press” of which he wasn’t quite so fond.
    The press, yes, but she was also Dante Hudson’s daughter. Then, too, she was the woman who had almost committed a stupid form of suicide before rolling around in a ditch, passionately entwined in his arms.
    Mrs. Jenkins waved and pulled her son away. Katie found herself propelled into the elevator.
    “What floor?” Kent asked her. Ridiculously, she couldn’t remember. With impatience he plucked the key from her fingers, checked her door number, and punched a button.
    She couldn’t help but stare at him as the elevator silently moved along. He’d really had a nice smile for Matthew. He did like kids—a lot more than he liked reporters or women or both.
    Or maybe it was just her, and very possibly she deserved his feelings. We started off wrong, she thought a little wistfully. I couldn’t help remembering the past, and I didn’t give him a chance to forget it.
    The elevator door slid open, and Kent led her along the hall. When he slipped the key into her door, she thought in a moment’s panic that he intended to come in. He didn’t. He prodded her through the doorway but didn’t follow.
    “I have plans for tomorrow evening,” he told her brusquely. “But I’ll bring you your things in the morning. We can take a drive along the coast and have brunch or something. I don’t know if you can get what you want in one morning, but you can make a start if you like.”
    She could read nothing from his stoney