Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
An hour later, I consider my reflection in the mirror. Black slacks. A short sleeve blouse. My hair tucked behind my ears. A bit of lip gloss. A little mascara. Then my shoulders sag. “Stop being so obsessed with how you look when you see him,” I mutter at my reflection.
“But if you want to look good,” I say back to myself.
Great. Just great. Now I’m talking to myself about how I’m going to dress when I see Jones at work. This is getting ridiculous. Well, you did confirm in advance he was going to be there just in case.
I argue back: but I was planning to wear a skirt today.
It’s not like I’m going to wear it because I think he’ll like my legs. I change out of the pants, tug on a pencil skirt, and head to the corporate offices of the San Francisco Renegades. I march to my office, stopping at Lily’s office on the way in. The door is ajar, so I rap on it.
“Come on in,” she says, then her eyes pop when she sees me. “You look pretty today.”
A flush crawls up my cheeks. I hope it’s not obvious why. Can she see through me? Does she know I’m into one of our players? “Thanks, Lily,” I say as professional as I can be. Which is super professional.
“But you always do,” she adds. “What’s going on today?”
This is why I’m here. To share the good news from this morning. “Sporting World liked my pitch,” I say then I let a smile take over. I’m proud of my accomplishments. I picked the right guy for the right reasons.
“That’s fantastic. I love coverage in national magazines. In fact, I love coverage that doesn’t have to do with players doing something risqué. A celebration of the hard work they put in is exactly the type of press that we want,” she says.
“And honestly we want a little more of that for Jones,” I add.
“And however we can get it, that’s what we should do,” she adds, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
There was no need to doubt my own intentions. Jones was always the right guy for this piece, crush or no crush. But I’m glad I confirmed he’ll be working out today, since I had a feeling this news was coming and I want to deliver this news in person. I know how much it’ll matter to him. That’s why I kept it a surprise till I won the placement for him.
I head downstairs and out to the practice field where he’ll be finishing his light workout with some of his friends on the team. I suppose I could have told him this over the phone. But he’ll be excited. And after the press trouble he’s had, it’s a joy to bring good opportunities to the man.
That is all.
I head up the tunnel, the same one the players go through before games, then stop at the end. He’s striding toward me. He’s a white guy from California with a smile like sunshine, and eyes like the ocean. He stops in front of me. “I’m ready for my close-up, Jillian.”
The way he says that, with a little bit of heat, a lot of innuendo, warms my chest, flips my stomach.
And worries me.
What if I let this crush get out of hand?
Focus on the news. Only the news. “Actually, I have something better than a picture for our social. Would you be available to do a photo shoot for the body issue for Sporting World? I pitched you and I think you’d be fantastic.”
His smile widens. Like he can’t believe I just pulled off a magic trick. “That’s what your little paparazzi routine on the bridge was all about?” He sounds delighted with my tricks.
I shrug a shoulder a little coquettishly. I can’t help it. I pulled it off. “Maybe,” I say, too damn pleased for my own good. “I sent it to the magazine as part of my pitch. Just a shot of you running across the bridge. Body in Motion I titled it. A player working hard.”
He opens his arms, wraps them around me, and hauls me in for a warm hug. “You’re a rock star.”
Oh. My. Stars.
His arms.
My heart.
All the flutters.
When he breaks the embrace, he steps back. He looks so damn stoked. “This is awesome. I so appreciate it.”
Shaking off the remnants of lust, I grin. “So you’re in?”
“All the way,” he says. And the innuendo sends the heat soaring in me once again. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You come to the photo shoot with me.”
That’s when the full weight of this pitch hits me. The body issue. He’ll be naked. I’ll be at the photo shoot.
What have I gotten myself into?
4
JONES
I’m buck naked.
I often am.
I’m not an exhibitionist. I simply find I don’t have a need for clothes most of the time, unless I’m on the field or at a public appearance. Obviously.