Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Because it’s her.
Red Dress. The woman from Magazine Street.
It makes no logical sense—what are the odds, in a city this size?—but my gut already knows. It’s already sure. Same curves, same posture that mixes grace and a guarded way of moving through the world that sets off every protective, possessive instinct I’ve got.
And then she looks up.
Our eyes catch.
And hold.
And the party disappears. It’s a fucking cliché, but it’s true: the world blurs and fades until all I can see is her. Those wide, startled eyes. That pretty mouth parting like she has something to tell me, and fuck, I can’t wait to hear whatever it is.
Longing floods through my chest, and for a heartbeat, I swear she feels it, too.
But then…she bolts.
I’m not talking about a polite “I need to get back to work” disengagement. My girl straight up flees the scene of the crime, doing a dart and weave until she’s completely out of sight.
I’m half a step from chasing after her when Nix shoulders in beside me, jabbing an elbow into my ribs.
“Hey, man, the guy from Lava was looking for you earlier. You should get over there and woo him before Winchester cockblocks you. He’s practically giving the guy a blow job as we speak.”
I tear my eyes off the place where Red Dress was standing a second ago, struggling to force myself back to reality.
“What?”
“Cockblocked. From the Lava deal. What’s thrown you off your game, bro?” He follows my gaze, grinning as he nods to the other side of the courtyard. “Was it the brunette? The one with the legs for miles and the bouncy rack way too big for that shirt? I mean, not that I’m complaining, but I…”
He trails off, lifting his hands in the air in surrender as I glare a hole between his eyes. “Sorry, man,” he adds, “Not trying to be offensive. Seriously. Just making an observation. I’m sure Rack Girl is super cool and nice and stuff. And smart. Probably smart. Did she look smart? I don’t know. Do you know her or something?”
I fight the irrational urge to tell him to keep her name out of his mouth. That would be over the top…especially considering neither of us knows her name. “No,” I snap. “And I didn’t think you noticed women under forty.”
Nix just grins, obviously feeling no shame. “I don’t. Usually. But I make an exception for especially gorgeous breasts. I prefer them on an older woman, yes, but sometimes a man has to be flexible.”
“Stay away from her,” I rumble, my inner caveman rising to the surface.
He nods, still smiling, “Message received. Loud and clear. Relax, friend. I already have two hotties fighting for the chance to take me home. I’m not after your girl.”
My girl…
She’s not my girl. I’m being crazy. And an asshole to a teammate who’s done nothing to deserve it.
“Sorry,” I say with a sigh. “Guess I’m a little more uptight about the networking shit than I thought.”
“It’s cool,” Nix says, eager to forgive and forget, as always. He’s a chill guy off the ice, one of the reasons I’ve started to consider him a friend as well as a teammate. “Want me to introduce you to Simon, the Lava guy? I met him earlier, but I didn’t try too hard. I’m not what he’s looking for. He’s after established star power, not a rookie on the rise.” He runs a hand through his sandy blond hair as he adds, “Even if that rookie is exceptionally talented and an amazing lover, who’s probably going to convince both the gorgeous ladies after his cock to come home with him tonight.”
I huff. “You’re shameless.”
“Damn straight, I am,” he says, grinning. “Come on, dude, let’s go make you an even bigger star.”
But as Nix leads me toward the man in the gray suit and bright red tie with the Lava logo worked discreetly into the fabric pattern, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made a wrong turn.
That I’m going to look back on this moment and regret the fuck out of not chasing Red Dress down that hallway, no matter where it leads.
Simon Strain turns out to be exactly what you’d expect from an energy drink executive—intensely enthusiastic, too loud, and convinced that his product is going to revolutionize human performance.
He’s got the kind of aggressive handshake that suggests he has something to prove—or did a few too many lines of coke in the restroom—and within thirty seconds of our intro, has launched into a well-rehearsed “We want you, and only you,” pitch.
I would be flattered if I didn’t suspect he’s given Winchester the same speech.
I can’t imagine why my teammate would be smirking at me as Nix joins him at a nearby table if that weren’t the case.
“You see, Grammercy, that’s why you’d be the best fit for Lava,” he says, gesturing toward me with his whiskey as he rattles on. “We’re looking for a player that has that mixture of speed and laser focus most people only get with a little enhancement, if you know what I’m saying. Even without our signature formula, you’re a force. Get a can of Lava in you? Who knows how far you’ll go?”