Page 7 of Virgin Pass

Chapter Three

Lori

I ringthe doorbell to Austin’s new house—most would call it a mansion—shouldering my briefcase and squaring my shoulders. I’m determined to handle this professionally. What happened in Eddy’s old office…

God, what happened in Eddy’s old office was a dream come true for me. My legs are still wobbly at the memory, and it was a full two days ago. But then Austin walked away, leaving me hurt, frustrated, and so confused I’ve barely slept since it happened.

I spent last night reviewing football stats and endorsement deals for everyone in pro football, a job that should have taken about thirty minutes, but ended up taking hours because my mind kept wandering to the way Austin looked at me, the hard grip of his hands on my hips, the touch of his tongue in my mouth, the way his hand moved so expertly where I needed it most.

Before he walked away.

I squirm, my body immediately reacting to the memory of Austin’s kiss. He could have done anything he wanted to me, and I would have let him. I still would let him.

That’s not why you’re here, I order myself. Then the door opens—

And my jaw drops.

“Austin?” I manage.

“Lori,” he says, then stands back. He’s wearing a pair of low-slung sweats, barely caught at his hips, and a thick white towel around his neck. His lightly furred chest is glistening with moisture—from the shower? From working out? I don’t know and I honestly don’t care. My body reacts with instant need, and my grip on the briefcase tightens. “Come on in,” he says.

“Thanks.” I walk into his foyer, but I pivot and watch him as he shuts the door. His broad back ripples with muscles and by the time he turns to me I know I’m flushed with an excitement I can’t quite chalk up to being eager for our meeting.

But we did have a meeting scheduled…didn’t we? “I’m sorry. Am I early?”

“You’re right on time. I thought I’d show you your office, then we can get started. It’ll be easier for us to work here. Sorry about all the boxes. I haven’t finished moving in.”

“Of course,” I murmur, once more trying to wrap my head around the fact I’ll have an office in Austin’s house. It’s perfectly professional, even considerate of him. Right?

Apparently not noticing my confusion, Austin heads off deeper into the palatial home, down a beautifully appointed corridor, until disappearing through an open door. I follow. The room beyond is large, open, and sunny—with a couch and chairs, a pretty desk in one corner, and views of an amazing pool and lush landscaping.

“Oh wow,” I say, though I don’t have much more to offer, and I try not to jump as Austin shuts the door behind us.

“You can use the pool any time. You have your own door to it,” he says as I remain staring at the pool. “You can bring a suit, or I’ve bought a few for you. I guessed at your size, but…I’m a pretty good guesser. And you gave me some pretty good hands-on time to get the measurements right.”

I close my eyes and try not to whimper, but of course my mind goes to Austin’s broad hands spanning my waist, barely brushing my ass since the chair was in the way, his hot mouth on mine. And, oh, I can’t forget the way he rubbed me in all the right ways. I always knew with him being a quarterback he’d have magical hands.

Clearing my throat, I turn around, giving him a determinedly professional smile even if I can’t help the blush clawing up my cheeks. “We should talk,” I say. “Once you’re—ah, ready.”

“I’m ready now.” He gestures to the chairs and I move to them, so nervous that I begin my spiel before I even sit down.

“You’ve been playing really great these past few days. Bro and the second string wide receivers already adore you, and you’ve totally leveled up in response to their energy.”

“Glad you’ve noticed,” he rumbles, and I try not to pay attention to how close he is as he drops into a chair opposite me.

I nod quickly. “Yesterday, I even heard the phrase “Lucky Strike” tossed around again, which is great. They love you, and—well—there’s a lot to love.”

“Also good to know.” I watch him as he leans back in his chair, my gaze snagging on the woven leather bracelet on his wrist, the gift from a cancer survivor who wrote to him during his second year. He’s never without it.

I blink, focusing on it now. What was it Austin called me right before I told him I was his new agent?

Lucky angel.

My cheeks burn all over again. I want to be Austin’s lucky angel. I want to be so much more than that.

“So how do you think this should work?” Austin interrupts my crashing thoughts, and I blink at him.

“How should what work?”

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