Page 28 of The Player

‘Shall we discuss the marketing plan?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, his frown not waning as he spread documents across his desk and picked up his pen. ‘I have a few ideas but I want to hear what you’ve come up with.’

Chapter Twelve

As Liza ran through an impressive list of ideas, from a massive social-media blitz via popular online sites to weekly bonus e-serials exclusive for Qu Publishing subscribers, Wade wondered how he could have misjudged her so badly.

Maybe he could blame it on jet lag, because he could’ve sworn the live-wire he’d wooed into bed a couple of nights ago was far removed from the calculated, cool woman who was happy to date as part of an arrangement.

He’d seen a lot of interesting couples in his travels over the years, younger women in a relationship with older men for the money and security. Hell, he’d seen it firsthand with Babs and his dad.

So why did he find the thought of Liza hooking up with some slick sports star for the sake of lifestyle so unpalatable?

‘What do you think?’

Damn, she’d caught him out.

‘Sorry, I was still pondering your book tribe idea. What did you ask?’

Nice save but, by her narrowed eyes, she didn’t buy it.

‘With the new e-book releases of any sporting personnel three months before my biography launches, why not insert a snippet from the bio into the back of those books? Build a little anticipation?’

‘Sounds great.’

She’d come up with some solid ideas and he was impressed with her work ethic. Pity he couldn’t say the same about the rest.

‘How do you feel about the serial WAG tag?’

She stiffened in surprise. ‘That’s out of left field.’

He shrugged, pretending her answer wasn’t important, when he needed to know what made her tick. Because sitting across from her, the faintest rose fragrance scenting the air and reminding him of the way it had clung to his skin after their night in his suite, he had to know who the real Liza Lithgow was.

Was she the soft, hesitant woman he’d met at the party and spent a wild, passionate night with? Or was she a gold-digging, fake floozy who’d do anything to further her lifestyle?

‘Call it publisher curiosity,’ he said, hating how her answers meant way more to him than on a publishing level.

‘I’ve been called many things by the press over the years, serial WAG being on the tamer side.’

Her flat monotone suggested rote answers, when he wanted to know the real her. It annoyed the hell out of him.

‘How did you put up with all that?’

‘Came with the territory,’ she said, darting a nervous glance at the documentation on his desk, as if she’d much rather be discussing business than her personal life.

Too bad. He wanted to know more about the investment his dad’s company was riding on and right now he had the distinct feeling she was hiding something. Something that went beyond a need for some degree of privacy.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was but her general evasiveness, the look-away glances, the rote answers, seemed too trite, too polished, almost as if she’d rehearsed.

A crazy suspicion? Maybe, but he’d put his father’s company and three hundred grand of his own money on the line for this book. It had to be a blockbuster and so far Liza hadn’t inspired him with her careful answers and measured responses.

‘You haven’t told me why every publisher in Melbourne was clamouring for your exclusive story,’ he said, prepared to keep interrogating her until she told him the truth.

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Know what?’

‘I slept with the entire international Aussie soccer team,’ she deadpanned. ‘The English one too.’

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