Page 18 of Offside Devil

“You sure about that?” There’s amusement threaded through the words. Some joke I don’t understand. “And I wouldn’t worry about a first impression. You’ve already made one. Sorry to say, it stuck.”

I frown and finally look up at him.

And I freeze.

I stood in this hallway and played my anxious little worst-case scenario game, but I clearly lack creativity. The horrors I can dream up have nothing on what the universe likes to throw at me.

Because this is the actual worst-case scenario.

He smiles, but there’s something else in his eyes. It’s the gleam of knowing exactly what I look like in lacy underwear and dripping with macchiato.

He thrusts out a large hand. A hand that, not too long ago, curled into a fist and punched a creep in the face for me. A hand that brushed blood from my forehead.

“Nice to see you again, Wednesday. I’m Zane Whitaker.”

10

ZANE

“You,” she breathes.

My first thought is whether or not I have a stalker on my hands. The look on her face is answer enough: she had no idea who would be on the other side of this door. The last person she expected was me.

That makes two of us.

“I’m Zane,” I repeat. “I didn’t catch your name.”

I know what the dimples just above her ass look like, but I don’t know her name. Funny how that works.

“I’m here to interview. You know my name.” Her green eyes go wide. “Did you know it was me?”

When Pat Hall, the team owner, told me he had a nanny for me, I stopped looking. I forwarded his email with the recommendation to Hanna and didn’t think about it again.

Until now.

“My assistant handled the arrangements. I didn’t know a thing.” As I say that, she visibly relaxes. “But if you don’t tell me what else to call you, I’m going to stick with ‘Wednesday.’”

She stares at me with wide, green eyes. “Wednesday?”

I circle a finger at her pale face, hair that’s so black it’s almost blue. “You’ve got a real Addams family thing going for you. With the hair and all. Mostly the radiant personality, though.”

Her full lips curl into a scowl.

I snap my fingers and nod. “Yeah. Exactly. Just like that.”

“Just because I’m not like the desperate, sex-starved women you’re used to fawning all over you doesn’t mean I’m unpleasant,” she snaps.

“You’re not completely unpleasant.” The image of her bare, tapered waist and the soft flare of her hips fills my head. “I enjoyed certain aspects of meeting you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest like she might be able to erase her body from my memory. Good luck with that, darling. It’s seared in there for good. “If your awareness of the world extended beyond the end of your dick, then maybe you’d realize that my attitude is caused by your personality. You’re not exactly a treat to be around, Pretty Boy.”

“Is this how you typically thank people for saving you from sexual predators? If so, your gratitude needs some work.”

“I didn’t need saving,” she grits out. “I can defend myself.”

“If defending yourself is anything like how you knock on doors, you might be right.” I can still feel her hands on my biceps, her warm breath through the cotton of my shirt. I shake off the thought. “To what do I owe that assault, anyway? What are you doing here?”

“You know what I’m doing here.” The perma-frown on her face melts slightly. She stands tall, lifts her pointed chin, and adjusts the hem of her dress over long legs. “I’m here to interview for the nanny job.”

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