Page 1 of Power Play

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Play On Foundation Fundraiser

Nashville, Tennessee

5 Years Ago

Liam

“Ithink I’m in love,” I said to the guy next to me. I didn’t know the guy, we just happened to be at the bar at the same time. He was looking at his phone and I was looking at the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen walk down the steps to the dance floor. In a sea of white and gold she was a vision in red.

The Play On Foundation’s Fundraising Gala dress code was supposed to be black, white and gold attire only, but this gorgeous creature hadn’t gotten the memo.

Or maybe she had. Maybe it was a statement.

“What’s that song?” I asked. “The one about the lady in red?”

“Lady in Red?” the guy asked me.

“Yes!” I clapped my new buddy on the shoulder. He muttered something and wandered off. That was fine, I didn’t need a wing man.

There were about twenty feet between me and the potential love of my life when our eyes caught.

Hers were silver. For real. The kind of gray that shimmered. Everything about her was different. Extra-ordinary.

I watched, dumbstruck, as a smile flirted on her lips.

“You know, you’re staring at me,” she said, coming to stand next to me at the bar. I felt that deep zap of electricity in my gut. In my balls. My entire body woke up.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t help it,” I said half joking, half serious.

She chuckled and turned away to search for the bartender.

“I thought there was a dress code for this thing.” I looked down at my Dolce & Gabbana white double-breasted suit. Did I do this to draw her attention to how fucking good I looked? Maybe. With this woman I was prepared to be shameless.

“I was never one for dress codes,” she said boldly.

“A rule breaker, huh?”

“I guess you could call it that,” she said with a lift of the chin. Then a small wince creased her gorgeous face. “Or you could call it my dad’s really faulty memory about this event and me feeling super exposed right now.”

“Don’t be,” I assured her, intrigued by her honesty. “There’s nothing wrong with standing out in a crowd.”

“Thank you,” she said and ordered a glass of white wine. “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You always follow the rules?”

“Well, I kind of live by rules.”

“Hmm. Let me guess. A cop?”

I shook my head, we were at a fundraiser for sports programs in underfunded neighborhoods. There were dozensof pro athletes walking around. Maybe there were cops, too? “Professional athlete.” I tried not to sound too cocky. I probably failed.

She looked me up and down and I struck a pose. My arm curled in front of me, head down, classic Schwarzenegger.

“Football,” she said.

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