Page 61 of Hat Trick

Or maybe you’ll spend the day withMarshall?

The thought sends butterflies fluttering into motion in my belly. I don’t want to get my hopes up but maybe, just maybe, he’ll want to get together and spend Christmas Day watching more movies andsnuggling.

“I appreciate the offer, Gwen, I do,but—”

My phone ringing cuts Holly off. Shit. I wipe my hands across my skirt and yank my phone out of my drawer. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, “let me just make sure this isn’t a client. We had an . . .issuethis morning involving a panda bear and the zoo’scurator.”

Holly waves me off with a smile. “Do what you have to do. I’ll drink my fake-vodkacocktail.”

I could hugher.

Whirling away, I give the unknown number flashing across the screen a cursory glance before answering the call and stepping into the hallway. I gently shut the door. “Hello? This isGwen.”

“Hey,you.”

Thatvoice.

We’ve spoken via text since our “fantasy night,” a few days ago, but we haven’t had time to catch up with our mismatched schedules. I press my back to my door and feel the smile inching across my face. “What’s with the unknownnumber?”

Marshall’s husky laugh is like music to my ears. “Would you believe me if I said Harrison’s fat ass brokeit?”

The idea of The Mountain sitting on Marshall’s phone and snapping it in half is hilarious, and I find myself giggling along. “Is that really whathappened?”

He pauses, for effect, I think, and then goes on. “Nah. Unfortunately, I was at the gym this morning and accidentally dropped my dumbbell right on the damn thing. It sounds a lot better when I blame Duke for itthough.”

“Don’t tell me you were thinking of me naked andthendropped the weight,” I tease. It’s not so out of the realm of possibility. Imayhave sent him a photo of me last night before I climbed intobed.

Maybe.

In my defense, the photo didn’t even constitute as a nipple shot seeing as it was collarbone and up. But my hair had been wet and my face makeup free, and clothes or not, I’d let him come to his own conclusion. Like any guy, he’d chosen to believe I was snapping photos of myself in my birthdaysuit.

“You caught me,” he tells me now. “In the future, give a guy a little warning before you do something likethat.”

“I should giveanyguy a warning before naked-time or onlyyou?”

I don’t know what makes me say that, and Marshall doesn’t let the comment sit for longer than amoment.

“Me.” I can almost imagine his narrowed pewter eyes, his broad shoulders . . . “There’s no one else in this equation but the two ofus.”

“Iknow.”

“Good. Listen, I’m just leaving an appointment with my publicist and I want to seeyou.”

Sneaking a quick glance back at the door behind me, I state the obvious, “I’m atwork.”

“I’ll come and wait for you.” There’s the sound of an engine kicking on, and then the radio blares loudly before being silenced. “Give Walter the chance to see what he missed out on all those yearsago.”

I laugh even as I silently admit how true it is. My boss skipped over Marshall when he was on the farm team, choosing to believe that the Blades’ top draft pick would ultimately be traded elsewhere before being pulled onto the first line. Marshall shocked everyone by proving them wrong—and my boss is fully aware that he missed out on a client who could have earned him a good chunk ofchange.

“Why don’t you give me an hour and I’ll meetyou.”

“My house? I’ll cook us some dinner.” Marshall pauses. Then, “Don’t wearpanties.”

There must be something in the rule book about not blushing and thinking about your guy naked while at work. I do a quick look around to make sure the hall is blessedly empty. “It’s December and coldout.”

“All the reason to let me warm you up when you get here,honey.”

Damn man, I think, when I hear the dial tone on the other end of the phone. He totally backed me into a corner on that one, and heknowsI don’t like to back down from a challenge. Feeling altogether way too flustered to return to a meeting, I smooth my skirt and reenter myoffice.

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