Page 25 of Play Book

I need coffee, a shower, and then I have to pull up my big-girl pants to face the day head-on. I have to arrange to have that defaced gallery wall cleaned and painted, and I have two appointments to cancel.

I also need to think about amping up security somehow.

Apparently, cameras and an alarm aren’t enough.

I add calling Rage to my mental to-do list as I sip coffee, but my thoughts drift back to Canyon. The smart thing to do is to forget about him and focus on re-opening the gallery in a few days, but my soul has other ideas.

EIGHT

Canyon

I think about her the whole damn morning.

How interesting our conversation was over dinner.

How much we seem to have in common.

How beautiful she looked, standing in her kitchen half-naked, kissing and touching me. Letting me kiss and touch her.

How scared she’d been when she’d gotten the call about her gallery.

How humiliated she’d been when she’d seen that word spray painted on the wall.

And how vulnerable she’d been when she’d reluctantly admitted she needed me to stay. To sleep beside her. To make her feel safe.

I’m nobody’s hero, but fuck, I wanted to be last night.

Maybe I had been.

What is it about her that makes me want her?

I’m not stupid.

It’s probably because she’s a fucking supermodel and the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever been that close to. And there have been a lot of beautiful women since I’d turned pro at nineteen. But Saylor is different.

What I need to do is fuck her a couple of times and get it out of my system.

I can say I’ve done it—fucked an honest-to-goodness supermodel—and call it a day.

Except…

WHORE.

The image of that word spray painted on the wall flashes through my psyche and pisses me off again.

She isn’t a whore, no matter who she sleeps with, and I hate the connotation of it. It’s also frustrating that there is someone out there who thinks that about her.

If it’s that Russell guy, I’m seriously going to find him and teach him a lesson.

Honestly, I’m more worried that it isn’t him. He’s a wimpy, overweight dude who doesn’t seem to be the type to have to balls to commit a crime like breaking into a secure building like Saylor’s. My gut tells me he wouldn’t know how to do something like that. He could have hired someone to do it, but again, his aunt has a close relationship with Saylor and that seems counterproductive.

No, this feels angry and vindictive. Like an ex-boyfriend or something.

And it worries me.

Saylor isn’t your problem, I tell myself firmly.

But I’ve never been the kind of guy who listens to reason.

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