Page 3 of Elevator Pitch

“You said you’re not out in your profession.”

“You…you mean you don’t know?” His voice pitches up an octave. “Oh, I…was sure you recognized me.”

I wince. Likely I stared a little too long when I got in the elevator.

But, I mean, he didn’t look familiar. At all.

“Are you someone famous?” Now I’m more than curious.

“Sort of. To my fans, at least.” He sounds shy now, almost self-conscious.

“Are you an actor?” I inquire.

He huffs out a laugh. “Hell no.”

“A musician?” I wrack my brain trying to think of a thirty-something singer or drummer who is that drop dead gorgeous.

“What is this, twenty questions?” His tone is full of sarcasm now.

I hitch a shoulder even though he can’t see me. “I figure we have the time.”

I hear him shift, and now his voice is carrying from the floor. “I’m a goalie.”

I consider sitting as well, but I’m in my expensive tux, and the electricity is going to come back on any minute, I’m sure of it. And then not only will I be sweaty, but dirty too.

“A goalie…soccer then? Orfootballif you’re any other country.”

He laughs and I can feel my face flame. Not good. It’s clammy enough in here.

“What’s funny?”

“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “I guess it’s sort of refreshing that you don’t know.”

“I don’t know sports if that’s what you mean. They bore me, unless I’m checking out the pants.”

He sounds amused when he asks, “The pants?”

I really need a kill switch on my brain’s path to my mouth.

“You know—baseball pants—or football pants. And well, for soccer it would be shorts and who cares about those when you’ve got muscular legs to focus on.”

“Wow, I had no idea there was a whole fan base for sports pants.”

“Gay, remember?” I quip, then decide it’s time to get back to the subject at hand. “So, if not soccer then…what?”

“You ever hear of hockey?” he muses.

“Yeah, of course,” I scoff. “It’s very Canadian.”

He laughs again and I find I like the sound of it. It buzzes over my skin and fills my stomach with warmth.

“I play for Colorado.”

“Oh.”

My legs are getting tired so I sink to a squat, knowing my knees will be next. Jace might just have to forgive me if I end up sitting on gum…or worse.

“Even Vegas has a team.”