Page 1 of Not By the Playbook

Chapter One

FRIDAY

BECS

My blood poundsas pin-sized lasers drill through my eyelids, sending twinges of pain between my brows. I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the attack and try to shift, but a solid weight holds me down. My head turns, its contents swirling for a second before settling again as I burrow deeper into a cocoon of warm skin.

Warm skin.

My eyes snap open. A muscled limb bands around my torso. A muscled limb that is attached to a naked man. Who is attached to a nakedme.

Pressure mounts in my skull and my heart stutters as I seize on the bold features in front of me—a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and slashing eyebrows. Logan Barnes. NFL star quarterback. And my one-night stand.

Beneath my ribs, my lungs convulse. My nipples throb, but not in a good way. If I wasn’t already lying down, I’d keel over.

Don’t hyperventilate. Don’t hyperventilate! God, where’s a paper bag when you need one?

I force myself to suck in and release slow breaths as images from last night assault my brain, rapid fire.

It started out innocently enough. I’d just found out I was one of the final candidates for a job at McCann Advertising. My best friend, Carrie, insisted we meet at a nearby bar where she proceeded to lecture me on the dangers of adulting, all the while calling for more rounds of drinks because one should never squander an excuse to party.

Normally, I wouldn’t get ahead of myself and start counting poultry, but at the grand old age of twenty-four, I am lipstick-deep in student debt, and this HR coordinator position is the only thing that will keep me afloat and tethered to New York.

More pieces of the jigsaw fall into place.

The crowd separates,and three men, each one hotter than the last, swagger into the bar—Jaime Lannister, Thor, and the Christian Bale edition of Bruce Wayne. All are tall, well-built, and oozing confidence, but it is the blue-eyed Batman who captures my attention.

Thor ambles over to where Carrie and I are perched, already two Proseccos in.

“Ladies…are we celebrating?”

Carrie’s flirt is on, her smile dazzling. “Yes. Rebecca is.” She points at me.

“No, I’m not. Don't jinx it.” I shush.

“What are we jinxing?” Christian Bale has followed his friend over. His deep, gravelly voice hums along my skin. And that gaze is more than merely blue, more like a polished sapphire. Mesmerizing. When hypnotists say, “look into my eyes” they’re describing eyes like his.

Carrie announces, “Rebecca’s got a new job!”

That snaps me out of my stupor, and my palm jams over her mouth. “I don’t. Not yet.”

She smacks my hand away and frowns, but that transforms into a confident smile a second later. “You'll find out on Monday. Becs, you’re a sure shot.”

“I don’t know about that. The woman who interviewed me was scary as shit. It was like trying to impress an icicle.”

Blue Eyes chuckles, and the sound skitters down my spine. “Well, how about a drink for luck instead?”

Jaime Lannister, right behind his squad, promptly orders a bottle of Dom Perignon.

Carrie’s eyes flit to him and then to the other two men. Her jaw goes slack. Nails dig into my arm, and she yanks me close. “Holy fuck!” She barely contains a squeal.

“What?” I whisper.

“Do you know who that is? Who they are?” She’s hissing, all googly-eyed. Her Louboutins are doubling as tap shoes.

I slant a gaze back at them. Fine specimens, but the look-don’t-touch kind.I shake my head hesitantly. Should I?

“That’s Connor Hall.” She points at Jaime Lannister. “The blond is Jake Cunningham. And your guy is Logan Barnes.”

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