Page 3 of Not By the Playbook

Click.

Click.

Click.

The clicking increases in volume but comes to an abrupt halt a few feet away.

One of my eyes rises on the back of a patent stiletto. The other opens on a red sole.

Oh. My. God.

His wife? Was he wearing a ring last night? He wasn’t stupid enough to bring me to a home he shares with a partner, was he?I huddle tighter under the counter. Stupid is relative. Football brain injuries are a thing.

A switch clicks on and the scent of caffeine fills the room.Keep your shit together, Becs.My eyes dart to the front door. The four yards to the exit might as well be four continents.

Lace in hand, my shaking knees straighten.

Chapter Two

BECS

“Rebecca?”

The whirring of the coffee machine halts, and my name echoes in the sudden silence.

Bile-flavored dismay congeals in my throat. My bare toes curl into the cold floor looking for purchase, and bag, panties, and shoes slip from my fingers to the ground.

Say something.

“Ms. Barnes,” I choke out.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ms. Barnes.”

Say something else.

I’m pretty sure my vocabulary extends beyond her name, but I’m hard-pressed to prove it because Jenna Barnes of McCann Advertising and the icicle who holds my future in her hands stands before me.

Perfectly arched eyebrows knit as she examines my walk-of-shame ensemble. What started off as a respectable interview outfit couldn’t be in greater contrast to her wine-colored sheath dress and stockinged legs. I bet she even has underwear on.

My would-be work life flashes before my eyes, over before it’s begun. Who wants an HR coordinator who sidelines as a ho?

My face is seconds from melting off. If only the rest of me would disappear, liquefy into a champagne puddle at her feet.

“…didn't realize my brother had company over…”

Brother?Logan is her brother? My lashes flutter, once, twice, and the resemblance becomes obvious. The same piercing ice-blue eyes and inky hair, but where his locks curl over his ears, hers are up in a tight chignon. She’s not as tall as him but well able to look down her regal nose at me.

Sibling is better than spouse.Sibling is better than spouse. Sibling is better than spouse.God, where’s that raging wife when you need her?

Ms. Barnes’s eyelids twitch. “Have you been seeing Logan long?”

I saw long, all right.

“Yes?” It emerges a high-pitched squeak.

She crosses her arms and her nose wrinkles. I take a discreet sniff. Desperation is a blend of sex and sweat with undertones of caffeine.

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