Page 7 of Advantage Love

I swipe at my mouth. "Whose fault is that?"

He catches my wrist, thumb pressing against my racing pulse. "It will be worth it for the headlines we'll get."

Right. Headlines. This is all for show. All business. So why does his touch feel like something more?

"I should go," I manage. "Training, like you said."

He releases my wrist slowly, fingers dragging across my skin. "Dinner tonight. For the cameras."

"Fine." I step back, needing distance. "But next time, stick to the script."

His laugh follows me down the hallway. "Now where's the fun in that?"

As I head to the locker room to change, my phone buzzes with notifications. The kiss is already trending. Luke's plan is working perfectly.

So why do I feel like I'm the one who just lost control of the game?

Chapter 5: Luke

"The press conference video has over two million views already," Sandra's voice comes through my car's speaker. "Every sports blog is talking about tennis's new power couple."

"That was the plan." I check my watch. Twenty minutes until I pick up Avery for dinner. The kiss from this afternoon is still burning in my memory, how she'd melted against me, the soft sound she'd made when I'd deepened it. Fuck it was perfect.

"The board is impressed," Sandra continues, snapping my focus back. "Pull this off , get her back in the top twenty, sign her to a major sponsor, and that corner office is yours."

My pulse quickens. Partnership. The thing I've been working toward since leaving the pro circuit. "I might need more time."

"Two months. Show us consistent progress with Jenkins, and the promotion's yours." She pauses. "Just don't let the relationship angle compromise your judgment. We've all seen the kiss footage."

"It's strictly business," I lie, thinking of how Avery's body had pressed against mine, how perfectly she'd fit.

"Keep it that way." Sandra hangs up.

I pull up to the luxury rental house I've arranged overlooking the bay. Perfect for the "living together for appearances" story we're spinning. The realtor had been thrilled to lease to a celebrity couple, especially after I doubled the security deposit.

Couple.The word shouldn't affect me. This is a business arrangement, nothing more, but then I remember Avery's taste, her scent, the way her fingers had curled into my jacket.

My phone buzzes with a text from Avery:Running late. Meet at restaurant instead?

No. I'm picking you up. That's what couples do.

This isn't real, remember?

I smirk.Tell that to your tongue this afternoon.

There's a long pause before she responds:Fuck you, Mitchell.

Maybe later. Wear something nice.

I can practically feel her frustration through the phone. Good. A frustrated Avery is hot Avery, and tonight needs to be convincing.

***

The restaurant I've chosen is pure romance with it's oceanfront views, private booth, soft lighting. The media I tipped off are already stationed outside when we arrive.

Avery's wearing a red dress, cut low enough to make my mouth water but classy enough for the eventual photos. Her dark hair falls in loose waves, and all I can think about is how it had felt wrapped around my fingers during the press conference.

"You're staring," she murmurs as I help her from the car.

---