Page 22 of Tight Spot

“No thank you,” I croaked out and took a healthy chug from my wine.

It was crisp. Chilled to perfection. Reminded me of apples and pears and summertime.

I was so lost in the taste of the wine, I hadn’t realized our server had left and Dawson was watching me.

His face showed an emotion I’d never seen on a man’s face, especially Darrick’s, directed at me.

It was full of want. Confusion. Desire and need and a hint of anger.

Odd, that the hint of anger appeared, but as soon as it was there it was gone. Dawson shook it off before he grabbed his water and drained it in one large chug.

His Adam’s apple worked, corded throat displayed muscles I didn’t realize actually existed on people, and by the time he set it down and poured himself a new glass, I was practically squirming with desire.

“Need to stop looking at me like that,” he muttered.

My eyes widened. “Like what?”

“Like if I told you I wanted you to climb across the table and sit in my lap so I could see if your lips taste as sweet as I imagine they would, you’d be over here in a second, without hesitation.”

Well.

At least it was nice to know I hadn’t read him all that wrong.

Too bad my emotions were equally noticeable.

“Um…do you want…?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “I’d like that, like that a lot, Hailey, actually, but that can’t happen. Not here. Not ever.”

Ever?

The word was a slap to my libido and my face, and I sat back in the chair, frowning.

“Then why am I here? If that isn’t a possibility?”

“Because I fucked up last season and the general manager of our team told me I need to work on cleaning up my image.”

Clean up his image? What the hell had he done? And how could you take someone who looked like they belonged chopping wood in the mountains and turn them into a clean-cut guy who wore polo shirts? Impossible.

“Okay…”

Dawson worked his jaw back and forth before sucking his top lip in between his teeth. Not the first time he’d done it. No less sexy seeing it the second time. A flash of white appeared before he set his mouth into a firm line.

“I need a girlfriend. A fake one. I have a season to focus on and baggage no one wants to handle and ones I’m not ever going to hand to anyone. Couldn’t find what I needed on my own, so I went to Meredith. She suggested you.”

“Why?”

My best friend in the whole wide world. She knew exactly what I wanted. Him. In paper form. Short-term.

A man willing to let me explore more, salacious, desires in bed than I’d ever have.

If that was off the table…

What the hell was Meredith thinking?

Dawson shrugged, the move no less fluid or graceful or sexy than any other move he’d made so far. “I figured you’d know. Considering she said she never set up relationships for short-term only goals, I was surprised when she told me she had someone who would be able to help me.”

Help him.

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