Page 64 of The Wedding Deal
As fast as her heels would take her, Charlotte strode toward him, her pulse steadily increasing as his long, muscular legs ate up the distance.
Then he was pulling her into his arms, her feet no longer touching the ground. “The Pythons didn’t match? I need to hear you say it before I get too carried away.”
“Nope. They want the draft pick and even agreed to keep it under wraps until you can make an official announcement— Gavin and his agent are on board as well.” A squeal slipped out. “We have our quarterback. Gavin Frost is going to be a Mustang.”
“Part of me didn’t think we’d really get him,” he whispered into her ear with a laugh.
“You did, though. You did it.”
“It’s a good start, one that takes off at least an ounce or two of pressure as we’re racing toward Draft Day.” He pulled back and met her gaze. “Andwedid it— I couldn’t have done it without you and your crazy wall and amazing brain and gut instincts. Or without you pushing me to rehire John. Or without you here. You really are my Sam. But a much, much hotter Sam.” His lips crashed down over hers as his fingers fitted into her rib cage and held her tightly against him. “Have I mentioned I’m crazy about you?”
Crazywas an accurate word for how she felt whenever she thought about him, and it went double when she was in his arms. “Right back at you. I’d call you Frodo, but I’m not sure—”
“As long as you’re mine, I don’t really care what you call me.”
“I’m yours,” she whispered, and then she placed her hand on the side of his face and added, “Lance Quaid.”
He kissed her again, not seeming to care about their audience as he delved his tongue inside her mouth and branded himself upon her very soul.
Okay, so that part about being dangerously close to falling in love?
Yeah, that ship had sailed.
She was already there.
…
In theory, taking the groomsman and bridesmaid pictures days before the wedding was supposed to make it so there’d be fewer pictures today.
In reality, if he was posed or told to smile one more time, Lance might flip off the camera.
As soon as he was released—“for now”—he circled the reception area, his eyes peeled for a beautiful brunette in a pale pink dress.
Everything inside him froze when he spotted her. She was talking to Martin Simms, one of the most annoying sports reporters in the biz. Not the one he’d gotten in trouble for verbally threatening, but Simms had poked him about the story plenty back when it was just a rumor. One Lance had denied because he’d been a blind idiot.
The media had been carefully controlled for the wedding, so he’d probably been invited to the reception. Mitch was nicer than he was, not to mention better at walking the line and schmoozing the right people.
The sight of Simms so close to Charlotte rubbed a raw nerve, and when she laughed at something he said, irritation ate away the lining of Lance’s gut.
They’re just talking, he tried to tell himself, but he couldn’t help thinking of another woman who’d “just talked” to reporters, time after time. Now he was wondering if his instincts were wrong again.
After all, he’d only known Charlotte for a couple of weeks.
He strode over, jaw clenched, and placed his hand on Charlotte’s back. “Hey,” he said, and he knew it’d come out too sharp. The way her eyebrows ticked up in the middle confirmed it. He still aimed his next comment toward Simms. “I didn’t know my brother had invited bottom-feeders to the wedding.”
Charlotte elbowed him in the gut. “Excuse him. He gets grumpy when he hasn’t eaten in a while. Do I need to find you a Snickers to shove into your mouth?” She lowered her voice even more. “Think you can be nice for the rest of the night then, huh?”
“I think you’re confusing me with a different quarterback.”
Simms backed up a couple of paces. “I’ll leave you to feed the beast. I remember how cranky he can get, and this mug is too pretty to be rearranged.”
Lance growled—he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t even realized he’d taken a step toward Simms until Charlotte’s hand came up on his chest.
Simms gave an obnoxious chuckle before shooting Charlotte a smile. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Looking forward to it.” Charlotte kept the smile plastered on her face until she turned to him, and then she gave him a scowl he hadn’t seen since early this week, before he’d thought everything had changed between them.
“What were you two talking about?” he demanded.
