Page 4 of The Wedding Deal
“I’ll grab my laptop.” She took a few steps toward the door and then abruptly spun around. “I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
He kept his indifferent mask in place, but he couldn’t help thinking:I really hope I do, too.
Chapter Two
“Sorry I’m late,” Charlotte said as she took the stool next to her roommate. Wednesday nights at the bar were how they dealt with the hump day, theweekend’s still too far awayblues. It was a tradition they’d started about six months ago when they’d become roommates. They’d forged a friendship based on necessity at first, but it’d quickly moved into genuine territory in spite of not having much in common. “Work was the worst today.”
Shannon spun toward her, her blond curls swishing with the movement. “Did you lay down the law with Lance Quaid?”
Charlotte loosed her hundredth sigh of the day as she let her head fall back. “I did. I’m just not sure it took.”
“Well, now that you got all up close and personal with your new boss, let’s get to the important details first.” She propped her cheek on her fist as a dreamy look overtook her features. “Is he as handsome in person as he was on TV?”
“He’s…” The irritation she’d felt in his office—especially after the meeting where he fired everyone—drifted to the surface again. “Frustrating. Pigheaded. Impossible.”
“So yes.”
Charlotte glanced around, since they were in a sports bar and you never knew who might be listening in, then leaned closer and whispered, “He’s even hotter in person. Like, I accidentally ended up ogling him a few times and forgot to listen to whatever he was saying— I’ll deny that if you tell anyone.”
Shannon squared her arm as if she were about to swear an oath in court. “I promise not to reveal any of your secrets. Although the fact that Lance Quaid is hot is hardly a secret. TheLocker Room Reportran an article on him today and added him to the NFL’s most eligible bachelor list.” She grabbed her phone, tapped the screen, and swiveled it to Charlotte.
A quick scan revealed his picture—he was tossing a ball, his arms gloriously bare and sporting a sheen, the strong profile she’d stared at for way too long highlighted along with the confident smirk that drove her crazy in more than one way—the news about inheriting the team, and his eligible bachelor status.
Considering his temper and his obstinacy, he might be a bachelor for life.Actually, Charlotte knew that was far from true. Most women wouldn’t care about that, especially when they factored in his net worth. But the guy had impulsively fired the front office, and now he wantedherto cover his ass.
And my, what a nice ass it was.
When they’d been working on the exact right wording of the job listings and he’d been putting out feelers via a hundred phone calls, he’d paced his office. Her eyes needed a break from the computer screen, so she’d glanced up and accidentally noticed how nicely his backside filled out his tailored pants.
Luckily a minute or so later he’d spoken, effectively downgrading his hotness a level or two.
“Look at the comments.” Shannon scrolled down. “This one says, and I quote, ‘the Mustangs have been out to pasture for years, but this guy looks like he could give me a decent ride.’”
Charlotte leaned over the lit screen, sure Shannon was making it up. But nope, there it was in black and white, and another person had added she’d happily try her hand at taming him. The next person escalated the thread with her remark about riding bareback, and Charlotte’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment on behalf of someone she didn’t even know.
Who posted that kind of stuff on a public page? Judging from the slew of similar comments that were mixed in with statements about his quarterback career and how they were upset/glad/doubtful/hopeful about where he could take the Mustangs, several women and a couple of men, none of whom were overly concerned with things like online etiquette or proper grammar.
Then again, it’d be rather hypocritical to fault them for losing their minds a little over the guy when she’d had trouble keeping hold of hers when they’d been in the same room.
Which was why, after giving herself a mental scolding for ogling him as he was pacing, she’d made a strict decree.
There’d be no checking out any of his assets.
No sniffing the cologne that lingered in the air of his office.
No thinking about how he was still in really good shape.
And her kryptonite—scruff-covered jaws that screamed all-man—was also off-limits.
The bartender asked for her order, jerking her away from dangerous territory where she was slipping on thethinking about Lance’s scruff. She asked for the whiskey that she’d refused to drink at work—it’d been a long day, and she’d just have the one and then she’d go home and prepare for tomorrow.
Silver lining, at least she still had a job.
For a few minutes in that meeting, after Lance had fired everyone, she’d worried she was getting the ax, too. Not that it’d stopped her from doing her job and demanding to know what he was thinking, but that was because she was as good at what she did as she’d claimed to be. Her exceptional knowledge of every rule and regulation and attention to even minor details had earned her promotion after promotion until she was the director of HR, which was a huge accomplishment and a goal she’d worked toward since day one.
But she really did need the job. A huge chunk of her savings had gone toward her dad’s expensive rehab bill. Which was something she worked to keep hidden, even from her roommate, who’d once told her that she allowed the men in her life to walk over her far too much. She’d stated it as nicely as possible, saying they shared the weakness and it was something they were working on together.
What was she supposed to do, though? After nearly a decade of begging her dad to get help for his gambling addiction, he’d finally come to her and admitted he had a problem.
