Page 16 of The Playmaker
Until I get closer. Then I see it: the slight flush on her cheeks, the way she bites her bottom lip, the lingering look at my mouth.
So. She feels it too. This attraction that absolutely cannot exist between us.
She stands, that gray skirt I pushed up around her waist now hugging her hips perfectly. She gives me a quick nod and leaves.
What did that nod mean? Thanks for a good time? Unlikely. See you soon? Maybe.
I shouldn't be thinking about her. She's just a reporter assigned to shadow me. For all I know, she really does hate my guts and thinks I shagged that cheerleader and who knows who else.
Well. We have a few weeks of close proximity to let her see I'm not like other alpha male athletes.
I have an anchor keeping me out of the playboy lifestyle.
I have a secret. And I'll guard it with my life.
I slap my laptop closed at the sound of my sister's voice. I'm not looking at porn or gambling—just researching a certain honey-blonde reporter for NY Sports Mag.
But I feel guilty doing it in front of Riley. Those are two separate parts of my life that can never intersect.
"What's up, Riles?" I force a smile.
She holds up a large box. "My ballet showcase dress just came in."
She looks so happy. I'd do anything to keep her life this simple and carefree for as long as possible.
"Well, let's see it!" As she turns to place the box on the table, I quickly close the tabs full of research on AveryMonroe. All's fair—she's probably digging into my background too.
From what I've found, she has an eye for bullshit and isn't afraid to ask hard questions. If I'm honest, I admire those qualities. I just don't want them in a reporter shadowing me.
"See, it's a princess style." Riley holds up a pretty blue gown. "It has a sweetheart neckline. All the girls are wearing them this year." She shrugs. "They're all going to post pictures on social media too."
She gives me a woeful look, then sighs. "Except for me."
I chuckle, having anticipated this moment. I have a surprise for her. "Well, it's a beautiful dress, little sis," I say sincerely.
In my mind, I see Avery in a slinky royal blue dress that would contrast perfectly with her honey-blonde hair and those big brown eyes. I picture the fabric clinging to her curves, the plunging neckline revealing just enough.
I shift in my leather recliner. I can't think about her now. Those thoughts are too... arousing.
Riley carefully returns her dress to the box. "Thanks. I think it'll photograph well. See the sparkles in the tulle? Not too many, but they'll catch the lights."
I reach into my duffel bag and pull out a Tiffany & Co. box. "Here. For you. Mrs. Mathews said you've been working hard on your ballet, so I got you something to match your dress."
Mrs. Mathews is her former nanny, now driver and chaperone when I can't attend her events without drawing attention.
Riley's eyes widen at the diamond-accented silver pendant. "It's so pretty, Jax! I love it! I'm going to show Mrs. Mathews!"
She hugs me tightly, then bounds to the kitchen where the older woman is preparing an after-school snack. We'd be lost without Mrs. Mathews.
I smile at my sister's enthusiasm before an email pulls my attention back to my phone.
My agent has agreed that I'll participate in a web series for YouTube with potential to be picked up by Netflix or Hulu.
"A web series?" I mutter, unimpressed that he made this deal without consulting me. But he's made me millions in brand deals over the years, so I've learned to trust his judgment. "Ahh, it's featuring the best athletes across different sports. Cool."
I'm ready to move on when a name catches my eye.
The scriptwriter for my segment? None other than the woman dominating my fantasies: Avery Monroe.
