Page 12 of Undisputed Player
The world, my world, just... stopped.
The noise faded, the room shrank, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was the one caught staring.
She looked away almost immediately, her expression shuttered, but the damage was done.
My pulse kicked up, something wild, hot, and inexplicable roaring to life in me. I'd seen beautiful women before—hell, I'd had them. All shapes, all colors, all flavors of desperate and eager.
But this was different.
This was a punch to the solar plexus, a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know what made her smile, what made her laugh, what she sounded like when she wasn't carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
I wanted to know why she looked so tired, why her hands were so steady, why she moved like she was barely here.
"Avery," she said, her voice quiet and melodic, with an undercurrent of authority that made my niece immediately straighten her posture. "Indoor voice, remember?"
"Sorry, Ms. Estelle!" Avery stage-whispered, not looking remotely apologetic. "I wanted Jax to meet Leo!"
Ms. Estelle. The name blazed itself across my mind like a brand. I wanted to taste it on my tongue, to see if saying it would somehow bring me closer to understanding this woman who had, in the space of seconds, become the most fascinating thing I'd ever encountered.
She set her papers down and crouched to help the boy with his backpack, her movements gentle but efficient. The way she interacted with him was different from how she'd looked at me.
Protective, maternal.
"That's sweet," she murmured, not even glancing my way.
Her voice was low, a little rough around the edges, like she didn't waste it on small talk. It sent a shiver down my spine.
I'd never seen beauty like this, so unaware of its own power.
I cleared my throat, feeling off-balance for the first time in years, and extended my hand.
"Jax Easton," I said, dialing up the smile that had graced magazine covers and dropped panties across continents. "Avery's uncle."
She straightened slowly, like someone who'd learned not to make sudden movements, and wiped her palms on her jeans before briefly—so briefly I almost missed it—touching her fingers to mine.
"Estelle Moore."
Her hands were slender but strong, nails trimmed and practical, devoid of the flashy manicures that adorned the fingers of women I typically entertained.
Her grip was cool, her touch light, as if she was already halfway gone.
Estelle Moore.The name rolled through my mind, fitting her perfectly. Elegant and timeless, like a fallen star with trust issues.
I waited for the flicker of recognition, the widening of eyes, the subtle shift in body language that always happened when people realized who I was.
But it didn't come.
Either she didn't know, which seemed unlikely given my face wasplastered across half the billboards in the city, or she didn't care. Both possibilities were foreign concepts.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Estelle,” I said, letting her name linger on my tongue like expensive wine. "Avery's mentioned Leo quite a bit. Sounds like they've become good friends."
Something softened in her expression when she looked at the children, a warmth that hadn't been there when she looked at me.
The transformation was stunning. Her entire face lit from within, exhaustion falling away like a mask, revealing a beauty so raw and genuine it made me want to watch her forever.
"They have," she replied, and I caught the faint smile that ghosted across her lips as she watched Leo carefully zip his backpack. “They’ve been having lunch together.”
She knew who I was. She had to. But she didn't fawn, didn't flirt, didn't do anything but seldom meet my gaze with polite, practiced indifference.
