Page 10 of Off Her Game
“That’s the plan they came up with. I don’t think we’re all that unlikely.”
“Seriously? I’m an unemployed gamer with illegal gambling debts and way more arrests than you can imagine. You’re a CEO, which means although rich, you’re likely stressed, stretched thin, and don’t have time or interest in dating someone like me.”
“Not all of that’s true. I’m totally into badasses, and you’re about the most badass woman I’ve ever met.” Damn, that came off as cool. Something about her didn’t make him stumble all over himself like he did around most women.
Her cheeks turned an appealing shade of pink. “This better not be because I look like the Giselle avatar inZoneworld One.”
She did have long dark hair and a petite curvaceous hourglass figure. Based on her mean face she was super sensitive about being attractive.
He rushed to say, “No. I meanno way.No, I don’t mean you’re ugly. You’re pretty, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not like I associated you with some gaming character and wanted to use this as a weird angle to get you into bed. No.” He shook his head.
“Just checking.” She hadn’t relaxed and continued to scowl at him.
He massaged his forehead. “I’m not asking you to like me. We don’t need to actually be in to each other. This is just a show. A few dates. A week or two, perhaps. I’ll pay.”
“You’re not expecting full benefits of dating, are you?” She moistened her lips as she let her eyes drop down his body.
Full benefits?He wished it could go that way. Oh, hell, did he want that.No, she just established this couldn’t be about that. “Show only. We might have to kiss or act like we’re in to each other once or twice in public. Might have to sleep together, depending on how long we have to continue the charade.” His face went hot. “Shit. Sorry. Meant you might need to stay over. In the guestroom.”
“You’re not some Joe Schmo I can take to a seedy Chinese restaurant on a date. You’re the Game Lord. You’re a god in this circle, and if word gets out about you and me—and it will—I’ll be scrutinized closer by Symphis.” Before he could reply, she held up her hand. “I don’t want to be followed around by FBI agents or wired while we’re on our dates. That’s got to be you and me doing whatever we’d be doing on a date. If you have info to pass to me, then you tell me. Nothing via email or text or phone message. Nothing written. I can slip you a flash drive or something, but I don’t want to look over and see two steroid junkies in beige suits watching me.”
“No agents.”
They both stumbled when another gust of icy wind hit. Her hand landed on his chest, inciting a tangle of sensation. His startled gaze dropped to her gaping shirt. The swells of her breasts and…another tattoo?
One of her eyebrows quirked.
He jumped away. “Inside…go in. I mean it’s hot. No, cold.”
Now both of her eyebrows shot upward.
“I swear I didn’t mean to look and see the tattoo,” he said.
“But you did look. Is this kind of looking going to be a problem?” She took a step away from him. Did she want him to look or not? He couldn’t tell.
He shook his head. “I’ll only look at what you want me to look at.” Damn, that sounded idiotic. This was turning into a clusterfuck.Escape.He pulled open the door and glanced to the opposite end of the room where Jake and Tom had remained at the table. “They’ll want to know if you’re you in or out.”
She closed her eyes and sighed as if kissing her plans for the future goodbye. “So, how’re we supposed to have met? In jail?”
“No. No one can know I was there.”
“Records of detainees are public.”
“The FBI is going to adjust the records, if they haven’t already. I made you mess up today and asked you out as an I’m-sorry.” He shrugged. “Not too far from the truth.”
With a resigned tone she asked, “When’s our first date?”
“Day after tomorrow. I’m taking you to a French place. Emma will get you the details.”
“Dressing nice, then,” she muttered. “My price for this first date is you getting me through level forty-one.”
Tori slammed the door of the hotel room she shared with her teammates.Let them not be here.
“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Alex called out from the bedroom of the two-room suite.
Her eyelids drifted closed before she braved the bedroom.You can handle this.“Why aren’t you on the floor?”
“I messed up on thirty-one after you blew up. The maze always gets me when you’re not there to throw cover fire, but you? Twenty-three? What the hell? You had a fifteen-plus storm shield and built yourself cover. How?” Alex perched on the windowsill. He pushed his glasses up his nose and rolled the Tootsie Pop in his mouth to the other side. His lucky vintage Punisher T-shirt had a half-inch hole on his left side where white skin showed through, but no one could convince him to wear anything else during a final competition round. She bet he hadn’t washed it in a long time out of fear it’d disintegrate.
