Page 2 of Imperfect Player

The moment we reach the group, Tripp pulls Linnie against him and presses a kiss to her cheek, the epitome of a proud, love-drunk husband. For a moment, a fleeting one, I feel a twinge of jealousy over what they have. It’s what I thought I had found with Kai. Right up until he made damn sure I knew I hadn’t.

“I’d like you to meet my wife, Linnie,” Tripp tells everyone in the group, as if the sappy smile on his face wasn’t enough to let them know.

Her smile appears genuine as she shakes hands with a bunch of men she doesn’t know or care about. Sports. Athletes. Schmoozing. That’s Tripp’s world, not Linnie’s. Linnie is a teacher. She loves children. Loves teaching them even more. I guess it’s true what they say— opposites really do attract.

“And this,” Tripp’s voice rises, “is Everly. She’s the best agent I have. Probably the best in the business. She and Linnie put this event together.”

A tall gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair stretches his hand out to me, his eyes raking over me as he does. I immediately curse my curves. The blue dress I selected—stunning but professional—falls to my knees. The material is tight enough to show off my curves, but not enough to make a man pant. At least, I didn’t think it was. I’m always careful when it comes to my attire, trying to still be true to myself while at the same time not putting myself out there as a sexual being.

I take his hand and shake it, trying to ignore the way he rubs his thumb over the back of my hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Everly. The event is…” His eyes drop to my breasts. “Impeccable.”

“Thank you so much.”

I tug my hand back, but Mister Salt-and-Pepper doesn’t seem to care. He holds it a little tighter, his eyes turning a little darker. My smile falters.

Tripp and Linnie are otherwise preoccupied with players and businesspersons, too busy to notice the extra-long, leering look the man is giving me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. Movement in my direction.

Then I’m wet.

Soaked, actually.

Mister Salt-and-Pepper releases my hand and jumps back, trying to avoid any splash of the liquid that’s now covering the front of my dress.

My eyes meet those of the man whose drink is currently all over me.

“Oops,” he says, a cocky smile on his handsome face.

I would read him the riot act if those brown eyes of his didn’t have me stunned silent. Who am I kidding? Every piece of him has me stunned silent.

I’ve heard of him, seen him on television. Hell, I know everything there is to know about him—not that he allows much to be known. None of it compares to being up close and personal with him. Those eyes. That smile. The combination of the two? Lethal.

Ethan Ambrose. Pitcher for the Remington Railcats.

Party boy. Troublemaker. Tripp, and Advantage’s, top client even though the man has yet to do a single endorsement, or much of anything, really. Besides being the best pitcher in the league, that is.

Yeah, I should be pissed. Or say something. After all, the man just spilled his drink on me, and all he has to say in return is oops?

Instead, I stand here staring at him, trying to remain calm and professional.

Tripp runs over with napkins which Ethan promptly takes from him before I can reach them myself.

“Here, let me help you,” he says, pressing the napkins to my stomach, my chest—my breasts.

Utterly stunned by the events transpiring, I allow his hands to linger on my breasts a little longer than they should before snapping out of my fog and swatting his hand away.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” I say, taking the napkins from him.

“I’m not trying to cop a feel, I swear,” he tells me, though the wicked smile on his lips says otherwise. Still, I believe his words more than his smile. There’s something deceiving about his smile—something missing. Beautiful as it is, it doesn’t quite make its way to his eyes. For me, the eyes are where you find the truth. In his, all I see is heat and heart.

Yep, it’s always in the eyes.

“It’s fine, really. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to clean up.”

I brush past Linnie and the group of men and head to the nearest restroom.

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