Page 6 of Tempting the Player
She started to say where she worked but decided against it. The fact that she knew Maddie and Chase would definitely change things. “I work downtown as an executive assistant. I know. I know. That’s a glorified term for a secretary, but I love what I do.”
Chad placed an arm on the counter, toying with the neck of his beer bottle. “Hey, as long as it’s something you enjoy, doesn’t matter what it is.”
“Do you still enjoy playing baseball?” At the weird look that crossed his face, she added, “I mean, you always hear professional players either love or hate the game after a while.”
“Ah, I get what you mean. I still love the game. Politics of it, not so much, but I wouldn’t change what I do. I get to play and get paid for it.”
“Politics?” she asked, curious.
“The behind-the-scenes stuff,” he explained, taking a swig of his beer. “Agents. Managers. Contracts. All that stuff doesn’t really interest me.”
Bridget nodded, wondering what he thought about the heated debate going on in the sports column lately about whether or not he’d take the New York contract. She really didn’t follow baseball, only ended up reading the section during a particularly boring lunch one day. Typically, she made a beeline for the gossip page, which always had a hefty amount of info on Chad, now that she thought about it.
As she finished her drink, he peppered her with questions about her background, seeming genuinely interested in what she said. When she asked him about his schooling, she pretended she didn’t know what high school and college he went to, but she knew. They were the same as Madison’s.
“So, you come here often?” she asked when there was a lull in conversation. Her gaze dipped to his mouth. She was having a hard time not looking there and imagining what his lips would feel like against hers, how he tasted.
“Once a month, sometimes more or less.” he explained. “My friend Tony probably comes more.”
Now she knew why the dark-haired guy looked familiar. Another baseball player. “Does the entire team come here a lot?”
Chad laughed deeply. “No, most of the guys aren’t into this kind of thing.”
“Oh? But you are?” Yeah, she assumed some of the guys were probably married.
“Most definitely.” He leaned over, placing his arm on the back of her stool. “So you’re not originally from the DC area?”
“Nope, I hail from Pennsylvania.”
“Pennsylvania lost a treasure.”
“Ha. Ha,” she said, but she was secretly flattered. Of course, she’d take that fact to the grave. “And you were doing so well before that line.”
Chad chuckled. “In this case, I meant what I said, but I agree. That line was bad.” His face took on the shape of someone exaggerating being deep in thought, his finger tapping his chin. “Hmm. What’s a better line? How about…”
“No, no,” she said. “Let’s forget about better lines. What’s your worst line? That sounds like way more fun.”
“My worst line?” His eyes twinkled. “You’re assuming I have a worst line, aren’t you?”
Bridget gestured at the bar around her with one hand while leaning closer, settling her chin on her other hand, her arm resting on the bar in what she hoped was a seductive pose. She was a little out of practice. “Given you’ve admitted you hang out here a lot, why yes, I do believe you have many worse lines in you, playa playa.” And then she winked. She actually winked. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to call her out for her worst flirting moves ever because she was pretty sure she’d just emptied the vault in one shebang.
Chad laughed deep and throaty, the sound thrumming down her spine. “Well, I wouldn’t want to waste my worst lines on someone as sexy as you.”
Bridget couldn’t help it—she snorted with laughter. “Well played, sir. Well. Played.” And now she was grinning like an idiot, but at least his grin made a matching set. Man, she’d forgotten how fun it was to just get out and flirt with a smart, sexy guy.
He gave a mock bow. “I try.”
Two shots of vodka arrived mysteriously. Chad laughed when she had to do the shot in two gulps.
“Cheater,” he teased, eyes dancing.
Waving a hand in her face, she laughed. “I don’t know how you do it. That stuff is strong.”
“Years of practice.”
“It’s good to see that you excel at something other than baseball.”
His gaze settled on her lips. “I excel at many things.”
