Page 13 of The Game
Her eyes are sharp and lively, impossible to ignore.
She’s wearing a well-fitted, deep-green jumpsuit. It fits tightly around her chest and waist, then loosens down her thighs and legs.
She’s got on black heels and a cream trench coat.
I whistle at her because, holy hell, what a sight.
“Well, well, well, and who do we have here?” I say, as I drag my eyes down her body.
There’s a pull of warmth and challenge, as she already knows the effect she has on me. I feel a clear thrum of attraction, even before she said a word.
But then, when my words sink in, her body stiffens, and she straightens.
“Excuse me?” Even her voice sounds appealing.
“Noah must have sent you; it’s not my usual style to be with escorts, but hell, with the week I’ve had, I’m all for it,” I tell her.
Noah is my best bud on the team. Sometimes he does crazy stuff to mess with me.
Other times, he’s a really good friend.
All in all, I’m grateful for him and our friendship.
Especially today, with this beauty in front of me.
“Let me just get this clear, you think I’m a hooker?” At her tone, I freeze for a moment.
Slowly, the wheels in my head start turning, and I compose my obvious lust for this woman.
She’s not an escort?
“You’re not?” I say sheepishly, and she breathes hard, her eyes narrowing into slits as she raises her hand, slapping me right across the face.
It takes me a moment to process what just happened.
She hit me, a straight-up slap to my face.
I raise my hand to my cheek to check that this really just happened.
Before I have a chance to apologize to her, she’s talking, furious, making it clear who she is.
“I can’t fucking believe this. No, I’m obviously not a hooker, you idiot. My name is Sarah, and I’m new to the PR team at your hockey team. We have a scheduled meeting right now, and I came all the way here for it. Apparently, you’re expecting someone else and don’t respect my time, so I will be going.”
She begins to turn on her heels, but I stop her with a hand on her elbow. She turns those fiery eyes at me, looks down at my hand on her elbow, a clear warning to get my hands off of her.
I remove my hand and clear my throat.
“Look, Sarah, I’m sorry.” I start to say, but she storms off toward the elevator, leaving me standing in the doorway like the idiot I am.
I think these last few weeks have stolen quite a few of my brain cells because there’s no way in hell this just happened.
I groan as I go back into my hotel room, heading straight to my calendar on my computer.
Just as the stunning Sarah told me, I had an appointment with her right now. It only said
“Meeting on social media strategy. With Sarah Parker.”
Christ.
