Page 34 of Ruff and Tumble

This is a game I know how to play.

Cole waited until Hailey finished with the board and turned toward him, a question in the arch of her brow. It matched the rest of the look she’d pulled together for the day—a sort of tousled, tumbled pinup who knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“Well?” she asked. “Have you finished looking everything over? Can I call in your adoring hordes?”

He didn’t answer her—at least not in words. Without losing eye contact, he began to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt. His sister had once told him, back in the days when his enthusiasm far outstripped his charm, that women were more attracted to forearms than to any other part of a man. He’d suspected Regina of saying that to make him feel better—as a gangly teen who hadn’t yet grown into his body, his arms had been the only impressive thing about him—but he’d quickly realized she was right. A slow, careful rolling of his shirtsleeves did more to attract the ladies than any other display he put on.

He halfway feared Hailey would prove herself as immune to this as everything else, but he only made it to one elbow before her eyes flashed silver. He might have felt triumphant at having so easily overset her, if not for the fact that those silver sparks had a way of setting off a fire in his veins—especially when they were matched by that telltale pink flush on her cheeks.

Damn.He was supposed to be the one driving her out of her mind with desire, not the other way around.

“Hiya!” Penny burst through the door before he could make the mistake of doing anything more than finish rolling his sleeves. She dragged a pair of photo lights behind her. “I’m just going to set these up in the corner. Are we ready to go in here?”

“I’m good,” Cole said with a pointed look at Hailey. “You might as well release the hounds. Metaphorically speaking, that is.”

Penny laughed and obliged him, popping her head out of the conference room just long enough to call the press in.

“I can tell what you’re trying to do,” Hailey hissed as they watched the half-dozen photographers crowd into the room. They were already liberally snapping pictures, taking in the draft board and the pit bull puppy curled up with his stuffed football in the corner like they’d never seen a PR puff piece before. “And it won’t work. I’m not so easily distracted.”

“It’s warm in here, don’t you think?” he asked. He didn’t bother lowering his own voice, which had the benefit of drawing the rest of the room’s inhabitants into the conversation. “I’m feeling awfully warm.”

“I can adjust the temperature—” Penny began but stopped as soon as Cole undid the top button of his shirt. “Oh. Okay. That works too.”

He grinned. “How about you, Hailey? Are you feeling the heat?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Penny, did you bring the coin for the toss?”

“Oh, there’s no need for such formality,” Cole said with a smile that was mostly for the cameras. “Ladies first—I insist.”

He expected Hailey to argue or demur, but she hesitated all of half a second before announcing, “I’ll take Ursula. She’s the six-month-old rescue from the shelter in Sequim.”

Cole was startled by both the promptness and the quality of her first pick. “Isn’t that the Chihuahua with only one eye?”

Hailey turned on him with a look that contained equal parts disgust and challenge. “Yes. She’s small but mighty. A fighter. A top draft if ever I met one.”

Penny took the photo from the board and moved it over to Hailey’s side, pausing only to cast a look over her shoulder at Cole. “You’d better be careful. Hailey is crazy good at this. She wins our office fantasy league every year. It’s like she can see into the future.”

Nothing could have been more calculated to fit in with Cole’s plans. Announcing Hailey’s ability to win in front of the press was exactly what this was supposed to be about. She was a fan, a believer, a good-luck charm. They might have to fudge the footage a little to make him look like the winner, but the harder she played, the better their chances of helping his team break the curse.

Nothing could have been more calculated to get his competitive juices flowing, too. Crazy good, his ass. How hard could it be to pick a team of football puppies when he’d been playing the real game his whole life?

“I’m not psychic,” Hailey protested. “Well, Cole? Who’s your top pick?”

“Cleopatra,” he announced, not missing a beat. “The one that’s half Great Dane and half Rottweiler. From Bellevue.”

Hailey snorted. “I knew you’d pick her.”

Cole didn’t want to ask. Not in front of an audience. Not when the proverbial cameras were rolling.

He did anyway. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

Hailey rolled her shoulder. It caused the strap of her jumpsuit to slip oh-so-slightly, exposing the thin line of her clavicle, which was just as spattered with light freckles as the rest of her. As if aware that he was staring at it—at her—she didn’t make a move to put the strap back. “Nothing. She’s just the showiest one of the lot, that’s all. Let me guess… You have the gray-and-white bulldog for pick number two, don’t you?”

He did, actually. He liked its angry little face. He didn’t think it would take a tackle easily.

“Penny, slide Jerry over to my side, if you please. Jerry,” she said to the journalists, “is a three-legged mixed breed with the most beautiful brindle coloring. He was found on the side of the freeway just south of Everett. The vets weren’t sure he’d make it after they had to amputate his leg, but his spirit is strong.”

All of Hailey’s puppy picks followed along the same lines. Cole got his bulldog and a pair of twin black Labs, as well as Philip—though he picked his puppy more out of loyalty than because he’d be any good at football. In the short time he and Philip had spent together, he’d learned that in addition to being scared of solitude, Philip was scared of can openers. Not to mention the front door, the balcony door, windows that were even the slightest bit open, and cheese.