Page 23 of Sportsball is for Lovers

eight

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Jared

Fuck.Sylvie is hot.

Sadie.

Whatever the fuck name she goes by, she is fucking gorgeous.

Her face is pretty, her features romantic, almost poetic. Olive skin, dark eyes, chestnut brown hair falling in gentle waves to frame her face. A single stud in her nose and a ladder of rings up one ear. She’s wearing a low-cut gray dress which shows off her killer figure. I want to sink my teeth into the curve of her neck and⁠—

Okay, where did that come from? I’m not a vampire; biting is not my kink.

Across the party, she’s standing with a group of women about her age, drinking a beer and smiling.

“So what’s her deal?” I ask my brother, nodding toward his boss.

Yoni sits back in his seat, smirking at me. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Is she single?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Making a disgruntled noise, I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”

I can’t deny the fission of heat running through me, though.

“She’s single,” Yoni finally confirms. “Married to her work, though.”

I get that; I’m certainly committed to mine. It’s not like I have time for much else these days. I’m always working, either traveling or recuperating from traveling.

My stomach turns at the reminder of the intern. She’s doing well; really well. The ratings are always up on nights she broadcasts. I wouldn’t put it past the network to take things in a different direction. Especially if they can give her a newbie’s salary rather than pay for my ten years of experience.

Taking a sip of my gin and tonic, I close my eyes and breathe through my nose. I’m not going to worry about it. Not tonight, at least.

“Tell me about this book convention,” I ask my brother.

He shrugs. “Tonight is for the readers to mingle with the authors. Some of them will give readings. Not Sylvie, though. She has her narrator do a performance.”

My eyebrow goes up. “She has a narrator?”

“About three quarters of her books are in audiobook format, and we’re working on getting the rest of the backlist done,” Yoni says proudly. “It should be done within the next six months.”

“Nice.” I hold my fist out for a bump. I can see how much this means to him. How accomplished this makes him feel.

“Tomorrow, the authors are assigned tables and the readers will come up, buy books, and get them signed. It’s more formal, though still fairly laid back. And then tomorrow night, there’s a big party. Almost like a Bar Mitzvah party without the kid,” he continues.

“So just… a party?”

He grins. “If you say so. There’s an open bar and it’s—well, it’s a lot of fun.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I mutter as I sip my drink. My eyes flick across the room again.

Sylvie—Sadie—talks animatedly in a group of women. She gesticulates with her hands, including the one holding her beer, and the pretty blonde woman from the elevator laughs uproariously.

“What does she write?” I nod toward her again.