Page 97 of Ruthless Court

Because she saw a weakness our opponents are starting to exploit.

Because her fingers touched mine over a pencil, and something sharp traveled straight up my arm.

Annoyance.

That’s all it was.

I was angry. She was angry. The room was cold.

Electricity doesn’t mean anything.

Neither does the way her eyes looked bigger behind those frames or how her lashes touched the lenses when she glanced down.

The lip bite was probably concentration.

It wasn’t for me.

I have spent years surrounded by women who know exactly how to look at a basketball player. Krista could turn one glance into an invitation. Stella could hold eye contact until the rest of the room disappeared.

Bookworm looked at me like she wanted to diagnose a disease.

Somehow, it worked.

Eli snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“You left the building.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About her mouth?”

“No.”

He grins.

I shove away from his desk.

“I’m losing focus. That’s the problem.”

“Your season is going great.”

“My reads aren’t.”

“You fixed them today.”

“Because she pointed it out.”

Eli’s humor fades a little.

“What did she say?”

I explain the shoulder turn. The early gather. The way I abandon the left-hand finish when help arrives.

He listens without interrupting.

When I finish, he swivels toward his laptop and pulls up the latest game.

We watch three possessions.