Page 9 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
“Well, I love sports,” she says with a grin. “I’ve played volleyball my whole life. It’s given me my closest friends, the chance to go to this school, and some hard-won truths about winning, losing, and dealing with it. Athletics can give you so many tools and skills in life. So I think what I really want to do is sports marketing or advocacy with an outreach angle.”
Hot damn, this woman has her shit together. If I’m not careful, I might fall for her in the span of an hour.
“So, the podcast is a vehicle for that,” I say.
“Absolutely. It’s a chance for me to gain experience and make a name for myself. I interviewed an athlete in Spanish and English once, and that interview had a ton of downloads.”
“You speak Spanish too.”
“Double major,” she says, with a twinkle of well-earned pride.
I shake my head, impressed. “You’ve really got it together. Will you miss volleyball?”
“We had our final game last week.” Her voice goes all wistful at the end, her eyes a little dreamy. “I’ll miss it, but I’ll keep playing. For fun. With friends.” She angles her head to study me as she asks, “Do you think you would play baseball if you weren’t playing professionally?”
I mime stabbing my chest. “Way to wound me, Reese, making me consider a reality so horrible.”
“I’m so cruel.” She pats me on the thigh. It’s a fun, playful gesture, but it’s also incredibly flirty.
My eyes drift down to her hand. Maybe she’ll keep it there, but nope, it’s a quick move, and it ends too soon.
“But you don’t have to think about that,” she adds.
I wipe my hand across my forehead. “Thank God.”
I’m enjoying her too much to stick with my get in, get out plan. I’m glad we have the walk-and-talk part of the interview left, but I don’t know if that will be enough. I don’t want the part of my day assigned to Reese to end.
Time to upend my own damn schedule.
Besides, one day won’t distract me from my goals.
Hell, I spent my entire rookie season with blinders on, lasered in on the game. Now it’s my second year in the majors, but I’m still all about the focus. This afternoon is a reprieve from the eat, sleep, breathe round-the-clockness of pro ball.
I want to devour this afternoon with her.
“You ready to do the walk-around-campus thing so you can show me all your favorite places here and share your favorite memories?” she asks.
I flash her a grin, feeling it deep inside my soul. “I’d be ecstatic to show you everything.”
A faint blush crawls across her cheeks, a sexy splash of pink. “Let’s do it, Holden.”
Yeah, she gives good banter too.
Already today is shaping up to be one of my favorite memories of this place.
That was not in the plan at all.
But it is absolutely in the chemistry.
3
Reese
The man has a mouth for innuendo and lips made for dirty talk. Words seem to fall from his tongue laced with seduction.
And I can’t not give him a hard time about the particular word he just used.
“Ecstasy?” I say as we leave the media booth. “Is that your favorite word now?”
“Seems it’s yours,” he counters.
“I did start it,” I admit.
“And I continued it. So, apparently, for today, it is my favorite word,” he says, all playful.
“Do you think listeners will know you kind of blushed when you said it there at the start of the interview?”
“I did not blush,” he says, like he’s highly affronted.
I shoot him a doubtful look. “You’re kind of blushing now too.” He’s so easy to tease. Maybe because he seems to love the push-pull, the back-and-forth.
“I don’t blush,” he insists, lifting his chin, handsome even when indignant.
I laugh, admitting the truth. “I know. It’s ridiculously fun—and easy—to tease you.”
“And you seem to be ridiculously good at it, Reese,” he says in a low rumble that rolls down my spine, slow and lazy, leaving heat in its wake.
We near the exit, and he swings the door open for me then holds out his arm, saying ladies first.
“Such a gentleman,” I remark.
He narrows his eyes and says as I pass, “Not always.”
My breath catches, and there’s a part of me—an aching, hungry part—that wants to grab hold of that remark. To clutch it against my breasts and ask when he’s not a gentleman, whether he’s a bossy guy at times.
A kick of possibility intrigues me. Is that my type of guy? Do I want a potent combination of charming, kind, and bossy? Do I like gentlemen who flirt by day and go rough at night? I wish I knew. I wish I’d have the chance to know Holden so much better.
When he speaks again, he’s gone back to lightly, irresistibly provocative. “Or maybe it’s not my favorite word, just the right word. Maybe I was truly ecstatic.”
