Out of Bounds(12)

“Be on your best behavior, Drew,” he says, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I always am,” I reply, and the fact is, that’s true. Clean-cut is my nickname.

“And text if you’re done early.”

“If I’m done early, I’m having a date with my mattress.”

He groans. “You are the definition of no fun.”

I grin. “That’s me. That’s why Qwench wants me now. Because I know how to get a good night’s sleep and stay out of the line of fire.”

When I hang up, I step out of the car, hand the keys to the valet, and thank him. Then I head inside, where Stuart greets me in the room reserved for the event, claps me on the back, and introduces me to several people. A photographer snaps shots the whole time, and I play the role that’s hardly a role—the outgoing, non-trouble-making, peace-loving quarterback who doesn’t throw punches or raise fists, like others before me have.

Don’t smoke, don’t do drugs, don’t have unprotected sex, and I also don’t speed. Squeaky clean indeed. Not even a traffic ticket on the record, and certainly no knocked-up teenyboppers with mini Drews baking in their bellies.

Stuart introduces me to the red-haired, freckle-faced guy who heads up this charity. “And this is Drew Erickson. He’s our new starter. We’re thrilled to have him on the team, especially since he’s already active with many wonderful charitable endeavors,” Stuart says to the ginger-haired guy.

We exchange small talk for a few minutes, then Stuart drops a hand on my shoulder and tells me there’s someone else he wants me to meet. “I’d love to introduce you to a sharp-as-a-tack woman who makes sure I don’t fumble,” he says, then winks in case I didn’t realize he was making a joke.

I smile to let him know I got it—fumbling humor and all—then my smile turns into a ruler-straight line when I turn on my heels and see my surfer angel.

Holy shit. She’s hot as sin in a red skirt, white blouse, and black heels. She holds a drink. Her blond hair is twisted on her head. Damn. The smoking-hot look is almost enough to make me forget she blew me off. My dick, the traitorous bastard, has already come down with amnesia. The f*cker wants her.

“This is Dani Paige. She’s an attorney for the team,” he says, and I attempt to school my expression as I come face-to-face with the woman who ditched me.

And all I want to do is toss her on my shoulder, stalk to the bathroom, slam the door, and ask her why the f*ck she didn’t call. Then when she tells me it was because she was too busy getting off to thoughts of me, I’d kiss the hell out of her until she melted in my arms and begged me to take her. I’d happily oblige. Hoist her up, hook her legs around my hips, and f*ck her against the wall until she comes harder than she ever has before.

Instead, I shake her free hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” Then I whisper, just for her. “Jaws.”





Chapter Five

Dani

I knock back my Arnold Palmer in one fast gulp.

Like it’s going to give me the fuel I need to manage this interaction with Drew.

I knew it would happen eventually, but I have no clue what to expect now that he’s here in front of me, with Stuart by his side. Talk about awkward.

The trouble is, I can’t talk about anything because I’ve finished my beverage too fast and it’s gone straight to my head. As in, epic brain freeze. My forehead pulses in a mind-numbing headache. I press my palm against my temple.

The pain. Oh lord, the ridiculous pain.

“You okay?”

I meet Drew’s gaze. “Brain freeze,” I croak out.

“Press your tongue against the roof of your mouth,” he says, and then he demonstrates. On himself. Opening his mouth, sticking his tongue up, and showing me.

It’s the strangest moment and one that is rife for innuendo, because . . . his tongue.

But my head aches like a son of a bitch so I do as he says, pushing the tip of mine against the roof of my mouth. In a few wondrous seconds, the pain in my forehead dissipates.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “How on earth did you know to do that?”

He shrugs. “Big fan of Slurpees. Learned it the hard way.”

Stuart beams, claps his hands, and says, “I can see you two will get along fine. Drew, if you need anything, Dani is the legal liaison to the press department this season. She’s tasked with helping us to make sure we present the best public face, and don’t break any rules. Or laws.” He pauses, then adds, this time with complete seriousness. “Or morals. Especially those.” I nod my understanding and Drew does the same. Then Stuart flashes a huge smile and laughs. “Need to go make the rounds, so I’ll leave you two alone.”

Stuart walks away, and I stand near the bar with the man who ditched me the other week.

Be cool. Be calm. Be a pro. Don’t break any rules.

I part my lips to speak, hunting for words to break the tension that still exists between us. In my best cool-as-a-cucumber tone, I say, “Congratulations on joining the team. Everyone is thrilled to have you.”

He arches an eyebrow and even that simple gesture is impossibly sexy on him. But then, he has an unfair advantage because he’s decked out in a three-piece suit—tailored pants, a dress shirt, and a vest that fits him like a glove. If he wasn’t already stunning, the damn vest alone would knock him into another stratosphere, because there’s just something so ridiculously hot about a man who can pull off that look. You have to possess a spectacular body to wear that kind of three-piece suit. Drew seems to have stepped off the pages of GQ, tailored to within a millimeter of his fine frame. I’ve seen him in shorts, and I’ve seen him in a suit. The man makes the clothes every time.