Out of Bounds(13)

“Everyone is thrilled to have me?” He sweeps his multimillion-dollar arm out wide, his eyes pinned on me. “Because it didn’t seem like everyone was thrilled to have me.”

My face burns and I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or desire or a mix. How on earth is he already dropping naughty little hints? Especially after not calling.

I nod, raising my chin. I don’t know what he’s getting at, but I won’t take the bait. I’m not about to let on that I was so disappointed at the silent treatment that I considered smashing my phone with a hammer as a punishment for it not serving up any texts from him.

“I assure you, everyone at the organization is delighted that you’re on the team.”

Ugh. I sound like a mouthpiece.

He steps closer, leans into me, his mouth now dangerously near to my ear. “Cut the act,” he whispers, his voice low and husky and turning me on even though I wish it wasn’t.

“What act?” I ask, my voice as wobbly as my knees.

“You knew I was traded.”

I wrench back. “What are you talking about?”

He taps his chest. “And you knew who I was.”

I scoff. In his face. “I didn’t know you were being traded,” I whisper sharply, not wanting anyone to overhear our conversation. “But obviously I knew who you were. I’m not stupid. If I didn’t recognize you, I shouldn’t have my job.”

“And yet you said nothing.”

“And yet you said nothing,” I fire back at him.

His expression is cold. “The whole time you knew what was going on, though, about me being traded, and you didn’t say anything?”

I shake my head. I can barely believe this conversation. “I’m not privy to trades before they happen. I’m the attorney, not the general manager. Besides, if I really knew, which I did not, do you think I would have spent the evening with you? I’d have avoided you. I only wanted to help make sure you weren’t hurt.”

Dragging a hand through his thick brown hair, he shrugs. “Fine.”

“And you introduced yourself as Andrew. You didn’t even say what you did for a living. I assumed that meant you wanted to be unknown. Don’t give me a hard time for giving you what you wanted that day,” I seethe, and he sighs heavily. But I’m not done. “And why are you on my case when you didn’t even call me?”

Crap. I want to smack myself. So much for being cool. So much for not letting on. This man rattles me.

But judging from the flummoxed look on his face, I’ve rattled him too. He stares at me, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? I stopped by your house the next day. I tried to text you but I didn’t get the last digit down, so I came by the next day to ask you out. I had no idea you worked for the team.”

“And I had no idea—” I stop when my brain snags on what he just said. Making a T with my hands, I call a timeout. “Wait. Did you say you stopped by?”

He nods several times. “When I realized I didn’t have your full number, I wrote a note, and brought it over to your home and left it on your porch. Tucked it right under the plant by your door.”

Butterflies swoop down out of nowhere, landing in my chest. “You did?” I ask, and I can’t mask the hope in my tone. “What did you say in it?”

A grin spreads on his face, a sweet and sexy smile. He licks his lips. Speaks softly. “That I had a nice time with you. That I messed up your number. That I wanted to know if you’d have any interest in giving me a surfing lesson.”

The note must have gotten lost in all the menus and coupons. I bet Mrs. Fitzsimmons picked it up accidentally when she watered the plants. Probably tossed it in the recycling like she does with the flyers.

In an instant my frustration seeps away. All I want to do is kiss the daylights out of him. But I can’t do that. Instead, I meet his hazel gaze and say, “I would have said yes.” Shivers spread across my skin from my own admission.

His voice is soft and smoky when he answers. “I like it when you say that word.”

I say it again, even though it’s far too risky to use with him. But I inch closer and let it fall from my lips in a soft whisper. “Yes.”

He draws a sharp breath. His eyes darken. “Sounds so f*cking good on your lips.”

Those shivers turn into heat, like a fire has ignited in my chest, and it spreads everywhere. Filling me with lust and desire all from that one word.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

How I want us to say yes.

“You really didn’t get my phone number?”

He shakes his head. “I really didn’t get your number.” His hazel eyes twinkle. He looks happy, and it’s a look he wears extraordinarily well. I cast my eyes around the room, cataloguing the din of all my colleagues in the front office as well as the guys on the field, chatting, drinking, nibbling on appetizers, posing for photos in front of the banner. I’m glad that the noise and hubbub of the conversations are keeping everyone else busy. “Trust me, Dani. If I had that last digit I would have texted you five minutes after I left, and again that night. And after I got home. And before I fell asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

His words light me up. My whole body is humming. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either, and I had a great time talking to you on the beach and at the bar. I could tell you wanted to just be a regular Joe, so I wanted you to be free to do that with me. But I swear I didn’t know you were going to be traded to Los Angeles. I really do think it’s terrific to have you on the team. I know what you did last year. Top-ten quarterback rating in the league, and only one interception. That was impressive,” I say, and he blushes.