Out of Bounds(14)

Holy shit. Drew Erickson blushes when I compliment his stats.

“Who would have thought we’d be playing on the same team? But maybe later, we can pick up where we left off?” he suggests. “Or perhaps we can get a Slurpee and test my brain-freeze cure again. Cold heads seem to be our thing.”

That’s when the sexy flirty feeling fades away. The bubble bursts. The awareness of what a mistake this would be sinks down on me like an anvil.

Chuck. Bambi. Sex scandals like they’re a regular daily routine.

“Shoot,” I say, heavily, like it has twenty syllables.

“Shoot?”

I shake my head. “We can’t. With the trouble the team has been through in the last year . . . I can’t take a chance of anything that would be”—I pause, hunting for the word—“inappropriate. Even remotely inappropriate.”

No way in hell would management want a lawyer diddling with a player. I may not be waving pom-poms on the field, and I’m not wet behind the ears like Bambi, but I know a bad idea.

And this is a world-class-variety bad idea.

He strokes his chin. “We don’t want to put the team in a bad light.”

“And it’s your first year here,” I add because I don’t want to seem like the buzzkill. We both have a lot at stake. My job, his job, the team’s reputation.

“Exactly. Gotta keep everything above board. But, I bet there’s no rule that we can’t be friends,” he says, with a playful glint in his eyes.

I can’t help it. I smile too. This man can charm the panties off me any day.

I mean, the pants.

He’s totally not charming my thong off. That little lacy number is staying where it belongs.

In fact, we spend the next ten minutes chatting about the new place he rented in Santa Monica, and I tell him how the Santa Monica Pier is one of my favorite spots in the world to watch the sunset. “Plus, there’s whack-a-mole games,” I say.

“And Skee-Ball?” he asks, pressing his palms together in prayer. “Please say there’s Skee-Ball too.”

“Of course. I did say it was one of the greatest places in the universe.”

He cups his hands around his mouth like he’s about to tell me a secret. “I feel I should let you know. I’m f*cking awesome at Skee-ball.”

I laugh. “Well, I should hope that magic arm of yours can work wonders”

He wiggles an eyebrow. “I have good hands too.”

And tingles rush down my spine. “Why do I feel like you can turn anything into a naughty comment?”

He blows on his fingers. “Because I can.”

“We’re supposed to be friendly, not flirty,” I whisper.

He has no chance to reply, because the redheaded guy from the charity marches up to us and asks for a photo op with Drew. The photo turns into a long conversation, and it’s time for me to call it a night. Since the Wi-Fi in the reception room is crummy, I head to the lobby to open my Uber app. I carpooled here with a coworker but she took off early when her son’s babysitter had to leave unexpectedly.

I enter my location in the app, but before I can finish, I stop tapping. I turn around. Drew’s by my side.

“You’re not leaving without saying good-bye, are you?”

“Of course not. Just ordering an Uber. I was going to say good-bye.”

He covers my hand with his. “Don’t take an Uber. I’ll drive you home.”

It’s a bad idea, but I don’t resist.

Five minutes later, I slide into the front seat of his Tesla and pull away from the hotel.





Chapter Six

Drew

Dani stretches out her legs in the front seat, and I can barely concentrate on the road anymore.

Those strong calves. Those black heels. That tight little waist. This woman is too f*cking sexy. Too f*cking funny. Such a straight shooter too, and it turns me on to no end. That’s the problem. I can’t afford to be turned on. Need to keep my blinders on.

I grip the wheel tighter as I pull onto the ramp for the freeway heading to Venice Beach. Best to keep the conversation one-hundred percent friendly. So I choose an easy topic. “What’s your favorite movie?” I ask, because I’ve got to get my mind off her body. I need to focus on her as a colleague, not the woman I wanted to take to bed the last time I saw her.

She turns her face to me. “You want to do the favorites game now? Is that part of your ‘friendly, not flirty’ approach?”

I smile as I click on the blinker to merge. “Indeed it is. Big movie fan here. So fess up, woman.”

“Heaven Can Wait, of course,” she says, winking.

I scoff. “You can’t pick a football movie.”

“Why not?”

“Because we work in football. Sports movies are ruled out.”

“But it’s an awesome movie.”

I nod, agreeing as I press the brake. Traffic is slowing ahead. This city is crazy. Even late at night, there are traffic jams. “Heaven Can Wait is so damn good. So is Bull Durham, and Friday Night Lights, and Hoop Dreams. The cinema on the promenade in Santa Monica is showing some of the best sports flicks in a few weeks.”

“See? No one can resist the pull of Heaven Can Wait. It’s the kind of football movie that even non–football fans love.”