The Trade(81)

She sighs against my mouth and grips the lapels of my jacket when I pull away. Looking up at me, a light sparkle in her eyes, she says, “I should not be able to see your muscles in a suit. It’s not fair.”

I chuckle and reply, “I would not be surprised if the back of this jacket rips its seams from how tight it is. I’ve been lifting more than I thought.”

“Oh, the big man has muscles, huh?” she asks in a teasing tone, squeezing my biceps.

“You know I do.” I take her hand in mine and say, “Ready to go?”

“Ready.” She shuts her door and locks up and we both head to the elevator.

Once we’re out on the street, I help her into my Jaguar F-TYPE that’s with an attendant and hand the guy a tip.

When I hop into the driver’s side, she stares at me in shock and says, “We took public transportation yesterday, why not this?” She rubs her hand over the dashboard and then looks at me, lust in her eyes. “It’s really sexy.”

Chuckling, I roar the engine to life and say, “I’ll remember that for next time.” Before pulling out on the street, I press my hand to her thigh and keep it there, wanting to make contact with her. I might not be around all the time, but when I’m with her, I will always show her how much I want her near me.

“Where are we headed?” she asks, moving her hand over mine. It’s a simple move, one I’ve seen Milly do with Carson, but it sends a thrill up my arm. This is what I didn’t know I wanted. This easy contact, having someone you can be intimate with, not just sex.

Switching lanes, I look over my shoulder and then say, “Neptune’s.”

“Seriously?” she asks. “You got a reservation like that? No problem? Did you have someone call for you?”

“Hell no. I take care of my girl myself. I called, told them my name and they hung up on me, not believing a word of it. So I went there in person and asked for a reservation. I think they felt really bad about hanging up, and they reserved a table for us.”

“They felt bad? They probably ate their own feet.” She laughs. “You know, when I said fancy, I didn’t mean go to the most sought-after place in Illinois.”

“Go big or go home.”

“Setting the bar high, Potter.”

Squeezing her thigh, I say, “When it goes downhill from here, just remember, I went to the restaurant in person to make reservations. That’s commitment.”

“It earned you quite a few points, that’s for sure.” And then speaking behind her hand she whispers, “Not that you needed them in the first place.”





“Okay, you win at life,” Natalie says, leaning back in her chair and chewing on a piece of my steak. “Ugh, I’m so mad I didn’t get that now.”

I stare at her half-eaten pasta dish and say, “Want to trade?”

Her eyes flash up to mine, her thick eyelashes making the blue stand out even more brilliantly. “You would be willing to risk carbs for me?”

“If it would make you happy, sure.”

“Oh, Cory Potter.” She shakes her head. “You have this dating thing down. But that’s okay, you enjoy your steak.”

I stare at her for a few seconds and then cut the rest of my steak in half. I cut it up and then reach for her plate. I dump half her pasta on my plate, the cut-up steak onto her plate, and hand it back to her. “There, now we can both enjoy everything together.”

Her lips twist together as she attempts to hold back her smile. She doesn’t lift her fork to start eating, instead, she stares at me, taking me in, a look of disbelief on her face.

“What?” I ask, after I swallow. “What’s that look for?”

“You just shared your steak with me. Your yummy, melt-in-your-mouth, orgasmic steak.”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “You liked the steak, I like you, therefore . . . it’s yours.” I give her a wink and dip my fork into her creamy pasta. Yeah, this is so not on the eating plan but hey, that’s what extra workouts are for, right?

“You’re unbelievable, Cory.”

“I hope in a good way.”

“The best way.” She sits up and stabs a piece of meat with her fork. Right before putting it in her mouth, she says, “What kind of dating life did you have back in Baltimore? I know you didn’t have any relationships, but did you ever take anyone out?”

I shake my head. “Not really. Didn’t want to lead anyone on, you know?”

“And you weren’t celibate?” I lift one single eyebrow at her, causing her to laugh and cover her mouth. “Okay, we both know you weren’t. But how did that work? Did they sign an NDA?”

“Is this stuff you really want to know?”

“I mean . . . sort of. It’s interesting to me.”

I bring my napkin up to my mouth, dab, finish chewing and then rest my hand on the table, twirling my wineglass by the stem. Communication and honesty. That’s what this girl wants, so that’s what I’ll give her. “I had an NDA, yeah. Asking the girl to sign it was always weird and uncomfortable, but it was necessary.”

“God, how awkward.” She laughs. “Let’s have sex, but first, sign on the dotted line to see my dick.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, not the finest moment for a professional baseball player, but we all had them. It’s something your agent talks to you about and forces you to adhere to. Some teams encourage them as well.”