The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel(27)

“I’ll let you get back to work. Call you next week?”

“That sounds great. Sure.”

Maybe by then, I’d grow a backbone.

***

In the ten minutes I stood in the bathroom stall, I’d taken my underwear off and put it back on three times. The outer door opened again, and two women whose voices I didn’t recognize walked in, chatting. This was ridiculous.

I decided to rise to the challenge. I balled the black lacy thong I was wearing in my palm, then stuffed it into the zippered compartment of my purse. Stepping out, it felt liberating. I washed my hands and headed to the exit of my office complex.

Through the glass front doors, I saw Brody leaning against his car. He was swinging the keys around casually and watching the people come and go from the building. I was an equal mix of excited and nervous as I stepped onto the sidewalk. When he caught sight of me, his face curved into a delicious grin. He folded his arms across his chest and watched me intently as I walked toward the car. The street was filled with people walking in all directions, yet he didn’t seem to notice a single one of them. It was the craziest thing—the way he was looking at me, watching every move I made with desire on his face—was actually turning me on a little. My body became aroused without a single touch. I was suddenly starving, but it definitely wasn’t for dinner.

He extended a hand to me as I neared, then abruptly tugged it hard, pulling me against him. Surprising me, he proceeded to kiss me—right there on the street. And what a kiss.

My brain was short-circuited when he finally released my mouth. “Damn.” His hands slid down and locked around my waist, keeping me flush against him. “We could skip the date.”

Even though my body wanted nothing more than to do exactly that, I said, “I can’t make it that easy for you now, can I?”

“You’ve done nothing but make me hard since the day I met you.” He pulled me even tighter against him—I literally felt his sincerity. Pushing against my stomach.

“So where are we going?”

“Dinner and a museum.”

“Museum?”

“You said you loved them the other day.”

“For a guy who doesn’t believe in bullshit flowers and sweet gestures, you’re pretty damn good at them.”

Even though we went to a small restaurant that was off the celebrity grid, between the time the valet took the car and when we were seated at a quiet table in the corner, two people stopped us.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it. Only I don’t remember the wives of the men who stopped my dad looking at him the way that last guy’s wife was ogling you.”

“I met your dad once.”

“You did?”

“Yep. Training camp my first year on the team. He took me aside, and we talked for about a half hour. He used to come the first day of every season.”

“What did you talk about?”

“He told me if I ever went near his daughter, he’d crush my nuts in a vise.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Nah, I’m just screwing with you.”

I laughed. I did that a lot around Brody. He had an uncanny ability to change my mood in an instant. One minute I would be laughing, the next I could be practically panting from the extreme sexual tension.

After we had ordered wine and appetizers, another excited fan interrupted our conversation and asked for an autograph. It was mid football season, and I was having dinner with the starting quarterback of the number-two-ranked team.

“Does it bother you? Fame?”

“Not usually. I generally don’t do anything in public that I care about being interrupted. Believe it or not, I don’t go out too much.”

“I’ve seen you photographed with plenty of women.”

“Most of that was from events. Obligations for sponsors or the team. I actually can’t remember the last time I had a date like this. Without it being something I was required to attend.”

“Why is that? I’m guessing it isn’t from lack of opportunity.”

“I like to keep my focus on the game.”

“So you’ve never had a serious relationship?”

Brody leaned back into his chair and glanced around the restaurant. “I’ve had a relationship, yes.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. Clearly this conversation made him uncomfortable. But I wanted to know more about him.

“What happened?”

“It ended.”

“I gathered that much, considering we’re sitting here, and you’ve been trying to get me to sleep with you for weeks.”

Brody’s eyebrows shot up. “Why does it always feel like I’m being interviewed when we’re together?”

“Probably because you don’t volunteer much information.”

The waitress stopped by our table. “Can I take these plates for you?”

Brody nodded. “That would be great.”

When she disappeared, he tried to change the subject. “So, journalism?”

I wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. I sipped my wine and ignored his blatant attempt. “So you have had a relationship before?”

“Yes.”