“It was nothing,” she insisted, more to herself than him. She’d replayed the handful of words exchanged in an everyday, ordinary conversation at the coffeehouse many times and couldn’t come up with any quantifiable reason she should be so attracted to Lance. “We didn’t even say anything marginally intelligent to one another. We just stared and ogled like a couple of teenagers, right?”
Although, she had to admit, that had been kind of nice. For months, guys had made lewd comments about the catfight. Even guys she’d known and had thought would be above making inappropriate comments had disappointed her, framing icky remarks in the context of a “joke.” It’d been a long time since a guy made her feel sweetly self-conscious the way Lance had today. For a few moments he’d had her wishing she could spend hours hanging out with him. Getting to know every little thing about him.
“You waited by my car in a fake nose to tell me what happened didn’t mean anything?” He peered into the rearview mirror and then changed lanes quickly, surprising her with a fast exit off the highway.
“I had a good reason for that.” She turned to look behind them and saw a second car swerve onto the exit ramp and nearly hit a city garbage truck. “Has that guy been following us?”
“Ever since the parking garage.” Lance navigated the city streets with the ease of a native, finding his way east toward midtown around buses and pedestrians. “I’m taking you to my place so we can talk in private.”
The words hung in the air between them like a dare, challenging her to contradict him. How could she get involved with another powerful man whose career would overshadow the fledgling singing venture she’d sidelined for too long even before her divorce?
Worse, how could she allow her crappy claim to fame taint his image and draw all kinds of negative press his way?
“Maybe we should use a run-in with the media to our advantage,” she suggested, knowing she’d never be able to articulate her plan once she was alone with him in his apartment. She’d already been dazzled speechless by him once today.
“How so?” He took a sharp left into the tunnel for an underground parking garage, casting them in darkness even though it wasn’t quite time for the sun to set yet.
Casting a spell of intimacy in the car that she wasn’t ready to feel.
Taking a deep breath, she blurted her idea before she fell captive to the potent attraction between them all over again.
“We need to stage a public breakup.”
3
“ISN’T IT A LITTLE PREMATURE for a breakup?” Lance steered the car into his parking spot in the subterranean garage and shut off the engine. “We haven’t even been to first base yet.”
Pocketing the keys, he turned to face her across the shadowy interior. She was incredibly sexy in a short cotton tank dress with a jean jacket thrown over her shoulders. A series of silver pins around the collar glittered even in the darkness, the metal reflecting a light from nearby. She twisted the handle of her leather purse strap between her fingers, her edgy nervousness surprising him. Her reputation painted her as a mouthy rebel. But right now, he never would have guessed she was the same woman who had plowed through the press with an umbrella earlier today.
“And I think it would be better for us if we forgot about first base and um—struck out instead.”
“If you had any idea what my on-base percentage is this season, you’d see how unlikely that is.” He’d had an epiphany tonight while he was launching that ball into the upper deck. He’d been in the game too long to play it safe. He was at a stage of his career—and his life—where he needed to swing for the fences.
Trying to run his life according to what the fans wanted wasn’t going to fly. With his kind of fame, the media could always find something to make him look like the bad guy. He might as well live life to the fullest and hope his good deeds would help show the world he wasn’t some shallow playboy racking up the millions for his own gratification.
Now he just hoped he could make Jamie see why that was a better plan. Sure he cared about his career—recognition like going to the All-Star Game and winning a Gold Glove was important. But he’d been playing long enough to know you couldn’t live your personal life according to popular opinion. If his fans didn’t approve of him dating a controversial socialite, he’d just hope he could provide them with game stats too valuable for the Scrapers to trade him away.
“I’m serious.” Her voice turned husky as she pressed the point and something about the smoky quality of it tripped down his spine like a lover’s caress. “If we have some kind of public tiff where the media can catch it on film, we can do fast damage control. By the end of the week, we’ll be a nonitem as far as the press is concerned.”
“Why should we turn our backs on something that might be really special just because it’s convenient for my publicist or yours?”
She had no answer for a long moment and he took the opportunity to still her fingers where she wrung the living daylights out of that purse strap. Her short nails had been painted pearly white, the pale glitter standing out against her tanned skin.
He captured one of her hands between both of his, pressing their palms together until he could feel the rapid-fire beat of her heart in the soft pad below her thumb.
“How do you know it could be special when we hardly know each other?” The naked worry in her tone reminded him not to push for too much too fast.
It also hinted at a vulnerability at odds with her brazen public persona.
“I’ll tell you exactly how I know, but will you come upstairs with me first?” He gestured to the dark parking garage. “It’s quiet in here now, but all it takes is one hungry journalist with a good cover story to get past the gate.”
Nodding, she reached for the passenger door handle before he could open it for her. He felt more than a little off his game with her, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Could it be because she was the first woman in a long time to interest him on more than just a physical level?
Locking the car, he escorted her to the elevator bay and up to the penthouse level where key access was required. The modest-size high rise overlooked Central Park, an older property he’d been lucky to snap up soon after he moved to the city.
“Wow.” Jamie breathed an appreciative sigh as he opened the door to his place, mirroring his own first reaction when he’d seen the view.
The Plaza Hotel capped off the dark expanse of park greenery in the twilight, the brightly lit landmark centered in his glimpse of the midtown skyline. A few hansom cabs worked the perimeter of the park, the colorful carriages a taste of old New York on one of the city’s historic thoroughfares.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward the couch, but she ignored it in favor of a spot at the floor-to-ceiling bay window. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks.” She shook her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders to blanket the jean jacket. “But I’m anxious to hear why you think we have any business together when we hardly know each other.”
She shot him a rueful grin over one shoulder, her arms crossed in a defensive posture.
Setting his keys on a glass-topped table near the sofa, he joined her at the window overlooking the city. He guessed he didn’t have a lot of time to make his case with her. He’d read all about her messy divorce from the media mogul who’d pinned the fault on her in the press. The guy had blamed her partying lifestyle and implied she ran with a “fast” crowd. He’d stopped short of accusing her of cheating on him, but blogs devoted to celebrity-watching had a field day speculating if she’d been as unfaithful to him as he’d been to her.