The All-Star Antes Up
Page 16
Or maybe she should grovel to Orin. He might take pity on her. The thought of it made her feel like she’d swallowed a rotten egg.
No matter what her decision, she was going to have to speak with him about the roses. And she would have to pretend that it was all just a misunderstanding.
Anger and frustration boiled up, and she hurled the foam stress ball at the wall. It ricocheted off just as Luke Archer walked through her door and caught the projectile in his left hand, his long fingers closing around the spotted ball.
Those ice blue eyes did a quick scan of her face, and he frowned. “I’ve come at a bad time.”
She froze.
He didn’t look embarrassed or uncomfortable. He looked concerned. That surprised her and kicked her brain back into gear. She gave him a rueful smile, even as images from her dreams sent a guilty awareness prickling over her skin. “I was just practicing.” Cupping her hands in a mute request for him to throw the ball back, she added, “My nephew says I have a weak arm.”
He tossed it exactly into the center of her palms with a motion of such pure grace that it made her breath hitch. “Looked pretty impressive to me,” he said.
“Now I can brag that I caught a ball thrown by Luke Archer.” She dropped the toy back into the drawer, knowing that she would forever remember his powerful hand wrapped around it. “How may I help you?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he lowered himself into the moss green chair in front of her desk, the breadth of his shoulders completely covering the upholstered back. Pushing the chair a couple of feet farther away, he stretched out his long, denim-clad legs.
“Your nephew sounds like someone I’d like to know,” he said, his drawl once again pouring into her ear like sweet molasses. “If you can wait for about forty-five minutes after the game, I’ll have someone escort your family to the meet-and-greet lounge. Your nephew and your brother might enjoy some of the folks they’ll see there. I’ll be stopping by myself.”
Disbelief and excitement made her heartbeat speed up. She knew she shouldn’t allow Luke Archer to do this. It went beyond generous. But the thought of Theo getting to shake the hand of the quarterback he worshipped was too tempting. And she wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with Luke Archer herself. “You just made me the best aunt in the universe. Theo will be thrilled.”
He gave her a whole different kind of smile from the last time they met. This one was slow and deliberate, bringing the dimple into view gradually. The way it creased the plane of his cheek sent a shudder of appreciation through her. “One of the unexpected benefits of my job is making kids happy just by showing up.”
Oh, dear God, this man was too perfect. No wonder supermodels drooled over him.
Before she could say anything, he locked that laser gaze on her again. “I appreciate the fact that you didn’t talk to the press about Trevor.”
So this was just more insurance that she would be discreet. She tried not to sound insulted, but she couldn’t keep her feelings out of her voice. “I would never discuss a client with the press.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to imply you would.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “But it’s happened before. Not in this building,” he added. “That’s why Trevor is supposed to go through my assistant when he needs something.”
She gave him a sideways look as she mentally berated herself. He hadn’t come to her office because of her fascinating personality.
He shifted in his chair and the dimple vanished. “By the way, my assistant wouldn’t have made that call, either.”
So his brother was a total sleazebag. Which made her wonder about Luke, who had endless opportunities for sexual partners. She needed to keep that in mind, especially given that her few, brief romantic relationships didn’t exactly qualify her as experienced in that department.
She pressed her folded hands hard onto her desk. “You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.”
She expected him to give her another well-rehearsed smile, unfold that gorgeously muscled body from the chair, and depart.
Instead, he crossed his long legs at the ankle. “I guess you get some strange requests.”
Seduced into honesty, she snorted. “You have no idea.”
His chuckle came from low in his throat. “Too bad your concierge code won’t let you tell me about them.”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. She couldn’t speak because his laugh was still vibrating through her like a hot, sexy riff on a flamenco guitar.
“You know, I liked your note. Not too many folks take pen to paper these days.” He rose from the chair in one swift, fluid motion. The full impact of his height still startled her. How did a human being that large move with such speed and precision?
“I have to get to practice,” he said. He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’ll see you after the game.” He gave her a wink and was out of her office in a single stride.
Miranda slumped back in her chair and considered fanning herself. It was impossible not to respond to Luke Archer’s magnetism. He exuded alpha maleness from the very tall top of his blond head, down over those chair-spanning shoulders, through his washboard abs, and along the hard, curved muscles of his thighs to the big feet encased in high-tech running shoes. And that damned dimple. A man with ice blue eyes should not have a dimple. The contrast made him far too fascinating, like a contradiction that needed to be resolved.
No matter what her decision, she was going to have to speak with him about the roses. And she would have to pretend that it was all just a misunderstanding.
Anger and frustration boiled up, and she hurled the foam stress ball at the wall. It ricocheted off just as Luke Archer walked through her door and caught the projectile in his left hand, his long fingers closing around the spotted ball.
Those ice blue eyes did a quick scan of her face, and he frowned. “I’ve come at a bad time.”
She froze.
He didn’t look embarrassed or uncomfortable. He looked concerned. That surprised her and kicked her brain back into gear. She gave him a rueful smile, even as images from her dreams sent a guilty awareness prickling over her skin. “I was just practicing.” Cupping her hands in a mute request for him to throw the ball back, she added, “My nephew says I have a weak arm.”
He tossed it exactly into the center of her palms with a motion of such pure grace that it made her breath hitch. “Looked pretty impressive to me,” he said.
“Now I can brag that I caught a ball thrown by Luke Archer.” She dropped the toy back into the drawer, knowing that she would forever remember his powerful hand wrapped around it. “How may I help you?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he lowered himself into the moss green chair in front of her desk, the breadth of his shoulders completely covering the upholstered back. Pushing the chair a couple of feet farther away, he stretched out his long, denim-clad legs.
“Your nephew sounds like someone I’d like to know,” he said, his drawl once again pouring into her ear like sweet molasses. “If you can wait for about forty-five minutes after the game, I’ll have someone escort your family to the meet-and-greet lounge. Your nephew and your brother might enjoy some of the folks they’ll see there. I’ll be stopping by myself.”
Disbelief and excitement made her heartbeat speed up. She knew she shouldn’t allow Luke Archer to do this. It went beyond generous. But the thought of Theo getting to shake the hand of the quarterback he worshipped was too tempting. And she wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with Luke Archer herself. “You just made me the best aunt in the universe. Theo will be thrilled.”
He gave her a whole different kind of smile from the last time they met. This one was slow and deliberate, bringing the dimple into view gradually. The way it creased the plane of his cheek sent a shudder of appreciation through her. “One of the unexpected benefits of my job is making kids happy just by showing up.”
Oh, dear God, this man was too perfect. No wonder supermodels drooled over him.
Before she could say anything, he locked that laser gaze on her again. “I appreciate the fact that you didn’t talk to the press about Trevor.”
So this was just more insurance that she would be discreet. She tried not to sound insulted, but she couldn’t keep her feelings out of her voice. “I would never discuss a client with the press.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to imply you would.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “But it’s happened before. Not in this building,” he added. “That’s why Trevor is supposed to go through my assistant when he needs something.”
She gave him a sideways look as she mentally berated herself. He hadn’t come to her office because of her fascinating personality.
He shifted in his chair and the dimple vanished. “By the way, my assistant wouldn’t have made that call, either.”
So his brother was a total sleazebag. Which made her wonder about Luke, who had endless opportunities for sexual partners. She needed to keep that in mind, especially given that her few, brief romantic relationships didn’t exactly qualify her as experienced in that department.
She pressed her folded hands hard onto her desk. “You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.”
She expected him to give her another well-rehearsed smile, unfold that gorgeously muscled body from the chair, and depart.
Instead, he crossed his long legs at the ankle. “I guess you get some strange requests.”
Seduced into honesty, she snorted. “You have no idea.”
His chuckle came from low in his throat. “Too bad your concierge code won’t let you tell me about them.”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. She couldn’t speak because his laugh was still vibrating through her like a hot, sexy riff on a flamenco guitar.
“You know, I liked your note. Not too many folks take pen to paper these days.” He rose from the chair in one swift, fluid motion. The full impact of his height still startled her. How did a human being that large move with such speed and precision?
“I have to get to practice,” he said. He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’ll see you after the game.” He gave her a wink and was out of her office in a single stride.
Miranda slumped back in her chair and considered fanning herself. It was impossible not to respond to Luke Archer’s magnetism. He exuded alpha maleness from the very tall top of his blond head, down over those chair-spanning shoulders, through his washboard abs, and along the hard, curved muscles of his thighs to the big feet encased in high-tech running shoes. And that damned dimple. A man with ice blue eyes should not have a dimple. The contrast made him far too fascinating, like a contradiction that needed to be resolved.
