Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Her laughter is soft and musical. “You seem surprised.”
“I am,” I tell her. “You look like you’re barely out of high school.”
“My mother passed on some good genes. I’ve been with the paper for a couple of years now, but this is my first season on the LA beat.”
“Oh,” I say stupidly.
We stand there, on opposite sides of the room, in silence for several long beats. I’ve never been a Casanova kind of guy, but I’ve never been this awkward around a woman before in my life either. There’s just something about her that has me standing here fighting off a hard-on while staring at her like a horny, idiotic teenage boy as I try to get my bearings.
“So,” she finally says, “did you want to sit down and get this interview started?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Sure.” I walk to the front of the room and take a seat next to her. “Let’s do this.”
2
BAILEY
“So, I like to keep things casual if that’s okay,” I say.
“Casual is good,” he replies.
“Good. Then you can just call me Bailey. Is it okay if I call you Ben?”
“You can call me whatever you want.”
I laugh and tuck a thick strand of hair behind my ear as I look away. His eyes are the first thing that strikes me about Ben Givens. They’re such a light shade of blue, they almost look silver. More than that, they seem able to see right through me. His gaze is intense, and when he looks at me, I feel like Ben is stripping me bare. I’m naturally a guarded person and keep myself behind a high, thick wall. So feeling like Ben can take me apart and see what makes me tick with almost no effort at all is disconcerting, to say the least.
Beyond those eyes, Ben Givens is an amazingly beautiful man. Six-five with sandy blonde hair and a body that looks like it was chiseled from marble by one of the ancient Greek masters. It’s hard to not look at him. We’re sitting with a chair between us as we talk, but even still, I fear he can feel the heat coming off my body. My stomach churns, my mouth is dry, and I feel the warmth growing low in my belly, and try to keep the alarm off my face when the insides of my thighs grow wet and sticky.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to keep the look of mortification off my face. I’ve never had this sort of reaction to a man before. Truth be told, my experience with men is less than zero. I’ve always been too busy with school and now, trying to get my career off the ground, I haven’t had time for them. Or the patience, really. In this industry, I’m surrounded by men all day every day, and it has never fazed me. I’ve been so laser-focused on my goals that men are something I’ve never stopped to consider before.
But something about Ben has sparked something inside of me I never knew existed. I can’t explain it. I don’t even understand it. All I know is that he’s making me feel something I’ve never felt. Just looking into those steely silver-blue eyes is giving me cravings and urges I’ve never experienced. It’s as distracting as it is confounding, and it’s making it incredibly difficult to focus on doing my job.
“Bailey?”
His deep, sultry voice saying my name sends goosebumps up my arms and makes that fire burning between my thighs that much hotter. But it also snaps me out of my head and back to the moment. I give him a small smile.
“Sorry,” I say, giving myself a small shake. “What did you say?”
“I asked where you went to school.”
“Oh. Right,” I reply. “I graduated from USC… the school of journalism.”
“A local girl, huh?”
“I am.”
“Why sports writing?”
“My family’s big into sports. I guess it’s genetic,” I reply with a shrug. “But I’m too small to play competitively, so, as they say, those who can’t do, write about it.”
“I’m not sure that’s how that saying goes.”
“Close enough.”
His laughter is a deep rumble, like rolling thunder that sends chills along my skin that aren’t at all unpleasant. My panties are soaked through, and I shift in my seat again, uncomfortable as hell.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to get myself back on track, “you’re in LA now. I have to say, the trade that brought you here caught the entire league by surprise. You’re a two-time champion in your prime, led the league in scoring and assists last season. You’re even getting some MVP runs this offseason. What happened in Dallas?”
“You’d have to ask the people who made the trade,” he says as his smile fades. “So, how’d you get on the LA beat?”
“I’m used to being the one who asks the questions.”