“You don’t play the entire game.”
“Not yet. I will soon. The coaches like to put in the rookies and the free agents who haven’t played for the team yet, see how they fit.”
His fingers brushed the top of her breast. She drew in a deep breath. Was that so his knuckles would linger on her skin? Either way, he sure as hell enjoyed the sensation. Katrina didn’t seem to mind it, either, because she leaned in a little.
“Do you evaluate them, too? When you’re on the sidelines?”
He felt her heart pumping faster against his hand as he continued to play with her hair. But outwardly she maintained such calm.
“Yeah. Especially any of the new offensive linemen and the receivers that weren’t in when I was playing. I want to see how fast the receivers run their routes, how accurate they are, and whether they’re where they’re supposed to be. With the linemen, how tough are they? Can they beat the defensive linemen off the mark, or are they getting pushed off the line? If they can’t protect me when I’m in the pocket, then I’m going to end up on my ass and they’re of no use to me.”
There was fire in her eyes, a desire he read and knew well. His dick was getting hard, and so far all he had in his hands was a lock of her hair. What would it be like if he held her body against his, if they were naked? If he could run his hands down her back, cup her breasts, feel her breathing against him?
“Katrina.”
She pulled back when Claudio arrived with the meal.
“I brought baguettes as well. Hot and fresh from the oven,” Claudio said.
Their waiter looked at them both and wished them bon appétit, exclaiming that their dinner should be excellent.
The spell was broken, and Katrina spent a minute or so talking over their meal with Claudio. Then, hunger took over and Grant dove into his food, which, true to Claudio’s word, was damn good.
“Do you like it?” she asked, motioning to his steak.
“It’s perfect. How’s your salad?”
“Amazing.”
“Would you like a bite?” He sliced off a piece of steak and held it up for her.
“I would, actually.”
He fed it to her, and liked that she didn’t mind eating off his fork. He slid it between her lips and she chewed, her eyes closing.
“Mmm, so tender. You’re right. It is very good.”
When she licked her lips after, his cock tightened.
And that was just food she liked. There was something about her mouth that mesmerized him. Of course he had kissed her before, and remembering that made him want more. But there was an innocence about her, a hesitance in their interactions that intrigued him. She was twenty-seven. Surely she’d been with guys before, even if she did say she didn’t date. She just meant she didn’t date a lot, right?
He was going to have to ask her about that, and that wasn’t a subject easily brought up. A guy didn’t just ask a woman how many men she’d fucked, especially a woman he wasn’t really dating.
He’d like to be dating her, though, but she always seemed so reluctant. And it wasn’t because she didn’t like him. He was good at reading signals, both on and off the field. And Katrina’s signals said she was interested. But they also said back off, which confused the hell out of him.
Maybe she’d gotten burned badly by her last boyfriend, and she was gun-shy. He understood that. He just needed to know how to approach her. He could take things slow, but he needed to know the score, and the only way to do that was to ask. He preferred to take an upfront approach with women, and appreciated women who did the same. He didn’t mind being shot down as long as they were honest with him about why.
They finished their meal. Katrina declined dessert, and so did he, so when Claudio brought the check, he took out his credit card and paid. He flagged down a taxi and they climbed in.
“Thank you again for inviting us to the game. We had a great time.”
“Anytime. I’m glad you came.”
When the taxi stopped in front of his hotel, he turned to her.
“I thought we might have a little more privacy here. We could go to the bar, have a drink and talk, and you wouldn’t have to worry about the kids popping in. What do you say?”
Katrina hesitated. Just what kind of expectations did Grant have? What kind did she have? She wasn’t ready for this. Or was she?
It was just the bar, right? And she could go home whenever she wanted to.
So why was her pulse shooting out of the stratosphere?
She’d barely survived dinner with Grant, and all he’d done was hold on to a strand of her hair.
This man was not good for her. He made her think about things. Hot, sexy things she had no business thinking about.
Still. Just a drink. Play it cool, like he didn’t matter. She was very good at this.
She shrugged. “Sure, but then I’ll have to leave. I have a lot of details to iron out and I have to fly out tomorrow.”
He smiled, his hand at her back. “Me, too.”
As they walked through the doors of the hotel, she asked, “Details to iron out, or flying out?”
“Both.”
He motioned with his hand to the left, toward the bar. It was very late, but the bar was well attended. Vacationers, maybe some business travelers. Perhaps people in town for the game? One of the things she’d always enjoyed about travel was guessing the reason for people’s destination.
Their waiter came by and she ordered a cognac. She felt wound up, and she figured that would relax her.