Chapters (48)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR ALEXA MARTIN’S PLAYBOOK SERIES
- Titles by Alexa Martin
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
I yank my hand away from him, ignoring the way my skin still tingles from his touch and using every last bit of restraint I have, I pull out the chair across from him and take a seat. He opens up his mouth to speak, but this time, I talk over him. “As I was trying to say, I’m Elliot Reed. Mr. Mahler sent me.”
His mouth falls open and finally—FINALLY!—no words come out.
If I wasn’t so out-of-my-mind furious, I might even get some pleasure out of this moment.
But I can say, with one hundred percent certainty, that nothing Quinton Howard Junior does will ever bring me pleasure.
Four
“You . . . you’re . . . I mean . . .” Quinton stumbles over his words so hard, it’s nearly impossible to think this is the same graceful man out on the field every Sunday. “I thought you were a man.”
“Did Mr. Mahler tell you I was a man?” I ask. “Do you think I look like a man?”
The truth is, because of my name, this has happened before. But unlike now, nobody has ever made me feel so small during their confusion. So the joy I’m feeling watching him stumble around is profound.
“No, no!” He holds his hands out in front of him as his eyes damn near bulge out of his head. I swear I can see a blush creep up his dark brown cheeks. “That’s not what I meant. I just assumed I was meeting with a man.”
“Well, you know what they say about people who assume things.” And yes, while I know my job depends on me working with this guy, I can’t help but to stress “ass” because . . . well, because he’s a giant one.
“Yeah, about that,” he starts, but I’ve heard enough and I already want this meeting to be over.
“No need. You made yourself clear and that’s fine. I’m here to do my job.” The rejection was bad enough, the last thing I need to do is sit here while he lists all the reasons I’m not his type. I like to torment myself enough on my own, I do not need the physically flawless jerk to do it for me. “I’m hoping we can both be professional from this point forward.”
Considering I just called him an ass, I definitely need the reminder just as much as he does.
“Yes, of course.” He nods his head vigorously. “I really am so—”