“You want me to give private classes to this guy?” I glance down at my desk, which is currently in a very unusual state of disarray. “I don’t really have time for that right now.” Still, in my head, I’m trying to shift things around. Trying to figure out when I can squeeze in an intro class, just to suss him out.
“I know. I know. You’re super busy. But if it gets out he’s doing yoga, then the team will find out. And if the team finds out, they’re going to want to know why since he’s not really a yoga kind of guy. Once they find out he violated his contract to go cliff diving…he’ll be in real trouble. They’ve already fined him numerous times in the last couple of years, and I’m afraid they’ll suspend him this time.”
“Then the idiot shouldn’t have been cliff diving. What kind of moron puts himself in a situation like that if he knows it could cost him his career?” I’m suddenly a lot less inclined to try to rearrange my schedule to accommodate this favor.
“The kind who’s got some pretty bad demons he’s running from.” I can all but see Emerson batting her eyes and wringing her hands as she brings out the pleading voice she only uses in extreme cases—like when she wants a taco at three a.m. and is too drunk to drive herself to Taco Bell to get one. It’s a ridiculously good look for her—one that gets her everything she wants. I should know. It’s how we met freshman year.
“You swear this isn’t some bizarre matchmaking attempt on your part?” Suspicion laces my voice, but we’ve been friends long enough that I know when to trust her—and when not to.
“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s really hot and if something happened between the two of you I would love it since he’s one of Hunter’s best friends. But he really does need help, and I trust you to be able to provide it.”
Well, it’s not like I can say no to all that sincerity, can I? “Fine. Let me check my schedule and see when I can meet—”
“Actually, he’s on his way. He should be there in a couple minutes.”
“On his—” I break off when a knock sounds on the studio’s locked front door. “You sent him over now? We don’t open for over an hour.”
“Exactly. If he comes during off-hours, there’s less chance anyone will see him there.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I close my laptop with a snap and head out of my office and down the hall to the door. “Exactly how famous is this guy?”
“He’s the best wide receiver in the league.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Emerson sighs heavily. “I really don’t know how we’re friends.”
“At the moment, I can’t think of a single reason.” On my way to the front door, I duck into the studio I like to use and turn on the lights.
“It means there’s a lot of interest in him, especially after the Lightning won the Super Bowl last year. The press is always buzzing around him, just like they are with Hunter. So he really needs to keep a low profile.”
“Okay, okay. I’ve got it.” Even though I’m not sure that I do. The fame thing predisposes me not to like him—most famous guys I’ve met are total douches—but Hunter’s a good guy, and this guy is one of Hunter’s closest friends. I tell myself to keep an open mind as I make my way down the hallway.
“Thanks so much, Sage! You’re a lifesaver.”
“I know, I know.” I’m almost at the front door now. I can see him through the glass, but he’s got his back turned to me, like he’s looking out at the parking lot—or the beach that’s about a block beyond it. “You owe me.”
“I do! And I’ll gladly repay with the favor of your choice. But I’ll let you go now. Be sure to say hi to Shawn for me.”
“Shawn?” I ask, images of Saturday night suddenly flashing through my brain. Which is ridiculous, considering how many Shawns there must be in one square mile of San Diego. Still…“What does Shawn look like?”
But Emerson is already gone. And it doesn’t matter anyway.
Because the man at the door chooses that s
econd to turn around and OHMYGODYES it’s Shawn.
Bachelorette party Shawn.
Old-fashioned cocktail Shawn.
Make me come three times against the wall Shawn.
Our eyes meet through the glass and that’s when he does it. His lips turn up in that whole panty-melting smile that got me into so much trouble in the first place.
I freeze on the spot.
A better woman than I might be able to brazen her way through this. But a better woman than I probably wouldn’t have fallen hook, line and sinker for the smoldering look in those black magic eyes of his to begin with.