Blind Date (A Why Choose Romance) - Page 17

I paused to take a gulp of my drink.

She did not speak.

“Why don’t we move on to an easier subject. I’m Ethan; what’s your name?”

“Kayla. Kayla Martin. I’m kinda surprised I haven’t told you, because I already know your name from that game show.” She laughed. “I guess it was just your friends I told my name to earlier while you were on your date.”

Us four all fawning after the same girl wouldn’t be that surprising given our similar values. Where would it go? Would they just back off if I claimed her first?

Where did I get off potentially thinking I ‘claimed’ her? She wasn’t property. She was a human being who would make her own decisions and choose whom she wanted to date.

If she wanted to, she wouldn’t be the first to work her way through all of us, one after the other. Or, in the twins’ case, date and screw them both at the same time. Sharing a woman never seemed to be an issue for them.

I laughed. “We aren’t telepathic, you know. If you tell one of us something, it isn’t automatically shared. Although, mostly it is. We’re thick as thieves and have been ever since we came up through the ranks as kids. It was pretty much a brotherhood, with me even turning down a big pay increase to go to another team just because I wanted to keep alive the fellowship of the five.”

Our time on the field had been akin to fighting a war. We’d forged that sort of bond, and I was certain that we were destined to be friends for life.

“Only four of you went on stage,” she said.

“I think there was only space for four stools,” I quickly replied. Hank’s preference for more masculine dates wasn’t public knowledge.

She smiled weakly, sipping her beer. I slipped off the stool and inched closer to her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

KAYLA MARTIN

I don’t do that. Except tonight, I do.

He lured me toward a flashy red sports car, with an invitation to go back to his place for a couple of real drinks.

I wasn’t captured and restrained. I climbed into the car of my own free will and did my own seat belt because I like to be safe. How in hell did I reconcile safety with going home with Ethan-fucking-quarterback of the Argonauts?

I’m not sure, but I was over the moon excited about the possibility I might end up staying the night.

He explained he was driving, so he had to stick to soft drinks while out.

I should have mentioned that I wanted to keep a clear head because of work the next day, and I’d already reached my limit because I was a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Instead of saying any of that, I had the out-of-body sensation of watching myself agree to go home with a man I’d only just met.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Because when would I ever get another invitation to go home with someone like that? Even if it did only mean a ride in his car and a nightcap before he sent me on my way, it would still be the story about that time I stepped foot inside a celebrity sports star’s home.

Generally, I wasn’t a one-night-stand girl, and I didn’t do sex on a first date, but this was different. We hadn’t had a date at all. And the spontaneity of racing back to his place left me breathless and exhilarated.

Who wouldn’t be doing a happy dance at the prospect of a night in the bed of a scorching hot sexy celebrity? It might be shallow, but I never claimed to be perfect.

The car raced through the empty streets with a low growl. It was pretty late, and in no time he pulled into an underground parking lot.

“We’re here,” he stated the obvious as the engine died.

I stepped out of the car, and nervous butterflies started a dance in my stomach. We made our way to the elevator, and he pressed the button to a high floor. It wasn’t the penthouse, which made me wonder who lived up there.

Soon, he ushered me in first, and he closed the door behind us.

We were in a large entrance vestibule, which was bigger than my bedroom. There were several doors on either side, but Ethan ushered me to the double doors at the far end that were open and invited me into a large open-plan boy’s bachelor pad.

At one end, there was a kitchen area. A dining table with six chairs marked the boundary with the rest of the space, which was given over to boy’s toys and gadgets galore.

It was easy to picture a bunch of his teammates coming around to play Xbox or air hockey. At a glance, I noticed gadgets I couldn’t identify. They might have been robots, plus a popcorn-making machine and a jukebox.

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