Ty's gaze moved past her waist and up to her chest. Damn, a guy could be moved to write poetry about breasts like those. Marilyn Monroe would have had some stiff competition if Julie had been around in the fifties.
Finally raising his gaze to her face, he took in the ice-cold eyes that studied him as if he were a bug beneath a microscope.
One that she wanted to spear beneath her very sexy stiletto heel.
Okay, so she was still pissed at him. No big surprise there. A flash of guilt hit him square in the chest, and he couldn't believe he was still feeling bad about things after all these years.
Grad night had been the usual party mix of drinking, dancing, and sex. The only surprising thing was that the sex had been with a virgin.
With Little Miss Perfect.
With the one girl he'd always wanted but knew he could never have.
He'd never been good enough for her, and one look now at her expression told him that all the money and fame and success in the world hadn't changed anything.
Julie seethed as Ty reached out to shake her hand. How dare he walk into her office as if he'd never ripped her heart out of her chest and thrown it overboard? Her final words to him on the morning after grad night played over and over in her head.
I hate you. I'll always hate you. And I never, ever want to see you again.
After ten long years, she hadn't been able to think of anything more sophisticated and cutting that she could have said. Not when her heart had been broken into a million, billion pieces. Not when he'd stolen her virginity and then dumped her in the most humiliating way possible less than twenty-four hours later. The bastard.
In the back of Julie's head a voice whispered, Are you sure he really stole it from you? Didn't you practically shove it at him like the desperate virgin you were?
As far as she was concerned, that voice--and Ty--could go to hell.
Forcing herself to shake his hand in as detached a manner as was humanly possible, Julie acknowledged another big reason for her anger: Even after a lifetime of hard living, even though he rated a negative number on the scale of humanity, Ty Calhoun was still the most incredibly gorgeous man she'd ever set eyes on.
He'd been a hot, hunky teenager. And now, ten years later, he had the build of a warrior. Beneath his expensive shirt and overpriced jeans, his well-trained muscles were hard and tight. His jaw had filled out just enough to lend a rough edge to his male beauty, and the light stubble that covered his chin drew her attention to his lips, which held incredible sensual promise.
"Nice to meet you," she lied, hating his smirk, hating the fact that her body still responded traitorously to his touch. Goddamnit!
Julie pulled her hand away, reminding herself that she was in complete control of the situation.
"Now, Julie," he drawled, "I can't believe you don't remember me."
She itched to smack the lazy grin off his perfect face even as she searched his eyes for any sign of remorse. Nothing. Just as she'd figured:
Once an asshole, always an asshole.
Raising a condescending eyebrow, she tilted her chin the slightest bit as if she was trying to place him among her enormous list of other unimportant acquaintances.
"Oh yes, now I remember you," she said, pleased with how smooth she sounded. "Didn't you go to my high school?"
"Sure did," he replied, and she could feel him laughing at her with his eyes, practically hear him thinking how pathetic she still was after all these years, trying to pretend that she didn't know him. He probably thought she had run home to dress up for him, that she was wearing sexy heels and fishnets to try and seduce him.
Sean studied the two of them between narrowed eyes. "You two know each other?"
"Yup," Ty said just as Julie muttered, "Barely."
"We ran in different crowds," Ty clarified. "She was class president, went to Stanford. One of those brainy, do-good types."
"And he was a jock," Julie spat.
Sean laughed. "Thank God for that. Jocks pay my salary, you know. But fact is, we need you to make everything nice and pretty for us again. With the media, the fans, and especially the new team owner, who's a full-blown southern conservative."
Julie led the two men to her spacious, colorful office, knowing Ty was taking it all in. Bet none of your little playthings know how to run their own business, do they?
Sean didn't waste another second making his sales pitch. "It's pretty obvious that you don't have a very high opinion of jocks. Or Ty."
Julie almost laughed. Talk about being up-front! It was an impressive, and disconcerting, tactic. She nodded. "That's right."
An odd expression flashed across Ty's face, quickly replaced by his I-don't-have-a-care-in-the-world-and-yes-I-was-born-looking-this-good mask.
"Perfect," Sean replied. "You're exactly the right person for the job."
Ty's and Julie's heads jerked toward Sean in surprise.
"Here's how I see it," Sean explained. "Since you don't like football or our star player, you know exactly what other people are having a problem with. You get the issues. Now we just need you to make them go away."
"He parties too hard and sleeps with too many bimbos," Julie stated bluntly. "Dressing him up and having him say a few nice things to the press isn't going to make much of a difference. Not to the public or a new conservative boss."
"Keeping tabs on me, Julie?" Ty asked cockily.
"You're right," Sean said, ignoring Ty. "He's a piece of work. He's also the best thing football has seen in the past decade. We don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose him. He's not only the best quarterback around, but he's my friend. So I'm asking you again, would you please take him on as a client?"
Ty gave Julie a look that said, See, I'm still the hottest game in town, baby, and she stifled the urge to throw a heavy glass paperweight at the sexy, egotistical SOB.
"I'm asking you to name your price for two weeks with Ty," Sean continued. "We'll throw in perks, a car, whatever you want, in addition to a super-size fee. We can't change his image and make the big boss happy without you."
She calmly said, "I've already told you that my firm is unavailable at present. I'd be happy to phone several other image consultants while you wait."
"Are you scared of me?"
Ty's words were just to the left of taunting, just to the right of a sexy challenge. Julie felt her lips draw into a tight line; she forcibly relaxed the muscles in her face. Like hell if she was falling for that trick again.
"You're not important enough for me to have an opinion of you one way or the other," she said coolly.
Hearing the words come out of her mouth, so strong and confident, Julie even believed them herself.
Which meant... she could take the job. She knew exactly what he was now so there was no chance he could fool her again.
So in return for a bigger paycheck than she thought she'd ever see, she'd spend two weeks with a man to whom she'd been just a teeny, tiny notch on a very long belt--and this time, she'd walk away laughing.
CHAPTER FOUR
What have I done? I'm in big trouble! The thoughts whirled around in Julie's head as she followed Ty's flashy Maserati in her economical Prius. She'd nearly called Sean back to tell him she'd made a mistake, that she was the last person on earth to try to set Ty on the straight and narrow, that they needed to find another image consultant, any other one but her!
How was she going to make it through the next two weeks? Even the next hour was worrying, since a familiar warmth had already settled between her thighs and the tips of her breasts felt sensitive as they rubbed against the cups of her lacy bra.
Five minutes in her office with Ty and she'd been reduced to a quivering pile of hormones. And they hadn't even been alone! How on earth was she going to keep it together when it was just the two of them?
How could she possibly keep her panties on around him?
He pulled his senselessly expensive car into one of the slots in a six-car garage of one of the most s