The Trouble With Quarterbacks

He’ll find me soon enough, I assure myself, wondering what I should do. Run across the place and fling myself at him? Play it cool and sort of wave if he looks in my direction? It’s totally hopeless—there’s no way he’ll spot me in the crowd now. He has the advantage. He’s tall and…well, famous. Everyone sort of either gives him a wide berth or rushes in to get closer. He draws a crowd, and I frown, looking down at my nearly empty champagne.

“Have you got another flute I could top mine off with?” I suddenly regret not getting utterly toasted while I waited for him to arrive. Some liquid courage would be quite nice right about now.

“Sure thing,” the waiter says, taking my flute so he can go swap it out for another. “Oh shit, he’s headed this way.”

“What?!”

I turn, and it’s true. Oh Lordy. Logan has somehow spotted me amidst the masses, and he’s cutting through the crowd to get to me.

My new friend turns to me, more than a little confused. “Do you know him?”

I try to feign surprise. “Oh. Well…yes? A bit?”

What am I supposed to say?! You know what? I happened to have humped his thigh just the other day, if you can believe it, and then I cuddled with him in his huge bed all night. It was absolute bliss.

“Candace,” Logan says from a few feet away.

I glance over and wave like we’re two mates meeting on the street. “Fancy seeing you here.”

His eyes narrow and then he glances at my new friend standing beside me.

“Logan,” I start. “Err…this is…sorry, didn’t get your name?”

“Max.”

“Right, this is Max. He’s been so nice and kept me company while I was waiting for you. I think he’d like an autograph.”

“That’d be awesome, but like, no pressure. I’ll probably get in trouble for asking.”

“Nonsense!” I grab a cocktail napkin and hold out my hand for the pen Max has in his apron pocket. He fumbles for it then hands it over with shaky fingers. “I’m asking for the autograph, not you. See? Here Logan, sign right here.”

He does, and then I hand the napkin to the waiter, who immediately stares at it like I’ve just handed him a solid gold bar.

“Thanks, man. This is so cool!”

“No problem,” Logan says, stepping toward me. “Candace, can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

“Oh. Um…” I look around us, wondering where exactly we could go to be alone. Already I see people starting to whisper about Logan. It’ll only be a matter of seconds before we’re surrounded again.

But Logan knows what he’s doing. He steps closer and turns me so he can rest his hand on the small of my back, directing me to a side door just to my left. It leads back out into the hall surrounding the main room, and since it’s so far from the main entrance, it’s deserted.

I think he’ll stop propelling me forward now that we’re out here alone, but he keeps right on prodding me along until he yanks open a door he seems to find satisfactory. It opens into an auxiliary storage room filled with linen and folded tables and spare chairs. The lights are out, but he flips a switch and we’re coated in dull yellow light.

Then he pushes me inside before him.

“What—what in the world?! Why’ve you gone and stuffed us into a broom closet?”Chapter FifteenCandace“Because there were hundreds of people in that room and it probably wasn’t a good idea to greet you the way I want to. Not while they all watch.”

My eyes go wide as he steps near me, crowding my space.

“Right, well, say your hello and then we can—”

He lifts his hand to the base of my chin and tilts it up with his pointer finger. I go absolutely silent as he stares down at me, taking his time as his gaze drops from my face, lower, over my dress, eating me up.

“You look stunning,” he says, his eyes still on the shimmery silver fabric covering my body.

“Th-thanks. Kat and Yasmine convinced me to wear this. I thought it was a bit much.”

“Oh, it definitely is.”

My lip trembles. “You don’t like it?”

His dark eyes whip back up to my face. “I didn’t say that.”

Then he takes a step closer and his hips touch mine. My body softens instantly, like I’ve been waiting days for the moment I’d feel him against me like this. Clearly, he’s been anxiously waiting for this too, because he’s not acting decent at all. Dragging me in here, pinning me up against the wall—the nerve!

“Are you going to kiss me?” I whisper as his head starts to descend.

Instead of answering me, his lips capture mine.

It’s like I’ve just been struck by a bolt of lightning, all that electricity zapping through me as he kisses me harder. I drop my clutch on the floor so my hands can slide up to the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, and I hold on to him there as I rise up onto my toes. My high heels don’t do enough, not since he’s so bloody tall.