Hook Shot (Hoops 3)
“Second,” Vale confirms with the aplomb of a woman assured of victory.
Dammit. I’ve been wanting to meet that second minion.
“Think of the fabulous people,” JP says.
“The delicious food,” Vale adds.
“Don’t forget the entertainment,” Billie pipes in.
Their food is only matched by their fun. They have a penchant for games we all play with rolling eyes and exasperation, but enjoy by the end.
It’s not any of their arguments that ultimately persuade me, though. Kenan Ross is one man. Since when did I allow any man to deprive me of something I want? Much less the mere threat of being attracted to him? I’m stronger than that.
“Okay,” I finally yield with a smile to everyone watching and waiting for me to cave. “I’ll come.”
“Well,” Paul drawls as my friends squeal their excitement. “With that settled, let’s get down to business.”
“You’re right, Paul. Down to business,” JP says, clasping his hands under his chin. “So what are you all wearing?”
&nbs
p; I laugh with everyone, except Paul, and get caught up plotting my Instagram-ready outfit for the party. How could I have considered skipping it? Sure, Kenan is devastatingly handsome. And, yes, this virile man comes at a time when I’ve sworn off men altogether, but so what? I’ve never met a guy I couldn’t resist.
How different could Kenan Ross be?
2
Kenan
“Did you say arm porn?”
I hope I heard my agent, Banner Morales, wrong.
“Uh, yeah,” she replies, and even over the phone I hear her amusement, though she tries to disguise it. “It means—”
“Stop.” I grab my wallet and keys from the dresser and head for the door. “I don’t want to know.”
“Okay, but you are going to the party tonight, right?”
“What party?” I ask, grinning and locking up. “I just got to New York. I kinda want to chill tonight, and you know I hate parties.”
All true.
“Kenan, come on. It’ll be fun. A great way to meet new people in a new city. And a great chance to network.”
“Network?” I ask disparagingly. “It’s like you don’t even know me, B.”
“I know if left to your own devices, you’ll be holed up in that apartment all summer working out in your home gym and listening to jazz.”
Damn. She does know me.
I wait for the elevator to come, grimacing because I don’t want to have this discussion. “I’m leaving for the party now.”
“Oh good.” Banner sounds relieved. “There should be a car downstairs waiting. And heads up, some of the Bodee folks will be there, too.”
“Just a small gathering of friends, huh?” I ask dryly.
“Work is play, and play is work. You know many a deal begins over dinner and a drink.”