“Why don’t you take the jacket off?” he asked, wondering not for the first time why she insisted on wearing that thing in the summer, but she seemed attached to it.
She hesitated and shook her head. “I’m fine.”
She cuddled into him but she felt stiff and tense, no doubt from the women sitting across from them, trying to keep the attention of Damon’s teammates.
He brushed her hair off the back of her neck and whispered in her ear. “Relax. They’re jealous they can’t compete with how classy you look.”
His warm breath hit her neck and she shivered.
He glanced down and noticed her nipples had puckered against her sexy top.
“Classy? Really?” She sounded surprised by his choice of words.
He slid his hand beneath her jacket and cupped her waist. “Classy and sexy,” he whispered, pleased with the grin that lifted her plump lips.
“Prescott, you’ve been hiding her. How long have you been seeing each other?” Emerson asked.
“About a month,” Evie said. “But it got serious real fast, didn’t it, honey?” She ran her fingers through his hair, obviously back to herself and playing her part.
He’d rather imagine the interaction between them was real.
“It sure did.”
She shifted and his body felt like it was on fire. Her thighs aligned with his and her lush breasts pressed against his chest. The fruity scent he associated with Evie penetrated his nostrils and his cock grew hard. He clenched his jaw and attempted to concentrate on what was happening around them.
“So, Damon said you’re a quarterback, too? How does that work?” Evie asked, clearly playing dumb, but Emerson didn’t know that.
Greg squared his shoulders, pride suffusing his posture. “I’m in now that Damon’s out.”
A low growl escaped Damon’s throat and Evie patted his chest.
“Just for four weeks, Captain,” Greg Emerson said, acknowledging Damon’s status with the team and his own temporary one.
“Evie, how do you put up with him?” Devon asked with a chuckle.
Evie curled in closer to Damon, her hair brushing his face, and he stifled a groan.
“We’re just in sync,” she said coyly.
The woman with James rolled her eyes and Damon ignored her. She was a pinup-doll type, perfect for a one and done, but suddenly Damon didn’t find her type appealing. At all.
“Are you excited to get to start?” Evie asked Emerson.
The guy glanced at Damon, as if afraid to answer. Like he thought, puppy dog. “It’s okay, man. You can admit it. You’re thrilled to get the chance to show what you can do.”
“Nobody believes you cheated, Captain,” Emerson said, deferring to Damon.
James slapped him on the side of the head. “What’d we say when he walked in? Don’t bring it up.”
His guys had his back, and for that, Damon was grateful. He hoped Evie was getting the same vibe he did from Emerson, because the kid seemed harmless to him.
The rest of the night passed with Evie joking and drinking scotch with the guys, ignoring the jealous women, and asking questions that would give her insight into his teammates.
But Damon had had enough. “Ready to go?” he asked because it was getting late.
“Sure. I just want to go to the ladies’ room first.” She slid off his lap, and he was glad he could push his chair closer to the table and hide his erection.
He wanted her and had a feeling they were, as she’d said, in sync. But she was clearly independent and understandably wary of men. Which meant he had to ease her into trusting him and ultimately into what she feared most. A relationship. To begin with, somehow he had to get this woman willingly into his bed.
Chapter Five
Evie headed for the ladies’ room, doing her best not to stumble in her high heels. She missed her comfortable scuffed boots. She didn’t understand why women loved wearing stilettos. Of course, she liked how Damon looked her over when he’d seen her in the short skirt and heels, but she very much preferred being herself. The women’s bathroom was the first door, the men’s at the end of the hall.
She used the restroom, washed her hands, touched up her lip gloss, and was about to walk out when the woman who’d done the most glaring at her from across the table strode in.
Evie pasted on a fake smile and started forward, eager to get back to Damon and go home.
“You do realize you’re not his type,” the catty female said.
Evie sighed. “We’re really going to do this?”
“I had him first.” The woman whose name Evie didn’t know placed her hand on her hips and thrust out her breasts.
Evie refrained from rolling her eyes. “How nice for you. I take it he didn’t come back for seconds. I think that tells you plenty.”
The woman’s face morphed from pleasant to angry in an instant. “He’ll get bored of you. Trust me.”