My laugh is loud and unattractive. I don’t care. His response calls for a full-on head-tipped back, belly-holding, open-mouth cachinnation.
“Sshh,” Cal hisses. “You’re drawing attention.” But he’s still smiling too. A real one that goes all the way to his eyes.
I now have tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. “What are you going to do? Silence me with a smolder?”
“I could use my best line from our days at Indiana.”
“If you try the Hoosier-daddy questions, I’m so out of here.” I admit, it is a clever play on the IU mascot, but it doesn’t mean it’s not painful.
Now his eyes darken with a devilish glint, his smile even wider. Some might find a Callaghan Entay smolder seductive, but his smile is what makes me weak in the knees. As in right now. I press my thighs together, which doesn’t actually help the situation. In fact, the tension makes it much—much—worse.
This is the kind of playful banter that ended us up in bed all those years ago.
I shake my head, trying to clear it from all these errant—and naughty—thoughts running through it. I’m here for a reason, and I need to keep my focus on that.
Sleeping with Callaghan Entay derailed my life once. I’m not going to let it happen again.
I grab another flute of champagne, this time to keep my hands occupied, and put some space between our bodies.Focus. Focus. Focus.
“Let’s mingle. I’m sure there are people you need to schmooze with, right?”
Cal gives me a wry smile, letting out a little sigh. “It’s why I’m here. The deal’s not final yet. It’s like a last round tryout.” He looks down at his feet. His shoulders appear to slump a fraction.
“Hey—” I put my hand under his chin to level his gaze with mine. “What is it?”
“Kick a ball in my direction, and I know to stop it. This”—he gestures to the room of suits and dresses—“is outside my element. I don’t know what they want from me. What else do I have to offer, other than my athletic ability?” There’s worry in his eyes. “That’s all I have to offer anyone.”
I let go of his chin and take his hand. “You offer the promise of greatness. That drive and hard work are what it takes to be the best. The hallmarks of the brand. You show up and you just do it. No questions asked. But, there’s one thing you could do.” I don’t wait for him to reply before launching into my advice. “Lighten up a little. Smile more often. I know you think you have to be balls-to-the-wall serious all the time or else you’ll lose your momentum, but it makes it hard to relate to you. Most people don’t have your inhuman drive. You’re hard on your teammates and everyone around you. I’d bet most people don’t realize you hold them to that standard because you hold yourself to an even higher one. But sometimes, you have to let it go for a minute. Don’t glower. Don’t smolder. Smile.”
He tilts his head as if questioning everything I’m saying.
“Even David Beckham smiles in his ads from time to time. Go look him up on Pinterest. I guarantee more than half of what pops up immediately—the most popular pins—are of him smiling, at least a little.”
He pulls the top lip back in a grimace, baring his teeth.
“You look like a deranged animal.” I laugh.
Callaghan laughs too. “That’s the market I’m trying to corner. It’s an underserved niche.” Then Callaghan’s gaze goes from mine to something—or someone—behind me, and he straightens up. His posture is tight, and he clearly has his game face on.
“Mr. Conners.” Callaghan nods and extends his hand. I step back so I’m out of the way. Bryce Conners is one of the higher-up execs. He definitely has decision-making power. God, I hope Cal doesn’t blow it.
“Thank you for the invitation this weekend. I appreciate your consideration.”
Good. He’s off to a good start. He’s stiff, in the zone. I drift into the background, letting him do his thing. Or at least that’s what I intend to do. One thing Callaghan Entay is known for in the goal is his wingspan, and he takes advantage of that to reach out toward me to take my hand.
I see it coming and manage to evade his grasp, his fingers lightly brushing my hand as I step away. This is Cal’s chance to seal this deal, and I don’t want to mess it up for him by saying something stupid. Just as I think I’m in the clear, his arm extends another few inches and his massive hand wraps around my wrist.
Heat floods through me, thinking about that hand and what it can do, on and off the field. You know what they say about men with big hands.
With a small yet firm tug, I’m back at Callaghan’s side. His nearness, his scent, the enormity of this occasion is going to my head, making me the smallest bit dizzy.
Or maybe it’s the champagne.
Either way, it’s an effort to stay on my feet and not colossally embarrass myself in front of the executive from one of the largest athletic brands in the world. Maybe Callaghan senses it, as his hand returns to my waist, steadying me. There are too many emotions swirling around in my head to be able to focus.
Dammit, why does this man have this effect on me? I swear, no one else does.
And at this moment, when I could be getting some sort of insider information to report forThe Looking Glass, all I can think about is climbing Callaghan Entay like a tree.
