“Great,” Nico interrupted. “You give her a tour. I’ll have dinner set up in here in an hour. Burgers okay?” Clearly he wanted us right where he could keep an eye on us. But I hated that idea.
“Not in your office,” I said. “How about—”
“Fine. Up in one of the boxes.”
I’d been about to suggest the nicest restaurant in Indianapolis, but I could tell by Nico’s interruption that he wasn’t going to allow that. Which meant we were going to eat at the stadium. And it would be stadium food. But at least we’d have a nice view of the ballpark.
“One of the boxes okay with you?” I asked Heidi.Please say yes.
“Um, okay. Sure.”
I grinned, but behind me Nico sighed, as if he were watching me walk down the road to hell. And perhaps he was, but I was firm.
“Cheeseburgers in an hour,” I said as I offered Heidi my arm.
“Press box,” Nico practically growled.
As if I needed any reminder that she was a journalist. Then we both looked at Heidi.
Her gaze was sharp as it darted between the two of us. But her lips, oh God, those dusky-pink lips, were curved into a tentative smile. “I’d be happy to take a tour with you, Rob,” she said. Oh hell. She sounded like a journalist who’d just gotten the break she needed for her big story.
Nico went on alert. “And you’ll leave your purse and your cell here. No recording devices. Not even a pencil. Got it?”
She nodded and set her purse, notebook, and Bobcats cap on the desk.
“You can keep the hat,” Nico said, pointing to the ballcap.
I stopped her with a touch to her hand. “Leave it. I like your hair free.”
Her gaze cut to mine and for the first time since seeing her again, I felt a sizzle kindle in the air between us. Heat as our gazes collided. Breathless anticipation as we both felt our breath catch and hold.
Hot, hot, hot.
“Right this way,” I said as I gestured out the door.
She stepped out and I followed, making sure to firmly shut the door on Nico. He wasn’t going to be our third wheel. And this time, I wasn’t going to screw up by walking out on Heidi before we were both ready.
Chapter Seven
Heidi
Stay focused.
Two words that had kept me on the straight and narrow for my entire life. Well, with the exception of a certain spring break sex fest.
Get the interview.
I had solitary one-on-one time with the hot new rookie. If I couldn’t get some sort of article together from this, then I didn’t deserve to work at a major newspaper. That was my single goal for the next hour.
Except that every time I looked at him, I remembered the way he’d gazed at me three years ago, fascination and awe in his eyes. He’d watched me blow-dry my hair and it had been one of the single hottest moments of my life. Worse, he had a hunger, too—then and now—that made my toes curl and my mouth water. And it was hell on my concentration.
Get the interview.
I’d just get him talking about himself. Easy-peasy, right? What superstar didn’t like bragging? Or what guy for that matter? All it would take was a smile and a “that’s so fascinating,” and he would spill all sorts of things that I could put in a piece, even if I couldn’t quote him directly.
Except three years ago, that hadn’t worked. He’d been the least full-of-himself guy I’d ever met. With those sweet dimples and honest expression, I knew the boy I remembered was right here. The one who had taken my breath away because he’d been fascinated by me. And part of me wanted that back. He’d made me feel powerful, fascinating, and so bold, I lived out one of my favorite fantasies with him.
I took a deep breath and tried not to inhale his scent. Raw male plus Ivory soap. Who knew that was so sexy? But I had a job here and I decided to start with flattery.
