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I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat again at the way he watched me.
“We’ve been so focused on your professional life, I thought we could take a minute to talk about your personal life. Are you dating anyone? Inquiring minds want to know.” I bit down on my bottom lip as I waited for him to answer. I’d been dying to ask. The press made him out to be a bit of a playboy. I wondered if the rumors were true.
“Yeah? Anyone specific want to know?”
I paused the recording. “No one specific. Just answer the damn question.”
He chuckled when I hit record on my phone again, and I shot him a warning look. “I date casually. That suits me at the moment. I travel a lot, and I don’t have time for complications.”
Buzzkill.
One more question.
“Okay. Last question for today. If you weren’t a football player, what would you be doing?”
His eyes widened, and he tossed his hands up in a shrug, letting me know he didn’t like the question. “I don’t know. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do, and I’m doing it. So, I can’t imagine my life off the field just yet.”
“You don’t have any hobbies?”
He reached for my phone and turned it off. “You already got your last question. And it was a lame one. No one gives a shit what I’d do off the field. Don’t waste your questions on dumb shit.”
The freaking nerve of this guy.
“Oh, you’re telling me how to do my job now?”
“If I think I can do it better, I will,” he said, pushing to his feet and walking to the refrigerator to grab a water.
“I’ve had enough of you today.” I reached for my keys and dropped my iPad into my tote bag. “I’m going home.”
He leaned against the refrigerator and studied me. “You’re not getting out of going tonight.”
“I’m quite aware. I made a deal, and I’ll follow through. But you’re annoying me at the moment, so I’m going to take a time-out.”
“What the fuck is a time-out? Are you always such a child?” He stalked toward me, taking long strides.
I turned around and walked toward the door. I didn’t appreciate his moodiness most of the time.
“A time-out means I’m tapping out, genius. I’m fairly certain you know what it means, seeing as you were probably put in time-out often as a kid with that attitude of yours,” I hissed as I reached for the door handle.
His long fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he turned me around. “Why are you so pissed?”
“You called me dumb,” I snapped. “I don’t appreciate it. I’m doing your stupid workouts and going along with your ridiculous game of three questions a day. I don’t need to be insulted by an arrogant, pig-headed, stubborn, moody, jockboy.”
His eyes widened, and he moved closer as my back rested against the front door. His face was so close to mine I could smell the pine and sandalwood mixed with his musty sweat that someone could bottle and sell for a ridiculous amount of money. My chest was rising and falling fast now.
The man’s stank was an aphrodisiac.
“Jockboy?”
“You heard me,” I said, but my voice was all breathy and desperate. What the hell was wrong with me? His nearness had some sort of sick effect on me.
“I didn’t call you dumb. I said your question was a waste. Tell me why you asked if I was dating,” he asked, his voice gruff. I squeezed my thighs together in response.
“Because I’m a reporter,” I said, glaring at him when all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. Just one taste. “It’s my job, or did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget anything, sweetheart.”
“Are you done harassing me now?” I whispered. Normally, a man calling mesweetheartwould grate on my nerves, but coming from him, it was sexy.Ugh.“I need to leave before you drag me to crash a high school date tonight because you’re too much of a chickenshit to go by yourself.”
