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“A little overly confident?” She liked that confidence more than she should.
“I like to call it hopeful.” He took two slices of pizza from the box and set them on plates. “It’s cold pizza, which probably brings me down from a ten to a nine tonight, right? As you can see, my oven’s out of commission.”
“Ten? What makes you think you hit a ten?”More like a twenty. She bit into the pizza to keep from revealing the tease, and watched his smile go flat. “Eight point nine, tops.” She held up the slice of delicious mushroom and black olive pizza. “But this? This is a ten for sure. My favorite.”
He snagged a piece of pizza, bit off a hunk with a manly growl, which she found adorable, and smacked her ass on his way into the kitchen.
She had no idea why she gave in and stayed, but as he painted and she read through the contract, it was nice not to be alone, and even nicer to be with Dylan. Of course, she kept getting distracted, which meant she was getting little work done. Watching Dylan do anything was yummy, but watching his muscles bunch and his long body stretch as he painted—his cargo shorts slipped down to the curve of his ass, revealing his lack of underwear—was a million times better than staring at a contract.
“Tell me about opening your own agency.” Dylan painted with long, even strokes. “It sounds like a lot of work.”
“I’ve run my own agency for the past three years in Los Angeles, but it was small, just me and Miranda. She applied for an internship I had listed online, and we clicked. Miranda has always worked from home here in New York, but when my dad got sick, I started thinking about moving back. And, well, now I’m here, trying to find office space and get things going. It is a lot of work, but I don’t like anyone telling me what to do, who I should represent, or what endorsement deals to go after.”
“Ah, the control thing,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“I guess.”
He laughed.
“Okay,yes. But I havebigplans for the agency. I have a great reputation, and I want to hire another agent to work with me, and maybe next year hire another, and make Tiffany Winters Enterprises, TWE, a household name among sports figures.”
“From what I hear, it already is.” He dipped his brush in the paint again, all fluid movements and sleek, flexing muscles.
“True, but there’s always more of the marketplace to capture. I’d love to sign someone as big as Ramsey “Razor” Sharpe, but he’s been with his agent for years, who’s a real piece of work, by the way. He’s all about the money, sending Ramsey on endorsements every free second, which is why Ramsey never sees his family. Someone of his caliber would put me at the head of the industry. A real career changer.” Ramsey was the number-one MLB pitcher. He wasn’t married, but he had elderly parents, and everyone knew he hated being away from them in the off-season. Signing him would be a dream come true. “He’s one of Rocco’s best friends and was already tied up with his agent when I came into the business, so I can’t snag him, even though I know I could do amuchbetter job for him.”
“You are certainly driven, but it doesn’t leave much Tiffany time, does it?”
She shrugged, not wanting to have that conversation when she had so much work that needed to be done, and turned her attention back to the contract.
A few minutes later he said, “You should call Phoebe. She’ll hook you up with a nice place.”
She didn’t look up from the contract, but she gripped her pen a little tighter. “I’m not going to call some woman you have probably hooked up with.”
“You really think I’d do that?” His tone was so annoyed she lifted her eyes to see if he was kidding. He wasn’t. “She’s a friend. Period. Jesus, Winters. What have you been through that made you so untrusting?”
She dragged air into her lungs and tucked her pride away. “Nature of”—someone whose ex was a cheating asshole—“the business, I guess. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…”
A small, victorious smile lifted his lips. “Thank you. And good job at avoiding my question.”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the contract, completely unable to focus. How had he nailed her so completely? And so easily? She stole a peek at him as he painted, wondering if she was that transparent. No one had ever called her out on that particular trait before.I never let anyone get close enoughto. On that thought, she glanced at the door. Escaping just moved to the top of her priority list.
They worked in silence for a few minutes, and when Dylan’s voice broke through, there was no tension lingering in it. It was as if their little confrontation—which felthugeto her because of the context—had never happened.
“What was it like growing up with a pro baller?” Dylan asked as he dipped his paintbrush into the can again. He had taped along the moldings and was working on edging in the kitchen. The steel-blue color worked well with his dark furniture.
“I havetwobrothers who play pro ball.”
He flashed a smile. “I know Perry from the bar, too. And your father was a pro for a while, right?”
“How do you know about my father?” She sat back and stuck the pen she was using to mark up the contract behind her ear.
His gaze turned hot again. “You look sexy as hell when you do that.”
“Do what?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
“That librarian thing with the pen. It reminds me of when I took your pen from your hair and it tumbled down around your face.” He was looking at her intently again, like he’d forgotten all about painting, and it made her uncharacteristically nervous.
Everything about him made her uncharacteristicallysomething.
