Leah found my head somewhere up my own ass.
“If you aren’t going to take this seriously, I won’t help you.”
She didn’t invite me in. The door slammed behind her and she walked to the elevator without me.
How did I piss her off? I just got to her apartment.
“What the hell did I do now?” I asked.
Leah shook her head. The dress was low cut and everything else good and holy in this world shimmied too. “You didn’t even try.”
“Try what?”
“The apology?” She whipped around, and her hair caressed her cheek. I tried to focus on her scowl, but, God…even mad she was beautiful. “I spent an hour crafting you five sentences to express your remorse for what happened, and you couldn’t even make it sound genuine?”
What did I do wrong? “I read what you gave me.”
“Exactly. You read it like a PR person gave you a statement.”
“Do you want me to take acting classes now? I’m a football player, not Chris Pratt.”
“Yeah, as if I could get that lucky.”
“Fine…” I shrugged. “I’ll do better next time.”
That pissed her off more. “Jack, there better not be a next time. That was your last public apology. No one will listen to you next time.”
Touché.
The elevator delivered us to the lobby. She brushed a cautious hand over her dress, like she didn’t trust that the skirt wouldn’t ride up and show a scandalous amount of leg. I was praying it would.
“Why are we so formal?” she asked.
I was a jock, but even I appreciated a good meal. “I’m taking you to Le Meilleur.”
She stiffened, staring at me with widening eyes. “That’s the best restaurant in the city.”
I smirked, offering her my elbow as we walked to my car. “Now that sounded genuine.”
I helped her into the Porsche, hating the brand new car because it wasn’t my classic Camaro. Leah liked it. She stared at the interior, the navigation system, the luxury. She was probably a girl who didn’t mind a little class.
Well, there was nothing classier than getting fucked in the back seat of a sports car that cost more than her yearly salary, but Leah didn’t seem the type. That didn’t stop me from imagining it. Wanting it. I adjusted my trousers as my dick swelled thinking about her skirt riding up and my cock sliding in.
Let’s see her write a spin piece on the best sex of her goddamned life.
The restaurant needed reservations a month ahead of time. I called two hours before we arrived, and a private table waited for the Rivets’ star near the dance floor. It was a perfectly romantic location for a man taking his longterm girlfriend on a date. Low lights, expensive food, and insufferable waiters. Every girl’s dream before slipping into bed with me.
But Leah didn’t seem the bed slipping type.
She folded her napkin neatly in her lap, sipped her wine, and looked positively humbled that I would bring her somewhere nice.
“Thinking you were getting a strip club breakfast buffet?” I asked.
She took a deep breath, meeting my gaze with those big, mocha eyes, as rich as the chocolate complexion of her skin. She turned my cock to stone, and she didn’t have a fucking clue.
“I didn’t know what to expect.” At least she was honest. Her voice shifted, taking on that professional, impersonal tone. “I’ve posted on social media about tonight. I have boxed seats for a baseball game and an event with one of the Rivets’ charities we can attend. But, for now? We should probably take a selfie together a little later, to pass around a picture of you that doesn’t include three drunken women and a totaled car.”
“Thanks.”
Her hands trembled. “I don’t know how to handle this from here. How to…make it seem like we’re an actual couple.”
Fucking her would convince me. “We’ll start by ordering an appetizer. I think a salad after that.” I leaned closer, voice low. “Then we’ll get real crazy and grab and entre.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I called over the waiter. “People eat on dates. You and I will eat on our date.”
I tucked a hundred dollar bill in the waiter’s suit. Leah hissed at me. I ignored her.
“Make sure the lady’s wine glass doesn’t go empty tonight.” I pointed to a variety of foods on the menu—not like I could read the French anyway. “That’ll be good for appetizers.”
The waiter nodded and scurried to the kitchen. Leah glared.
“Please. Thank you. You’re welcome. Ever hear of those words?” She couldn’t look angry sipping a glass of