Talk Hockey to Me (Bears Hockey #3) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,22
pretending to be an agent and soon people are going to find out I’m faking it.
My other clients came with me from PSM. Hunter would be the first player I’ve signed on my own. This is big.
And I have to be honest with myself—I knew I wanted to take him on as a client from the moment he called. I’ve been prolonging this because I’m letting my emotions take over. That stops right now.
Hunter texted me yesterday, following up. I haven’t replied yet.
I straighten and reach for my phone, and open the app. I type in my response. I’ve given this careful consideration, and I’m happy to offer you representation.
Then I straighten my shoulders and open the file I’ve already created for Hunter on my computer. I have work to do.
Two days later, I’m at Hunter’s apartment building in Hoboken. The doorman calls up and then waves me to the elevators. When I knock on Hunter’s door, he flings it open.
“Hi.” He beams at me.
“Hi, Hunter. How are you?” I ignore how good he looks in a pair of softly faded jeans and a navy Henley.
“Great. Great. Come in.” He steps aside and hold the door for me. “We can sit over here.” He leads the way into the living room.
“Nice view.” I cross the patterned rug and sit on one of the two big couches. He takes a seat opposite me. The view is all blue—blue sky, blue river, even the skyscrapers on the other side of the Hudson River appear blue.
“Thanks. I like living here. I’m going to miss it.”
I don’t try to reassure him that he may not have to leave, because we both know that he likely will have to. “We’ll find you a great place to live, wherever you end up,” I say calmly.
He nods.
I spread out some papers on the table and go through them with Hunter. He seems uninterested and I sit back. “You should be paying more attention to these.”
He blinks. “You said I could trust you.” Our eyes meet and heat fills my chest. “I do trust you, Kate.”
“Well, that’s good, but even so, it’s your career. You shouldn’t trust anyone but yourself.”
We resume reviewing the contract, then Hunter signs and we’re done. Yay.
He sits back. “Thank you. This is a big load off my mind.”
I hate it that this situation has been messing with his mind. And even though it’s a business decision that’s beneficial for my bottom line, it makes me feel good that I’m helping him. I gather up the papers, slip them into a folder and slide it back into my bag. “Good. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Did you really bail Beaven out of jail?”
I blink, keeping my face neutral. “Did he tell you that?”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “You won’t have to do that for me, I promise.”
I try to stop my smile. “Good to know. I’ve gotten some strange requests, though, so don’t get too cocky.”
“Okay. Here’s a request. Come downstairs and have a drink with me in the bar. It’s happy hour.”
Hunter’s request makes me freeze.
Have a drink with him? Jeez, I still haven’t recovered from yesterday’s lunch with him.
I stuff papers into my big purse, pretending to rearrange them and taking my time. I stand. I need an excuse. I don’t have one. I don’t know what to say. It would be ridiculous to say we should keep things professional; I have dinner and drinks with clients all the time. But Hunter’s different than all my other clients. He’s seen me naked.
And more.
I resist the urge to wipe my brow as sweat breaks out on it.
He’s waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” I finally say.
His eyes flicker, but his expression doesn’t change. He lifts his chin. “We’re friends, Kate.”
“I-I know.” I clutch my purse with both hands.
“Let’s have a drink. We have years of catching up to do.”
A small, sharp knife twists in my heart. We wouldn’t have to catch up if he’d felt the same about me as I felt for him. “I don’t have time today.” I rush the words out. “I’m sorry. Things are so busy right now. But I’ll take a rain check on that!” I smile brightly and head to the door. “I’ll touch base with you in the next few days about how things are going.” I beeline toward the door.