The Billionaire’s Girlfriend Bet - Leslie North Page 0,3

stared so hard at his friend that it could have created a burn mark. It was mostly to telepathically transmit the words SHUT UP to him.

“Interesting,” Blake said, “and exactly what she was hired to do.”

Michelle laughed, stepping closer as she dabbed at his wound with a cotton swab. “Sure. But I mean, taking care of injured baseball team owners falls under the same umbrella.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Grayson barreled on, looking at Blake with a glint in his eye that told him exactly what level of mischief to expect, “Blake, Daniel and I were just talking out there on the field about how Blake needs a proper tour of his own training facilities. Would you be able to provide that for him?”

Blake bit back a scowl. Instead, he offered up a smile when Michelle glanced at him.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“He’s serious,” Blake confirmed, wishing he could punch Grayson in the chest. Over Grayson’s shoulder, Daniel was smiling into a closed fist. They could both go to hell. But they’d lobbed this ball, and now he had to run with it. “I’ve been meaning to do it and haven’t had a chance to put it on my schedule.”

“Why, have you got too much else going on?” Michelle asked with a wink. There was something disarming about her smile, the casual rapport she’d established with him already. She wasn’t shy around him, but she didn’t fawn over him either. That was a rare find for him—almost like a present, wrapped in a very attractive package. He paused, his words evaporating on his tongue as he got lost in the pretty planes of her face.

“Something like that,” he finally said.

“He’s opening a new nightclub,” Daniel offered.

“Ah. Yeah, I’d imagine that would take up some time,” Michelle said, right before applying the butterfly Band-Aid over his cheek.

“You know, Blake, with how busy your schedule is going to get over the next few weeks,” Grayson said, clapping him on the shoulder, “you and Michelle should get that tour in ASAP.” To Michelle, he said, “What about tomorrow? Does that work for you?”

Blake rolled his neck in a slow circle. Goddamn these best friends of his. He reminded himself that they meant well…even when they were crazy about it and forced him into bets he didn’t want to undertake.

But he was just the same as them. Blake couldn’t back down from a bet.

And while he watched the slow curves of a bombshell smile take over Michelle’s face, he realized this bet might not be all bad.

2

Michelle checked and rechecked her phone.

First of all, she couldn’t believe that she now had BLAKE HARRISON—SEAGULLS OWNER in her phone as a real contact. And second of all, she couldn’t believe that she was going to be meeting him in less than ten minutes.

The man was a legend—that much was obvious. The twenty-something famous for turning around the flagging and forgotten Major League Baseball team. The businessman genius who owned both a record label and a baseball team and somehow made millions in the stock market each time he sneezed.

She’d been working for the Seagulls Major League Baseball team for just over six months and still hadn’t met the man until yesterday. But staying out of his orbit that long didn’t mean that nobody had anything to say about Blake Harrison.

No, everyone loved to talk about Blake Harrison. For a lot of people at her job, he was a constant source of speculation and rumors, as if he was a movie star or something. And that her coworkers would feel that degree of awe and curiosity was saying something, being that the bulk of her colleagues consisted of Major League Baseball players. Rumors and speculation were the name of the game at this level of professional sports. Sure, the majority of the athletes stuck to their job—the game—and left, but what happened off the field did not stay there.

Sometimes, Michelle felt like the lone sane woman floating in a sea of testosterone and childish drama. And really, it had always been that way. That’s what made her great at her job. In a profession that seemed destined to be filled with macho, blustering jocks, she was a necessary balance that had proven itself time and time again. What does a room full of hotheads and egotistical jocks need? A motherly figure to tell them to shut the hell up.

That was Michelle.

As an actual mother and a woman not afraid to use her mouth—or her training expertise—she’d found a good home