Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,84

feel the same exact way—though I’m not saying sorry, no, sir. I’m not the one who did anything wrong here.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Sarah says just before she walks off.

I barely acknowledge her leaving. I’m too wrapped up in the man who is now approaching me. His steps are sure. His gaze is direct. But I see the worry in his expression. The tension in his jaw. Is he afraid I’ll tell him to leave? He should be.

He has no idea I’ve had a slight change of heart.

“I had to come find you,” he finally says, his deep voice washing over me, making my knees weak. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”

“Really?” I squeak. I clear my throat. Stand up a little straighter. Note the way his gaze drops to my chest for the briefest moment.

My skin catches fire there. He has such a thing for my breasts. What a perv.

I want him to be my perv.

He nods. “Traffic is hell on a Saturday afternoon in Pebble Beach.”

“There was some sort of car show,” I tell him.

“Yeah, and a golf tournament,” he grumbles, making me smile.

I banish my smile away. This feels so normal, talking with him. Looking at him. Wishing he would just pull me into his arms and never let me go.

Nope. Not yet. I can’t think like that.

“I missed you,” he says. “So damn bad. I’m sorry, Eleanor. That I lied to you. That I didn’t tell you who I really am, or what I really do. I love what I do. I’m a lucky motherfucker, and I know it. But playing pro ball also comes with a lot of restrictions. It’s hard for me trust anyone. Every woman I meet, I never think she’ll actually like me for me. Some women only seem to care about how much money we make, or how much airtime we get during a game broadcast. I’ve seen it happen time and again to other guys I play with, and it sucks.”

I could care less about any of those things he just mentioned. I had no idea he even played football for the NFL, so none of that matters.

All I care about is him.

“You liked me for me. None of that mattered. You thought I was funny. You wanted to spend time with me, and you didn’t even know who I really was, or what I did. And that felt good. It felt great.” His hungry gaze rakes over me. “Damn, woman, you’re gorgeous in that dress.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile, soaking up his compliments.

“I want another chance with you.” He takes a step closer, reaching for my hands and clasping them in his own. They’re big and warm and cradle me gently, and I know without a doubt that’s how he’ll always hold me. Carefully. Securely. He’s got me. “If I have to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, I’ll do it. Just please, Eleanor. Give me another chance.”

“Go ahead,” I tell him. “Get on your knees then.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. Just crouches down and gets on his knees on the damp grass in his expensive-looking trousers, still holding onto my hands. He’s so tall, he’s almost at eye level, but not quite. Actually, he’s at tit level. And he’s staring at them for a too long moment, as if he’s in a trance.

Then he shakes his head and tilts it back, his warm gaze meeting mine, and it takes everything within me not to burst out laughing.

“Do you forgive me?” he asks.

I squeeze his hands. “I don’t like that you kept such important information from me, but I understand your reasoning behind it. I don’t know what that’s like, having to deal with being a celebrity.”

He rolls his eyes. “Baby, I’m not a big-time celebrity. I’m no Kardashian.”

“Oh I know. But you still deal with fame. Women throwing themselves at you because of what you do, not who you are.” I smile. “I like you for you. I don’t care what you do. Well, I do, because how freaking cool is it that you play for the Raiders? But that doesn’t make a difference in how I feel about you.”

“How do you feel about me?” he asks.

“Like I’m falling for you,” I tell him with the utmost sincerity. “I forgive you.”

“Thank God,” he mutters. “Can I stand now?”

Laughing, I pull him back up, though I really had nothing to do with that. He’s solid as a rock. “Can you kiss me?”

There’s