Page 15 of Anti-Player

“I said no.” Pushing off the counter, she comes towards me, her arms crossed tight over her chest. Her frown is not subtle. “This isn't some act to get you to push harder so I finally accept. I seriously can't let you pay me. It would hurt my integrity. As it is, I'm already wondering if I made the wrong choice doing this.”

Standing taller, my pulse racing with fresh unease, I advance on her. “Please,” I hiss, gripping her shoulders. Paige tenses under my touch. She's pleasantly warm. “Don't back out. I need your help, Paige.”

Her eyes flash. She searches mine, and for a long while, her breathing is short, raspy, and all I can hear. “I won't,” she promises.

I let out a sigh that makes my body slump. “Thank you.”

“Listen,” she goes on, looking off to the side. “This is a risky situation for me. A friend of mine made me realize that you and me getting caught working together, even if it's for all the right reasons, could give people the wrong idea. So we have to be discreet.”

“Of course. I understand.” She smiles at me, and God, those dimples. If I'd seen those first this morning I wouldn't have needed coffee.

She coughs lightly. “Um, you can let me go now.”

Right—I'm still gripping her. It had been so comfortable I'd been eager to keep doing it. Pulling away, I fish the Secret Reader from my bag. When I turn back Paige is scratching one ankle with her opposite foot. Do I make her nervous? “If I only have you for a few hours, let's make the most of it.”

Her blush flows up her throat. “Phrase that differently, Romeo.”

I chuckle. “Where should we sit?”

Paige scans her apartment with a mild frown. “I don't host company much. Let me get the stool from my bedroom.” She walks into the room I hadn't seen, returning seconds later with a scruffy padded seat. Placing it down, she drops into her computer chair and motions for me to take the stool.

It's an awkward height for my long legs. Grunting to get comfortable, I pull out my phone to take notes. Paige grabs the Secret Reader, fondling its smooth surface. “Let's start with a list,” I say.

“Of what?”

“Things you hate and things you like.”

She tucks her legs under herself in the chair to get comfortable. It gives me a delectable view, one that has me sweating as I force myself to pay attention to her voice and not her tempting legs. “I like how it looks,” she muses, “though it's kind of heavy. Is it meant to stay in one place or be portable?”

I pause. “I should know the answer to that,” I mumble. “It didn't cross my mind until you asked.”

Paige narrows her eyes, like she expects me to declare I'm joking around. Her face falls. “How is that possible?”

“I pictured what it would do. Not whether it made sense being in one place or carted around.” Shaking my head in disgust, I chuckle bitterly. “Not a great display of my intelligence.”

When she doesn't tease me back, I look up. Paige is gawking at me like I'm a creature she's never seen before. Softly, she asks, “What did you picture it doing?”

This is the ultimate question. The one investors, shareholders, family friends and strangers have all voiced numerous times. I don't need to think long about my response. Locking eyes with Paige, I speak smoothly, easily, and honestly.

“Helping people.”

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