Page 67 of Sparks Like Ours

“Well, it’s true. So, what’s the secret? Because I’m clearlymissing it. I come off like an idiot each time I open my mouth to those mediatypes. Even when I don’t mean to.”

“You’ve never come off like an idiot. Even when I wasn’t yourbiggest fan, I never thought so. You’re just more reserved.” Elle walked nakedto the back of her bedroom door to retrieve her fluffy white robe as Giawatched happily.

“Okay. What’s the cure?”

Elle came back to her, tying the sash as she walked. “Lots ofsmiling, lots of laughing, and honestly? The ability to listen and toss theball back to them. Keep the conversation moving with a give-and-take.”

Gia scrunched up her face. “Can you explain that last part?”

“Mm-hmm.” She leaned down, stole a kiss, and sat on the bed acrossfrom Gia. “It’s all about building rapport. Instead of answering a question andgetting out of there, listen to what a reporter has to say, and try and continuethe conversation. Do what you can to make it last. Let’s try it.”

Gia balked, completely out of her comfort zone. “No way.Absolutely not.”

Ignoring her, Elle mimed an imaginary microphone. “Gia, as youstruggle unsuccessfully to take down master surfer Elle Britton, what’s goingthrough your sexy mind?”

Gia darkened and leaned into the microphone. “That it’s only amatter of time.”

“Nope, that’s borderline brooding and too competitive,” Elle said,dropping the microphone. “Fail.”

Gia laughed. “But you’re a really cute reporter. Are you availablelater?”

“Oh my God. Yes!” Elle pointed at her, as the corners of thatfantasy-inducing mouth turned up. “You’re doing it right now! More of that.”

“What? I was flirting with you.”

“Then flirt withthem.It’s all a game. You were charming, and likable, and had the most wonderfulsmile on your face as you laughed. That’s how you sell it. Worked on me.”

“You’re serious?”

“Beyond serious, and now I’m desperate to make out with you.That’s how good it was.”

“Wow, that’s more than I was—” But she never got to finish hersentence because Elle’s lips were on hers, and the sash on the robe was pulled,and the rest of their morning spiraled into one Gia wouldn’t likely forget.

She loved Saturdays.

With the Cascais Women’s Pro lurking in just a couple of weeks,both Elle and Gia spent most of their days training with their respectivecoaches and their nights dining out, watching movies, and eventually fallinginto bed together. Sometimes they even skipped those first couple of things.

Because they hadn’t gone out of their way to be secretive aboutthe time they spent together, photos and ridiculous headlines splashed acrossthe trashiest of surf blogs about them. And suddenly Gia’s requests forinterviews had skyrocketed. Theo Trowebridge loved it.

“Okay, so maybe now we pivot,” he said to the two of them, in hisoffice. They exchanged a glance.

“In what way?” Elle asked, leaning forward with a squint.

“Now that you’re linked romantically in the press, we play up thesex angle a little more.”

“No,” Gia said adamantly. Their personal life was theirs, and shewasn’t about to exploit their relationship to sell chips. It was becoming tooimportant to her.

“I agree with Gia,” Elle said. “That part of our story is off thetable. We still compete against each other. Let’s keep it about the sport.”

Theo looked bored and drummed his fingers. “Fine. If that’s whatyou’d prefer. But for the record, it’s me you should be thanking for yourburgeoning love in the first place. You could show a little gratitude bykeeping an open mind.”

Gia studied him out of the side of her eye. He looked way toopleased with himself. “And why is that?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, seeming to changedirection. “For putting you together on this campaign.”

Elle mulled this over. “I guess that’s true to an extent.”

“That, and the broken-down Jeep.” He laughed. No, it wasn’t alaugh. More like a childlike giggle. Was this guy serious?

---