Page 16 of Wicked Player

“We are here today to announce the upcoming opening of the almost fully completed Family and Siblings Event Room located on the fifth floor of our hospital. It is my honor today to introduce to you the Chief Development Officer and a man he’s worked very closely with to ensure this project has been completed successfully. If you would, please do me the honor of welcoming Miles McGregor and Gage Bryant.”

As the woman spoke, she turned and lifted her arm toward the side. Out walked Mr. McGregor, quickly followed by Gage Bryant. Both men smiled widely and waved one of their hands in the air.

A half-dozen men and women flanked them. I gaped at them as they sauntered to the center of the stage. I couldn’t look away.

Gage Bryant’s gaze scanned the crowd of reporters and then landed on me. And that tickle of awareness I felt earlier intensified to a full-blown spark, rushing down my spine.

His eyes narrowed on me and until he was standing to McGregor’s left behind the podium, he didn’t once look away.

Oh My God. He was sexier in person. Several inches taller and so much larger than any person on the stage. His height advantage coupled with the raised stage gave him the appearance of a giant.

The sexiest, most beautiful giant I could have ever conjured in all my youthful years when I used to dream of fairy tales and heroes.

Good freaking Lord. My lips parted as that warmth in my spine spread. My fingertips heated until I barely remembered I had to take notes.

And next to me, Connor leaned in closer, whispered in my ear. “He’s not all that, but it looks like you like it. Have a crush on the superstar, Lizzie?”

I turned to him and hissed. “Stop calling me that.” If I could have shot flaming darts from my eyes, Connor’s black soul would be my target. “And permanently, stop talking to me. Whatever you want from me, you’ll never get.”

I should have turned away sooner, but I didn’t. Instead, I caught the gleam in Connor’s eyes. As if my disgust of him was a turn-on. God. Just my luck I had to sit next to my ex-boyfriend. Next time, I was switching seats. Screw protocol and manners.

I faced the stage, returning to finally catch Mr. McGregor had already started speaking. I mentally scribbled down another reason to despise Connor and paid attention to the reason why I was here. But even as I tried to focus on the speaker as he spoke about the hospital, the donations and the fundraising involved to get this project off the ground, it was the man at his side who continued to snag my attention.

Good Lord. Men like him shouldn’t be allowed in public. I took him in discreetly, drawn to the silver tie knotted tightly beneath the collar of his black dress shirt. It sat there, snug and perfectly done at the base of his throat. His cheeks were clean shaven, his jaw square. It was impossible not to stare at him.

He was just so damn pretty.

My tongue slid out, licking my lips, and my eyes caught on his. He was looking directly at me, eyes like coal. Thick lashes. Even thicker brows pulled into two straight slashes at his forehead. One long line furrowed across.

His jaw ticked and he turned toward Mr. McGregor. I focused my attention on him as well, questions pummeling my mind. What in the hell had I done to make him look so angry? Did he not even want to be here? And why? Because the man on stage, glowering at me looked like he wanted to throttle me.

Inhaling a deep breath, I forced myself to focus. Despite his off the charts good looks, this was a job, not an afternoon hook-up meet and greet. And yet, that awareness. The way my body was responding, a warmth between my thighs, my pulse quickening. Good grief. The man from last night had ignited my libido and now I apparently wanted to jump everyone. I was being ridiculous and unprofessional.

“I will stop my excited rambling now,” Miles said, earning himself a round of polite laughter. “And let the man of the hour finish explaining, most importantly, the true reason why this wing is so important. If you’ll join me, please welcome the best wide receiver in the league, Raleigh’s very own, Gage Bryant.”

I sat motionless, hands frozen to my tablet screen while Gage stepped forward. As he moved, clasping hands with McGregor, his body moved in fluid motion, calm and smooth. Impressive for a man his size.

He reached the podium and scanned the crowd, slid to Connor next to me, and then narrowed on me. “Thank you.”

He yanked his gaze away from me as if it hurt him to look at me and as he started speaking, my hands curled into fists. What was this? I’d never experienced such a strong reaction to any man and worse, I couldn’t remember a man who had ever looked at me with such contempt.

I didn’t have time to think about it. He was speaking and my job was to report.

“Many of you know I come from a small family in Southern Ohio. My dad is a pastor and my mom helped out at their church until she quit to volunteer at a local hospital.”

My eyes were fixated on his hands. They were large, strong and tan, veined and so damn sexy. They were also curled around the edge of the podium and a man his size risked snapping the cheap wood in two if he wasn’t careful. The tenseness in his body drew my focus in.

“What you don’t know, is that I lived most of my young childhood in a hospital similar to the one here today in Raleigh.”

What? None of this was in the research I’d done.I scribbled down a note to double-check, but I was listening too intently to complete my thought as he continued, without preamble, bearing his soul to reporters of all people.

“My brother was eight when he died of leukemia. He’d beat it once when he was younger. Lost a year of school to the disease that ravaged his blood before we celebrated that we believed he’d been healed. When he was seven, it returned. And I know what it’s like to fight the fight of childhood cancer. I know what’s it like to live inside these halls, the forgotten child, the healthy kid who gets pushed to the back burner because there is a sibling who demands so much more.”

Around the room, there were a few quiet gasps, a few more sniffles. My own eyes stung. Oh my God. This was horrific. My chest tightened and burned down to my stomach.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Gage continued. He flashed the crowd a smile, one that could incinerate a woman’s panties. My very own were melting despite the professionalism I was trying to maintain. “My parents are incredible people. They didn’ttryto make me feel that way, it’s just the nature of the beast when you’re dealing with something so difficult.”

His voice trailed off, and once again, his gaze slid across the room, bouncing from person to person. He landed on me again and when he did, that heat in my thighs beganpulsing.Oh my God. I was turned on listening to him talk about his deceased brother. What was wrong with me?

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