Page 67 of Wicked Player

I’d never been embarrassed to bring anyone to my place, but as we pulled in to the parking lot, the lights of Gage’s Lincoln Navigator following me close the whole time even though he’d put my address into his GPS in case we got separated, nerves lit in my fingertips and traveled to my gut.

This was a guy whose last five-year contract had been over seventy million dollars. Which essentially meant he made more money during one football season than I’d ever see in my lifetime. His clothes were high-end where mine were Target and T.J. Maxx. Heck, even the dress I’d bought to wear to the fundraising gala last week had been rented at a fraction of the cost it would have cost to buy anything.

His SUV alone probably cost more than my annual salary.

And I was bringing him to what had to be a humble abode, probably barely nicer than his college apartment.

The differences in our lives hadn’t registered until I slowed down, pointed at the visitor parking spots of which there were plenty and pulled in to my assigned spot only five spots down.

By the time I climbed out of my five-year-old Explorer, I was tempted to run to my apartment, lock the door behind me, and pretend the last two weeks had never happened. Too bad he was so much bigger than me, and most likely way faster, and he could catch me easily or else I might have tried.

He met me in the middle of the parking lot, arms loose at his sides, his strides easily eating the space between us. Good gracious, the man was all that and a bag of chips. Frightening in his size and his intensity, and yet his very presence made me feel protected and safe at the same time.

“Hey.”Hey?Might as well slap myself silly and call it a night.

His answering grin made my knees weak. “You get nervous on the way here?”

How did he read me so well? I flipped my keys around my thumb and shrugged. “Maybe?”

“Figured you would. That’s the other reason we’re here. My house is farther away and I was worried you’d back out halfway there.”

My nose scrunched and his answer was to laugh again. “I’m not sure it’s great you think you’ve already got me figured out.”

“Not much to figure out.” He reached for me, took the keys out of my hand, tossed them into his other one and threaded his fingers through my hand. “You want me. I predict you’d get nervous bringing any man to your apartment and at some point on the drive, you realized your home is much smaller than mine and you’re wondering what that says about you. Or me.”

Wow. He was really good. And also, I was holding hands with Gage Bryant. Taking him to my house. My bedroom.

How had the world gotten so insanely awesome and wildly twisted?

“That pretty much covers it,” I mumbled, tucking hair behind my ear and watching my feet as we headed toward the building.

“What floor are you on?”

“I’m in number 212.”

The stairs to all apartments were outside. So I allowed him to read the signs, head the right direction.

“This is a nice place,” he said. He was scanning the area. It was well-lit and the owners and management company did a great job of keeping the bushes trimmed along the first floor. Each apartment had a small, barely big enough to be called a patio or porch, but nonetheless, people tried to decorate them for the holidays. Outside my front door was a five-foot chunk of barn wood I’d painted and stenciled at a ladies’ wine and craft night with Amanda last fall. It was white, the letters spelling outWelcomein all caps in a bright teal color.

“Rough Riders’ colors,” Gage said, pointing at the sign as we reached my porch. “Nice choice.”

Idle chit-chat. Friendly conversation. How did we get to this crazy place?

“Hey.” He tugged on my hand and pulled me to him. His thumb was at my chin, tipping my head back. His eyes danced between mine and dropped to my mouth. “You remember my dad was a pastor growing up? Swear to God, Elizabeth, you got nothing to be embarrassed about with how you live. I grew up on clothes from second-hand stores and garage sales and ate more grilled cheese sandwiches than I have dollars today. I’m just a guy, who really wants to get to know you.” That smile of his turned predatory as he continued. “And I also want to get you into your bed, make you scream so loud your yells echo all over this building so everyone knows you’re taken.”

Well, if I hadn’t been nervous before I certainly was now.

“That okay with you?”

“Ummm.” It sounded fantastic. It also terrified me and had me shaking in my heels. I mean…the whole building? It was pretty big.

He kissed my lips and pulled back, slipping the key easily into the lock. With his hand on my lower back, he guided me inside my own apartment.

I flipped on lights, kicked off my heels and then we stood there. Gage’s gaze surveying my apartment like whatever I had and however, I decorated was important to him.

Me wondering if regardless of what he’d said, which had meant a lot, did he find it lacking.

“You’ve made a home.”

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