Page 37 of Reckless Kiss

Confused by Esme’s odd behavior

Confused by my football player’s sudden good fortunes.

Confused by my entire fucking life.

Marie and I spent the entirety of the day trying to piece details together. There was what we knew: five of our athletes had recently made big purchases despite no new contracts or endorsements. None of them had any reasonable explanation for the money. There was what we suspected: Edmund Brown was behind the pocket padding.

Why?

We didn’t know.

But I did know someone who might.

I practically ran into the dimly lit reception at the university. The fundraiser was already in full swing. Tables covered in white linens and votive candles dotted the room. Buffets filled with steaming food lined the walls. From here I could spot four bars, all with lines. At the opposite end of the room there was a screen showing all the latest genetics research being done by Jeffry’s department. In front of it stood an empty podium. Later there would be speeches, but for now there was food and celebration.

I scanned the room looking for my friends as I slipped into the nearest line for a drink. They were sitting at one of the reserved tables near the podium. Everyone was there and I was prepared for the usual teasing about being late.

“Hello, Leo.”

I didn’t need to turn to know the sultry voice belonged to Esme.

“Good evening, Esme. You look lovely.” Fuck me, she looked gorgeous. A strapless black gauzy number, sky-high heels, hair styled off to one side so her elegant shoulder was on display—mocking me, begging me to caress and suckle it—and of course, those damned red lips.

“Thank you.”

I’d hoped she’d be here tonight. There was a good chance since she worked with Jeffry but I wasn’t sure and I’d been too busy to ask. My hope was one part selfish, any time I got to see her was a good time, but also one part business. If anyone knew whether Edmund Brown might be connected to illegal activity in football, it would be Esme.

I swallowed down the desire to put my hands on her. “Are we allowed to know each other here?” I very intentionally scanned the crowd.

Yes, I was giving her a hard time, but, truth be told, my ego was bruised. I didn’t understand her brush off at the party or the look of fear in her eyes. She hadn’t reached out afterward to explain, either.

She glanced down at her toes. “We should be safe here.”

“What does that mean, Esme?”

She looked up at me. “It means there are eyes everywhere but at work I’m typically safe, but not always. It’s best if you don’t act like you know me intimately, for our both our sakes.”

Safe.

My bruised ego took a hike, replaced completely by a fierce protectiveness. “Esme?”

“Not here,” she whispered, then looked up at me with a brilliant smile. “Tonight we’re friends.”

I nodded, emotions I’d rather not name taking hold.

“You look a little rumpled,” she murmured.

I fixed my tie and ran my fingers through my hair. “Yes, well, work was something today.”

“A client giving you a hard time?” she teased, her eyes dancing in the candlelight.

“More like five of them.”

All the teasing evaporated. Her mouth puckered, brow furrowing. “Football players?”

My skin pricked. “Indeed.”

She nodded once and stepped forward with me as the line moved. We were only one away from the promise of alcoholic relief. “You’ll get to see some of my research tonight.”

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