Page 30 of Winning Match
I scoff. “Not American football. Real fútbol.”
“You mean soccer?” she asks and from her tone, I know she doesn’t mean it as an insult but…
“That’s not even a real word.”
She surprises me by laughing. Then she shrugs, entirely unapologetic. “So, you’re a soccer player.”
“Fútbol,” I correct.
“And you know José Costa?”
I nod. I don’t really know the man, but I’ve met him a handful of times. “He’s a fan.”
She narrows her eyes, and I can tell she’s wondering if I’m fucking with her.
Marlowe sighs. “Sorry, I-I don’t even know what to say. The past twenty-four hours have been a mind fuck. You haven’t given me a reason to not believe what you’re saying but…this is a lot.”
“I know.”
Her eyes cut to the bed before finding mine again. She blinks. “Last night, you took me out. You brought me here. You tucked me in and left.” Her tone is accusatory, but I also hear a thread of…hurt…laced around her words.
I hold her gaze, trying to read her.
“And now, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend,” she continues.
“Yes.”
“Why? It doesn’t make any sense. Why not just ask me out on a date or propose a fun fling?”
I wince since both options are more in line with my usual motives.
“There are pictures of us. From last night,” I say slowly.
“I know.”
My eyes widen. “You do?”
“The Sewing Circle sent me one. I didn’t get a chance to read the post, but I saw the photo. It’s not indecent or anything.”
“No,” I agree. If it had been indecent, well, that would have made everything a million times worse. Unbearable. I sigh, keeping my eyes on her as I admit the truth. “I’m a professional fútbol player who was recently passed over for the captain position due to my reputation off the field. I’d like to present a cleaner image and apparently, having a steady girlfriend—an attachment to a sweet, kind, and thoughtful woman—is a palatable solution.”
Marlowe arches an eyebrow. “So, you want to use me to trick people into thinking you’re a better man than whatever they previously believed?”
Ouch, that struck a nerve. But also… “Yes.”
She bites her bottom lip before releasing it. Then, she sits up straighter, perching on the edge of the armrest. Marlowe tilts her head, and the atmosphere around us charges. The air tightens and the room shrinks.
We’re transitioning from an awkward morning to a business negotiation. I note the change in her expression. Her eyes flare and her lips purse and my God if she isn’t beautiful.
She wields more power than she realizes. Her confidence billows and her eyes spark with a fierce intelligence I admire. She settles into a role she’s clearly familiar with and holy hell, it’s a turn-on I never knew I was into.
“We should discuss terms,” she says finally, reaching forward to pick up her coffee mug.
I fight a grin. There she is. A beauty with a brain and a backbone.
A woman who knows what she wants.
She will be my undoing. Not that she’ll ever know it.
