Page 19 of Playing the Field
“Fine, whatever. You can ask, not saying I’ll answer.”
“What were you looking for when you came out on the deck?”
My shoulders drop. “Oh. I figured you were here with a date. You know,
trying to impress a girl.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” His eyes are kind, softer than they get when he’s talking about soccer. I like it.
And there it is again, that twinge low in my belly that turns to full-on fire at the idea that he’s talking about me. But, I reason, he told me he’s cooking as a thank-you for the help he thinks I gave him. This is dinner between roommates. My hormones need to chill the heck out.
I take another sip of scotch, trying to extinguish it like a tiny flame, but it roars up even larger. I push away the feeling that I want this man for more than a nice dinner because dinner is all I can have. We work for the same organization. And given how my last relationship cratered my job, I do the smart thing and shut down the fantasy.
CHAPTER 10
Hunter
Feedingpeople has always given me a sense of satisfaction, mainly because it fulfills a basic need we all have. But watching Gracie devour the plate of food I’ve set before her is next-level sensory overload.
The way she delicately places a slice of steak on a shard of sourdough and dribbles it with peppercorn sauce. The way she licks her fingers to get every bit of sauce from the steak. The way she moans when the first bite of mashed potatoes hits her tongue.
I don’t think she’s doing any of it to torture me. She’s just enjoying my cooking. I should feel flattered. I should not feel like hauling her onto my lap.
“So, Gracie, when’s the last time we saw each other? Has to be sometime when Ky and I were in high school.”
“You mean, the last time before the airport?” She gives me a guilty smile. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you right away.”
“Why’re you sorry? I didn’t recognize you either.”
“I’m probably the only female in Los Angeles who hasn’t seen your face all over social media.”
Leaning back in my chair, I put my hands behind my head. “How do you know my face is all over social media?”
Her cheeks flame. Caught. “I may have done a little digging once I realized who you were. I work for the team now. Data is important. Specifics.”
She’s so earnest that I’m not sure if she has a passing interest in me or if she’s just telling me how she does her job.
“So, okay, fill me in on the time between college and the airport. Is that specific enough?”
“Sure, but it’s a long period. Anything in particular you want to know?” There it is again. I can’t tell if she’s flirting, challenging me, or asking a question. I can’t help reading into everything. I want more from her. I shouldn’t, but I do.
“Well, hey, if you’re giving me free rein, tell me about the best sex you’ve had.”
She chokes on a bite of bread. Her eyes bug out, and she grabs a glass of water to wash down the sourdough. I feel like the same teenage goon I always was around her. “Seriously?” She wipes her eyes and regains her composure.
I shrug, undeterred. “You said ‘anything.’”
“Didn’t realize you’d take that and run.”
“Specifics are important,” I remind her.
“Fine,” she grumbles. I catch a hint of amusement that I’ve recalled her comment from earlier. “You can ask anything, but I won’t guarantee I’ll answer.”
“So that’s a no on the sex question? Just confirming.”
“It’s a no.”
“Okay, relationships?” I could banter like this forever. It often gets me into trouble, sure, but I get the sense that Gracie won’t fall for my charms. Never did when we were younger, probably too smart now.
