Page 11 of Once Upon A Player
That’s what players do.
I stifle a sigh. With all the years Lucas has been in the public eye flaunting his charm, it’s a little pathetic I have to remind myself of his reputation.
“You do that.” I give a little nod to show him I’m perfectly aware that this is just a game to pass the time. And speaking of time, I need to stop wasting it.
“D’you have a business card?”
“What?” The word blurts out before I can stop it, and his grin doesn’t help, since it’s now obvious he knows I thought he wasn’t serious.
He wasn’t serious about wanting my help. Was he?
“I need your number to contact you for when I need your expertise.”
“Does that line ever work?”
“It’s the first time I’ve used it. You tell me.”
Stop flirting, Vi.Except, even though it’s a bad idea on so many levels, I haven’t had so much fun in ages. Which says a lot about my self-imposed exile from the human race, but whatever. The truth is it’s a relief to discover I haven’t totally lost my touch when it comes to guys.
“Honestly? It’s a bit dodgy.”
“I’ve never been accused of being dodgy before.”
“First time for everything.”
“I’m not asking for any special favors. I’ll pay the going rate.”
I’m smiling at him like a smitten groupie, but it’s impossible not to. “You’re funny. I’m not even qualified yet. If Idoagree to help you out, all I’d ask in return is a release to use photos, and a testimonial.”
If you don’t ask, you don’t get…
“Deal.” He sticks out his hand, and after a second’s hesitation, when every warning bell clangs in my head that touching Lucas Carter is the worst ideaever, I cave, and his fingers wrap around mine. They’re warm, strong, and slightly callused, and I forget how to breathe.
Yep. Worst idea ever.I need to break contact, but it’s like I’m totally paralyzed, and Lucas doesn’t appear inclined to reclaim his hand any time soon, either.
I clear my throat, which shatters the spell and our connection. I resist the urge to flex my fingers since there’s no way I’m letting him know just how much his touch affected me.
“You’re going to make me ask again, aren’t you?”
I’ve no idea what he’s talking about, but right now that’s a secondary concern because I’ve just agreed to help Lucas freaking Carter redesign his penthouse. Holyshit.
Stop hyperventilating.
Luckily my brain kicks back into gear before he jumps to the conclusion I’m completely flakey. “My number, right. Okay.”
Before I have the chance to rummage for pen and paper in my bag, he hands me his phone. “Here you go.”
It’s a surreal moment as I add my number to his contacts. And so he never looks at my name and thinks,Who the hell?I add “Interior Designer,” and pride surges through me. I might not be qualifiedyet, but I only have one more year until I am. Having a big name like Lucas in my portfolio sure won’t be a disadvantage.
And then reality hits me, and I can’t believe I’m so flipping gullible. “Are you serious about this? Or is it just some kind of ruse to get my number?”
That didn’t come out right. But I can’t explain what I mean without digging myself further into a hole, and as if I don’t feel bad enough, my face starts to burn.
Well,fuck.
“It’s totally a ruse to get your number.” He’s laughing, and I’m not sure whether it’s because he’s trying to take his phone and I have a death grip on the bloody thing, or because he finds the fact I needed to ask the question in the first place hilarious.Did I really think he was nice?“And I’m deadly serious about needing your help.”
…
