Page 30 of Playing to Win

Chapter 11

Izzy

“You have got to be kidding me!” My voice is shrill, painful even to my own ears.

The fact that I’m sitting next to Brooks in Kerry’s office is bad enough. Now, she’s saying I have to live with him for two weeks to make this thing work. It will be good for PR and we need to keep an eye on each other, she argues. She’s lost her mind.

Argh, why didn’t I just tell them I couldn’t extend my trip? Or say my grandmother died? Or that my dog ate my gym kit?

Kerry turns her laptop on the conference room table so the screen faces Brooks, Madge—his PR manager—and me. “See for yourself. Your blog hits skyrocketed. You had more comments on your little blogging war than you’ve had in the previous year.”

Brooks sniggers and I swear my palm is twitching to slap his face. But Kerry is right. My presales were low. In the last couple of days, preorders, YouTube views, and new visitors to the blog are all up. Today, my release seems to be going reasonably well. I’m climbing the Amazon charts, at least.

Madge leans in to speak to Brooks, but she’s still loud enough that I catch her words. “Your membership requests are up too, Brooks. If you are going to franchise and you want to fill out a new gym before it has even opened, this could be good for you.”

He rubs a hand across his short beard. I’ve never found beards attractive but on Brooks, not only does it work, it makes me want to test the theory about beards and sensations. Ahem, you know the one. I like his rugged look. Tats, beard, muscles. It’s so far from the suited, pompous Londoners I’m used to—the type my parents want me to marry. I like the way one prominent vein shows in his biceps, whether he’s flexing or not. I wonder whether he’s so ripped the veins of his pelvis will show me a trail down to his— I shudder involuntarily. This is Brooks Adams I’m focusing on here. Scum of the earth. Well, except that one thing in the bookstore. No! No buts.

I blink three times in quick succession when I realize Brooks is watching me stare at him. Shit.

“Look, it sounds like this could be good for both of us,” he says, surprising me. “I’ll do it. But the defamatory blog posts have got to stop. It’s childish and pathetic.”

I feel my jaw drop. Now I’m childish and pathetic?

“And you are absolutely not staying in my apartment for two weeks. There’s a place on the same floor, two doors down the hall. It’s available for short-term rental. Maybe Kerry can fix that for you.”

That does sound better. “I don’t like you.” I know I’ve said that aloud when Brooks replies.

“Yeah, ditto, baby.”

I hold up a finger as a sound of pure contempt leaves my mouth. “First, never call me baby. Secondly, each of us has to follow these plans to the letter. No cheating in between. Part of my plan is detoxifying your body, so don’t go putting any beer or shitty protein in there. And you have to do the exercises I give you. None of that grunting meathead weight-lifting crap.”

He stands up and shakes his head like a headmaster might at a pupil. “The same goes for you, Coulthard. If I give you steak, you’ll eat steak. If I tell you to lift weights, you’ll lift weights. And you can’t go fitting in dance sessions and messing up my plan.”

I stand and mirror his hostile posture. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

As we stare at each other, I notice for the first time the flecks of gold around his green eyes. They’re like a fine chain holding a bright emerald. I’ve never seen irises quite like them before. He holds my stare until his eyes slip down to my mouth. The move makes me suddenly need to wet my lips with my tongue.

“Are we all set, then?” Madge rises from her seat, breaking our standoff. I remember that, gorgeous eyes, rugged, and muscular or not, I am looking at Brooks “Big Head” Adams.

Madge places a hand on Brooks’s shoulder and they exchange an unspoken communication.

“We’re all set,” Kerry says, narrowing her eyes at me, as if to ask why I was just lost in all things Brooks. I would also like to know the answer to that question.

* * * *

I drag my Louis Vuitton suitcase up another flight of stairs, then stop on the landing before tackling the next. I remove the elastic tie from my hair and retie a higher ponytail, lifting my hair off my clammy neck.

“You’re telling me that of all the days and times the elevator could break, it’s now? When I am moving into your building?”

Brooks’s mouth curves at one side in a sick and twisted kind of smile; then he continues with ease up another floor, carrying a significantly smaller case than the one I’m lugging.

“Looks that way now, doesn’t it?”

“You planned this, didn’t you? You had the concierge do something. I bet if I were to stand in that elevator shaft right now, the lift would be there and it would take me up to your floor.”

He pauses midflight and smirks down at me. “You want to try it, be my guest. Don’t expect me to pick you up when you plummet to the basement.”

---