The Perfect Play by Jaci Burton
This book is dedicated to
Rita Frangie and the Berkley Art Department.
Thank you for the best cover I’ve ever had!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A big thank-you to Azteclady and Renée for all your help.
To Shannon Stacey: Thank you for reading the book, and for your awesome suggestions—especially the first chapter. Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?
To Maya Banks, first for your friendship, which I find so valuable, and second for your idea for this series. I owe you big-time.
And as always, a big thank-you to my husband, Charlie, who has to give up many weekends while I’m working away on deadline. Thank you for the sacrifices and for your patience. They’re noted and always appreciated.
ONE
SWEAT DRIPPED DOWN MICK RILEY’S FACE AND ARMS. The field workout he’d just endured had kicked his ever-lovin’ ass. He leaned against the wall of the locker room, the cool brick and ice-cold water in his hands not helping at all to lower his temperature. He was hot and sweaty, and he’d been knocked on the ground so many times he’d probably eaten half the dirt on the field.
He was exhausted and not in the damn mood for a party tonight. What he’d really like to do is take a cold shower, go home, and order a pizza. Instead, he had to put on a tux and a smile, and hang out in a ballroom with the rest of his team, the San Francisco Sabers of the National Football League. There’d be photographers, television cameras, and probably a horde of women who wanted to hang on him.
Years ago that would have been the highlight of his night.
Not anymore.
When had he gotten so tired of it all? Hell, when had he gotten old?
He stripped off his practice jersey and tossed it to the ground, pulled off his pads and breathed a sigh of relief, then grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face. He unlaced his pants, drained the water from his jug, and went to the fountain to refill it.
That’s when he heard a voice outside the locker room. A woman’s voice.
What was a woman doing down here? He popped the door open and saw a gorgeous blonde standing a few feet down the hall, twirling around in circles and mumbling to herself. Man, she was a sight with her business skirt that skimmed her knees, her high heels showcasing her gorgeous legs, and her crisp white blouse and pulled-up hair. All prim and proper, and she made him think dirty thoughts about getting her crisp white shirt all mussed up.
“I should have taken a left. I know it was a left. You dummy, now you’re going to be lost in this cavern forever, and you’re going to get fired.”
He leaned against the doorway as she stared down the long hall, tapped her high-heeled shoe, and mumbled some more.
“Where the hell is the office, anyway? It can’t be in the friggin’ basement of this place.”
“No, it’s not down here.”
She whirled, seemingly embarrassed to be caught talking to herself. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then she headed in his direction. “Oh. Thank God. A living human being. Can you help me? I’m so lost.”
“Sure. You need the office?”
“Yes.”
She stopped in front of him, and she smelled so damn good—like spring and cookies or something—that he was embarrassed, because he sure as hell didn’t smell like anything appealing.
“Take a right turn, then at the first hallway go left. You’ll find the elevators. Punch the button for the top floor. When you get off, turn left again and go to the end of the hall. The main office is there.”
She studied him, then gave him a wide smile. “You’re my hero. I was afraid I was going to be lost down here forever and I’d never get these contracts signed. I have to run. Thank you!”
She turned and practically sprinted down the hall, though how she could run on those shoes was something he’d never understand about women.
She sure was beautiful, but not in the way he was used to. She wasn’t overly made up, so her beauty was natural. She wasn’t the kind of woman he usually went for. Maybe that’s what he liked about her.
And he hadn’t even bothered to introduce himself. Or get her name.
Too bad, because he could have sworn there’d been a spark between them.
Then again, it might have just been his imagination. He could just need a slap of cold water to lower his body temperature. Too much heat today.
He went back inside, grabbed the towel, and headed for the shower.
AS KICK-ASS EVENTS WENT, TARA LINCOLN THOUGHT this one might be the best she’d ever put together. And it damn well better be, because it could generate more work for her, and The Right Touch needed all the business it could get.