Out of Bounds

He shrugs. “Big fan of Slurpees. Learned it the hard way.”

Stuart beams, claps his hands, and says, “I can see you two will get along fine. Drew, if you need anything, Dani is the legal liaison to the press department this season. She’s tasked with helping us to make sure we present the best public face, and don’t break any rules. Or laws.” He pauses, then adds, this time with complete seriousness. “Or morals. Especially those.” I nod my understanding and Drew does the same. Then Stuart flashes a huge smile and laughs. “Need to go make the rounds, so I’ll leave you two alone.”

Stuart walks away, and I stand near the bar with the man who ditched me the other week.

Be cool. Be calm. Be a pro. Don’t break any rules.

I part my lips to speak, hunting for words to break the tension that still exists between us. In my best cool-as-a-cucumber tone, I say, “Congratulations on joining the team. Everyone is thrilled to have you.”

He arches an eyebrow and even that simple gesture is impossibly sexy on him. But then, he has an unfair advantage because he’s decked out in a three-piece suit—tailored pants, a dress shirt, and a vest that fits him like a glove. If he wasn’t already stunning, the damn vest alone would knock him into another stratosphere, because there’s just something so ridiculously hot about a man who can pull off that look. You have to possess a spectacular body to wear that kind of three-piece suit. Drew seems to have stepped off the pages of GQ, tailored to within a millimeter of his fine frame. I’ve seen him in shorts, and I’ve seen him in a suit. The man makes the clothes every time.

“Everyone is thrilled to have me?” He sweeps his multimillion-dollar arm out wide, his eyes pinned on me. “Because it didn’t seem like everyone was thrilled to have me.”

My face burns and I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or desire or a mix. How on earth is he already dropping naughty little hints? Especially after not calling.

I nod, raising my chin. I don’t know what he’s getting at, but I won’t take the bait. I’m not about to let on that I was so disappointed at the silent treatment that I considered smashing my phone with a hammer as a punishment for it not serving up any texts from him.

“I assure you, everyone at the organization is delighted that you’re on the team.”

Ugh. I sound like a mouthpiece.

He steps closer, leans into me, his mouth now dangerously near to my ear. “Cut the act,” he whispers, his voice low and husky and turning me on even though I wish it wasn’t.

“What act?” I ask, my voice as wobbly as my knees.

“You knew I was traded.”

I wrench back. “What are you talking about?”

He taps his chest. “And you knew who I was.”

I scoff. In his face. “I didn’t know you were being traded,” I whisper sharply, not wanting anyone to overhear our conversation. “But obviously I knew who you were. I’m not stupid. If I didn’t recognize you, I shouldn’t have my job.”

“And yet you said nothing.”

“And yet you said nothing,” I fire back at him.

His expression is cold. “The whole time you knew what was going on, though, about me being traded, and you didn’t say anything?”

I shake my head. I can barely believe this conversation. “I’m not privy to trades before they happen. I’m the attorney, not the general manager. Besides, if I really knew, which I did not, do you think I would have spent the evening with you? I’d have avoided you. I only wanted to help make sure you weren’t hurt.”

Dragging a hand through his thick brown hair, he shrugs. “Fine.”

“And you introduced yourself as Andrew. You didn’t even say what you did for a living. I assumed that meant you wanted to be unknown. Don’t give me a hard time for giving you what you wanted that day,” I seethe, and he sighs heavily. But I’m not done. “And why are you on my case when you didn’t even call me?”

Crap. I want to smack myself. So much for being cool. So much for not letting on. This man rattles me.

But judging from the flummoxed look on his face, I’ve rattled him too. He stares at me, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? I stopped by your house the next day. I tried to text you but I didn’t get the last digit down, so I came by the next day to ask you out. I had no idea you worked for the team.”

“And I had no idea—” I stop when my brain snags on what he just said. Making a T with my hands, I call a timeout. “Wait. Did you say you stopped by?”

He nods several times. “When I realized I didn’t have your full number, I wrote a note, and brought it over to your home and left it on your porch. Tucked it right under the plant by your door.”

Butterflies swoop down out of nowhere, landing in my chest. “You did?” I ask, and I can’t mask the hope in my tone. “What did you say in it?”