“You know it. Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”
We end up at a Spanish tapas restaurant on the Embarcadero and basically order our weight in food. I pop a cube of Manchego cheese in my mouth and sigh.
“Maybe I should move to San Francisco,” I tell Ivy. “I love it here.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Don’t tease. It isn’t nice.”
“I’m serious. I’ve been living in Dad’s apartment like a mooch. NYC is exhausting. Maybe I should move out here.”
Even as I say the words, I know what I’m doing. Dreaming of running away. Shit gets hard, I bail. I’m not proud of it. But I can’t seem to stop.
Ivy gives me a sad little smile, as if she too is aware. But she doesn’t say that; her attention is diverted by someone behind me, and she waves whoever it is over.
I glance back to see a very large, very hot guy making his way toward us. He’s dressed in smoke gray slacks and a pale pink cashmere sweater that would look horrible on most guys but works with his dark skin and bulging muscles.
“Hey, hey, Mrs. Grayson, I thought that was you.” He leans down and gives her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, Jaden.” Ivy glances at me. “Fiona, my sister. Jaden Willingham.”
He gives me a grin. “Best defensive lineman in the business.”
“Modest too,” I say, well aware of athlete egos. And though I really don’t get into sports, it’s impossible not to be aware of things with Ivy and Dad in the family. So I know Jaden is a player with Gray’s team.
“You know it,” he agrees happily.
“Have lunch with us,” Ivy says, gesturing to the unoccupied seat between us.
“Cool.” Once he sits, he turns to me. “So, Fiona…Ivy’s sister.”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t say it. You knew the moment you saw us. We could be twins.”
He chuckles and gives me a long, appreciative look. “Gorgeous identical twins.”
Ivy and I are like a yin and yang sign. But it’s fun to tease.
Jaden takes the plate Ivy has made up for him. “So where’s your lazy half?”
“Working out,” she says with a smirk.
After the sitter arrived, Gray and Dex have gone to train. You know, for fun. Shudder. I get my ass on a treadmill three times a week. But what they do? No, thanks. Although I can appreciate the results.
I take a sip of sangria and take my mind off of Dex. But it’s hard. I swear I still feel his mouth on my breast.
Answer to the question about whether I’d feel his beard if he sucked my nipple? Yes. Hell yes. To my toes.
I’m still experiencing aftershocks from what he did to me in the form of random clenching between my thighs and painful throbs of need.
Fuck. That man is too sexy for his own good.
“What you up to on your week off?” Ivy asks Jaden. “All play?”
He takes a drink of water that our waiter has set down for him, then leans my way. “This is what I love about your sister; she’s like a den mother and coach all rolled into one.”
I know he means it. Ivy has a way with guys. They always end up a little in love with her.
She laughs when Jaden gives her a friendly half-hug and exaggerated kiss on the cheek, but then she frowns, her gaze shooting across the restaurant. “Damn,” she mutters.
Jaden follows her gaze. “What? That dude with the camera?” He shakes his head. “Little pests, man.”
Paparazzi. Ivy and I grew up with them. Though they’re nowhere near as annoying toward athletes—or most of them—as they are with actors and singers. Even so, we’ve always regarded them as the enemy.
Since I’m not really news, I’ve grown lazy about spotting them. But Gray is a huge star here. Already one of the best tight ends in the NFL, and ridiculously hot to boot, he has his fair share of attention. Ivy, as an agent, daughter of my dad, and Gray’s wife, gets a lot as well.
“I think they took a picture of us kissing,” Ivy says to Jaden.