Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Only, the thought of ending our tryst feels like . . . striking out looking.
I answer Zane with the truth. “There’s nothing going on.”
He gives me a long stare then an I call bullshit nod. “Right. Tell that to the jury. Meanwhile, I’ll be collecting my cool hundred grand at the end of the month. Well, technically, my charity will.”
Ohhh. I’d forgotten about that bet. The hundred-grand wager that I’d still be single AF at the end of the season.
But I will. Rafe doesn’t seem like boyfriend material.
I motion to Zane to move away from the door, and we stop in front of a photo of Sam Shipman launching a fastball into the upper deck. I grew up watching him man third base. That dude could play.
Bet he never got distracted by a hot hookup in the owner’s suite. No way. Sam kept his head in the game.
I ought to do the same.
“Listen, thanks for bringing my phone. But nothing going on here affects the bet.”
Zane tilts his head meaningfully toward the suite. “You sure about that? He came to your game. He got a suite.”
“So?” I push back. I’m not going to get caught up in Rafe.
“Don’t you know he hasn’t even dated since—”
He breaks off, and I snap to alert. What didn’t Zane just say? “Since when?”
The first baseman seems surprised. “You don’t know his story?”
“No. Do you?” I ask pointedly.
As soon as I do, a chill rushes over me. Do I want to know about Rafe’s past? Do I need anything more than the promise of pleasure?
“I do,” Zane says, and his tone adds that he’s willing to dish.
14
TWO CAN PLAY
Gunnar
I know what I should do.
Walk away. Head out to the players’ lot, get in my car, and drive home. Over and out.
Because, really, do I need to be tangoing with guys who have stories? That’s up there with “need to talk” on the “complication” scoreboard.
I glance down the hall toward the suite Rafe secured to seduce me in. To surprise me with the gift of his cock.
A gift I fucking loved.
Dammit.
The mystery surrounding this man is as irresistible as everything else about him. Who the hell is Rafe Rodman apart from what the public knows? British billionaire who went from Wall Street to Fashion Week—he’s a man dripping with money, who chose to follow his passion for making things . . . sexier.
Curiosity wins. “Talk to me,” I say.
I don’t have to tell Zane twice. “A couple years ago, before you were traded to the team, he was engaged.”
“To whom?” I ask, stunned. That doesn’t sound like the man I know.
“You know Lucas Hanson? The model turned actor?” Zane asks.
“Of course,” I say. Hanson’s been on the covers of GQ and Men’s Health, but he vaulted to fame and fortune when he partnered with an Italian fragrance mogul to launch his own cologne line. Hanson. He’s the face of the brand and the brains behind its success. That’s the impression from the press, at least. “The fashion guy? Cologne and all that?”
Zane nods sagely. “That’s him. He was with Rafe a few years ago.”
“Okay. So, what happened?” I ask.
Rafe doesn’t seem like a playboy—more like a man who enjoys trysts and keeps his lovers at a distance. I can’t picture the enigmatic Brit so deeply in love that he’d commit to marrying somebody.
But then, how well do I know him? Not so well at all.
“Supposedly,” Zane continues, “Lucas was using Rafe to open doors. Rafe’s the one who knew people, and he went everywhere with Lucas. To galas, to openings, to fashion shows—all the see-and-be-seen parties.”
I picture Rafe looking sharp in a tailored suit, showing off his man. Rafe in a tux, walking into a glittering gala with a gorgeous model on his arm. That does track.
And it rankles. But why? It’s not like I want to be his arm candy.
Maybe it’s that I imagine him happy and unguarded as he ventures out in public with a fiancé. The Rafe I know plays poker after midnight and arranges secret rendezvous. What happened that led to this new man?
“Why did they split?” I ask.
Zane shakes his head. “I don’t know. Nothing public. Just that Lucas went into business with Sergio Zucconi for the cologne line, and they’re together now.”
My stomach twists with anger on Rafe’s behalf. “So Lucas used him and moved on?”
A shrug from my unexpected source of celebrity gossip. “There might have been some overlap, based on snaps on social of Lucas and Rafe at the party where Lucas and Sergio met.
What the fuck is wrong with Lucas? Only a contemptible idiot would cheat on Rafe and use him that way.
My hands cramp at my sides, and I force them to unclench before Zane notices. Bet or no bet, I don’t want to let on that I care so much about a man who is likely . . . shut down.