“Exactly. Gotta keep everything above board. But, I bet there’s no rule that we can’t be friends,” he says, with a playful glint in his eyes.
I can’t help it. I smile too. This man can charm the panties off me any day.
I mean, the pants.
He’s totally not charming my thong off. That little lacy number is staying where it belongs.
In fact, we spend the next ten minutes chatting about the new place he rented in Santa Monica, and I tell him how the Santa Monica Pier is one of my favorite spots in the world to watch the sunset. “Plus, there’s whack-a-mole games,” I say.
“And Skee-Ball?” he asks, pressing his palms together in prayer. “Please say there’s Skee-Ball too.”
“Of course. I did say it was one of the greatest places in the universe.”
He cups his hands around his mouth like he’s about to tell me a secret. “I feel I should let you know. I’m fucking awesome at Skee-ball.”
I laugh. “Well, I should hope that magic arm of yours can work wonders”
He wiggles an eyebrow. “I have good hands too.”
And tingles rush down my spine. “Why do I feel like you can turn anything into a naughty comment?”
He blows on his fingers. “Because I can.”
“We’re supposed to be friendly, not flirty,” I whisper.
He has no chance to reply, because the redheaded guy from the charity marches up to us and asks for a photo op with Drew. The photo turns into a long conversation, and it’s time for me to call it a night. Since the Wi-Fi in the reception room is crummy, I head to the lobby to open my Uber app. I carpooled here with a coworker but she took off early when her son’s babysitter had to leave unexpectedly.
I enter my location in the app, but before I can finish, I stop tapping. I turn around. Drew’s by my side.
“You’re not leaving without saying good-bye, are you?”
“Of course not. Just ordering an Uber. I was going to say good-bye.”
He covers my hand with his. “Don’t take an Uber. I’ll drive you home.”
It’s a bad idea, but I don’t resist.
Five minutes later, I slide into the front seat of his Tesla and pull away from the hotel.
Chapter Six
Drew
Dani stretches out her legs in the front seat, and I can barely concentrate on the road anymore.
Those strong calves. Those black heels. That tight little waist. This woman is too fucking sexy. Too fucking funny. Such a straight shooter too, and it turns me on to no end. That’s the problem. I can’t afford to be turned on. Need to keep my blinders on.
I grip the wheel tighter as I pull onto the ramp for the freeway heading to Venice Beach. Best to keep the conversation one-hundred percent friendly. So I choose an easy topic. “What’s your favorite movie?” I ask, because I’ve got to get my mind off her body. I need to focus on her as a colleague, not the woman I wanted to take to bed the last time I saw her.
She turns her face to me. “You want to do the favorites game now? Is that part of your ‘friendly, not flirty’ approach?”
I smile as I click on the blinker to merge. “Indeed it is. Big movie fan here. So fess up, woman.”
“Heaven Can Wait, of course,” she says, winking.
I scoff. “You can’t pick a football movie.”
“Why not?”
“Because we work in football. Sports movies are ruled out.”
“But it’s an awesome movie.”
I nod, agreeing as I press the brake. Traffic is slowing ahead. This city is crazy. Even late at night, there are traffic jams. “Heaven Can Wait is so damn good. So is Bull Durham, and Friday Night Lights, and Hoop Dreams. The cinema on the promenade in Santa Monica is showing some of the best sports flicks in a few weeks.”
“See? No one can resist the pull of Heaven Can Wait. It’s the kind of football movie that even non–football fans love.”
I scowl. “There are people who don’t like football?”
She shrugs. “I’ve heard about their existence. Small little pockets on the outskirts of society.”
“Seems terribly sad to be such a person.”
“It’s woefully devastating, Drew.”
“Horribly dismal.”
“Awfully troubling.”
“Hey, show-off,” I say, raising my chin, as I cut into the next lane when a spot opens up between a white Toyota and a black SUV. “Got a favorite adverb?”
“Hmm,” she says, tapping her pink polished fingernails along the window. Her lips quirk as she considers the question. She tilts her head, and says slowly, like she’s savoring the word, “Blissfully.”
“That’s your favorite adverb?”
She raises an eyebrow. “I like bliss. Do you have something against bliss?”
Fuck me now. The way she says that is like a naughty little taunt. “You’re supposed to be friendly with me, Dani,” I say, in a warning.
“That wasn’t friendly?”
“No, that was naughty. Incredibly naughty.”
“Then perhaps naughtily should be my favorite adverb.”
The taillights of the Toyota wink on and off. As the car ahead of me slows, I press the brake harder. Traffic comes to a standstill. I try to peer around the cars to get a read on the situation. “What’s going on up there?”
“Probably construction. I should have turned on my traffic app. I usually do but I was distracted,” she says, sounding annoyed with herself.