Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (13 page)

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Copyright © 2015 Violet Duke

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, this book and any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, transferred, or distributed in any print or electronic form without the express written permission of the author. Participation in any aspect of piracy of copyrighted materials, inclusive of the obtainment of this book through non-retail or other unauthorized means, is in actionable violation of the author’s rights.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, media, brands, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and registered trademark owners of all branded names referenced without TM, SM, or (R) symbols due to formatting constraints, and is not claiming ownership of or collaboration with said trademark brands.

BOOK DESCRIPTION

When behind-the-scenes sports analyst Jackson Gray is assigned the task of teaching the ins and outs of college and pro football to the network’s newest on-camera beauty, sideline reporter Leila Hart, the last thing he expects is to become the one getting schooled—in lessons in love, that is—from a woman who clearly knows way more about sports than she lets on.

Praise for New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Violet Duke

"I laughed and cried in this incredible romance. One of the BEST I've read this year. Emotionally charged with wonderful characters, I couldn't stop reading!"

--New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

J.S. Scott on the Can’t Resist series

"Sexy, emotional, and so unique.  A moving trilogy and spin-off that will take you

on a roller coaster of emotions.  I couldn't put these books down!"
 

--New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Carly Phillips on the Can’t Resist series

"A heartfelt, fast-paced, and fun read!"

-- New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Lauren Blakely on the Can’t Resist series

"A new must-read series. Not only will you fall in love with the characters,

you'll fall in love with romance."

--New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Kathleen Brooks on the Cactus Creek series

"Guaranteed feel-good, swoon-worthy romance."

-- New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Erin Nicholas on the Cactus Creek series

"Heart-melting and guaranteed to make you laugh and cry before you finish the last page."

-- New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Sawyer Bennett on the Cactus Creek series

DEDICATION

To MVD (Mr. Violet Duke) for all his unparalleled football coaching expertise.

CHAPTER ONE

What a beautiful little liar.

Jackson Gray kept his face neutral as he continued to listen to the introductions going on outside of his office between the other analysts on his floor and DBC Sports Network’s gorgeous new on-screen talent—the same memorable new on-screen talent he’d caught a glimpse of yesterday, not long after she’d been hired. 

Leila Hart.

The glimpse he’d gotten of her yesterday had been just that.  A brief, second-long glance.  But that distractingly cute smile of hers had stuck with him for quite a while after. 

Even through his date last night.

If it hadn’t been such a godawful evening, he would’ve felt a tad guilty over that fact.  Truthfully though, that one smile had been the equivalent of a survival kit for the disaster that had come packaged in a painted-on mini dress so short, he was certain it was really technically a long halter top. Sans any underwear whatsoever.

Thank God for that smile. 

It truly had saved him last night…from inflicting a mortal wound to his own body just so he’d have a good enough reason to flee from the mad woman, that is.

He shuddered at the traumatic flashbacks.  Lordy, that had been one long-ass, apocalyptic date.

Of course, in the light of day today, he had to admit that despite his usual vigilance on such matters, he had in fact been completely ill-prepared.  He imagined this was why the National Weather Service recommended a periodic inspection and update of all survival kits. 

His was clearly outdated.

What he’d thought were the two only real preparation procedures he needed to exercise before going out with a woman—a thorough screening for any I-want-your-kids-
now
vibes, followed by his standard explanation about how he could only offer a casual night of fun and nothing more—was simply not enough nowadays. 

Now, he knew to also look out for: 1) women who got drunk at home
before
going out man-hunting, 2) women who treated grocery stores as their hunting ground of choice, and 3) what he could only describe as a ‘come dirty up my pre-ordered white picket fence’ vibe that could roll in quicker than a freak storm front on an otherwise normal looking day. 

Silly him for not having known to be on disaster preparation alert for these sorts of things.

Had he been prepared, he would never have agreed to let-me-make-it-up-to-you drinks with the woman who—he’d realized too late—probably should’ve been given a breathalyzer after she’d crashed her shopping cart into his at the supermarket yesterday evening.  Because apparently, women
that
intoxicated sometimes forget to put air quotes around the key word when she admitted to ‘
knowing’
both of his best friends, Bennett and Donovan.

Lesson learned.

From now on, he’d have to restrict his female companions to the microscopic population of women in Arizona who Bennett hadn’t flirted his way into—and quickly out of—the panties of,
and
women who weren’t unknowingly ruined for all other men thanks to Donovan’s style of…err ‘dating.’  Oh, and also a woman that Jackson himself hadn’t already had his usual, and always mutually agreed upon, friendly one-nighter with.

He’d learned a valuable lesson about the last criteria a few years back, after his one and only ‘two-nighter’ with a woman had somehow turned her into a crazed little stalker he still sometimes looked over his shoulder for when he climbed into his car…and under his bed for when he climbed into bed.  Seriously.

Two days ago, he would’ve said these new added pre-date criteria would mean an inevitable drought for him of slightly disconcerting proportions. 

But that was before yesterday’s glimpse of ‘the smile.’

Not only was the owner of ‘the smile’ refreshingly different, but Jackson sincerely doubted she’d ever have cavorted with either of his old high school buddies.  From what the rumor mill had churned out about the woman yesterday, and based on what he was seeing today, all evidence pointed to a high probability that she was equipped with an immunity to both Bennett’s
and
Donovan’s unique charms, not unlike the two female friends who were the closest thing to sisters that Jackson, Bennett, and Donovan had.  One a diehard tomboy and the other a take-no-crap ball-buster—he had a strong feeling Leila would fit in like a third musketeer with the pair.

Of course, in Leila’s case, it was quickly becoming clear that he felt decidedly
un
brotherly toward her, which was interesting because truth be told, she was currently inspiring more fascination in him than lust—though he was certain the latter would catch up quickly enough.  Perhaps that was the root of his undivided attention at the moment.  He had to assume this lopsided reaction to the unique woman was due to it being clear as day to him—and apparently, him alone—that she was lying her neat little ponytail off, left and right, to everyone there.

While that
should
have triggered the emergency broadcast system warning him that a calamity not unlike last night’s date from hell was imminent, strangely, he was simply intrigued.  Mostly due to
what
the gorgeous little enigma was lying about.

The woman knew football.

Yet, she was standing here lying about that fact.

Jackson had first noticed it after their network producer Lloyd had finished explaining to Leila—who had apparently come up from their local station in Phoenix—how DBC Sports Network’s main operations consisted of sports-specific departments, a different set-up from what she was used to.  The Phoenix station, like their four other regional affiliates in Vegas, Denver, Albuquerque, and Salt Lake City, operated on a much smaller scale.  And every time Lloyd kept emphasizing how she’d be working on
just
football, Jackson saw a tiny little sparkle dance around in her eyes.

Though she did her best to hide it well.

Then, when Lloyd shifted over to the logistics of NFL drafting, free-agent contracts, and the off-season changes that the teams went through before pre-season, Jackson watched Leila do a valiant job of looking like Lloyd
wasn’t
reciting the alphabet to her…slowly and loudly.  Lloyd was none the wiser.  In fact, when she gave him an ‘are-you-friggin-serious’ look after he asked her whether she knew which three NFL teams their network covered, he’d basically patted her on the head reassuringly and came up with a helpful little Schoolhouse Rock type lesson to aid her in remembering that: “The
Hawks
flew proudly in Arizona, while Reno was notorious for their
Outlaws
, who Utah’s
Miners
were always scared of.”

Jackson had almost pissed his pants laughing.

Likewise, Lloyd had been completely oblivious to the flare of exasperation she’d smothered when he suggested she make some flashcards and spend a few minutes every day quizzing herself on which sixteen NFL teams were in the four NFC divisions, and which were in the AFC divisions.

She’d looked like she’d been counting to ten silently to keep her cool.

But then came the big one.  The spectacular flame ball of muted annoyance that Jackson witnessed igniting Leila’s catlike eyes when Lloyd made a passing comment about her also having to know little things like how—quote, unquote—the Miners had the best defense in their conference, so she didn’t get too lost during the sideline interview questions they’d be feeding her on air.

From what Jackson could gather, it wasn’t the inadvertently condescending way that Lloyd was speaking to her that was making her positively spark right before Jackson’s eyes…it was his comment on the Miners having the best defense in the conference.  He was certain of it.

Those berry-kissed lips of hers had parted in disbelief, shortly before her jaw had grit tight along her graceful jawline, and her dainty hands had fisted into tiny little hammers. 

But instead of exploding like a Fourth of July lightshow as Jackson had expected, she’d simply pursed her mouth shut and gifted Lloyd with an eye-crinkling ‘you’re-so-very-wise’ smile instead.

Utterly fascinating.

“And to complete our tour.”  Lloyd stopped outside of Jackson’s office and pointed a finger his way.  “This is Jackson Gray, the man you’ll be spending the most time with over the next few months.” 

Leila walked over and held her hand out for Jackson to shake.

The casual, completely normal gesture had the same effect as a speeding bus barreling into him from out of the blue.

He wasn’t blind, he’d noticed that she was beautiful before—from a good twenty or thirty yards away.  Up close, however, he made the dangerous discovery that she was pretty, too.  It was a weird distinction he made that neither Bennett nor Donovan agreed with.  But for Jackson, ‘pretty’ was sometimes a bigger deal than beautiful, which in one way or another, all women were.

Prettiness was more personal, more affectionate.  Customizable.  So while beauty could simply be admired, prettiness could almost always prompt a smile.   

For Jackson, Leila was absolutely his kind of pretty.  Country girl cute with carnivorous curves that hinted at her preference of steak over salad, guileless eyes that he’d already seen could turn into a lethal glare when needed, and wholly reactive expressions so candid—when she allowed them to roam free on her face—that they seemed to feed directly from her heart.  Add to that, the fact that she was unknowingly, almost accidentally, sexy made her all the more unforgettable. 

In a word, pretty.

Again, so much more than just beautiful.

“Jackson here is our senior analyst and resident football genius.”  Lloyd gave Jackson a quick once-over before his voice became markedly less genial.  “Jackson’s actually creating a bit of a name for himself behind the scenes…which is why he gets to come out of the backroom sometimes and make his way over to the occasional NFL ivory-ticket event, like the one he got all glammed up for today in that G.Q. get-up.”