The Hot Corner (2 page)

“He knows. And the brass at Durham
knows as well. I figured it was best to tell them before I approached you.” She screwed up her face like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “Part of me hoped they’d agree it was a conflict of interest and drop it, but they said if he doesn’t care and you don’t have an issue, then it’d be interesting to see how things worked out.”

“Interesting?” I spat the word like it tasted bad. It kind of did. “It is a conflict of interest. How am I supposed to write impartially about a guy I dated for almost two years in college? A guy who I actually had the bad taste to fall in love with?”

“You’re not.”

Exactly. And I wasn’t . . . wait. “What?”

“Well, that’s the hook. You’d be writing about your ex, so you can’t be impartial. They don’t want you to be. They want you to write about him, the guy you knew once upon a time and the guy he is now. Think about it. Usually you talk to old teachers, old friends, family members, to get a sense of who the person was before you came in and started their story. Here, you already know.” She shrugged. “Plus, he’s not going to be able to make you believe he’s something he’s not.”

I knew exactly who he was. What I didn’t know was what his game was. Maybe he just wanted to torture me with his fame and fortune and parade of women. Maybe this was payback. But I hadn’t been the one to break his heart; he’d broken mine. Maybe it was a pride thing. I’d walked away and hadn’t looked back. Maybe he wanted to force me to do that now. Well, screw that. I wasn’t playing his game.

“I know exactly what he is. He’s a lying, cheating piece of shit. Any woman with a brain in her head should be able to see that, once they look beyond the package.”

“It’s a hell of a package,” Bec murmured. I glared at her. “Sorry, but it is. That thick, black hair and those green eyes?”

I’d touched that hair more times than I could count. I’d drowned in those eyes until I couldn’t breathe. I knew exactly the effect he had on women. I’d been one of the many; only back then, I’d thought I was the one.

“Do I need to find a new agent?” I asked, annoyed.

She reached across the table and took my hand. “Dani, I’m saying this as your friend, okay? I think you should do this.” I tugged my hand away and she sighed again. “Hear me out. Can you honestly say you’re over him?”

“Of course I’m over him. It’s been almost seven years! I’ve dated, hell, I was even engaged.” Things hadn’t worked out with Jason, but I’d been happy and committed to him for a time.

She rolled her eyes at the mention of my ex-fiancé. “Please, as if Jason Derringer was more than a blip on your radar.”

“I was engaged to him!”

“You two were the most boring couple ever. You were like a trip to the dentist. Worse! A night at the opera.”

Damn, that was cold. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Bec?” I asked.

“Always,” she said with a grin. “Can you honestly tell me you were hot for Jason? That when you went to one of his corporate dinners, you two snuck away to do it in the bathroom or the coat room or something?”

“No, of course didn’t. We were adults, for crying out loud.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you try it,” she murmured.

The next time she and her husband disappeared for any length of time, I’d be wondering if they were screwing in some bushes. Some things you just don’t need to know about your friends.

“And can you honestly say you and Brad didn’t have your way with one another at any and every opportunity?”

My mind flashed with the memory of us on the pitcher’s mound late one night. But that was different. A different time, a different place, a different me. “That was college.”

“Fun doesn’t have to end after college, my dear.”

“What’s your point, Bec? Jason has nothing to do with Brad or why I’m not going to write about him.”

“No, but fear does. Fear is why you dated and got engaged to Jason in the first place, and fear is why you don’t want to see Brad again. You’re afraid all those feelings are going to reappear and leave you crying and hurting all over again.”

“I won’t shed another tear over that man.” A summer spent crying my eyes out was more than enough. He’d get nothing more from me.

“Good.” She beamed at me. “So do you want me to tell you the reasons why you’re going to do this?”

I might as well humor her. “Sure, hit me with it.”

“For one thing, Durham
is paying you an advance of fifty thousand dollars.” I couldn’t breathe. It was unheard of. I’d gotten ten for my newest book and nothing for the other two. I’d had to earn my way to advances.

“I see that has your attention.” She smiled. “But I know you and I know you can’t be bought. Besides, you’re doing well enough without that payday, but I thought I should put it out there.”

She leaned forward. “The real reason you’re going to do it is because if you don’t, he wins.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What does that mean?”

“He’s thrown down the gauntlet, Dani. He’s challenged you to forget the past and face him, deal with him, write his story, even write part of your own story. And if you don’t do it, he wins. He knows you’re afraid of him and that he still holds a piece of your heart.”

Like hell he did. Did he think I was still in love with him after all this time? If he did, he was more of a moron than I gave him credit for. “He doesn’t win. He’s nothing to me.”

“Then you can write about him.” She grinned. “Shall I tell them you’re in?”

My head was spinning and my stomach was lurching but I’d be damned if I let him think he’d scared me away. I was over him and I was going to prove it.

“Yeah. I’m in.”

Chapter 3

“Oh my God, is that him?”

I looked up from my book at the breathy hero worship in the girl’s voice.

“Who?”

She pointed to a tall, raven-haired guy sliding into a seat a couple of rows ahead of us. Like that was any help.

“All I can see is the back of his head.” Did we have a celebrity going here or something? I thought they only went to USC or the Ivy League schools.

“Bradley Reynolds,” she whispered. “God, isn’t he just the hottest thing you’ve ever seen?”

I knew that name. You couldn’t work on the school paper and not know that name. And I vaguely remembered he wasn’t bad looking, from the photos I’d seen. As if he’d heard us, he turned and looked me over with his sage-green eyes before smiling. He was way better looking than I remembered, and my heartbeat kicked up a couple of notches.

“He’s looking at you,” she said. I met his gaze head-on and felt my lips curve in return.

The teacher came in and Bradley Reynolds turned around to face the front. I spent the entire class staring at the back of his head and was disappointed when he left the classroom without another smile. Before I could let myself ruminate on it for long, I stepped outside and he was standing outside the door.

He was leaning his long, lanky body against the wall, and there it was—he smiled at me again. The girl from class called me a lucky bitch and walked away.

“Hi,” he said, a slight Southern lilt to his voice that sent a shiver through me. I was a sucker for accents.

“Hi.” Somehow my voice didn’t tremble.

“I’m Brad.”

“I’m Dani.”

He stepped closer and held out a hand, which I took, but instead of shaking we both just kind of stood there holding hands in the middle of the hallway.

“Pretty,” he said, and my cheeks grew hot.

“Uh, thank you.” I patted at my red hair which I was pretty sure was a sweaty mess after my jog across campus.

He laughed nervously. “Your name, I mean, though you’re pretty, too.”

Now I felt like a moron. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” I tried to tug my hand away but he held fast.

“I mean, you’re more than pretty. You’re beautiful.” His cheeks looked a little pink.

What did I say to that? Maybe I should tell him he was handsome. It wasn’t a lie, but it sounded weird to me. “You play baseball.”

He laughed and released me. “Yeah, I do.” He glanced at his watch and winced. “And unfortunately I have to get to the gym.”

“Oh, great,” I said. “Have a good workout.”

He hefted his gym bag over his shoulder. “Look, I don’t usually do this but I was wondering if you’d maybe like to get something to eat later?”

Was I still in class staring at the back of his head, or was this really happening?

“Or not. Forget I said anything.” He started to turn and I grabbed his forearm. Like an idiot, I’d been mute for so long he thought I was saying no.

“I’d love to.”

A smile lit his face. “How about you give me your number and I’ll call you after I finish working out?”

“Great.” I took his phone and programmed myself in.

He smiled one final time. “See you later, Dani.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. I stood in that hallway for God knew how long after he left, just staring after his retreating form.

“She’s totally checking you out.”

Brad followed my gaze toward the hostess who’d just seated us. She was practically tripping over her own feet because she was too busy staring at my boyfriend to be bothered to walk like a normal human being.

He shrugged and returned his eyes to me. He always did. He looked at me as if I was the most important person in the world, and it made me feel incredible every time. “She’s going to fall on her ass if she doesn’t cut it out,” he said, and sure enough, she tripped over a waiter and fell in an ungainly heap on the floor. I hid my laughter behind my hand and Brad grinned. “Told you.”

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?” He got attention everywhere we went. Someone would inevitably come up to talk about his batting average or the incredible play he’d made at third base earlier in the day.

“Not really. I’m not interested in her, so she can look all she wants.” He flashed that smile again. “I only have eyes for you.”

“Well, I know someone else who only has eyes for you,” I said, eyeing his shiny, engraved new watch and pouting. ‘B&B,’ it read.

“That’s the one Bailey sent you, right?”

His smile was gentle. “Yes. You know she’s my best friend, and I swear, you’d like her if you met her.”

“She sends you care packages,” I said, resting my chin in the palm of my hand. “I’ve seen pictures of you two, I know how she looks at you. If I had a best friend like that . . .”

“Shhh,” he said. “It’s you. It’s only you.”

“Cheesy.” But the words still made me warm.

“Maybe, but it’s true. I love you. Happy anniversary.”

“I love you, too.” Six amazing months had flown by. We clinked our water glasses since we were still too young to drink in public.

The hostess came back and shot him what I could only describe as a longing look. “Rude bitch,” I muttered, and Brad chuckled and took my hand. He kissed it as she backed away, and I was the lesser person, giving her a triumphant smile. At least she got the message. Some of them didn’t. He got hit on all the time, often right in front of me like I wasn’t even there. He’d always politely turn them down and introduce them to his girlfriend. Mostly, I let it roll off my back. Mostly.