The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel (25 page)

She yanked as much of the sheet off the bed as possible, attempting to wrap it around herself and stand up at the same time. He was simultaneously grabbing at the comforter to shield himself. It didn’t work.

She twisted her foot in the bedding while she hurled herself away from him and ended up on the carpet seconds later in a tangle of sheets and limbs, still naked. Her butt hit the floor so hard she almost expected to bounce.

The number-one reason Kendall didn’t engage in one-night stands as a habit hauled himself up on all fours in the middle of the bed. Out of all the guys in the world available for a short-term fling, of
course
she’d pick the man who could get her fired or sued.

He grabbed the robe he’d slung over the foot of the bed, scrambled off the mattress, and jammed his arms into the sleeves as he advanced on her.

“Are you okay? You went down pretty hard.” His eyes skimmed over her. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

He crouched next to her as he reached out to help her up. She resisted the impulse to stare at golden skin, an eight-pack, and a sizable erection. She’d heard Drew didn’t lack for dates. He had things to offer besides the balance in his bank accounts.

“I’m okay,” she told him.

She felt a little shaky. She’d probably have a nice bruise later. She was going down all right, and it had nothing to do with sex. It had everything to do with the fact that, if anyone from the Miners organization saw him emerging from her room in the next seventy-two hours, she was in the kind of trouble with her employer there was no recovering from. The interim general manager of an NFL team did not sleep with anyone from the opposing team, especially when the two teams were archrivals that hated each other with the heat of a thousand suns. Especially when the guy was a star player her own organization was more than a little interested in acquiring.
Especially
before a game that could mean the inside track to the playoffs for both teams.

Drew and Kendall would be the Romeo and Juliet of the NFL. Well, without all the dying. Death by 24/7 sports media embarrassment didn’t count.

He reached out, grabbed her beneath the armpits, and hoisted her off the floor like she weighed nothing.

“I’ve got you. Let’s see if you can stand up,” he said. His warm, gentle hands moved over her, looking for injuries. “Why don’t you lean on me for a second here?”

She tried rewrapping the sheet around her so she could walk away from him while preserving her dignity. It wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t stop staring at him. If she let him take her in his arms, she’d be lost. She teetered as she leaned against the hotel room wall.

“I’m—I’m fine. I—”

“Hold still,” he said. She heard his bare feet slap against the carpeting as he grabbed the second robe out of the coat closet and brought it back to her. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s your decision, but I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

She struggled into the thick terry robe as she tried to think of a response. He was staring at her as she retrieved the belt and swathed herself in yards of fabric. Judging by his continuing erection, he liked what he saw, even if it was covered up from her neck to below her knees. He licked his bottom lip. Her mouth went dry. Damn it.

Of
course
the most attractive guy she’d been anywhere near a bed with in the past year was completely off-limits.

“You don’t recognize me,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” he said. “Is there a problem?”

“You might say that.” She finally succeeded in knotting the belt of the robe around her waist, dropped the sheet at her feet, and stuck out one hand. “Hi. I’m Kendall Tracy. I’m the interim GM of the San Francisco Miners.” His eyes widened in shock. “Nice to meet you.”