He's a legend on the field and in the bedroom.
Sinfully handsome NFL star Trevor Wyatt was a legend on and off the field until he mysteriously left the sport he adored. Hounded by the press he has no love for the media...except for the one reporter who always turned him down flat.
A chance meeting brings JJ Fairchild into Trevor's arms and this time, she's not saying no. But they both have secrets threatening to keep them apart.
Can they learn to trust one another? And can Trevor teach JJ to finally ask for what she wants?
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NOTE: This title was previously released as ASK FOR IT. Book content is the same.
EXCERPT
“How did you find out I was here?”
His defensiveness would have put her on the offense, except he looked so vulnerable. So she grinned up at him. “Sorry gorgeous, but I'm not here for you. I'm in town for the game.”
“And you just happened to walk into my cousin's store where I'm working for the week?” He sounded doubtful.
“Actually, I came in here because someone stole nine hundred dollars from my bank account and used it to buy shoes at this store,” she said, feeling her irritation flood back.
Deep creases bracketed his handsome mouth. Hands on his hips, he stared her down. “Nice try, lady.”
He didn't believe her. Arrogant, gorgeous jerk.
She marched over to the chair and put the sneakers back into their box. Then she slipped on her ballet flats and slung her purse over her shoulder. Picking up the box, she headed for the counter.
He looked baffled as he circled around to the register and scanned the bar code.
“Who the hell buys nine hundred dollars' worth of sneakers? I mean, if you're going to steal my money, at least buy something awesome...like Prada. Or Minolos. Or Jimmy Choos.” She sighed wistfully, expecting him to crack a smile but his frown stayed firmly in place.
“I'm not giving you an interview.”
“I don't want an interview. I want my money back.”
“I don't have your money.”
“Someone here has my money. My bank is looking into it. Then you'll be out of the money and the product.”
“Why are you here if you don't want an interview and your bank is looking into it?”
She thought about his question for a few seconds.
“I've been eating salad and noodles for the last week thanks to whoever stole from me. So when I got sent to New York this weekend it seemed like serendipity, I suppose. I wanted to see the scene of the crime. I see you have surveillance cameras. I'll mention it to the bank.”
He braced his hands on the counter and his biceps bulged in a way that made her wet.
Those gorgeous blue eyes turned icy as he glared down at her. He looked so formidable that
she almost took a step back. Almost. But she'd grown up in a house full of alpha males and she'd learned to hold her ground.
“Are you trying to start trouble?”
She put her hands on the counter and glared right back up at him. “No. Why are you being so ornery?”
“I'm being ornery?” He pointed his finger at her and huffed out a breath. “Listen lady -- ”
She narrowed her gaze on his finger. “Don't point your finger at me you big baboon.”
He dropped his finger, gave a frustrated sigh and uttered an apology. Running his fingers through his hair, he stalked toward the door that led to the back room.
The chime sounded again. He called out a greeting and then glanced back at her. As if he was worried she'd create a scene, he nodded toward the open door behind him. “Come here.”
The words sounded more like a growl than a request. But something in his voice, or maybe it was the set of his shoulders, made her do his bidding.
He reached for her arm and gently tugged her into the storage area.