The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

Christian set his glass on the small table. “’Night, Bella.”

I followed him to the door. He opened it a quarter of the way, but then stopped and shut it before turning back around. Since I’d followed, we were now toe to toe.

“I don’t have too many women friends, except for wives and girlfriends of my buddies. But I’m pretty sure friends hug goodbye.” He opened his arms and flashed a boyish grin. When I hesitated, Christian lifted his brows, as if to say, What are you waiting for, friend? It felt like a challenge—one I wasn’t about to back down from. So I stepped forward and circled my arms around his tree trunk of a torso.

God, he’s so…thick. I bet all of him is thick.

On that thought, Christian wrapped his arms around me. I’d been hugging him, but my front was barely touching his body. He corrected that. He pulled me against him so hard that I felt every single bump of his eight-pack press into my skin. I was certain when he let go I’d have inverse abs from the dents he left behind. And he smelled damn good, too. Not that it was easy to breathe with his boa-constrictor grip, but each time my nostrils squeaked in air, it was mixed with the most delicious smell—woodsy, with a hint of leather, and so damn masculine. One hand slid up my back, and his fingers dug into my hair. Goosebumps littered my arms, and even though I could barely breathe through his grip, I felt my body go slack after a few heartbeats. Not until that moment did I realize I hadn’t relaxed in a very damn long time—which was ironic since it took not being able to breathe to breathe easily. I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but definitely longer than the length of time friends would hug goodbye.

When he finally loosened his death grip, I already knew I’d be longing for the way it felt after he walked out the door. Christian pulled back, but didn’t release his hold completely. He kept his arms locked around my waist and looked down at me, so I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze.

“I’m not going to be around as much since I’ll be practicing again. I keep a pretty strict routine with extra workouts and an early dinner and bedtime.” He reached a hand up and pushed a lock of hair from my face. “But I’ll be there if you need me. Just call.”

I smiled warmly. “I will. Thank you.”

He kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, my not-friend.”

My smile went as crooked as my glasses. “Not friend?”

He winked. “You haven’t figured out what we are yet, but one thing we both know is that we are definitely not friends.”





CHAPTER 12




* * *



BELLA



I didn’t see Christian all week, and by Thursday I’d started to feel antsy.

Well, that’s not an entirely true statement. I saw him plenty. He just didn’t see me. Mostly that was because I watched him from my office window. Thank God for one-way glass because I’d spent an inordinate amount of time standing here.

Practice had ended for the day, but Christian was still out on the field with one of his wide receivers, throwing the ball around. The receiver missed the catch and ran after the ball, which skidded twenty yards farther. While Christian waited, he turned and lifted his hand to his face, shielding his eyes and looking up at where I stood. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I gasped and jumped away from the window.

My heart thundered in my chest as I stood against the wall, feeling like a peeping tom who’d just gotten caught. I really need to get a hold of myself.

I hadn’t yet regained my composure when my office door suddenly swung open. Tiffany saw me pressed against the wall, and her face twisted. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I, uh…” I pointed to the other side of the room. “I saw a mouse.”

She stepped back through the doorway. “Are you freaking kidding me? I’ve never seen a rodent here. You must’ve brought it from home.”

Her ridiculousness snapped me back to reality, and I stepped away from the wall. Walking to my desk, I sighed. “Yes, Tiffany. My name is Mary, and he followed me to work one day, work one day.”

Tiffany’s face wrinkled. “Are you…drunk?”

Guess she didn’t get the “Mary Had a Little Lamb” reference. I shook my head. “What can I do for you?”

“Other than deed over the title to the team that is rightfully mine and my real sister’s? I need you to sign-off on my new lease.”

“Lease?”

“Car lease.”

“Oh. Why do you need me to sign off on it?”

“Because our annoying CEO doesn’t allow any expenses over fifty thousand without a second approval. So I either need the GM’s or yours. You know, for a CEO who’s also acting president, he isn’t acting very presidential.”

I might not know my sister well, but I was certain she would only walk in here and ask me for something if I was a last resort. I tilted my head. “Did the GM not want to sign off on it for some reason?”

She pursed her lips. “He’s a jerk.”

I interpreted that to mean he wouldn’t sign off. But I wanted to keep the peace, so I held out my hand. “Is that the invoice?”

She marched in and handed it to me with a glare.

Slipping on my glasses, my eyes nearly bulged out of my head when I saw the number at the bottom of the invoice. “Three-hundred-and-sixty-seven-thousand dollars? I thought you said you were leasing it, not buying it.”