No Strings Attached. Alison Kent

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      The small of Chloe’s back was really small. The girl had a mouth on her, a big one, and an attitude to match. But boy, was she a curvy little thing. Made it hard to decide whether he wanted to date her or adopt her.

      One thing he knew was that he wasn’t going to say yes to whatever cockamamie scheme she’d come here to pitch. If she didn’t want him for more than her own self-serving reasons, then screw her.

      And screw him if he hadn’t learned not to let himself be used.

      Chloe may have thought she’d come away from their scavenger-hunt month holding the upper hand, but he’d done his share of scouting, and he knew a thing or two about Chloe he doubted she knew about herself.

      As tough as she seemed, she was appealingly vulnerable. He didn’t know why she protected herself with her big bad attitude, but if made her feel safer, he’d play along. At least until he learned more about what had brought her here.

      Because Chloe Zuniga didn’t show up out of the blue looking like a cross between a Maxim cover model and a soccer mom without a damn good reason. A better one than needing an escort.

      He reached for the doorknob, guided her forward, moved his hand from the small of her back to her shoulder. A surprisingly muscled shoulder, come to think of it, considering she hated physical activity.

      His office decor reflected the rest of the bar, which meant Chloe would no doubt be just as uncomfortable in here as she had been out there. He’d give her an A, though, for effort, because she had made a big one. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her wear athletic shoes.

      As he watched her take in the long wall covered with autographed photos, he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like having worked up a good sweat. He couldn’t even imagine, having never seen her with a single blond hair out of place, unless tousled on purpose for the sake of being sexy. He’d seen rational men turned into blubbering idiots by that bedroom hair and those big, violet-colored eyes.

      Eric chuckled to himself. He loved tinted contacts. He loved the idea of mussing up her hair. He also loved the way she looked in play clothes. And the way she looked in his office.

      He moved to lean back against the huge wooden desk he’d purchased at a rural school auction, crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He didn’t have a lot of time; Jason would be needing backup soon. But Eric had a feeling that whatever he was waiting for would be worth weathering a rebellion in the ranks.

      “Bagwell, Biggio, Olajuwon, Lipinski, Campbell, Ryan, Lewis.” Chloe named off the past and present Houston sports figures, stopped when she reached the one frame set off from the others, and gave Eric the look most gave him with they came across the autographed shrine. “Anna Kournikova?”

      Eric lifted a shoulder. “She plays tennis.”

      Chloe’s only reply was a loud huff. She continued to tour his office, moving from the autographed photos to the matted and framed ticket stubs he’d collected since attending his first professional sporting event at the age of five.

      He hadn’t framed every stub from every event. Most he’d randomly stapled to the wall, which made for wallpaper worth reading. But once in a very rare, memorable while, a frame was called for.

      He watched Chloe lean in closer to read several of the stubs, watched her stand on tiptoe to read others. Watched her lips move as she mouthed the words. She smiled, she frowned, she sighed.

      He wanted to ask which of the souvenirs generated which response, but he was too busy enjoying the way her calf muscles flexed when she lifted and stretched, the way the denim cupped her backside, the way the jersey molded her shoulders.

      Either she’d pumped a lot of iron over the past couple of months or he’d really been blind as a bat the few times he’d had his hands on her before. Especially that time they’d danced at Lauren and Anton’s housewarming party…after he’d licked the salt from her skin, downed a shot of tequila and sucked the juice from the lime she’d held in her mouth.

      God Bless America, but the woman could kiss.

      Catching him in his intent study of her rear view, Chloe suddenly turned and flopped down on his office couch, which was some local designer’s interpretation of a cushy baseball dugout.

      Middle fingers rubbing at her temples, Chloe closed her eyes and leaned back. “I really don’t know what I’m doing here.”

      She’d mumbled the words, and he knew she’d said them more to herself than to him, but he wasn’t going to let her slide by that easily. “I think you’re here to make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

      She stopped rubbing, looked up suspiciously. “You already told me no.”

      He had, but she hadn’t looked quite so down and defeated then as she did now. And he hadn’t felt quite so compelled to offer himself up as her savior. Maybe one of these days he’d come to his senses and rescue stray animals instead of stray women. But for now…

      Hands braced hip level on the edge of his desk, he crossed his ankles and made the conscious and recognizably half-witted decision to invite her confidence. He’d worry about regrets later—when he was in over his head.

      “You went to a lot of trouble to get my attention, princess. You must need me in ways I’ve only dreamed about.”

      “More like in ways I’ve never dreamed about,” she said, not even rising to his bait.

      Ouch! Slam! Cut to the bone! “So, tell Dr. Eric all about it before Jason drags me back out to the bar.”

      Chloe took a deep breath, scooted forward to sit primly on the edge of the couch. Her face, when she looked up to meet his gaze, could not have shown less guile. “Here’s the thing. I love my career. I really do. I can’t think of anything that would make me as happy as I am at gIRL-gEAR. And I don’t want to lose it. I’ll do anything not to lose it.”

      “Why would you worry? You’re a partner. It’s not like you’d be first in line to be laid off.”

      “It’s not about layoffs or downsizing. Sydney knows what she’s doing. Our bottom line has never been so black.” Chloe tucked her hands beneath her thighs, rocked back and forth and finished her explanation in a rush. “This is about me, my mouth and…my habit of dating everyone who asks.”

      “Oh, now. That hurt my feelings. I asked and you turned me down.” He gave her a quick wink designed to convince both of them he was teasing.

      “I’m exaggerating, obviously. I don’t go out with everyone.” Her rocking slowed and she studied him intently with those big violet eyes.

      Eric tightened his fingers over the edge of his desk. “Just everyone but me.”

      “I didn’t go out with you because, well, I have my reasons…one of them being that you’re a lot of fun.” She paused, as if wondering how much to say, then softly admitted, “I didn’t want to screw that up.”

      “Dating is supposed to be fun. Dating me would be a hell of a lot of fun,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended.

      Chloe straightened her back, gave a regal lift of her chin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

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