Chapter 2

TWO

She has no idea who I am.

An excitement I haven’t felt in a long-ass time fires up inside me. This woman is absolutely gorgeous with her dark blue eyes, long black hair, and hourglass figure. Thank God Devon went for the blonde or I’d have to fight him.

I put my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lexi,” she says, her voice a little breathy, her eyes wide yet heated. But she’s missing the one thing I always look out for now that the Fierce Four have become so well-known. Women—jersey chasers specifically—have a particular glint in their eye when they know exactly who I am. While there’s a gorgeous sparkle in Lexi’s eyes, it’s not one of recognition.

Just pure, old-fashioned attraction.

I hold her hand and give her a genuine smile. I don’t think she realizes that her friend already gave her name, but I think it’s cute she said it again. “Lexi, you wanna dance?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I start to worry. If we go out on the dance floor, someone might recognize me. Why did I ask her to dance? I should’ve had her and her friend come up to the VIP booth, which is where Devon and I were on our way to when he saw the blonde.

Lexi nibbles her lip, and her upper body sags slightly, and now my worry is about something else entirely. Is she about to shut me down? I can’t remember the last time that happened.

“Um, I’m not very good.” There’s a hint of vulnerability in her admission that makes something tighten in my gut. I want to soothe her, not make her feel bad.

I also can’t deny I’m grateful for the out she gave me so I can fix my error. “What about just grabbing some drinks and heading upstairs?”

“Oh, those are reserved for high rollers and VIPs,” her friend—Blaire—says.

Devon claps me on the back with a shit-eating grin on his face, and I know exactly what he’s about to say, and there’s no way I can let him expose who I am.

I can’t remember the last time I met a woman who didn’t recognize me and see instant dollar signs. I’m dying to see how this night goes with someone who thinks I’m just an average Joe, albeit a rich one—there’s no way to hide that, but she doesn’t need to know I’m famous—out for a night on the town.

So before Devon can open his big mouth, I say, “I’m friends with the owner of the club, so he got us a booth. You ladies want to join us?” It’s not a lie.

Lexi looks to Blaire and then back to me, that plush lip still trapped between her teeth. But whatever reservations she may have are completely shut down when Blaire says, “We’d love to.”

“After you, ladies,” I say, gesturing toward the stairs. Blaire wraps her arm around Lexi’s, leaning her head close, and I’m sure they’re talking about us, but it gives me the perfect opportunity to get Devon on board so he doesn’t ruin what’s turning out to be a way more interesting night than I imagined it would be.

“Dude,” he starts, but I give him a look that shuts him up.

“They don’t know me. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Do you know how easily you could get that chick to agree to go back to your place if you told her who you are?”

I let out a heavy sigh. He doesn’t get it. Of course he doesn’t; no one does unless they live this life. Fame and fortune come with many perks and privileges, but unfortunately they also come with a lot of distrust for new people, especially when they know who I am. I can never guarantee that they want me for me. I didn’t think about it much when I was a rookie. Hell, I tossed around my status as an NFL player to every woman I met. It wasn’t until I got traded to the Wolves and found my big-time career success as a member of the Fierce Four that I realized how desperately I craved finding a woman who didn’t know I was famous. Who wanted me and not the publicity that comes with being attached to me.

Unfortunately, every woman I’ve dated since getting drafted has had an agenda, and I was always just a means to an end. And despite what my cousin says, I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than he has, and there are certain types of women who are not drawn to celebrities. I get a sinking feeling that Lexi might be one of those. She seems a bit skittish, and skittish women don’t tend to want to date a guy whose face is plastered in the media every weekend during the season, which will start in a couple of weeks. Preseason games have already begun, which means my time to lie low is about to be up. Once the season kicks off, my face, along with the other three members of the Fierce Four, will be all over the city for promotion.

I’m not willing to risk losing the first woman who appears to show genuine interest in me on the off chance she might think it’s cool that I’m famous.

“I want to see how this plays out without her knowing who I really am, okay? Can you play it cool and keep that to yourself?” I ask Devon, hoping he can be a decent wingman. Normally, I would go out with one of the other members of the Fierce Four —Gabe Romero, Dominic Smith, and Romel Watson—but Gabe and Dom both have their own women now, and Romel has his three-year-old daughter who he prefers to spend time with, especially before the craziness of the season starts. I didn’t even think I’d be going out tonight until Devon called to let me know he was in town for the weekend on a business trip and wanted to go out.

As we get closer to the booth where the women were directed, I’m suddenly grateful he reached out, or else I might not have gotten this opportunity.

We settle in the horseshoe shaped booth—Devon sitting next to Blaire, Lexi next to her, and me on Lexi’s other side—and Devon immediately starts asking questions.

“So what do you two ladies do for work?”

“We’re teachers,” Blaire says, leaning into Devon and clearly feeling what he’s feeling.

I focus my attention on the beauty next to me—Lexi. Even her name is sexy. “What do you teach?”

She takes a sip of her drink before focusing those mesmerizing dark-blue eyes on me. “Eighth grade English.”

“Do you like it?”

Her smile grows, and any nervousness disappears as she tells me about her job. Each word out of her mouth makes me want to lean in and learn everything about her. She’s passionate about what she does—that’s obvious—and that passion is insanely attractive.

“What do you do?” she asks.

Fuck. I should’ve thought this through better. “Uh, I’m in risk management.” Yeah, that works.

She cocks her head to the side, looking utterly adorable. “What does that entail?”

“I assess a given situation and coordinate with my partners on how best to deal with it so that everything plays out in our favor.” Not a total lie. I just haven’t said I do it on the football field.

She squints. “That’s vague. Is this for marketing? Or…” She lets her sentence trail off, and I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking I’m into something illegal. God, I’m fucking this up, but I don’t want her to know what I do. It’ll ruin everything.

But I also don’t love the idea of outright lying to her. “Do you watch sports?”

She frowns. “No, sorry.”

Thank fuck my instincts were right. “I do risk management for a local team. To protect the players and their goals.”

Again, it’s not an outright lie. I definitely do that in a sense in my position as safety. Except the players I protect are my own, and I’m not actively protecting them, but defending them so our quarterback can get back out on the field faster and our offense can score some points. But those are minor details.

She stares at me for a moment, an expression on her face that tells me she’s not buying what I’m putting down. And then she sets down her glass, and my hope starts to fade.

Shit.

But she surprises me. She leans forward. “Listen, I teach eighth graders, and while they can be sweet, they also often test boundaries and push the truth, so I know when someone’s not telling me the full story.” She glances over at Blaire who’s already making out with Devon—good for him—and then refocuses on me. “But I promised myself I would let loose tonight. It’s been a rough first couple of weeks at work, and Blaire dragged me out because we both needed a night to let our hair down. So what if we just enjoy the night, see where it goes, and keep things casual?”

Is she saying what I think she’s saying? And if she is, why does that make me feel cheap?

“I don’t like talking about my job.” Not a lie. “But I do want to get to know you. I gotta be honest with you, Lexi, it’s been a long time since I’ve been this drawn to a woman I just met.”

Her face morphs, and before I know it she’s giggling into her hand. She places her other hand on my leg, and my brain short-circuitsas the blood starts to flow south. “Does that line usually work on women?”

I can’t help but laugh with her and shake my head. Who is this woman? “It wasn’t a line, but yeah, most women tend not to give me such a hard time.” Most women also already know who I am and want something from me.

She smiles brighter than she has all night, and my gut tightens with need. “I’m not most women.”

I give her my own smile as my interest in her skyrockets. “No, you most certainly are not.”