Free Playing Dirty by Susan Andersen Page A

compliment. I think it was actually due to Mr. Gallari’s interviewing technique.” He essayed a wry facial shrug. “During the preinterview on the phone, I kept trying to get him to give me a list of the questions he’d be asking so I could practice a little. I didn’t want to come across as an idiot.”
    She nodded fervently. “I so get that desire.” And the last person she wanted to sound foolish in front of was Cade Gallari. “Is that what I should be doing, then? Asking Cade for questions I can put some thought into before I have to answer them on camera?”
    “Unfortunately, no. He was pretty firm about not wanting rehearsed answers. I don’t mind admitting that wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but as it happens he’s quite easy to talk to. He has a way of making you feel as if he finds everything you say of vital interest.”
    Ava nodded. “It did look like he has an easy style.” She had watched Cade pull his chair close to Mr. Tarrof’s the way he had done at her condo the other night—and had wondered at first if the mannerism was simply a well-practiced all-purpose gambit that he’d discovered worked for him.
    And yet…
    If it were contrived, he was certainly one world-class actor and could probably make serious money facing the camera rather than working behind it. As reluctant as she was to think anything nice about the guy, she couldn’t deny that he’d appeared genuinely fascinated by what Stan Tarrof had to say.
    “I must say,” the old gent went on, “in the end he asked me about the very things we had discussed. So it turned out to be much less stressful than I’d anticipated.”
    “Well, rats.” With a sigh, she climbed to her feet. “Iguess there’s no secret handshake or magic bullet, then. I’ll simply have to muddle through somehow.” She gave Tarrof an appreciative smile. “I can only hope I come across a fraction as interesting as you did.”
     
    C ADE DIDN’T GET right back in the groove of things after he heard Ava laugh that deep belly laugh that managed to grab him by the short hairs every time. Beks ushered in the next interviewee, yet instead of putting the woman at ease while Kyle fitted her with a lavalier microphone, the way he normally would, he found his mind wandering.
    That laugh was never directed at him. He shouldn’t give a damn—yet for some reason he did. Why, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if he’d pined for her for these past however many years.
    So wouldn’t you think the truth of that might have kept him from damn near groaning aloud when she’d slapped up against him and he’d felt her lush roundness shifting to accommodate his harder planes, when the heat that emanated from her in waves had sunk straight into his muscle memory, his bones?
    On the other hand, what red-blooded, hetero guy wouldn’t have had the same reaction? This was a woman who had it all, with her creamy skin that didn’t need a goddamn thing except the dusting of cinnamon freckles that came stock, her vibrant hair and dimples, her knock-your-socks-off individualistic style. And that body . Jesus. That body.
    The truth was, even back in the day when he’d been a popular member of the in crowd and she’d been a denizen of the invisible fringe, he’d always had a sneaking fondness for Ava and her attitude, had always looked at her and seen woman in the ripeness of her breastsand ass, in the way she moved, even when she carried extra weight. Yet he hadn’t hesitated to throw her under the bus anyhow. So, yeah, in all likelihood what he was feeling here was a little residual guilt.
    She was sure as hell nobody’s victim, though. She’d hit back hard when he’d sacrificed her back when, then had gone on to hone herself into a fucking goddess .
    If there was one lesson he’d had drummed into his head, however, it was that the only person he could depend on was himself. God knew Ava was never going to be in his corner. So why the hell was he allowing himself to be