Free The Player Next Door by Kathy Lyons Page A

of the cons, and frankly there was one really big one. He was a sports god and she was clueless. Worse, she thought what he did for a living was shortsighted. Who picked such an unstable career? Forget being too old by age forty. One twisted ankle — or a torn rotator cuff — and he was out of work for the rest of his life. It was nuts, and by extension that made him nuts.
    And yet…she still liked him. She still wanted him. She still —
    “Tori? You okay in there?”
    “Um. Yeah. Just a second.” She hurriedly flushed the toilet then rinsed her hands, splashing water on her face as an extra boost. It was what she always did when she started thinking in the bathroom and took too long.
    A quick brush through her hair and she opened the bathroom door to see him leaning against the wall right outside the door, a look of wariness in his eyes. He scanned her from head to toe and then opened his mouth to say something. She didn’t give him the chance.
    “I want a rebound boyfriend.”
    He blinked at her, his gaze turning laser sharp. And he didn’t say a damned thing. Which was really uncomfortable.
    So rather than face his weird expression, her mind skittered away to something irrelevant. “Wait. That’s a basketball reference, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” he said slowly. “It is.”
    Nothing more. Damn, this was harder than she thought. Most men usually didn’t require so much thought on her part. They needed little prompting to fill the conversation, but he actually listened to her which required her to say intelligent things or explain herself. That was harder than it should be, but she gave it a shot anyway.
    “I’ve decided I want a boyfriend to help me get over Edward.”
    “Do you need help getting over Edward?”
    She swallowed. No, not really. “Maybe,” she hedged. “Maybe I need to experience other men.”
    “That would require more than one man. And not a boyfriend, which implies a commitment. Or at least exclusivity.”
    Good point. “I’ve tried sleeping around. It wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounds.”
    His eyebrows rose at that even as he relaxed backward against the wall. “That’s something we have in common then,” he said in the way she sometimes said things that weren’t on point, but filled the silence while she thought of something else to say.
    And yet she was pretty curious about that. “So you’ve slept around?” Then she winced. Of course he slept around. All she had to do was Google his name and a zillion images of him appeared. Take out the game shots, and she got to see his women. At least a dozen different ones in the last year alone.
    Meanwhile, he managed to shrug without moving his hurt shoulder. “I had some wild days.”
    She nodded as if her wildness could even remotely compare to his. But whatever. “I explored during my freshman year in college. There were lots of opportunities.”
    He chuckled. “I explored up through my freshman year in the NBA.”
    “Bet you had more fun than I did.”
    He chuckled. “This is one area in which I have no interest in competing.”
    Right. Back to the point. “So I figure you’re next door until your shoulder heals, right? Then it’s back to the east coast.”
    He nodded.
    “And I’ll go back to teaching in the fall. So for the summer…” She tilted her head. “Would you prefer we call it a summer fling?”
    “No.”
    Oh. Right. “You hate this idea.”
    “I’m still trying to understand your idea. How about you try again in plain, simple words?”
    She took a breath. Simple declarative sentences. She could do that. “Why won’t you sleep with me? Aren’t you attracted to me?” Oops. Those were questions, not statements.
    “Yes. And because we’re drunk.”
    She huffed out a breath, managing to poof the fine hairs that danced around her face. She brushed them away in irritation. “I’m getting more sober by the second.”
    “I’m not.”
    She waited for him to say more, but he remained stubbornly silent.