Free Beauty and the Blitz by Sosie Frost Page A

She brushed her hair away from her face. “A position I jeopardized because of a reckless and stupid indiscretion.”
    Ouch. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like our kiss.”
    “I didn’t.”
    “Liar. You enjoyed it as much as me.” I leaned forward. “Don’t get bashful now. Did you think about me this weekend?”
    “Cole—”
    “I thought about you.”
    Her voice waivered. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again.”
    And there was the truth. I loved it. My little beauty was struck with indecent and dastardly thoughts of me all weekend while she suffered far from my touch.
    Piper took a breath. “Let’s make this easy. Mr. Hawthorne, will you grant consent to any trade deal which the Monarchs might organize?”
    “No.”
    “Then I’m done here.”
    “No, we’re not.”
    My voice was harsh, rougher than I meant to speak. But Piper stilled, pinned in place by that intimidating grumble. That trick wouldn’t last for long, not with a woman like her.
    “I’m not dealing with anyone else at your agency. It’s you or no one, beautiful.”
    Piper’s rage was silent, though I wondered if she weren’t angrier with herself. She must have really liked our kiss. I did.
    At least I could channel my passion into a dangerous aggression on the field. Poor Piper didn’t have that outlet. She was stuck thinking about that kiss all weekend. Alone. In the dark and quiet.
    And whatever she did to relieve herself shamed her so much that she tried to quit on me.
    I couldn’t have anyone suffering on my behalf.
    “I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “I’m going to ask you one question. If you get it right, I’ll consent to the trade right here, right now.”
    She eyed me, careful to keep her gaze above the level of the water. “And if I get it wrong?”
    “Are you always so suspicious?”
    “A girl needs to be prepared around you.”
    “I don’t think you trust me.”
    “What’s the deal, Mr. Hawthorne?”
    I grinned. “If you answer incorrectly…you get in the hot tub.”
    Piper glared like she willed the water to boil around me. “You are a beast. How will a hot tub solve any of our problems?”
    “Would you rather I kick you off my property and ignore your calls until the trading deadline?”
    She scowled. “No.”
    “Then take the invitation. I don’t extend them often.”
    Or to anyone.
    Ever.
    Piper sighed. “Fine. We have a deal. What’s the question?”
    I pointed to wrought-iron table on the patio, nearest to the pool and hot tub. I kept my playbook away from the water, just to prevent accidents. Piper leafed through the binder.
    The book was a holy grail of defensive strategies and routes. Every movement, every blitz, every one of our coverages was contained within that book, meticulously sorted and organized and annotated by the team, coaches, and myself.
    Piper stared at the page. The arrows, X’s, O’s, and terminology would be as indecipherable to her as if it were written in Mandarin. That made it cuter when she furrowed her brow and pretended to study the contents.
    “As my agent …” I let the word linger, savoring her distaste. “You should know the answer to this. If you get it right, you can help me pack for the trade to the Ironfield Rivets.”
    “Go ahead.”
    “Point to the position where I play.” I smiled as her expression fell. “Point to the circle that represents me in any one of those formations. If you want me to be traded, all you gotta do is show me where I line up before the snap.”
    She didn’t answer.
    “Come on, beautiful. You have a one in an eleven shot.”
    The binder snapped shut. She threw it on the table, hands on her hips.
    “I didn’t bring a swim suit.”
    Six words a man would die to hear.
    “We had a deal,” I said.
    “I’m not skinny-dipping.”
    “You’ve seen me naked. Fair is fair.” I crossed my arms behind my head. “We’re both adults.”
    “Could have fooled me.” She shifted her weight. “Can I trust you?”
    I