Free Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) by Samantha Wayland

adjust to the effect Garrick was
having on her senses. A hint of his cologne teased her nose and made her think
of the woods and lemon and something muskier, like hot sweaty sex. His hair had
been trimmed, the dark curls tamed by a clever cut. He was wearing a
well-fitted blue shirt, his sports coat cut to accommodate his broad shoulders.
His grey slacks hinted at the strength in his thighs, the fit accentuating his
height. His tie pulled everything together perfectly—from his perfectly polished
wingtips to the twinkle in his amber eyes.
    He was smiling at her, amused, and she was gawping at him
like some kind of rube.
    “Hi.” At least she hadn’t stuttered.
    “Hi.” His voice seemed deeper than she remembered. Or maybe
her raging hormones were affecting her hearing.
    The car quietly slipped out into traffic and turned north. She
sucked in a deep breath and collected herself as they drove out of the heart of
the city and into a neighborhood with large homes and quiet streets.
    She opened her mouth to ask Garrick where were they going, but
words stuck in her throat when she caught his gaze trailing over her new shoes
and slowly devouring the length of her legs.
    Her heart gave a funny beat. The logical, professional side
of her brain screamed at her to object. Maybe kick him in the shins. The rest
of her body insisted there was nothing wrong with putting that look in a smart
sexy man’s eyes.
     
    Garrick was transfixed. Mesmerized. Bamboozled .
    Never once in all the time he’d spent studying Savannah,
watching her, walking with her, seeing her in the gym and at her office—not
even when he’d held her in his arms and kissed her—had he imagined those legs.
    Holy Mary, Mother of God, they went on forever. His palms
itched with the desire to run over her firm, muscled calves and softly curved
thighs. When she’d stood outside the hotel, her skirt had brushed the top of
her knee. Now the hem rested mid-thigh, a delight to be sure, but not quite as
completely heart stopping as the glimpse of lace and bare skin he’d been
granted when she’d first slid her leg into the car.
    He shivered, reminding himself he was her friend , and
while he was still trying to figure out what the hell that meant and how the
soul-searing kiss in the parking lot fit into it, he was ninety-nine percent
certain that fantasizing about wrapping his friend’s long, lean legs around his
waist was a violation of the rules.
    Though, god help him, he was only human.
    A soft cough, more of a gentle throat clearing, startled
him. He yanked his eyes up to meet Savannah’s amused gaze.
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    He couldn’t process the question through the buzzing,
jumbled thoughts banging around his head. Mostly he was thinking he was going
to buy some ZZ Top on iTunes later tonight. Legs . “What?”
    “Tonight? A business meeting? You said something about
saving the Cats.”
    “Oh, right. Yes. We’re having dinner with Edwin Lamont.”
    “ What ?”
    He grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have sprung that on her as
they turned into the recluse millionaire’s driveway. “I called from Halifax and
explained we were with the Ice Cats and wanted to talk to him about the sale.”
    A massive stone and timber mansion rose above them as they
crested the hill that hid it from the street.
    “Tonight? Now? ”
    Garrick sighed and ran his hand through his freshly cut hair.
He missed the curls but had to admit he looked more like a business man and
less like a hockey jock this way. He didn’t think Edwin Lamont would give him
the time of day either way, but Garrick was determined to put his best foot
forward, regardless.
    A gentle hand on his arm brought him back to the more
immediate issue.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was so focused on the invitation
and getting us here, I didn’t give you time to prepare.”
    Savannah looked around. “Whose car is this?”
    “I hired the car. I didn’t want to show up in a taxi, plus I
didn’t