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

think a taxi would be willing to pick up two passengers at two different
doors of the hotel.”
    She cocked her head. “Two different doors?”
    “So you wouldn’t be seen going out with me all dressed up.” He
paused. Had he blundered again? “I thought you would be more comfortable with
that.”
    He tried to gauge her response. It would be fucking terrific
if someone would write down the male/female friendship rulebook for him. This
playing by feel thing was a bitch. Every time he—
    Her smile brought his thoughts to stuttering stop. She put
her hand on his arm again. “Thank you. That was very considerate.” She
hesitated, frowning. “I imagine I seem paranoid to you.”
    Two months ago, Garrick would have said “hell yes” without a
thought. Two weeks ago, even, he might not have understood. These days, though,
he was getting the hang of Savannah.
    “No, not paranoid. Careful. Smart. I get it.”
    “You do?”
    He smiled. “I do.” The car came to a stop and Garrick
watched over Savannah’s shoulder as a solemn older gentlemen opened the front
door.
    “Holy crap. He has a butler.”
    Savannah glanced behind her before turning back to him.
“What the hell are we doing here?”
    “We are going to convince Lamont not to shut down the team
until he finds a buyer.”
    “How the hell are we going to do that?”
    “I don’t know,” he confessed, watching her eyes widen, her
mouth dropping open, “but it’s going to work.”
    The door opened behind her and the driver’s hand appeared,
ready to help her from the car.
    “Are you insane?” she asked in a furious whisper.
    It was a fair question.
    “Not insane.” He wrapped his hand over hers where it still
gripped his arm. “Determined.”
     
     
    “Are you insane?” Edwin Reese Lamont III asked Garrick
before looking at Savannah for confirmation.
    “He prefers the term determined ,” she said.
    Garrick flashed her a quick grin and she couldn’t help but
smile back. Whatever the two of them had thought they were getting into that
night, it certainly hadn’t been this.
    For starters, she’d assumed Edwin Lamont, recluse
millionaire, heir to a family fortune and Ice Cats owner, would be a crusty old
miser with grey hair, rheumy eyes, and maybe even one of those silver-handled
canes rich people called “walking sticks”.
    Instead, here stood a thirty-something year old man, chestnut
hair perfectly coiffed, clear green eyes so direct they could look right
through a person and see into her heart. He was tall, slim, fit. Built like a
swimmer, with good shoulders and strong hands.
    The strong hands part she knew after watching him and
Garrick play pool for the past half hour. His long, lean fingers worked the cue
like a seasoned pro, his smirk at the beginning of the game warning her he was about
to hustle Garrick.
    She hadn’t expected Garrick to be so good either.
    They’d retired from the stuffy formal dining room as soon as
the last course was cleared. The food had been amazing, the service frighteningly
efficient. But the biggest surprise had been the company.
    Reese, as he insisted they call him, had been nothing but
surprises. As had his companion, the estimable Mr. Rupert Smythe. From the
moment they shook hands in the foyer, it was clear Mr. Smythe wasn’t just
Lamont’s business manager. He was also Reese’s best friend.
    So here they were, in the Billiards Room—she hadn’t known
those existed outside the game of Clue —watching Reese and Garrick try to
whomp each other, both now long past the realization that no one would be
hustling anyone.
    Savannah stood next to the bar with Rupert, sipping her beer
and laughing at the banter between the two men and Rupert’s dry commentary on
his friend’s strategy. The atmosphere was friendly, though an undercurrent existed
that she had been trying to put her finger on since dinner.
    Garrick smiled up at Reese, his cheeks pink from wine and
laughter, and winked at their host. She almost