“I am fluent in two languages,” she said.
Her touch had zero effect on his body, odd since she was a very beautiful woman. His mind was still on Belle and that kiss. It would be hard to forget. “Impressive. The first is English and the sexy accent gives you away.”
Husky laughter met his quip. She dropped her hands and moved around the couch. She looked stunning in a short, red dress, her hair down. His jacket was draped over her shoulders. She’d taken it from Belle.
“I believe this is yours.” With a calculating gleam in her eyes, she removed the jacket in a practiced way that reminded him that—like him— she was doing this to further her career. She’d be the next star of the show. If his history were any indication, it would play out that one of them was the bad guy. He’d made sure that his contract stated that it wasn’t him. The reputation he’d built with the team had to remain intact. He’d worked hard to stay clean and free of scandal, a tough task after his deadbeat uncle tried to cash in on his reputation.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” He stood while she sat and motioned to the waiter. The sooner they started, the sooner he’d be done. He was beginning to develop a headache.
“Thank you,” she said.
Unlike Belle, she didn’t fight the pull of the lumpy couch. After meeting the first woman, a successful attorney with killer legs, he’d figured out the couch, like the show, was rigged. Which added to his earlier suspicion about Belle’s gown. He curled his fingers into his palm, the feel of her skin a mere memory.
The too sweet mixture of Irina’s perfume burned his nose. He kept the smile pasted on his lips. Holding the glass up, he clicked it with hers. She sipped but didn’t drink. Yep, she knew the name of the game. “You play American football?”
“Yes, I do. Are you a fan?” he asked, sipping at his own. Now that he was nearing the end of the shoot, he’d indulge in a glass, just enough to take the edge off.
She cocked one arched brow, lips tilting seductively at the edges. “I have watched a game but I don’t understand it. Perhaps you could explain it to me on our date.”
“I’d love to.” At any other time, he’d be chomping at the bit to do just that. Yes, it was cliché for a football player to hook up with a model. He was only human and she was tempting.
Not as tempting as Belle. But Belle was an illusion, one he needed to remind himself about. She kept him at arms-length for a reason. They were work colleagues. The kiss they shared was electric but it wasn’t real. Once the show was over, he’d try to forget about Belle and move on.
Chapter Fifteen
“Oh my God, I can’t watch anymore.” Belle pressed the throw pillow from her couch to her face, her stomach in her throat. The sound of Darius’ voice coming from the television speakers taking the audience to commercial gave her a small sense of relief. The segment thus far was as bad as she’d thought.
Kendra tugged the pillow from Belle’s face. “Do you want me to turn it off?”
“Yes. No. Yes.” Belle had no clue. She hugged the pillow from the couch to her chest. A text came over her phone.
EE: Are you watching the show?
“It’s Erik.” She said to Kendra’s raised brow.
BK: Yes. I— She hovered her finger over the keyboard, unsure how honest she wanted to be. He was her client—she reminded herself for the millionth time. BK: I’m impressed by your performance.
“Tell him I think he’s hot,” Kendra said, watching her type.
BK: Kendra agrees.
“That’s not what I said.” She cast Belle a mock glare. “Come on, admit it. He’s hot.”
“I know he’s hot. I’d be blind not to see that.” And he was funny and smart, solicitous. On paper, he was the entire package. In real life, something was standoffish about him. Yes, he flirted and constantly teased her but he held a part of himself back.
EE: Tell her thanks. I wanted to wait until I saw this to confirm my suspicions. I think they rigged your dress.
Bile rushed to her throat and she clutched the phone case.
BK: I had the same suspicion.
Kendra bit her lip, concern in her blue gaze. “You think he’s right? The producers rigged the gown? Are you sure you’re not being paranoid?”
“I could be, but think about it. Remember in Season 4 winter edition when Carolina’s shoe broke and she sprained her ankle? The guy drove her to the hospital and carried her into the ER.”
“We thought Carolina did it on purpose so she’d get more screen time,” Kendra agreed, disappointment written all over her face.
“She milked that for three more episodes, when she clearly should have been voted off.”
