He may as well have licked me with the way my body got all kinds of goosebumps.
"You haven't mentioned your name," I pointed out.
He heaved a deep breath. "Sloan."
"Sloan-n-n Stevens?" I asked.
Not that I followed football, but I followed TMZ, and they devoted an entire section on last week's breakdown to Sloan Stevens and the way he fumbled endorsements.
"You play center for the Denver Stallions." I remembered his position because it was right in the middle. Ba-dum-bum.
I smiled at my own inside joke.
He nodded. "That's me."
He frowned, and the thin little wire that had been snapping and sizzling between us was no longer.
That was a freaking bummer.
"Out of curiosity, how much of what I said, uh, before on the phone, did you hear?" I asked. "Did you hear the part about…" Er… what was the best way to phrase this?
"Respect being served with a side of tongue? Yeah, I heard that part, Maya." Again, he did the taste test thing with my name. Dammit all, I still liked it.
Perhaps that little sizzle was still a live wire.
"Are you still talking to your mom—" Emily came to a halt behind me. Well, I assumed Emily stopped moving because she didn't show up in front of me, but I felt her presence there.
Which was good, because Elliott stepped right through the doorway like the Las Vegas killjoy he was.
Same as his sister, he had tan skin, dark hair, and loads of height. Unlike Emily, he hadn't coordinated with their uncle about using the condo for the weekend.
"You cannot be here," Emily said, holding up her hand and silently snarling in that sweet way little sisters did to their big brothers.
Elliott ignored the snarl as he took in the situation, pausing briefly on me and then a touch longer on Angela. Probably because of the pink lipstick—it worked that well on her. I made a mental note to buy extra tubes for her birthday.
"What're you doing here?" he countered, stepping into the room with another guy not far behind.
"Uncle Milo lent me the condo." Emily blinked hard, as though it would help make her point.
Elliott pulled a face. "Aunt Lisa said I could borrow the condo."
"Well, crud, this is no good," I said, hoping that might help slice up the tension into bite-size pieces. Blah. No matter how I sliced it, this scenario was unfortunate.
"Aunt Lisa gave us a key. We're not leaving," Elliott announced, already making himself at home on the sofa.
Uncle Milo and Aunt Lisa weren't exactly known for their communication skills. I understood this because Emily, Angela, and I all spent loads of time together growing up, which meant family for one was family for all. Huzzah!
Of course, that meant everyone had a right to be in the space, and, it seemed, no one had a right to be there. Except the Elvis figurines.
The brother and sister began their standoff, even though everyone knew Emily would win. Elliott may have had the edge of negotiating for a living, but Emily had sibling law on her side. That law being that she was there first.
"Are we staying?" guy number three asked. A man with California tanned skin in a pressed polo shirt, slacks, and glasses I'd bet were only for style. He got a kick out of the brother and sister deadlock.
"Who are you?" Emily asked.
"Finn," he said.
"Finn Taylor?" Angela said, pouting her pink lips like a lusty bunny in his direction.
