Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(94)

“Uh, what the hell is that?”

Hudson shrugs as he takes a sip out of the straw; well, after he pushes aside the ridiculous little bouquet of thin orange slices and maraschino cherries adorning the top of it; “It’s a Shirley Temple.” He says matter-of-factly.

I snort, a grin teasing my lips; “Are you serious?”

He looks at me like I’m an idiot; “Of course I am, they’re delicious.”

I grin in spite of myself, seeing the glimmer of his own in return as his blue eyes flash at me; “Right, if you’re seven years old.”

“I don’t really drink anymore.”

I laugh, and it comes out harsher than intended; “Since when?”

“Since-” He wags his head side to side as if weighing something; “I just don’t anymore.”

I stare at him and then the glass of wine I didn’t really want anyways; “Well why are we at a bar to talk then if you don’t drink?”

He turns and winks at me, that smug smile totally back and spread across his face; “Because you looked like you needed one.”

I take a big slug from my glass, certainly as an excuse to tear my eyes away from him, but also because the way he looks at me really does make me need a drink.

“You know you’re sunk without the money, right?” It’s hard to take the guy seriously - no matter how fucking sexy he looks in that tux with the tattoos peeking out - with that stupid straw in between his lips and the cherry stems tickling his nose, but his words jolt me back to our reason for being here just the same.

“Fine.”

He looks surprised; “Fine?”

“I said fine, OK?” As much as I hate to admit it, I know he’s right. I know the whole run is over without the campaign money from Archer Holdings, I just hate giving him the satisfaction of hearing me tell him he’s right. He looks impressed with himself; like he’s “won” and I’m submitting to him, and not in the way that just won’t get out of my thoughts being this close to him. “I just don’t see why you had to be here though,” I glare at him; “Don’t you have interns, or fucking servants or whatever to do this sort of thing for you?”

He smirks at the ‘servants’ line; “Well, there’s a bit more to it than that.” I raise an eyebrow and his eyes sparkle as he winks at me; “It’s not just the money.”

Oh really.

“Well, what then.” I’m getting tired of feeling like he’s playing with me, especially since in my head he’s playing with me in a very different way and it’s distracting me to the point of anxious.

“You’re pissing a lot of people off with your platform.” He says the words carefully, as if choosing them as he utters them.

“I’m making a lot of people happy with my platform, which is why I’m way ahead in the polls, actually.” Now it’s my turn to be smug as I sit back and sip on my wine.

He turns to face me fully, his face the most serious I’ve seen from him yet; “Let’s just say that there are things out there that you don’t see that I do,” His eyes drop to the front of my gown and he grins for just a hair of a second; just long enough to tell me he can see how erect my nipples are before he drags his eyes back up to mine

I roll my eyes; “You know, those of us who don’t make a buck selling guns to third-world war-zones have a slightly more positive outlook on the world.” Ok I’ll admit I need my father’s company’s money, but I don’t need Hudson’s negativity packaged along with it.

He wraps his soft lips around his straw and sucks gently, his eyes never leaving mine as he sips on his Shirley Temple, and it’s probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen involving grenadine. I feel an aching pull deep inside that brings a fresh flush to my cheeks, and I can feel my nipples hardening beneath my gown even more despite the warmth of the room. God damn you, Hudson Banks.

“Well, those of us who have been around those third-world war zones don’t have the luxury of that fantasy, which is why I’ll be sticking around to make sure you’re ok.”

I frown; “Excuse me?”

“Me; around. I’m going to be watching you during the campaign.” He grins, and the motion pulls the skin of his neck just enough that I catch another glimpse of the dark ink there just under his collar, and I’m instantly fascinated with knowing what else is under that shirt before I shake the thought from my head. “Maybe you should think of it as less someone watching you and more just Archer Holdings looking after its investment,” He arches his brow as he sips at his Shirley Temple; “Which is you, in this scenario.”