The Baller Read Free Page B

Michael leaned into me. “Want to dance?”
    “Sure. I’d love to.”
    Out on the dance floor, he led me through one slow dance. He had a firm hand and definitely knew how to lead. And he was pretty easy on the eyes, too. Matt Damon in glasses. Well groomed, intelligent, and handsome—my night could be worse.
    “I like your hair up.” Sweet too.
    It had taken the stylist almost two hours to tame my unruly mass of dark curls enough to pin it all on top of my head. A few tendrils had already escaped.
    “Thank you. You don’t smoke, do you? Because I’m pretty sure if I go anywhere near a cigarette, I might catch fire with the amount of spray the stylist had to put in to get it to stay.”
    Michael smiled. “No worries. I’m smoke-free.”
    Why isn’t this the type of guy I usually dated? Following in his father’s footsteps, Michael had played college football before a torn ACL ended his career before it even started. With his knowledge of the game and all-American good looks, his transition to sportscaster came easily. Although moving up the chain of command had taken him more behind the scenes the last few years. “Do you have any interviews planned this season? I’d love to watch you filming and learn. Your interviews always came across as if you were having a casual talk in the living room, rather than sitting on a set in front of cameras.”
    “Thank you. I actually don’t have any on the calendar as of now, but you just gave me a reason to change that.”
    A new song had just started, and I was enjoying his company when a voice behind me said, “Can I cut in?”
    My head whipped around, even though I had no doubt whom the gravelly voice belonged to.
    Michael was gracious. “I hate to share. But I suppose I have been hogging the most beautiful woman at the event.” He let go of my hand and stepped back with a gentlemanly nod. “Thank you for the dance, Delilah.”
    Again Brody Easton had caught me off guard. Before I knew it, I was dancing with the arrogant jerk. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body tight against his. Way tighter than Michael had held me.
    “Good to see you again, Lois Lane.”
    The man had balls; I had to give him that. I looked him straight in the eyes. “Nice to see you with clothes on, Easton.”
    “Do you prefer me without?”
    “I prefer you on the other side of the room.”
    He chuckled. It was a hearty laugh. “That’s what happens sometimes when you decide you want to hang out in the men’s locker room.”
    I tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip and held me in place. I craned my neck. “Let go of me.”
    “No.”
    “No?”
    “That’s right. No.”
    “I can scream at the top of my lungs.”
    “I’d like to hear you scream.” His tone made it clear he meant he wanted me underneath him while I was doing the screaming.
    “You’re an asshole. You know that?”
    “I do. You asked me that yesterday. For a reporter, you should really try changing up your questions more frequently.”
    My eyes bulged.
    Easton shifted his hand down to the small of my back before twirling us around the dance floor. Figures the prick can dance.
    “Are you seeing anyone?”
    “You can’t be serious?”
    He ignored my comment. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”
    “We just ate.”
    “Dessert at my place, then?”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you hit your head at the game yesterday?”
    “On a diet, huh?”
    “Yeah. That’s it. I don’t want to go to your place for dessert because I’m on a diet.”
    “Well, that’s just a shame.” Easton smiled. He was actually pretty quick-witted and funny, but he was still an asshole. The song ended, and the band asked everyone to take a seat while the winners of the silent auction were announced.
    “I’d say it was nice seeing you again, but I don’t lie.”
    Easton grinned. He seemed to like my insults. But before I could walk away, he grabbed my hand. “Hey. Be careful with Langley. Met him a few