he’s like the prince of this city. I cross my hands over my chest and wait for the elevator to finish its ascent.
“You’re really a spitfire,” Brady says with a wink.
“Every girl’s dream accolade.” I roll my eyes at him and he tips his head back, laughing.
I huff at his display and stare up at the numbers appearing above the door. Finally, the long trip ends. The tension was about to make me scream or jump him. Damn his sexiness and cocky airs—they fucking turn me on.
We leave our respective corners of the elevator and exit into the hallway. Once again, Brady’s hand lands on my back to guide me. His thumb rubs back and forth over the silk of my dress and I try to ignore the tingles erupting over my skin. It’s not a forward touch, but it spells trouble for me. It makes me wish his hands were all over me, and God knows that would be a horrible decision…I think.
“First door on the right,” he directs me, and I have to laugh.
“There are only two doors. I guess your place is the left one.”
“I knew you were smart,” he quips back, and I scoff.
“Listen, I came with you, so you better play nice.” I look up at him with a death glare. He towers over me, appearing as tall as the hallway ceiling.
“You’re a big guy.”
“You should know,” he chuckles, and I punch him in the arm. My poor knuckles didn’t care for that move one bit either. “Ouch.” I wiggle my fingers to relieve the pain.
“Hello,” says Jimmy McDermott, Chicago’s legendary coach, standing in the doorway to his penthouse. Funny thing, neither Brady nor I knocked on it. “Heard you two fighting from inside.”
“Coach, I want you to meet Cali Jones.”
Coach McDermott laughs while shaking his head at us. “Pleasure, Ms. Jones.”
“Please, call me Cali,” I respond in a weak voice while shaking his hand in shock. “Honor to meet you.”
My mouth hangs open as I stare at him in disbelief. Chicago’s coaching legend is talking to me. He joined Chicago as head coach when I was fifteen. Jimmy, as his fans call him, has reporters laughing at all his news conferences with his wicked sense of humor, even when his team’s losing.
“Come in, you two.” Coach moves away from the door so we can enter. Brady motions with his hand for me to go first. I step over the threshold and stare in awe. I’m standing in Coach McDermott’s apartment.
“Cali, I’d like you to meet my better half, Eve.” His beautiful wife reaches out her hand to me. She has kind eyes and a calm peace about her. She’s the exact opposite of her husband.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“You have? I mean. It’s nice to meet you, too.” I am at a loss here. Truly baffled that she even knows who I am, let alone has looked forward to meeting me. Who’s the royalty here?
“Come with me, dear.” Her soothing tone makes some of the butterflies in my stomach flutter away and I follow her deeper into the apartment.
I glance back at Brady and he’s still by the front door, whispering to his coach. They both look at me with unsettling grins and I can’t help wondering what the hell is going on.
Eve leads me to a living room that faces a wall of windows overlooking downtown Chicago—a far cry from the brick view I have at my place.
“Wow,” I say in admiration. I walk to the windows and look down at the twinkling lights of the city. I’m so far up, I can’t even make out the cars on the sidewalk, only their headlights illuminating the street. “Chicago looks so cosmopolitan from up here.”
“I hope we never leave,” Eve says from behind me. “It all depends on this year. Jimmy’s got to bring the World Series to town or he’s out.”
I turn to face her, angry to hear Jimmy’s job is on the line. “They can’t do that to him,” I protest.
“The owners have lost their patience. They’ve given him a team of players that should take it all. So it’s all or nothing, I’m afraid.” She sighs and I
“You’re really a spitfire,” Brady says with a wink.
“Every girl’s dream accolade.” I roll my eyes at him and he tips his head back, laughing.
I huff at his display and stare up at the numbers appearing above the door. Finally, the long trip ends. The tension was about to make me scream or jump him. Damn his sexiness and cocky airs—they fucking turn me on.
We leave our respective corners of the elevator and exit into the hallway. Once again, Brady’s hand lands on my back to guide me. His thumb rubs back and forth over the silk of my dress and I try to ignore the tingles erupting over my skin. It’s not a forward touch, but it spells trouble for me. It makes me wish his hands were all over me, and God knows that would be a horrible decision…I think.
“First door on the right,” he directs me, and I have to laugh.
“There are only two doors. I guess your place is the left one.”
“I knew you were smart,” he quips back, and I scoff.
“Listen, I came with you, so you better play nice.” I look up at him with a death glare. He towers over me, appearing as tall as the hallway ceiling.
“You’re a big guy.”
“You should know,” he chuckles, and I punch him in the arm. My poor knuckles didn’t care for that move one bit either. “Ouch.” I wiggle my fingers to relieve the pain.
“Hello,” says Jimmy McDermott, Chicago’s legendary coach, standing in the doorway to his penthouse. Funny thing, neither Brady nor I knocked on it. “Heard you two fighting from inside.”
“Coach, I want you to meet Cali Jones.”
Coach McDermott laughs while shaking his head at us. “Pleasure, Ms. Jones.”
“Please, call me Cali,” I respond in a weak voice while shaking his hand in shock. “Honor to meet you.”
My mouth hangs open as I stare at him in disbelief. Chicago’s coaching legend is talking to me. He joined Chicago as head coach when I was fifteen. Jimmy, as his fans call him, has reporters laughing at all his news conferences with his wicked sense of humor, even when his team’s losing.
“Come in, you two.” Coach moves away from the door so we can enter. Brady motions with his hand for me to go first. I step over the threshold and stare in awe. I’m standing in Coach McDermott’s apartment.
“Cali, I’d like you to meet my better half, Eve.” His beautiful wife reaches out her hand to me. She has kind eyes and a calm peace about her. She’s the exact opposite of her husband.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“You have? I mean. It’s nice to meet you, too.” I am at a loss here. Truly baffled that she even knows who I am, let alone has looked forward to meeting me. Who’s the royalty here?
“Come with me, dear.” Her soothing tone makes some of the butterflies in my stomach flutter away and I follow her deeper into the apartment.
I glance back at Brady and he’s still by the front door, whispering to his coach. They both look at me with unsettling grins and I can’t help wondering what the hell is going on.
Eve leads me to a living room that faces a wall of windows overlooking downtown Chicago—a far cry from the brick view I have at my place.
“Wow,” I say in admiration. I walk to the windows and look down at the twinkling lights of the city. I’m so far up, I can’t even make out the cars on the sidewalk, only their headlights illuminating the street. “Chicago looks so cosmopolitan from up here.”
“I hope we never leave,” Eve says from behind me. “It all depends on this year. Jimmy’s got to bring the World Series to town or he’s out.”
I turn to face her, angry to hear Jimmy’s job is on the line. “They can’t do that to him,” I protest.
“The owners have lost their patience. They’ve given him a team of players that should take it all. So it’s all or nothing, I’m afraid.” She sighs and I
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