Moisture coated her fingers, spasms tightening around them as she pulled them out, then thrust them inside her again, f**king herself.

“Yes,” she whispered, digging her heels against the mattress as she lifted against the spiral of need that raged inside her. She needed to come. She needed it hard and deep. “Fuck me, Cole.”

He’d remove his fingers and take off his clothes, leaving her throbbing and wet and pulsing with anticipation, his c**k hard and ready. And when he plunged inside her, she’d cry out. It had been so long. She’d wrap her legs around him as he filled her, so ready to cl**ax that he’d shove her over the edge in only a couple thrusts.

“Oh, god, I’m going to come,” she whispered to the empty room as she rubbed her clit, her mind whirling with the imagined act. Cole was buried deep in her imagination, as hard as she imagined him buried inside her. She shoved her fingers deeper inside her pussy, using her other hand to strum her cl*tuntil she exploded, whimpering at the wash of incredible orgasm that sent wave after wave over her until she relaxed, limp on the bed, her legs splayed out while she caught her breath.

Mercy. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. She got up and went into the kitchen to grab some ice and a glass of water, her legs still quaking with the aftereffects of her cl**ax. She headed back into the bathroom, stopping to stare at herself in the mirror.

A totally different picture now. Naked from the waist up, her hair was mussed from thrashing about on the bed. She wore only her panties and a decided blush on her cheeks.

Good Southern girls didn’t think about new clients the way she’d just done, and certainly didn’t masturbate thinking about them. Then again, she wasn’t a good Southern girl, was she? She had naughty thoughts and wicked desires and a need for a man to bring it all out of her. Too bad she didn’t have the time—or the right guy.

Of course, Cole Riley might have been the right guy, given the right circumstances. Tomorrow she was going to have to work with him, and she’d just had very dirty thoughts about him. That was wrong on so many levels.

She’d been tense lately, that was all. And had gone a very long time without a release. Cole had merely been—convenient. And attractive. And loaded with sex appeal. It had been natural for him to pop into her fantasies. But that was a one-time occasion, and it wasn’t going to happen again.

She was going to have to wipe this event from her thoughts.

Cole Riley was a client and not fantasy fodder.

THREE

“ONE MORE REP.”

On the bench press, Cole looked up at his trainer, Mario, at the moment wishing he could kick his ass. But since he currently held two hundred pounds of weight balancing precariously over his chest, he’d have to put a hold on that ass-kicking. He held the bar in his hands, sweat pouring off his brow, his arms shaking like a goddamned first-timer at the gym.

“Come on, you pussy, three more reps.”

He pushed, hoping like hell Mario would be there to catch the bar in case it came crashing down on his chest.

“That’s it, Cole. You’ve got it. You’re almost there.”

“Eat. Shit. And.” He racked the bar, sat up, and leaned over, feeling like he was going to puke. He swung his legs over the side of the bench and glared at Mario. “Die.”

Mario patted Cole on the back. “I knew you could do it.”

“Fuck you.”

“See, I’ve always suspected you had the hots for me. But you’re not my type.”

“Bullshit. I’m totally your type. Tall, well-built, and athletic.”

Mario laughed. “Exactly. Just like my boyfriend. But if you’re interested, I could set you up with a few really hot guys.”

Cole rolled his eyes at Mario, pushed off the bench and stood. “No, thanks. I have enough trouble dealing with women.” He looked at the front door, where Savannah was coming in. “Speaking of, here comes my newest problem.”

Mario followed Cole’s gaze. “Wow. She’s a stunner.”

Admittedly, Mario was right. In a conservative, short-sleeved red dress that clung to her curves and high heels that showcased her long legs, Savannah commanded attention.

She was beautiful. And irritating. And untrustworthy.

She walked through the doors into the gym, smiling when she saw him. She headed toward them, and Cole was struck again by her walk. And her legs. Damn her legs, anyway. He needed to remember the untrustworthy part.

“Good morning, Cole,” she said, then turned to Mario and held out her hand. “I’m Savannah Brooks.”

Mario shook her hand. “Mario Genino. I’m Cole’s trainer.”

She gave Cole the once-over. “You do a fine job of it, Mario.”

Mario laughed. “Thanks. I work him over pretty good. What do you do for Cole, Savannah?”

Oh, shit. The last thing he needed was for Mario—or anyone—to find out the team had hired a f**king image consultant for him. “She’s—”

“I’m doing some consulting work for him. Someone with Cole’s talent and vast portfolio needs expert assistance, as you can probably imagine.”

Mario nodded. “Hell, yeah. Have to protect his assets.”

Savannah smiled. “Indeed, we do.”

Mario glanced up at the clock. “I hate to greet and run, but my next client will be coming in soon. Nice to meet you, Savannah. Cole, I’ll abuse you again tomorrow.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you. Nice meeting you, Mario,” Savannah said.

“Yeah, see you, Mario.” Cole waited until Mario left, then turned to her. “You lied. Again.”

She lifted her chin. “I did not.”

“You didn’t tell him what you were really hired to do.”

“I don’t think it’s anyone’s business. And I merely altered the truth a bit, while not lying.”

He crossed his arms. “Whatever. What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Your workout is finished?”

“Yeah.”

“What are your plans after this?”

“Lunch. I need to load up on some protein after I work out.”

“Fine. We’ll have lunch, and I’ll go over the plans.”

“Okay. I need to shower.”

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

She was being accommodating. Nice. He didn’t want her to be nice. He wanted to argue with her. He wanted her to be a bitch. Anything so he wouldn’t like her.

He showered and dressed, and when he went out to the lobby, she was talking to a couple of the guys from the team who’d come to work out. Single and a few years younger than him, Jamarcus Davis and Lon Fields were offensive stars on the Traders. Both had reputations for being lady-killers, and rightly so. Solidly built, damn good-looking, and friendly with women, they were loaded with charm, and even worse, neither of them had shitty reputations like he did.

Looked like they were charming Savannah, too. She had a smile on her face when he got close. She was even laughing—that damn laugh that made his balls quiver.

She caught his eye as he approached. “Oh, there you are.”

Jamarcus and Lon turned, too, and their smiles died.

“You’re with Riley?” Jamarcus asked, surprise on his face.

“Yes, I am. Are you ready to go, Cole?”

“Yup.” He took Savannah’s arm and led her to the door, winking at Jamarcus and Lon. “See you later, guys.”

“Yeah, later, Cole,” Lon said with obvious disappointment.

“We can take your car if that’s all right with you,” Savannah said, sliding her sunglasses on as they stepped outside. “You can just drop me off after we’re finished.”

“That’s fine.”

“Let me grab my briefcase first.” She stopped at one of those hybrid tree-hugger cars, grabbed a leather bag, then joined him at his gas-guzzler SUV.

“Sorry,” he said as she climbed in, hiking her dress up. “I didn’t know you’d be getting in with me or I’d have brought the car.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Especially no trouble for him since he got a glimpse of her spectacular thighs. Jesus, he’d have to focus on something else so he wouldn’t sprout a hard-on. Now that really would be unprofessional.

He started up the SUV and turned to her. “What do you like to eat?”

“I’m not fussy. Wherever you want to go is fine with me.”

“Okay.” He headed out, deciding that, instead of his favorite hamburger joint, they’d go to an actual restaurant, something that served a selection of stuff, since he had no idea what she liked. Though why that mattered to him, he had no idea. She was an imposition. He should make her eat big, fat, greasy burgers.

“You didn’t tell them I was your client.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning away from the window to look at him.

“Jamarcus and Lon. You know they thought you were my date.”

“Did they? I guess that’s their mistake then, isn’t it?” She returned to staring out the window.

He smiled, shook his head, and pondered the mystery that was Savannah Brooks. It was hard not to like her, even though he was opposed to working with her. Though he guessed it was the idea of an image consultant he didn’t like. He liked her just fine. Or maybe he was just attracted to her legs and her gorgeous face.

Since it was unlikely she was going to date him, it didn’t matter what he thought about her personally, so they might as well get this over with. He pulled into the restaurant parking lot.

“This place?” she asked.

“What about this place?”

“I don’t know. It’s charming. A little Italian restaurant named Carmen’s? You seem like a burger or steak kind of guy.”

“I come here a lot. Great food.”

He came around to her side and assisted her in getting out of his SUV.

“Thank you,” she said, smoothing her dress down over her legs as she stepped onto the parking lot. She grabbed her bag and they went inside, where Carmen was working as hostess today.

“Cole,” she said, kissing both his cheeks. “So nice to see you here.” She looked over at Savannah and a gleam sparked in her eyes. “Oh, you have a new girl.”

To Carmen, who was nearly eighty, every woman was a “girl.”

“Carmen, this is Savannah Brooks.”

Carmen enveloped Savannah in her ample frame. “Honey, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. Your restaurant is lovely.”

Carmen looped her arm in Savannah’s. “Thank you. My father opened this restaurant. It’s very special to our family. Cole’s parents come here a lot. I’ve known this kid since he was five years old. He used to throw spaghetti on the floor.”

Savannah laughed. “Is that right?”

“You bet. He and his sister would come in here with their parents every Friday for dinner.”

“That’s fascinating,” Savannah said.

Carmen threw Cole a look over her shoulder. “Come along, sonny.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have brought Savannah here.

Cole followed as Carmen showed them to their table. He shook his head when Carmen led them to the one in the corner. The dark corner. He could tell Carmen they weren’t on a date, but what would be the point?

“I’ll be sure to tell Mike not to bother you two so much during lunch, okay?” She kissed Cole on the cheek and left.

“Carmen’s sweet. Misguided, but sweet,” Cole said as he held the chair out for Savannah.

“Thank you. And yes, she’s very nice. Obviously, she’s practically family. You’ve been coming here this long?”

He shrugged. “I told you. I like the food.”

Savannah looked around. “It’s a great place. Very atmospheric. I love the dark tables, the cheery red-and-white curtains.” She inspected the olive oil and balsamic vinegar bottles. “So, your parents come here a lot?”

He knew what she was doing—trying to get to know him better. He should have hit the steak house.

Fortunately, Mike, their waiter, came over and took their order and brought their bread and drinks.

Cole took a drink of his water and looked at Savannah. “I guess you can tell me what I have to look forward to.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather eat first?” Savannah asked with a smile.

“It’s that bad?”

She laughed. “I don’t think it’s bad at all. At first I’ll be shadowing you for a while, mainly to figure out your routine and watch your interactions. Then I’ll have some suggestions.”

“Shadowing me? You mean to monitor my behavior.”

“No. To get a feel for your routine.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a file.

Cole cocked a brow. “You have a file on me?”

“The team provided media reports, analysis of your on-field behavior from prior teams, and altercations you’ve had in the past, all contributing to a profile I’ve put together on you.”

They waited while Mike put their lunch in front of them. Since Cole was hungry, he dug into his chicken Parmesan while Savannah ate her chicken salad. All the while, he stared at the folder she’d pushed off to the side.

“So what’s your conclusion?” he asked.

“This is just a preliminary analysis, but my belief is that you have anger management issues.”

He let out a snort. “I do not.”

She speared a leaf of lettuce, and didn’t argue with him.