Read Online Gunslinger: A Sports Romance by Lisa Lang Blakeney - Free Book Online Page B

college or was it high school?"
    He's hitting a little too close to home, the arrogant baller.
    "I had no interest in jocks then or now," I lie just a little. "I prefer musicians. I specifically selected this company to work at because we represent really great musicians, and call me crazy, but I want to like the people I work for."
    "Ouch, that hurts," he chuckles. "You're cold blooded, Miss White, but I guess that's only going to work in my favor when you make the big endorsement deals for me."
    "What endorsement deals? I'm only managing the books. Paying your bills."
    "No, that's what you do for those reality show singers you represent. For me, you're going to go get some endorsement dollars. I'm big time, Miss White."
    "That's not what I do."
    "That's not what you're comfortable with. Two very different things."
    "Don't you have a sports agent, Mr. Stevenson?"
    "My uncle is my agent."
    "But you still want me to do double the work? Manage the books and find you endorsement dollars. That's your uncle's job. I'm assuming he hasn't done much on your behalf."
    "You should probably read over your contract, Miss White. Making me more money is definitely part of your job."
    I can see that my comment about his uncle seemed to rub Saint the wrong way. I kind of like that I have wiped the smirk off of his face, even though this is one of the most unprofessional exchanges I've had with a client ever in my life.
    "But as you well know, a sports agent typically handles your major deals."
    "My uncle has my best interest at heart, and he'll negotiate my league contract next year, but it's difficult to get endorsement dollars when your team isn't playing well."
    His heavy posture tells me all that I need to know. I've hit a sore spot, and I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I'm actually feeling a little bad for the millionaire.
    "I'm sorry about that, but I don't know if I can do any more for you than your uncle. Maybe your team will have a better season this year and things will turn around."
    "Have you watched us lately?"
    "To be honest, Mr. Stevenson, I don't watch football. So I don't know much about The Nighthawks."
    "Well that's going to have to change."
    "A lot of things would have to change for this to work."
    "So you're reconsidering?"
    "If I'm going to become your business manager, then we'd have to keep things perfectly professional between us. That means I need total honesty from you, and there will be no flirting."
    He suddenly fingers the hem of my skirt.
    "Is that what we're doing? Flirting?" he teases in a voice that's heavy and thick.
    I clear my throat.
    "And no discussing Jason unless it's in reference to something purely professional," I demand.
    "Professional," his deep voice echoes back.
    Damn he's distracting.  
    That voice.  
    That body.  
    That face.  
    And that smell. A subtle mixture of natural elements: water, earth and musk. Smells expensive and also very distinct. It's a scent that lets every woman know for miles around that a man is in the vicinity. A real man that chops wood, scares away burglars, and nails you hard in the shower.
    Oh dear God. I'm losing it.
    "Yes."
    "Like you and the short dude are strictly professional."
    What is his obsession with Jason?
    "Exactly like that," I respond exasperated.
    "You seem to have a lot of conditions in regards to me paying you and your company to take care of all of my money."
    "Let's not forget that I didn't ask for the job."
    "Ungrateful little–"
    "And it may seem like a lot of conditions to someone like you, but in the real world it's not."
    He scoots his chair even closer to the table and closer to me. The castors on the bottom of his chair squeaking as if they're not used to someone as heavy as him putting them to work.
    "Someone like me? Oh, so I don't live in the real world?"
    "I worded that poorly," I thinly apologize. "I meant in the average person's world."
    "You've got me there, Miss White, because I'm definitely far from fucking average."
    I