Read Online No strings attached by Alison Kent - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alison Kent
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didn’t have an equally attractive brain.
Individuality was an appealing trait, and usually meant a fresh approach, a unique outlook, a sense of contentment, and conformity be damned. Eric seemed to have managed resisting the lemming mentality that made clones of men who might otherwise have potential.
He was also the only man in recent memory who took her crap and dished it right back. Which meant she was working harder than ever to top his wit.
But Eric’s choice of a traditional home, a place where he’d invested a lot of money, a place where he obviously intended to stay, revealed more about his self-assuredness than anything Chloe had learned spending time in his company. He was confident in who he was, and she envied that.
He’d also been the first man ever to convince her to participate in sports of any kind, though not without resorting to a consensual kidnapping as the means to his end. Considering how she felt about sports and why, that was saying a lot.
For seven years—three during junior high, four during high school—she’d brought home forms for herfather to sign giving her permission to play volleyball, to compete at the interscholastic level.
For seven years he’d refused, but that had never stopped Chloe from giving her all during intramurals and busting her ass to learn the game. Neither had it stopped her coaches from beseeching on her behalf.
Her father had put his foot down, insisting men preferred their women cultured and genteel, and no daughter of his was going to spout that feminist equality bullshit and display the aggressive nature of a man.
That insistence had stolen her chances for a sports scholarship. And once in college, where she’d pursued a degree in fashion—a feminine calling that met with her father’s approval and terms for tuition—that insistence had hardened her heart toward the opposite sex.
It had hardened her heart, as well, toward anything and everything having to do with sports. Athletic competition represented opportunities lost, reminded her of a dream she’d been forced to abandon.
Until working with Melanie and the other girls at Starbucks during their shared senior year, Chloe had wondered often what was the point…of anything.
She’d kept up her grades to keep her father and his checkbook happy, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to attend a single sporting event during her four years at the university.
Now Eric actually had her playing. And he had no idea what he’d done.
He hadn’t automatically stopped at his place following the volleyball tourney. He’d had the courtesy to first ask if she would mind. He needed to clean up and head on to Haydon’s, to relieve his assistant manager before the onslaught of Saturday night’s madness, he’d explained.
He’d offered to take her back to her car, no problem, but since he lived between Stratton Park and Haydon’s, stopping for a quick shower first would save him time. He’d left the decision up to her.
And, as she had nowhere to be and was more than curious to see where he lived, she’d done her best to hide her nosy nature and told him to feel free. And now that she was here, with Eric upstairs in the shower, she was the one feeling free…to snoop around his first floor.
The house was large and the layout airy, as if Eric had remodeled a maze of smaller rooms into a windowpane design with four main rooms of near equal size. What Chloe supposed were areas to be used for formal living and dining were remarkably plain.
Both rooms faced the street, the front door acting as a divider between. A staircase rose to the second story from the main hallway cut down the center of the bottom floor. The furnishings were of good quality, but could easily have been purchased from the showroom floor of any department-store display.
Eric had breathed no hint of life, none of his self into either room. That made Chloe curious, even as she recognized that the kitchen and the fourth room were
Individuality was an appealing trait, and usually meant a fresh approach, a unique outlook, a sense of contentment, and conformity be damned. Eric seemed to have managed resisting the lemming mentality that made clones of men who might otherwise have potential.
He was also the only man in recent memory who took her crap and dished it right back. Which meant she was working harder than ever to top his wit.
But Eric’s choice of a traditional home, a place where he’d invested a lot of money, a place where he obviously intended to stay, revealed more about his self-assuredness than anything Chloe had learned spending time in his company. He was confident in who he was, and she envied that.
He’d also been the first man ever to convince her to participate in sports of any kind, though not without resorting to a consensual kidnapping as the means to his end. Considering how she felt about sports and why, that was saying a lot.
For seven years—three during junior high, four during high school—she’d brought home forms for herfather to sign giving her permission to play volleyball, to compete at the interscholastic level.
For seven years he’d refused, but that had never stopped Chloe from giving her all during intramurals and busting her ass to learn the game. Neither had it stopped her coaches from beseeching on her behalf.
Her father had put his foot down, insisting men preferred their women cultured and genteel, and no daughter of his was going to spout that feminist equality bullshit and display the aggressive nature of a man.
That insistence had stolen her chances for a sports scholarship. And once in college, where she’d pursued a degree in fashion—a feminine calling that met with her father’s approval and terms for tuition—that insistence had hardened her heart toward the opposite sex.
It had hardened her heart, as well, toward anything and everything having to do with sports. Athletic competition represented opportunities lost, reminded her of a dream she’d been forced to abandon.
Until working with Melanie and the other girls at Starbucks during their shared senior year, Chloe had wondered often what was the point…of anything.
She’d kept up her grades to keep her father and his checkbook happy, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to attend a single sporting event during her four years at the university.
Now Eric actually had her playing. And he had no idea what he’d done.
He hadn’t automatically stopped at his place following the volleyball tourney. He’d had the courtesy to first ask if she would mind. He needed to clean up and head on to Haydon’s, to relieve his assistant manager before the onslaught of Saturday night’s madness, he’d explained.
He’d offered to take her back to her car, no problem, but since he lived between Stratton Park and Haydon’s, stopping for a quick shower first would save him time. He’d left the decision up to her.
And, as she had nowhere to be and was more than curious to see where he lived, she’d done her best to hide her nosy nature and told him to feel free. And now that she was here, with Eric upstairs in the shower, she was the one feeling free…to snoop around his first floor.
The house was large and the layout airy, as if Eric had remodeled a maze of smaller rooms into a windowpane design with four main rooms of near equal size. What Chloe supposed were areas to be used for formal living and dining were remarkably plain.
Both rooms faced the street, the front door acting as a divider between. A staircase rose to the second story from the main hallway cut down the center of the bottom floor. The furnishings were of good quality, but could easily have been purchased from the showroom floor of any department-store display.
Eric had breathed no hint of life, none of his self into either room. That made Chloe curious, even as she recognized that the kitchen and the fourth room were
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