Page 29 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“First off, I’m the player.” He quirks an eyebrow, and all I can do is smile at the reference.

“And second?”

“Second,” he mimics, “I may be wrong, but I think it takes a helluva lot more to impress you than a list of above-par stats.”

“True.” I draw the word out while my mind is a flurry of thoughts. Is he flirting with me? He wants to impress me? Or am I reading into the comment when he means nothing by it?

“Stats are boring. They’re my work. And while most days I live and breathe baseball, on and off the field, they’re the last thing that comes to mind when I’m in the company of a beautiful woman.”

That’s twice. He is flirting with me.

“What does come to mind, then?”

Oh, crap. I’m flirting right back.

He flashes me a megawatt smile that lightens his dark features and brightens his eyes. And if I doubted whether we should continue this exchange or not, that smile right there pulls me in hook, line, and sinker.

“Right here? Right now?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Our eyes lock as we gauge each other and try to figure out the next step in this unfamiliar dance we’re moving to.

“Dance with me.”

I stifle a laugh. Is he reading my mind now?

But my laugh is short-lived when he rises from the booth and extends his hand to me. He can’t be serious.

“No way!” I laugh, batting his hand away. “I’m not letting the King of Pranks make a fool of me.”

“I do love a good prank but dancing with me isn’t one of them.” He puts his hand out for me to take again.

“I don’t know how to dance, let alone to country music.”

“Neither do I. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” he asks, that boyish smile on his lips winning me over. “A pair of Texans who can’t dance to country music.”

“We should be ashamed of ourselves and hide in this dark corner here.”

His laugh tells me he’s not buying it. “No time like the present to learn.”

“We’ll be the only ones on the dance floor.” I scramble to think of any other excuse to avoid this situation—not avoiding the limelight part of it but the dancing body-to-body with Easton part—because he’s already lowered my defenses, and dancing with him might be too temptingly disastrous for me—in more ways than one. “Everyone will be staring at us.”

“I live my life under the lights, baby,” he teases as he grabs the hand I’ve refused him. “You think these dim bar lights are going to intimidate me?”

“People are going to stare.”

He pulls me to my feet.

“Good.”

“Good? We’re so out of place in here.”

“I’ve never cared what people think of me, and I sure as hell am not going to start now. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with getting a little attention now and again.”

He tugs on my arm for me to follow.

“Ah, you can’t handle being out of the limelight now, can you?” I tease.