Page 40 of The Game Plan

But it doesn’t compare to the feeling I’m experiencing right now as Jax and I stand in the doorway of our room, staring at the one king bed. This isn’t a king room with two nice beds. No, no, this is an outstandingly romantic boutique hotel room in Washington with one bed and one sexy as hell chaise longue that, if I had been here with somebody else, might’ve been fun and useful. Especially someone else who I fantasized about expertly licking me out in the restroom of a chapel a matter of hours ago.

“Well, given I’m about three feet shorter than you, and you need your rest for the game, I guess I’ll be taking the sofa,” I say huffily, not that it’s his fault per se but it is his fault that he’s so damn… My cheeks are burning up at the thought of my near transgression. I feel as if his eyes are feral over it, pupils darkening and wide. Does he know? How can he know?

Jax shakes his head, as if I’m the one in this relationship who’s childish.

“Sienna, I vow to stick to your rules of no fornication, no fucking fun whatsoever, if you agree to share a bed with me. We can both sleep in the same bed. Christ, I’ve shared loads of beds with women and not… No, actually, I’ve always had sex with them in the end.”

“Jax, nothing you say can surprise me, so your little shock tactics are wasted on me. I don’t believe for one second that you could be in the vicinity of a woman and not want to get in her panties.” And I hate that the idea appeals even the tiniest amount.

“Unfair, it’s always them trying to get into mine. Those women use me for sex and money, baby. You have no idea how hard it can be for me.”

He’s actually quite funny, but I’m not going to show it. I’ve laughed at his jokes one too many times already today. Embarrassed myself.

“Like I said, I’ll take the sofa.”

He strides into the room, every hench inch of muscle and pert butt of him, and drops his luggage on the chaise longue. “My mom would have a fit if she thought I let a woman take the sofa instead of the bed. I’ll take the sofa. But the guys often come to see me, so let’s play it like we’re sleeping in the same bed until we don’t.”

“Speaking of your mom… have you told her yet that this is one big sham marriage?”

He heads into the bathroom and before he closes the door says, “You said no one outside of the Vegas circle was allowed to know the truth. So, no.”

Then he slams the door. Not shuts the door. Slams the door. Talk about getting his mommy’s boy panties in a twist.

Though, I have to admit that I still haven’t replied to my parents’ missed calls and messages from last week, wanting to come and pay me (and Carl) a visit sometime soon.

They might even be more disappointed in me than I am in myself. I’m not in a rush to confirm, even as I know what a shitty daughter and human I’m being.

* * *

I’m sitting at the chrome and glass desk in our room on my laptop, running over a few notes about one of the Washington players, who I worked for in my previous life. My structured, organized, professional, woman slaying life.

“Hey, d’you want to go out and get coffee or something in the city?” Jax says. “I’ll split my per diem with you.”

He’s been in the bathroom for ages and I don’t even want to know what he’s been doing in there. The question is, what will I do when I need to go to the bathroom? Because I’m for sure not going to toilet in the same room as Jax. I suppose that’s a problem for another day. Right now, I tell him, “No, thanks, I’ve got to work.”

He just nods and it’s so unlike him that I almost feel bad, like I really did touch a nerve mentioning his mom.

“Maybe next time,” I tell him, knowing full-well that I will always be working because I need to try and get my life back on track, my life after Jax and the Dragons. But it feels like a genuine offer. He’s trying to be nice. “Thanks for the offer, I appreciate it.”

“No worries. The sun is shining so make sure you get some fresh air. It’s not healthy to be stuck inside on the screen all the time.”

I nod. Not that I appreciate being told that I work too much, but I know I do and nobody else gives me health tips or even cares, frankly, so long as I’m delivering on task. It’s… sweet.

* * *

An hour later, my maps app takes me to a swanky coffee store on a quaint street in the city. I’m meeting Logan McDavid, a right winger on the front line for Washington and a long-standing client of mine. Well, ex client of mine, who I’d like to stay in touch with, in case, by some miracle, I manage to figure out how to start again with my own PR business.

The sun is beating down on the capital city. The street, while tucked away from the bustling business and tourist center, has a delightful view out across a park that’s still lush green, despite fall looming. There are a few boutique clothing stores and expensive-looking beauty offerings but mostly, this is a street of quirky restaurants and bougie cafés.

I’ve left my jacket at the hotel and I’m pleased for my sleeveless dress and strappy shoes. A hearty dose of natural vitamin D as we slide into cooler months is not to be sniffed at.

I spot Logan – he’s hard to miss – sitting outside of the café, shades covering his eyes, hair that’s made him a pinup for social media and magazines in his usual wet-look effortless style. Beige pants ride up his ankles and the white T-shirt he wears tucked into them displays the physique that keeps girls interested in hockey long after the games have ended.

Logan isn’t a client of mine because he gets himself in trouble, rather because having a personal PR gets him the kind of endorsement deals he was born worthy of. The guy has good aesthetic genetics.

He waves now and I hold up a hand in response. I can see he’s already ordered two iced coffees for us. He’s a nice guy. Nicer when he gets my sunny day coffee order right.

“Hey, Sienna,” he says, folding me into a bear-hug. He smells wealthy and manly, yet, I realize in a way that’s never bothered me before, it has no desirous effect on me at all. Not the way Jax— Nope, not going there.