Chapter 3
He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, his red hair gleaming copper as it dripped water all over the white marble tiles. He made his way towards his locker and froze as he noticed a young woman standing there talking to one of his teammates.
She was tall, not as tall as him, but not average tall with curly red hair that tumbled in waves down her back. She had a tiny waist, long legs, and from what he could tell, nice cleavage. He wished she would turn around, so he could ogle the rest of her body.
As if she had somehow sensed his thoughts, she turned around, and he was struck by the depth of her sky gray eyes. Even though they were hidden behind a pair of glasses.
Sexy librarian glasses.
He frowned as he wondered why he suddenly felt as if he knew her. It was the niggling sensation in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t quite shake it off. He titled his head as he studied her thinking that if he could just put his mind to it, he’d be able to place her.
Maybe he slept with her?
No, that wasn’t. He wouldn’t be likely to forget a redhead with stunning gray eyes. She gave him a smile as she continued chatting with the teammate as he gestured towards David and nodded.
He came towards them with a charming smile. That’s when he noticed the bag, notebook and pen in hand.
She was a reporter.
He didn’t really care for reporters, but anyone as fine as her deserved the time of day, so he leaned against his locker and casually crossed one leg over the other. He didn’t bother taking out his clothes because he wanted her to get a full view of what was in front of her before he began the slow primal dance of seduction.
He could see that she was struggling to keep her eyes on his face and not stare at his defined six pack abs.
“Hello,” she said with a slight lilt he couldn’t place. “I’m a reporter for the New York Times, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions Mr. Westley.”
“Call me, David, please.”
She gave him a confused smile as she clicked her pen. “First of all congratulations on the big win tonight. Your teammates were telling me it would not have been possible to win without you.”
“It was teamwork,” he shrugged as he studied her lips. She flushed as she noticed his gaze and let her hair fall over her face.
“Have you always wanted to be in the NBA?”
“To be honest, I didn’t even know if it was possible for me up until a few months ago when I got transferred.”
She jotted that down. “Where did you get transferred from?”
“I played for this local team in Scotland. I doubt you’ll have heard of them. Anyway, I got lucky because there was a talent scout who was at one of the games, probably more out of boredom than anything else, but he saw me play and offered me a job. A few weeks later, I was on a first class plane to America.”
She looked surprised for a second as her pen hovered over the notebook. She gazed up at him. “Did you say you’re from Scotland?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“Edinburgh?” she guessed as she pushed her glasses up her nose.
“How’d you guess?” Surprise laced his tone as one corner of his mouth quirked up into an amused smile.
“Your accent,” she pointed out. “Also, I’m from Inverness.”
So that was the accent he had detected earlier. It made him homesick to hear his accent, and he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Anyone who is familiar with Scotland would know that the journalist in front of him is a pure Scots woman with her fiery red hair and freckles. He supposed it was considered by some to be a stereotype, but it was still true.
“Aye, a fellow Scot, I see,” he titled his head in acknowledgement thinking that he was suddenly going to enjoy seducing her so much more. He could tell that she was shy, and a bit inexperienced around men who were forward, but he could easily overcome that.
He knew exactly how to get under her skin.
He gave her a pleasant smile as he gestured towards the notebook. “So what other questions do you have?”
“What? Oh, right, yeah. Was it a big adjustment for you moving from Scotland to America?”
“Well, it was at first. America is a far cry from Scotland, but I think I’m adjusting just fine. Everyone has been so warm and inviting.”
He watched as she swallowed.
So she had understood his dirty reference. Not so innocent after all. There was a dirty mind underneath that exterior, he could tell, and he wanted to unwrap it like one unwraps a Christmas gift.
“It’s great that they were so accommodating, and were you worried about being the only Scot on the team?”
“I’m not the only non-American on this team, so that definitely helped.”
“I assume you’re referring your teammate Lucas Ramirez, the Spaniard?”
“That’s right.”
“So you two are close? Best mates you would say?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she jotted down notes in cursive handwriting.
David watched her lips wondering how they’d feel on his, or how they’d feel nibbling on his ear. He’d bet she was a good kisser. He could see she gave whatever she was doing 100%, and he wondered if that translated to the bedroom as well.
He was hoping he’d find out soon.
“Yeah, best mates.” He grinned at the use of the term ‘mate’ but shrugged it off. He ran his hands through his hair causing little rivulets of water to cascade down his face and all the way down his chest.
The redheaded journalist watched in silent fascination as the water trailed down his chest, drawing attention to the smooth hair on his stomach and disappearing behind the towel that barely covered his lower half because of his Scottish genes. Scottish men were usually big in size, so most men’s clothes didn’t do him very well, and towels were no exception.
But that also meant he was well endowed in other places. Something the women he was with often commented on.
“Like what you see?” he asked casually as he watched her freeze like a deer caught in the headlights. She flushed down to her roots, making her face turn a cute shade of red that David found strangely attractive. He wasn’t usually a fan of blushing since it always felt fake to him, but for some reason, on her it looked very sexy.
She cleared her throat and gave him a weak smile. “Anyway,” she pointedly ignored his question as she straightened her back and attempted to look serious by pursing her lips. “It says here your parents are half and half.”
“On my mother’s side, she had a little bit of American and German blood, but my dad was a pure Scot.”
“That explains your name. It’s purely American.”
“My mother swore that if my dad named me Hamish or Fergus, she’d whack him over the head with a frying pan and never again let him into her bed.”
A snort escaped her lips as she chuckled quietly to herself. “Your mum sounds like quite the character.”
David scratched his chin thoughtfully as he smiled to himself over a private memory. “She is.”
“They both still live in Scotland?”
“Of course. They’ve got highlander blood in their veins which means Scotland will always call out to them.”
The redhead dropped her pen, and as she bent over to pick it up, David got a glimpse of her breasts. She was wearing a lacy red bra with black trimmings, and he pictured flinging that bra off and burying himself in between her breasts.
He felt himself harden, and he shifted so she wouldn’t notice.
He didn’t want her to know just yet because if she did, it would just ruin the foreplay. He liked to take his time with women, but damn if the sight of her on her knees on the floor looking for the pen didn’t make him think of all sort of dirty things he wanted to do to her, and have her do to him.
He saw the pen near his foot and tried to bend over to pick it up, but he knew that if he did, the towel would fall off, and he’d be left exposed. He normally wouldn’t mind, but he had a feeling if that happened now, she’d scurry off in fear.
He had to get her to relax first.
“It’s over here,” he said gruffly as he tried to think of other thoughts, non-sexual thoughts to get his hard on to be less prominent.
She crawled towards him and grabbed the pen. When she looked up at him, she accidentally got a peek up his towel, and she turned a deep shade of red and hastened backwards.
“Well, um, I, um,” she leapt to her feet and keep a few feet between them as she let her hair curtain her face. She pulled on the edge of her shirt to try to get her body temperature to go down. “Bit hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Scorching,” he agreed mildly. She gave him a look that let him know she knew exactly what he was talking about.
She wiped her palms on the edge of her pants and took off her glasses. She used the edge of her shirt to clean them, and when she looked back up, he was startled once again by the color of her eyes. He couldn’t decide if she looked sexier with or without the glasses.