I’m not sure I’ve ever sweated this much in my entire life.

I rub my soaked palms against my black pants-clad hips and draw in a steadying breath. “I’ve got this,” I chant to myself for the twentieth time as I stare up at the huge glass-and-steel skyscraper. The Baldwin Corporation is inside this building. It’s just a job interview. I don’t need to be so nervous.

No, actually, it’s just my dream job. The career I’ve wanted since I learned what a sports agent is and how they grow the careers of sports professionals. I wanted to do that. I still do. It’s what I went to school for.

It doesn’t help that I’ve had a mad crush on the owner of The Baldwin Corporation since he played for the New York about seven years ago. And how could I not? He’s tall, built, gorgeous…and totally unattainable. I’m not here to date him though.

I’m here to talk him into hiring me.

Ryker Baldwin, phenom pitcher who was in the World Series his first year playing—and blew out his arm throwing the seventh-game-winning pitch.

The man who built The Baldwin Corporation from scratch after suffering from a career-ending injury, turning the place from a one-man show representing a few big-name sports clients into a multi-billion-dollar company. And until recently, the company was touted as one of the most influential in the sports industry. He was the man guaranteed to get his clients maximum dollars and endorsements.

Now, due to a scandalous embezzlement from a well-trusted senior agent, the company is bleeding money…and clientele. Enough so that I think they’re probably desperate for help. I’m hoping I can convince Ryker to hire me and help them get back on their feet.

No big deal, right?

My heart gives an erratic thud at the prospect ahead of me. I don’t want to fail. I want him to take a chance on me. I believe in the company mission, and I want this job. When I saw it by chance online a few weeks ago, my heart seized and I flipped out. Applied for the position. And just about died when I got the email saying they were open to interviewing me, though they were ideally seeking agents with experience and a clientele base. I knew this would be my one big chance with the company.

So I’m just gonna go in there and give it my all.

“Get your shit together, Andrea,” I utter under my breath. Thankfully, since it’s New York City, no one else gives a crap that I’m the crazy lady talking to herself. We’re a dime a dozen in this city. I draw in one more long breath, exhale through my nose, then enter the rotating glass door.

The long, long ride up the elevator gives me time to practice what I’m going to say. I keep my voice even and recite my important catch phrases—how I can help them stem the damage, how I can help them grow their clientele base despite my inexperience.

I exit the elevator and keep my chin high. Confidence. That’s the key. I learned that much from my dad and brothers. I can’t show any weakness—not in this industry. I walk up to the front desk and say, “Hi, I’m here for my interview with Mr. Baldwin.”

The woman who sits there is in her fifties, and she looks impeccable. Her bright pink dress suit glows against her dark brown skin. She has her black hair pulled back into a smooth twist. “You’re Andrea Bradshaw, yes? I’m Marietta. Mr. Baldwin will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”

I thank her and sit down at the row of seats across from his office. My heart is thrumming like crazy now. I try to steady myself by breathing slowly, the way I learned in one of my meditation apps, but that technique isn’t working for me. My hands are trembling, and I’m anxious as hell. It feels like everything is hinging on this interview. Maybe I’m inflating the importance of this, but it doesn’t seem like it. Because I want this. I need this. Not only for myself, but to prove something to my family.

I’m not wasting my time pursuing this career, despite what they say. I’m ready to prove them wrong and make them eat their words.

The door to his office opens, and then there Ryker is. I almost stumble rising to my feet. He’s even more gorgeous in person—dusky blond hair, strong jawline, his dark gray suit molding to his perfect lean body. He’s a god, and I’m reminded just by looking at him how much I’m only a mere mortal. It crushed me when he got injured at the end of the last game of the World Series, and those injuries ended up causing him to retire from the game. I loved watching him play.

And those eyes. Those piercing brown eyes. Right now, they’re looking right through me, like he can read my mind. I never expected him to scrutinize me in such a thorough, unnerving manner, and it makes me wonder how I’m going to get through this interview without losing my mind and blurting out my teenage crush on him.

“Andrea?” he murmurs, and I give a wordless nod, rendered little more than a dummy at this point. Star-struck. I told myself I was gonna play it cool, not act like I was a crazy fan. But that was before I saw him standing here in front of me, with his big hands and those sexy lips and God, those eyes that break me apart.

So yeah, I can admit to myself that my crush on him is still alive, despite what I told myself. Alive and fertile and way out of control.

But I’m going to be cool. I stand up and nod. “That’s me.”

“Come into my office.” He turns and leaves without waiting to see if I follow.

I bite my lower lip and do as he says, closing the door behind me. I know my worth. I know I can help the company get back on track. I just need to sell him on the idea.

I take a seat in the plush brown leather chair across from his desk. Rest my hands in my lap and stare evenly at him. My pitch will have to be focused on my drive to succeed, since my resume is painfully thin.

True to form, he flips open a manila file folder and peers over the two pages. “So tell me why you’re interested in working here.” He says this without looking up at me.

I draw in a slow breath. “Sports are my passion. I’ve watched them since I was a kid, learning about player stats and the rules of the game. I believe I can be an asset to your company due to my enthusiasm and knowledge in a variety of sports.” I keep my gaze fixed on him. “Especially since I’m a woman. I’ve noticed a lack of female agents at your company, and I believe the diversity can help you guys.”

He glances at me for a moment, then looks at my resume again. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His face is a mask—he’s far better and more experienced at the playing-it-cool game than I am. “Oh. Is that right?” He pauses. “So you’re a baseball fan, Andrea?”

I pause. Truth is, I’ve been watching baseball since I was a kid. Especially because of my crazy crush on him. But I can’t tell him that. I’m trying to present a professional demeanor, and gushing about how much I loved watching him play—the way he gave his heart and soul to each game—would make me sound like a rabid fan, not a potential employee. “Um, yes. Of course.”

“Did you follow the New York teams?”

My cheeks burn as I lie, “I…was more of a Boston fan.”

Ryker looks away from me and says blandly, “Thank you for coming in.” It’s clear he’s trying to end the interview before I’ve even had a chance to tell him my ideas. Because I didn’t say I was in love with his team? Part of me is crushed. The bigger part of me is irritated.

“So you’re not even gonna give me a real shot?” I find myself blurting out. I know it’s probably a bad idea to argue, but I can’t help it. I’m frustrated. I want a chance to prove myself.

That gets him to finally look at me. “What?”

“Is it because I’m a woman?”

He scoffs at me, his eyes turning dark. “That’s a ridiculous accusation.”

“What’s ridiculous is you kicking me out of here before even listening to me.”

He exhales hard and rakes a hand through his short-clipped hair. “I’ll be blunt. This is a dirty business. And as I’m sure you know, my company is in crisis. I need someone who can take the heat, someone with a bit more…” he pauses, “seasoning than you have. A person who can handle the lumps that are bound to occur, given the rocky territory The Baldwin Corporation finds itself in right now.”

The words Ryker expresses here are frustratingly close to what I’ve heard from my father and even my brothers. The idea that a girl is too “soft” for the tough, male-dominated world of business. That I can’t deal with the hard hits.

“You’ll never cut it,” my dad would say to me as he cracked open a beer. The derision in his eyes was clear. I was just a girl. I should have stuck with playing with Barbies instead of studying sports stats. What could I ever do with that kind of knowledge, anyway?

My face flushes with a deep, burnished heat from years of frustration. I stand up and look down at Ryker. The man who is my crush. The man who is going to crush my dreams. “I’m aware of your company’s public relation troubles,” I say coolly. “I’m guessing you’re not looking for junior agents because you need people who can bring in bigger clients immediately due to losing so many of your own. Am I right?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “But maybe,” I say, leaning over and planting my hands on his desk as I stare at him, “a little fresh blood is what’s called for right now. After all, the last ‘seasoned’ veteran you had absconded from your company with millions of dollars.”

Ryker just stares at me. I can see emotions flickering across his eyes—shock. Anger. And something else…something that makes me feel aware of myself. Something dangerously close to arousal.

But it can’t be. There’s no way this man would be sexually aware of me. He’s a celebrity. I’m a nobody.

Tension crackles between us for a moment.

“Have a seat, Andrea,” he finally murmurs.

I can’t help it. I do as he commands. Sit back down in my seat. But I don’t stop looking at him. I need to see what he’s thinking, feeling.

“You’re right,” he says. “Things have been garbage for us because of Damon.” Of course I recognize the name of the agent who stole money from clients, promising to help with financial needs but embezzling from them instead. When the news hit, it was all over ESPN for weeks as they commented on more clients leaving the firm, one after another.

“I can help,” I say in a heated tone, hoping my passion comes through. “Give me a chance. I’m new and I’m eager. I’ll work hard for you. For the company.” I move my hands to my lap. “You won’t regret it, Mr. Baldwin.”

“Ryker,” he says flatly. “You can call me Ryker.”

A small thrill shoots through me. Does this mean…?

He rubs the bridge of his nose. “New blood might help,” he admits. “But you don’t have any experience, and I’m not sure I have the time to mentor a new agent, not when I have to focus everything on this job.” He drops his hand and eyes me. The intensity in his gaze unnerves me. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me, but it’s clear he’s aware of me on a deeper level than I anticipated. There’s a strange, unspoken understanding.

I wait it out. Let him wrestle with whatever is going on inside of him. He narrows his eyes as he scrutinizes me. I know what he sees—someone eight years younger than him, fresh out of college. A girl, barely worth addressing. Certainly not ready for the craziness of the sports industry. At least not in his opinion.

Maybe he isn’t going to hire me after all. I can detect the heavy wariness in his eyes. The fact that I’m so inexperienced. He believes he needs senior agents. What good can I do for him immediately? I can’t—it will take time for me to get acclimated, though I’d bust ass doing so as fast as possible.

I don’t let myself look away. I stare at him, hard. If nothing else, he’ll see that I’m not one to back down from a challenge. My dad and brothers bust my balls constantly…so to speak. I learned how to have a backbone because of them. To fight for what is important to me and not give in. I’m sure as hell not going to stop that now.

Not when everything is on the line.

My nose itches, but I refuse to scratch it. I keep my hands in my lap. Refuse to even give away that little bit of vulnerability.

“Clients may not want to sign with you,” he finally says in a low, warning tone. “And not just because you’re a woman. You’re going to have to work harder than everyone else to prove yourself.”

A dizzying rush sweeps through me at his words. Oh God. He’s going to hire me.

“There are pitfalls to working at this company,” he continues. “We’ll be going 24/7. Nonstop. You’ll have to put your life on hold while we get back on track and grow our business to where it used to be.”

Shock and happiness flood my veins. I’m in. I’m in. I don’t even know what to say. “It’s fine,” I find myself stuttering. “I’m ready to do this.” Hell, at this point, I’d agree to just about anything.

“I’m bringing you on as a junior agent. You’ll mentor directly with me so I can ensure high standards in your training.” Ryker stands from his chair and peers down at me. His presence is intimidating, and it’s hard not to bow to it. But I’m an employee here now. I’m not going to let myself cave. I’m going to stand strong and keep my chin high. After all, I just broke into one of the most elite sports agencies in the city. And as a woman fresh out of college.

This is a big deal.

Ryker tells me to come back on Monday and bring the necessary documentation with me. Reiterates the salary and goes over a few basic details about the company benefits. I’m excited and frightened, pins and needles rioting through my system. But I play it cool. Shake his hand like it’s nothing.

Like I don’t feel a jolt of electricity when we touch.

He pulls his hand back quickly, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s maybe regretting hiring me. But I vow to make him proud of his decision, to make myself proud. I’m going to kick ass and take names. Help The Baldwin Corporation get back on its feet. Yes, there was a bad agent who ruined things. But I still believe in them, in their motto, their principles. I believe I can help them get back to good.

I’ll make sure Ryker believes it too. He’s giving me a chance, and I’m not going to let him down.

As I make my way back to the elevator, I’m shaking with excitement. And fear. I can’t believe I landed this job. Now I have to actually do the work…and work closely with a man I’ve been crushing on for years.

Daria, my best friend since high school and current roommate in our tiny apartment, is totally going to say “I told you so” when I tell her. She of course was rooting for me, even as she teased me about throwing the interview by humping his leg. She knows about my crush and has listened to me gush about Ryker. Hell, she basically pushed me into applying for the position when she saw it in the paper. She got into her dream job at a marketing agency last month, and since then, she’s been hounding me about my own career opportunities.

We are so going to celebrate tonight.

I practically skip as I head to the subway and ride to my stop. Walk the several blocks to my apartment complex. Daria and I moved here a couple of months ago. New York in the beginning of November is brisk and vibrant. People busy staring at their cell phones hustle around me as they make their way to their destination.

Very different pace than our small town in Connecticut. Different and exciting.

I’m here.

I made it.

I have a real job, my first. And a doozy at that. I cannot fail. I refuse to fail. I listened to my family give me shit about my dreams for long enough. Today, I get to tell them how I succeeded, despite the obstacles.

I burst into my apartment. “Daria,” I shout.

She pops her head out of the bathroom, clearly in the middle of coloring her hair. It’s a vivid dark red, a gorgeous contrast to her rich, golden-brown skin. “You’re home quicker than I thought. Tell me everything. You’re not crying, so I assume it didn’t go horribly.”

I walk over to her and say quietly, “I got the job.”

She squeals and drops her hair color bottle with a splat in the bathroom sink, grabbing me and squeezing me tightly. Her hair color is pungent, burning my eyes, but I ignore it and hug her back. She’s been my best supporter for years, and feeling her love and encouragement right now gives me the boost I need. “Holy shit! We’re going out to celebrate. And we’re dressing like sluts and picking up hotties.”

I laugh and pull away, kissing her on the cheek. “Somehow I knew you’d say that. Where do you want to go?”

Daria rattles off the name of a bar I’ve never heard of, somewhere she went with coworkers last week. I’m more the type to hole up at home than go out and party. But tonight, I’ll push that aside and have drinks with my bestie. Help her pick up a hot girl or guy. Maybe even dare to flirt with a man myself.

Not that he’ll stir me the way Ryker did. God, seeing him in person…the massiveness of his body, the way his presence ate up the whole room…his intensity and sexuality…how am I going to live with that every day and keep my sanity?

No matter. Tonight isn’t the night for stressing about those things. Tonight, I’m going to celebrate and relax. I’ve earned this.

Daria finishes getting her hair done and getting ready. We have a couple of pregame shots and then walk down to a bar several blocks away. I sensibly wore flats and do my best to not tease her as she titters along the uneven sidewalk in her heels. Still, she’s definitely attracting attention, so I can’t bust her chops too hard.

We step down into the basement level and then head to a back corner with plush couches. A waitress takes our orders, giving Daria a once-over as she does.

“Ooh, she likes you,” I whisper when the woman leaves.

Daria flushes and crosses her long legs. “You say that about everyone.” She’s not seriously dated anyone since we arrived in the city. I know she’s focused on her job, the way I’m going to be. But unlike me, she is much more outgoing and flirty. Not that it’s resulted in anything serious.

“Get her number,” I say. “Do it. Do it. Do it.”

She slugs me in the arm, and as pain shoots through the muscle, I grimace.

“That hurt!” I protest.

“Stop being a pushy douche,” she says sweetly.

“Then stop being a chicken shit,” I grumble as I rub the wounded limb.

Our drinks arrive, and we sip on the cocktails. Mine is refreshing, with a hint of cucumber.

I can understand Daria’s hesitance in being bold with our waitress, despite the signs she’s being given. Daria has been hurt in the past by women who view her bisexuality as a chance to experiment with women. She’s nervous about being used and discarded. I have held her more than once as she’s sobbed in my arms about her heart being broken. Swore that I’d hurt anyone who did that to her again.

I know she’d do the same for me.

Daria peers at me over her glass. “So tell me what happened.”

I sip my drink. “He interviewed me and offered me a position.” I know my words are generic and unsatisfying. And that she’s going to give me shit about it.

Daria doesn’t disappoint. She quirks a brow. “Right. So you just went in, talked for a few minutes about the position, and nothing else happened.”

I refuse to make eye contact with her. Take a swig of my cocktail. “It didn’t last long. Straightforward, I guess.”

“You’re the worst liar in the history of America.” She sighs.

I finally look at her. “What do you want me to say? That he’s even hotter in person than on TV? Because he is. And…” I can feel my cheeks burning.

Her eyes see right through me. “Honey. We both know you’ve been crushing on him for years. Just protect your heart. You know how these sports men are.”

“Like you wouldn’t bang the USA Men’s Soccer Team if you had the chance,” I grumble as I peer into my glass.

Daria snorts hard. “And the women’s team too, while I’m at it. But that’s different. That will never happen. I’ll never work for them, so no opportunity to get close. Not like you.”

Shortly after we got our apartment here in the city, she landed a job working for a large investment firm. Daria is a whiz at finances—it was the perfect fit for her. Sports are just a hobby for her.

Not for me. They’re my passion. The air I breathe. I’ve spent hours and hours learning about my favorite players, their stats, understanding the rules of play. It wasn’t just because my dad and brothers were into sports, though that got me started on watching the games. It eventually became my own passion.

I wanted to be involved. I’m not athletic, but I am intelligent. I can rattle off pro stats like no one’s business, especially in baseball and basketball. I know I can analyze an athlete’s career and help him or her decide what is the best direction—hell, I made a game of it in college as I watched newbies break into their careers. I was drawn to Ryker’s company because they work with athletes of many different fields. More opportunity to grow and evolve.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a 212 area code. Normally I let calls I don’t know go to voicemail, but something makes me answer. “Hello?”

“Andrea. It’s Ryker. I know I said I’d see you Monday, but I need you to come in to the office tomorrow morning, instead.” His voice is deep and rich over the phone. “We’re going to fly out to California to see a potential client.”

My heartrate kicks up to about five times its normal speed. I glance at Daria in panic, and she must recognize the look on my face, because she squeezes my knee in sympathy. “Um,” I say, “okay. What time should I be there?”

“Eight,” he says. “Don’t be late. I’ll have a limo take us to the airport. We have a private plane we’ll take. And pack a bag—we’ll be staying there overnight.” Ryker hangs up without saying goodbye.

I stare at my phone for a moment in shock. Well, that just happened. “Guess my work is starting earlier than I thought,” I murmur, dragging my lower lip between my teeth. “I’m going to fly out with him tomorrow to meet a potential client.”

But why me? I know Ryker has a couple of agents still working with him, likely far more senior than I am. Why wouldn’t he have them go out to meet this client? Is this going to be the start of my training? What will be expected of me? I look over at Daria.

She must be able to see the question in my eyes. “Hey,” she soothes. “It’s going to be fine. You were born to do this job. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

I lean over and hug her. “I wouldn’t make it without you.”

“I know,” she says as she squeezes me back. “So you’d better get your celebrating in now, because you have an early morning ahead of you.”