Tempting the Player (11 page)

Chapter Twelve

Bridget half expected Miss Gore to play chaperone on their first “date,” so when it appeared they were doing this all on their own she was caught between being relieved and nervous. She hated how bitchy she had been toward Chad, really embarrassed by it, but this was
his
fault.

The ride to the upscale restaurant had been quiet. Not so much awkward as it was tense. Neither of them knew what to say. What kind of icebreaker did you use when you were pretending to date each other?

Bridget was never good at pretending anything. Once in high school, she had tried out for the annual play and was so bad during the auditions, she had run off the stage. There had to have been another woman in the long list of the ones he’d been seen with recently who would’ve been a better choice for this part.

As they pulled up to valet and her door was opened, she couldn’t help but notice how different they were. First, she wouldn’t even attempt to have her busted-ass Camry parked by valet. Secondly, she didn’t eat at places like this. If she had to know what the correct fork was to use for her salad or spoon for her soup, she was so screwed.

Chad appeared in front of her, offering his hand like the dutiful boyfriend. There was a half smile on his face, part teasing and part smug. She stared at him and the third reason why she shouldn’t have been on the list was so glaringly obvious.

Dressed in dark jeans and a V-neck sweater that clung to his trim sides and hard stomach, he looked like he’d stepped right off the pages of a
GQ
magazine. Even his hair, artfully messy, looked like it had been professionally styled for this event.

Bridget tilted her head back and met those incredibly blue eyes. She felt like a troll standing next to him. Not because she thought of herself as that ugly or that fat. Her self-esteem wasn’t completely in the shitter, but she was realistic. Guys like him didn’t date girls like her.

This whole thing was just going to end in humiliation for her.

Chad took the initiative and threaded his fingers through hers. “While I like that you’re just standing there and staring at me, we should go in. You’re not wearing a coat.”

Bridget flushed and started to pull her hand free, but he held on.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, voice light and playful. “Miss Gore said we must hold hands, and I’m following the rules.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Now you’re going to listen to her?”

A look of pure innocence crossed his face. “I’m going to be a good boy…right now.”

The heat that intensified had nothing to do with the fact she’d been caught staring at him. What she’d seen so far of “naughty Chad” was probably nothing to what he was actually capable of.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened on the way into Jaws, but Bridget was surprised by the fact the place didn’t smell of seafood. They were seated immediately in the back, at a table lit by a single candle.

Heads turned like they did in the movies as he pulled out the chair for her and she sat. Being wholly conscious of her surroundings, she told herself not to look, to act as if this were totally normal, but she quickly scanned the restaurant and found that half of the tables were staring at them. Some of the expressions were just curious. Others were staring at him in open wonder and awe. Then, among them, were looks of confusion as their gazes bounced back and forth between the two of them, as if they couldn’t figure out how they were having dinner together.

She took a deep breath. “Everyone is staring.”

“You’ll get used to it.” He took the seat across from her and gave her a little smile, a tight one that showed no teeth and didn’t reveal those dimples of his. “Or they’ll find something else to stare at.”

She hoped they found something soon, since her face was flaming a thousand shades of red. “Did you call ahead?”

Chad unfolded his napkin. “No. But they make sure I always get a good seat.”

Her brows rose. The restaurant was pretty packed, so they had to have kept certain seats open for “special” clients. She couldn’t remember the last time she was seated immediately at a nice restaurant.

A waiter appeared at their table, dressed in a white shirt and black pants. “Chardonnay, okay?” Chad asked.

Bridget nodded, almost wishing for something harder. As the waiter bowed and rushed off to fulfill the order, she searched desperately for something to say, anything, but her mind emptied. She stared at the white votive candle hopelessly, until her eyes must’ve crossed because Chad chuckled deeply.

She forced her gaze up. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, smiling slightly. “It’s just that before this, we talked for three hours straight without a moment of awkwardness.”

Bridget bit down on her lower lip. “We did.”

“So what’s changed?” He leaned back and the sweater stretched over his broad shoulders.

“Well, the fact that both of us are pretending to be dating is different.” Bridget glanced over and saw someone at a few round tables over holding a cell phone up. “And I think someone is taking our picture.”

Chad smirked. “It’ll be on Facebook within seconds.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Does this happen all the time?”

“Yep.”

God, she couldn’t imagine living like that. Then again, she was living like that now, and she really hoped her hair looked great and she didn’t end up with a double chin from holding her head down. The waiter appeared, and she quickly scanned the menu while Chad ordered some kind of surf and turf.

“I’ll have the scallops,” she said, folding the menu and handing it back.

The waiter bowed once more and then dashed off again. Bridget watched him, wondering if he always moved that fast.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Chad asked.

She faced him and wished he weren’t so damn good-looking. Couldn’t he at least have a snaggletooth? Was that really too much to ask for? “That’s enough.”

Chad looked doubtful but wisely didn’t pursue that particular road to hell. “So, I’m dying to know something.”

“I’m afraid to ask.” She picked up her glass and took a sip of wine.

“When we met at the club, why didn’t you tell me you knew Maddie and Chase?”

She cringed inwardly at that question. “I…I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time.”

“I’d think that’s one of the first things people would say.” As he spoke, he ran a fingertip along the rim of his wineglass in a slow, idle circle that drew her attention. “Especially since there is no way that Maddie hadn’t spoken about me.”

“Maybe she didn’t talk about you.” Bridget forced her gaze away from his fingers. “Did you ever think about that?”

His laugh was low and sent a shiver down her arms. “Oh, I know Maddie would’ve talked about me.”

“Your ego never ceases to amaze me.”

Chad smiled, and it appeared he was about to follow that up with a real winner of a response that would’ve reluctantly amused Bridget, but the waiter arrived and steaming plates were placed on their tables. The moment the waiter backed away, Chad was right back on track.

“So, why didn’t you say anything?”

Bridget dropped the napkin in her lap and tugged it into place with quick movements. No way was she going to admit to the real reason. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Just like you’re not attracted to me?”

She sighed. “Back to that again?”

“No.” He smiled and—her little heart jumped—there were the dimples. “You’re just a terrible liar. “

Truthfully, she was.

Chad cut his medium-rare steak as she chased a buttery scallop across her plate. “The answer is yes,” he said.

Her fork froze. “To what?”

He peered up through thick lashes. “Even if I knew you worked with Maddie and you knew my brother, I still would’ve taken you home.”

Bridget’s heart did another cartwheel as she stared at him. How had he known the truth? She didn’t want to look too closely into that. Silence fell between them and as they ate, she noticed he barely drank any of the wine and stuck to the water while he ate with a zest she envied.

She looked up when someone approached the table. It was a cute brunette, barely into her twenties, who wore the cutest red dress with cap sleeves. Her cheeks were flushed as Chad put down his silverware.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you and your friend,” the girl said. “But I’m here with my girlfriend.” She nodded over to a table where a blond-haired girl beamed. “And I just had to tell you that you’re the main reason why I watch baseball.”

Bridget’s lips pursed. Was there any wonder Chad had a gigantic ego?

“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “Good to know I’m doing my part in spreading the love of the game.”

Oh. Eye. Roll.

The girl bit down on a glossy lower lip and placed her hand on the table beside Chad. It was then when Bridget realized she had a piece of paper in her hand. “Call me, okay? Anytime.”

Bridget wondered if she was visible, and she also wanted to dash under the linen-covered table or recreate a jungle scene and take the chick out, which made no sense.

Chad’s smile didn’t fade. “That’s really kind of you, but I’m not available.”

Eyes widening to epic proportions, Bridget went very still as the brunette glanced from Chad to her.

“This is Bridget,” Chad continued. “My girlfriend.”

A dumbfounded look crossed the girl’s face and her mouth opened, but she closed it. Murmuring an apology, she went back to her table, where she immediately started whispering to her friend.

Bridget squeezed her eyes shut.

“Well, that will probably also go out on Twitter,” he said, and she opened her eyes. “What?” he teased. “My relationship status is apparently big news.”

Taking a drink of the wine, she told herself to just keep her mouth shut. Her mouth didn’t listen. “When the picture of us hit the newspaper—”

“A good day for you, I’m sure.”

She took a deep breath. “Some lady approached me on the street as I tried to go to lunch and told me you were good in bed but not out of it.”

“Oh.” He arched a brow. “Well, the ‘in bed’ part is true and it’s been—”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Whoa—why the attitude toward me?”

Was he for real? There was a whole buttload of reasons. Leaning forward, she kept her voice down. “You’ve successfully hijacked my life in a matter of hours.”

Chad frowned. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Really?” she hissed. “Did you slip and fall into bed with three girls and there just happened to be someone there to take a picture?”

His eyes flashed a deep denim blue. “That damn photo. I didn’t sleep with them.”
Bridget didn’t know if she should laugh or throw her wine in his face. “Yeah, said no man ever.”

His eyes rolled. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me? I don’t get it.”

Did he really think she was that dumb? “All of this because you kissed me—”

“And you enjoyed it.”

“That’s not the point, you jerk.” Bridget glanced around. Surprisingly, no one was paying attention to them at the moment. “I have no control over my life now because of you.”

Chad inched forward, too, until only the flickering candle separated their mouths. “And I’ll say it again—how is this my fault?”

“Is anything you do your fault?” she demanded.

“Whatever. You didn’t have to agree to do this.”

“I had no choice. Your publicist from hell blackmailed me.” Surprise flickered over Chad’s face, and Bridget nearly fell out of her chair. “What? Did you think I’d just agree to this?”

“Well, I mean, come on, I
am
Chad Gamble.” Then he smirked.

She was seconds away from throwing her plate of scallops in his face. “God, there are no words sometimes. I know I’m not like the women you normally go out with, but I’m not desperate enough to have to pretend I have a boyfriend.”

A strange look replaced the surprise and he leaned back, folding muscular—she was so not looking at them—arms across his chest. “Yeah, you’re not like them.”

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain sliced across her chest. She jerked back and tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. “Can we call it a night now? I’m sure your adoring public has had their fill.”

The expected cocky response was absent as he signaled the waiter and picked up the check. He did the boyfriend thing. Stood and took her hand in his warm one, and that damn lump ended up between her breasts now.

Outside, she could see people waiting. Someone must’ve updated some social site or made a phone call. Chad went into full acting mode the moment they stepped into the late November air. A camera lightbulb flashed, and he dropped her hand, slipping an arm over her shoulders.

He bent his head, grazing her cheek with his jaw. A fine shiver danced across her shoulders, and she hated how her body wanted to lean into his, just as everyone expected that she would.

His chin continued to her temple, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “You could try to relax,” he murmured. “Because right now, you look like you want to run.”

“That’s because I want to run.” But she forced a smile.

Another bulb flashed, and Chad pressed a kiss to her cheek. Someone had better give that boy an Oscar. “That’s kind of mean.”

As they waited for the valet to bring his car around, several more flashes blinded Bridget. “It’s the truth.”

“Uh huh,” he murmured as he slid his hand off her shoulder and down to the small of her back, causing her to jerk. “What is Miss Gore blackmailing you with?”

The truth formed on the tip of her tongue, but she closed her mouth. The last thing she wanted to share with Chad was how pitifully broke she was, that she could lose her job because of it. “It’s none of your business.”

“Hmm, must be juicy if you don’t want to share.” He stepped in closer and placed his other hand on her hip.

Bridget stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Giving them something to put in the newspaper.”

“You don’t—”

Chad kissed her again.

It was nothing like the one on the side of the street or those in his bedroom. This one started off as a slow, tantalizing sweep of his lips. She forced her lips closed and to remain still in his arms. They could pretend to be dating, but this—the kissing—was so not a part of the plan.