Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

ink, or cut her hair when she wasn’t looking, all of which had happened in the recent past.
    “A few normal kids are in the room with them,” Jason added with a chuckle, “and they’re terrified, God help them.”
    She started to reply but realized his attention had shifted to something in the distance, so she turned too, just in time to see a huge, bearded guy drinking straight from the champagne fountain.
    “Oh, no .”
    “Yeah, he’s gonna wish he was never born. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    “Don’t be silly. Save the champagne, then go back to the wedding party. I’ve made some friends so I’ll be fine.”
    He seemed torn between his duties as bouncer and loyalty to her. “John and Erica don’t dare mingle. And dancing is out of the question. So you should join us up front. You know Sophie and Dub, right? And you’ll get more time with Decker that way.”
    “I’m good. Just kick some ass.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I forgot to mention how handsome you look in your tux. Don’t get blood on it.”
    “Thanks, beautiful. I’ll check on you later.”
    She watched as he powered through the crowd, grabbed the offender by the back of the collar, and dragged him toward the exit amid bursts of applause.
    What a hunk.
    Still, her heart went out to Erica. She had planned the perfect wedding.
    But instead she gets a brawl.
    The idea of joining another group of strangers depressed her, so she sought out one of the portable bars situated around the ballroom. She didn’t usually drink, even at weddings, except for a sip of champagne during the toasts, but she would make an exception for this particular event. For one thing, the champagne might have whiskers in it, so a cocktail seemed safer. She would order something fancy, take it to her room, and watch TV. If Sean wanted to spend time with her, naked or otherwise, he knew where to find her.
    Then she spotted a reason to stay. Tall, well-built, sinfully sweet, and the most dreamy sight of the day.
    The wedding cake.
    Drenched in white frosting dotted with tiny silver balls and dusted with coconut, the seven-tiered monument had been wheeled out on a huge silver cart and was guarded by four waiters. Lucky thing too, because she suddenly sympathized with the bearded man in the fountain. He had craved a drink, and she totally needed a piece of this.
    So she ordered a cosmopolitan, then hung around the bar for a few minutes, quietly aware of the men in the room. There were so many studs, probably because so many of the guests were professional athletes. Some of them were definitely checking her out. And why not? The ratio of males to females at this wedding was at least two to one.
    Not that it mattered.
    Guys didn’t hit on her. Not ever. Her few romantic relationships had started as friendships, usually because work or school threw them together and eventually the guy—or more likely Rachel—made a move; or because a friend set them up and coaxed them through those first awkward moments when he wanted to run screaming from the building.
    Case in point? A few yards away, three lonely-looking men were clustered together, eyeing her without making a move in her direction. She was tempted to walk up to the cutest one and proposition him.
    He would undoubtedly wet himself.
    It had been hurtful in high school, but by her sophomore year in college, when she finally had her first real boyfriend, she had gained enough confidence in other areas of life to handle it. And because she was analytical by nature, she had eventually collected data on the subject, starting with that very first lover.
    They had met during their freshman year at Yale, forming a nice, platonic friendship. Then during their sophomore year he had finally asked her out on a real date.
    She had liked him a lot. Not love, but a heady combination of affection and attraction. By the time they went to bed, she had been more than ready and had been so relieved—first that it happened at all, and