Quarterback: Bad Boy Sport Star Romance. Read Online Free Page A

over me. Now my eyes were all over him. He had been drafted by the Seahawks after graduation, and I had come to work as a curator in New York; we never really saw each other again after that one night.
    “Kasey?” Genevieve’s voice rings across the empty space of the gallery. “Cater-waiters are good to go.”
    I pull my eyes from the picture, and I can feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment to have been caught there once again. “Great,” I say, forcing a casual smile. “Let Mr. Thornton know we’re ready for him, and then bring on the crowds.”
    This is my first solo-curated show, but it’s hardly my first opening. It doesn’t take long for me to settle into the routine of checking on my artist, making sure the hors d’oeuvres keep coming, chatting up potential buyers. There’s hardly a moment to pause and appreciate the work, which is a good thing. At least I won’t get caught staring at Action Jackson again.
    The party is just settling into the mid-evening buzz when I feel it.
    No one ever looks at the curator during an opening. Why would they? The artist is by far the more interesting person, and the art is by far more attractive. When things are running smoothly, I fade into the background as much as possible, available for questions, but mostly unnoticed.
    But tonight, I feel it. Someone is watching me, someone with a warm gaze that still sends a shiver down my spine.
    I try to ignore it, focusing instead of checking in with Jens, refilling his wine, and touching base with the caterer.
    It’s the caterer who ruins it for me. Lori has been my closest friend since college, and I always use her for openings. This is the first time I’ve ever regretted that decision.
    “Damn, Kasey,” she says, sending off an aspiring actor with a tray of mini quiche. “You didn’t tell me some of the models would actually be here. I’m swimming in a sea of man candy.”
    “Down girl,” I say, shaking my head in amusement.
    “I’m just saying. This room is full of prime cut… Hey!”
    “What?” I ask, immediately on red alert for some emergency I didn’t spot.
    “Isn’t that Action Jackson?”
    I assume she’s referring to the photograph, and that’s where my eyes go, but a moment later, I know the truth. I turn my head toward the warm gaze that’s been following me all night, and now I know who is on the other end. Our eyes meet, and it’s like a shock of cold water washing over me. I suck in a sharp breath, and for a moment, it’s like I’m still back in college, and I remember with perfect recall the warmth of his lips on my throat, his hands on my thighs, his…
    He turns away, and I have to clear my throat before I can answer Lori. “I...I think it is. I didn’t think he’d fly out from Seattle for this.”
    “Maybe he just really needs the ego boost.”
    “Maybe,” I agree, but I don’t think that’s it at all.  From everything I’ve seen about him in the news and on the internet, Action didn’t need any affirmation that he was wanted. Every week, there was another story about him with a supermodel or actress or--once famously--porn star.
    Not that I was following news of him, exactly, but I’m a football fan, and that kind of goes with the territory. It’s always surprised me when I see those stories. I’d believe it of some of the guys from college. Jude Harris, for instance. He seemed to enjoy the attention in a way that Mal didn’t. Mal had always struck me as the kind of guy who wanted a quiet place to hide from all of the attention.
    Which made it all the more incredible that he’d showed up at the opening. When I dare another glance in his direction, there is a crowd of, mostly women, hanging on his every word. His head turns again in my direction, and I quickly look away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him moving toward me, and my heart starts to race. This is the one possibility I was not prepared to handle tonight because it seemed so completely