her head back and looked him square in the eye. “Should I be excited?”
Parker arched a brow, amused. “Do you really need me to answer that for you?”
Kelly nodded.
“Then clearly, I have my work cut out for me,” he said, his gaze slipping to her lips.
His gaze was so smoldering that Kelly unthinkingly put a hand to her throat. “Ah . . . when do you want to go on this big fat date?”
“Now,” he said firmly.
“Now?”
“Why not now? I came all the way down here. You said you are through for the day. We could make a day of it.”
“Doing what?”
He chuckled so low that a shiver ran up her spine. “Any number of things come to mind. But I think I will start with taking you to the Museum of Modern Art to try and infuse a little culture into you. And then, over dinner, you can impress me with a recap of my most excellent homerun.”
“Wow,” Kelly whispered. “That sounds so romantic. I think I might be excited.”
“That’s because I’m a very romantic guy,” he said, grinning now, too, dimples and all. “But I haven’t even gotten to the exciting part yet.”
“Ooh, and a little titillation to boot,” she muttered, staring at his mouth.
His fingers brushed hers, and the little shiver shot down her spine and into her groin. “I haven’t even begun to titillate,” he whispered.
Damn it if he hadn’t. Her knees were getting wobbly. But she managed a smile. “Okay. You’re on. Just give me a half hour to finish up here.”
“Great,” he drawled. “I’ll wait for you on the street.” He smiled again, and she noticed for the first time how his sexy smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. Man.
“I’ll be down in a few,” she responded, and stepped back, out of the sphere of his magnetism, which was just one moment shy of sucking her into its vortex.
He gave her a smile that suggested he knew how he stirred her up inside and then casually walked out of the office like a man who left women to melt in his wake all the time. Kelly watched him go, admiring him until Guido scared the crap out of her. “Kelly, are you hot for the Priceman ?” he cried and laughed loudly as he waltzed into the reception area.
“Shut up, Guido,” she shot back and marched in the opposite direction of Parker, ignoring Guido’s guffaws.
“That would make a great show!” he shouted after her, but Kelly had already dived into her office and shut the door, still smiling ridiculously.
That was when she noticed the red light indicating a message on her phone. She instantly picked up the receiver, punching in her voicemail code.
“Ah, hi,” a strange voice said. “This is Dan Brown at ESPN calling for Kelly O’Shay. Kelly, we got your audition tape and thought it was absolutely great.”
Shocked, Kelly fell onto her chair.
“You look great on camera, you’re articulate and funny, and well, we’d love to talk to you about it. You or your agent can give me a call at the following number.”
With a shriek, Kelly grabbed a pen and jotted down the number as best she could with a hand trembling with excitement. Then, to be sure she’d clearly heard what he said, she played it again, and what the hell, two more times. When she was at last convinced ESPN had really called her (and hadn’t called to say anything about her being too fat or too hideous to be on TV, which, of course, she had secretly feared), she twirled around in her chairuntil her heart stopped pounding and before she made herself totally sick, and eagerly dialed the number Dan Brown had left.
“Hello?” she said when a woman answered the phone “ESPN.” “This is Kelly O’Shay calling for Dan Brown.”
“Hold please,” the woman said, and Kelly pinched herself to keep from freaking out.
“Kelly,” Dan said a moment later, just like they were old friends and had worked together for years. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going great ,” she said. “I am so glad you called! I am so glad you liked the
Parker arched a brow, amused. “Do you really need me to answer that for you?”
Kelly nodded.
“Then clearly, I have my work cut out for me,” he said, his gaze slipping to her lips.
His gaze was so smoldering that Kelly unthinkingly put a hand to her throat. “Ah . . . when do you want to go on this big fat date?”
“Now,” he said firmly.
“Now?”
“Why not now? I came all the way down here. You said you are through for the day. We could make a day of it.”
“Doing what?”
He chuckled so low that a shiver ran up her spine. “Any number of things come to mind. But I think I will start with taking you to the Museum of Modern Art to try and infuse a little culture into you. And then, over dinner, you can impress me with a recap of my most excellent homerun.”
“Wow,” Kelly whispered. “That sounds so romantic. I think I might be excited.”
“That’s because I’m a very romantic guy,” he said, grinning now, too, dimples and all. “But I haven’t even gotten to the exciting part yet.”
“Ooh, and a little titillation to boot,” she muttered, staring at his mouth.
His fingers brushed hers, and the little shiver shot down her spine and into her groin. “I haven’t even begun to titillate,” he whispered.
Damn it if he hadn’t. Her knees were getting wobbly. But she managed a smile. “Okay. You’re on. Just give me a half hour to finish up here.”
“Great,” he drawled. “I’ll wait for you on the street.” He smiled again, and she noticed for the first time how his sexy smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. Man.
“I’ll be down in a few,” she responded, and stepped back, out of the sphere of his magnetism, which was just one moment shy of sucking her into its vortex.
He gave her a smile that suggested he knew how he stirred her up inside and then casually walked out of the office like a man who left women to melt in his wake all the time. Kelly watched him go, admiring him until Guido scared the crap out of her. “Kelly, are you hot for the Priceman ?” he cried and laughed loudly as he waltzed into the reception area.
“Shut up, Guido,” she shot back and marched in the opposite direction of Parker, ignoring Guido’s guffaws.
“That would make a great show!” he shouted after her, but Kelly had already dived into her office and shut the door, still smiling ridiculously.
That was when she noticed the red light indicating a message on her phone. She instantly picked up the receiver, punching in her voicemail code.
“Ah, hi,” a strange voice said. “This is Dan Brown at ESPN calling for Kelly O’Shay. Kelly, we got your audition tape and thought it was absolutely great.”
Shocked, Kelly fell onto her chair.
“You look great on camera, you’re articulate and funny, and well, we’d love to talk to you about it. You or your agent can give me a call at the following number.”
With a shriek, Kelly grabbed a pen and jotted down the number as best she could with a hand trembling with excitement. Then, to be sure she’d clearly heard what he said, she played it again, and what the hell, two more times. When she was at last convinced ESPN had really called her (and hadn’t called to say anything about her being too fat or too hideous to be on TV, which, of course, she had secretly feared), she twirled around in her chairuntil her heart stopped pounding and before she made herself totally sick, and eagerly dialed the number Dan Brown had left.
“Hello?” she said when a woman answered the phone “ESPN.” “This is Kelly O’Shay calling for Dan Brown.”
“Hold please,” the woman said, and Kelly pinched herself to keep from freaking out.
“Kelly,” Dan said a moment later, just like they were old friends and had worked together for years. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going great ,” she said. “I am so glad you called! I am so glad you liked the
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