Sweet Spot: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Summer Book 2) by KB Winters

putting out for it.
    He chuckled and swiped the menu from my hands. “What looks good?” he asked, dropping his attention to the menu options. “Besides you?”
    I grabbed the menu back and spun it to face me. “Dude, I’m so not in the mood for smart assed company.”
    My heart hammered in my chest, and I knew I was giving up an opportune moment to ask him some questions and worm my way into an exclusive interview with him. But there was something about him that just worked me up—emotionally and physically—and all I wanted was for him to go away. I was flustered, angry, and hot for him all at the same time.
    Trey looked at me for a long moment, a twisted smile still quirked on his full lips, his eyes sparkling like fucking diamonds. After a few seconds, he dropped it, and looked at me with something I was tempted to confuse with sincerity. As if that was possible for a man like Trey. “Wow. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot here. Josie, right?”
    “Yes, my name is Josie. How impressive that you remembered.” I fisted my hands around the edges of the thick menu cover. I hated not being able to control my thoughts around this man.
    “How could I forget? Let me buy you a drink and dinner or something to apologize.”
    I leveled him with an unblinking stare. “For what?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You said you want to apologize. I’m asking for what. What makes you think you need to apologize?”
    He stumbled for a moment and I internally gave a fist pump of triumph. Boom. I’d thrown him off kilter. “I just mean you seem pissed off about something…”
    “And you think it’s your fault?”
    He chuckled. “Isn’t it? Or you just go around with a bad attitude all the time?”
    I scoffed. “Attitude? Dude, you walked off the plane like you owned it. You act like the whole world revolves around you. I came to have a nice quiet dinner and here you are.” I shook my head. “This isn’t about you.” Or those beautiful muscles straining your shirt.
    He frowned. “Damn, woman, what the hell did I do to you? Usually I don’t get this level of shit until day two…”
    I snapped the menu closed. Trey winced at the slapping sound and it sent a tiny thrill through me. “You’re a funny guy. You won’t even make it past day one.”
    “Wanna bet? You’re in my hotel bar. I’m not in yours.” He laughed. At me. Damn him!
    I leaned over the table and dropped my voice. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Big Shot. And I got a little hungry. I’m not here picking up last week’s has-beens.”
    “Ouch!” he grabbed his chest with his hand, faking a heartbreak. “Baby that hurt!” he laughed. “So what are you doing here? Besides eating? And breaking my damn heart?”
    “You are too much, Trey Delgado!” I said a little louder than I’d wanted to. “I’m a reporter. And yes, I’m following the team. But that’s a far cry from stalking you. I’m not even staying at this hotel! I’m across the street. Just here for a quiet dinner. Although, I think I can safely say that’s not happening,” I added, giving him a fierce glare.
    “A sports reporter, huh?” He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms. “Then why haven’t I seen you with the other sports reporters at practice? I haven’t seen you talking to the team, the coaches, or even the owner. If you’re really following the team, why weren’t you there?”
    Damn, so he had a brain somewhere in his beautiful delusional self. “I’m new to this gig. I’m doing the ten city tour with the team and then I’m done. I’m not a sports reporter.”
    He considered me for a long moment. “You’re here because of me.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Right back into ego-maniac territory, huh?”
    He shrugged. “I’m just calling it like I see it. You don’t have a support crew with you, you’re not a sports reporter, and you’re doing the ten city tour and then you wanna jet. Doesn’t scream sports story to me. Something else is