His sharp gray eyes. His dark locks, just long enough for a girl to run her fingers through.
Finishing her drink, she glanced at her watch. She’d wasted two hours and had barely touched the mountain of work she had wanted to plow through.
She might as well give up. Packing up her bag, she decided to head to the market.
She had a dinner to make.
“When’s your meeting with Khalil?” Jaxon inquired.
Speaking with his younger brother on the phone, London leaned against the windowsill, gazing out at the beautiful blue sky.
The two Keith brothers were as close as could be. London was the oldest and loved torturing his younger brother.
They were raised in a small Southern town of Anniston, Alabama. Their parents, Phil and Nora Keith, were blue-collar workers who ensured London and Jaxon had everything they could possibly need when they were children.
Where Jaxon had been a star baseball player, London had been an elite football quarterback.
Both had used their talents to gain full rides to college.
Upon graduating, London knew he didn’t want to pursue playing football professionally. Though he’d been recruited, life in the league just wasn’t for him. His brother, however, signed to play profession baseball.
London realized he wanted to manage players. It was a way for him to merge his love of sports with a profitable way to make money and save his body from the brutality of football.
Sports management.
It was something he was good at.
After obtaining a job at a small firm, he decided to branch out on his own.
His first client—his baby brother.
Jaxon had been doing well in the league, and London had landed a few endorsement deals that ensured his brother would never have to work again once his sports career was over.
That ending came way too soon.
One injury led to a string of others, and within a few years, Jaxon had to give up the bat.
But it wasn’t the end of Jaxon in sports.
He too had got a business degree, and joined London at PSM.
London was only too happy to have his brother join the company. Together, they’d built Primetime Sports Management into what it was today.
“We’re waiting for the season to end,” London replied, running a hand along his face.
A light fragrance floated through the air.
Alana.
Her perfume still clung to his shirt.
He had spent the day trying not to think about his sexy, nerdish neighbor.
He wasn’t sure when he started finding nerdy types sexy, but Alana had it in spades. With her, it wasn’t a bad thing.
“And you’re sure you have it all in the bag? Do you need me there?”
“I think I know what I’m doing,” London scoffed, moving away from the window. Settling down on his couch, he put his feet up on the coffee table.
“I’m just saying, someone like Khalil may need to have a former professional player help him sign with PSM.”
London rolled his eyes at Jaxon’s cockiness.
“While you were still in the leagues, I was signing players. I already have a relationship with Khalil. It’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s going to sign with us.”
London and his organization had a reputation for getting hefty endorsement deals for their players, as well as for their integrity and business sense. PSM was not a company all about the money. They really cared for their players and made them all feel as if they were one big happy family.
“Got any plans tonight? I tried calling you last night, but you never answered. You must’ve been busy,” Jaxon snorted.
“Yeah, I had my hands full.” He didn’t want to think about last night. It was nothing in comparison to the short time he’d spent with Alana.
“How many?”
Visions of Alana’s smile flashed before him.
“It doesn’t matter. When are you coming into town?”
“I should be there in about a month or so, give or take. I’m wrapping things up here first. If I had to choose between Los Angeles and Cleveland, I’d take Cleveland any day. Traffic is a beast out here.”
London chuckled. It was hard getting used to the city life when you came from the country. Their town only had four traffic lights, and a handful of stop signs. Even though both of them had traveled the world over, they still preferred the slower pace of life.
That was another reason London settled his home office in Cleveland. He could get city life and country life in Northeast Ohio.
“Don’t work too hard.”
“What did you just say? I know you aren’t telling me not to work hard,” Jaxon exclaimed. “I’m sure you were working today, on the weekend.”
“I was just reviewing—”
“I knew it! Put up the laptop, big brother. Search through your contact list and decide on a woman to call. Pick her up, wine and dine her, then fuck her. Have a great time.”
London took in his brother’s advice, and it was then he realized something.
He could care less about fucking some nameless woman.
The one he desired was located right across the hall.
And her number was not in his contact list.
Well, that would have to be rectified tonight.
“Nah. For once, I’m staying in,” he mumbled. “I have something better in mind.”
“Oh? What the hell is that?”
“None of your business. Fuck off.”
Disconnecting the call, he tossed his cell onto the couch next to him.
His brother didn’t need to know about Alana. He would ask too many questions.
London wasn’t sure what this was between them, but he felt an attraction.
He was sure she did too.
There was no way the air between them could be that electric and she not feel it.
Getting to his feet, he strolled into his bedroom, wanting to test it again. See if what he felt earlier was still there.
Somehow, he knew it would be.
4
“Don’t burn the bread. Don’t burn the bread,” Alana chanted. She was just finishing tidying up so it wouldn’t appear to look like World War III had started in her kitchen.
The smells wafting through her apartment were divine. Throwing the last bowl into the dishwasher, she turned, satisfied with her accomplishment.
She was proud of her state-of-the-art kitchen. It was one of the perks of living in the building. Everything was top-notch, from the appliances to the marble countertops. The luxury condo was worth every penny.
One good sniff, and the hint of burning bread hit her.
“No!” Grabbing the mitt, she slid her hand inside and opened the door. A sigh of relief escaped her. “Perfect.”
Sitting the pan on the counter to cool, she looked down at herself. If she was going to take a plate over to him, she’d better put on a nicer outfit.
Running into her bedroom in full panic mode, she flung open her closet door and stared at her clothes. Everything she had was for the office or lounging, as it was rare for her to go out. Her usual go-to were jeans and a cute top.
“Apparently, I need to go shopping.”
She eyed her cell phone charging on the nightstand, tempted to call Sofie, but she couldn’t tell her she was making dinner for London. Her best friend would want every detail on how she came to be cooking for Mr. Hotness.