Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

giving me a ’don’t fuck this up’ look.
    The second the door had shut, Barton broke out into a big victory grin. I hated that he’d gotten his own way once again, even though it did at least mean I’d gone up in Leona’s estimations. Now I just had to find a way to not fuck this up.
    I took a seat opposite Barton, and folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you here?” I asked.
    “Because I need your help,” Barton replied.
    “There are plenty of other people here who can help you.”
    “Ah yes, the ‘other’ intern. You never told me you were an intern.”
    “You never asked. And trust me, you’ll like Jessie. She’s your type.”
    “What’s my type, exactly?” Barton asked.
    I thought back to the women I’d seen flocking around Barton Friday night and in the photos. To give him some credit, he certainly didn’t discriminate. Barton was an equal opportunity sleazebag.
    “Easy women,” I replied.
    “I’m offended,” Barton replied, clearly not offended. “I’ll have you know, I quite enjoy a challenge.”
    “No you don’t. You might think you do, but eventually you’ll get bored of me rejecting you and you’ll wander off to the nearest available woman.”
    “What makes you think I was talking about you?”
    I pursed my lips and frowned, but Barton didn’t look in the least bit perturbed. “I was just giving an example.”
    “It’s okay, I was talking about you. But I don’t think you’ll prove to be that much of a challenge. It would take no more than two weeks. The real challenge would be having you in this office, right here, right now.”
    “You’re not ‘having me’anywhere. I can’t sleep with clients.”
    Shit, Kristi, that wasn’t the right thing to say. It just slipped out. The correct response would have been ‘I don’t sleep with assholes who would rather look at their own reflection than me.’
    I sounded like I did want to sleep with him, and Barton noticed, because of course he did. He smiled, but didn’t comment on my slip-up. That just made it even worse. It was like he wasn’t even surprised.
    I never slept with men like Barton. Okay, so I didn’t sleep with many men period, but even if I did, men like Barton would be right at the bottom of the list. Tasha constantly pleaded with me to ‘let my hair down’ and hook up with a guy who had more muscles than brain cells. She certainly had fun doing that, but the two of us were as different as sisters could be when it came to taste in men.
    Tasha would love to spend time with Barton. The two of them would already be going at it on this table. I should set them up, but… that just wouldn’t feel right. I didn’t know why. Or maybe I did, and just didn’t want to admit it.
    “This isn’t going to work,” I said softly. “I’m not going to work for a client who just hits on me all the time.”
    “Yes you are.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    Who the fuck did he think he was? Were all rich, famous people this fucking irritating and arrogant?
    “You are going to work with me,” Barton replied, “because you’ll get to spend more time with me, and I know that’s what you want.”
    “I very much doubt you know what I want, Mr. Fenner.”
    “I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you. Right now, I reckon you want me to walk over there and stand behind you. You want me to reach a hand down your blouse and cup your breast, as I kiss your neck softly. Then I’ll pull you up by your hair, and—”
    “This is a business meeting,” I snapped. I had to look angry to control the redness spreading across my face. I quickly crossed my legs, as my desire started spreading throughout my body. Again, Barton noticed. He never missed any of the signs.
    “Okay, then I’ll give you the business reason. You’re only here for the summer, correct?”
    I nodded, relieved to actually be talking business for once.
    “And you want a job here after graduation?”
    I nodded again. “Here, or somewhere similar.”