The Player's Club: Scott Read Online Free PDF Page A

changing meeting locations anyway, we do all the time, so we’ll just vanish. If you don’t want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, that’s understandable. Hell, that’s sane. ”
    Scott felt his stomach start to unclench. He’d satisfied his curiosity, hadn’t he? He knew what they were meeting about. He discovered what he wanted to. Now, he could go back to living his life in relative quiet.
    When was the last time you did something that made you feel as though your life was worth getting out of bed for?
    Scott took a deep breath. From the open hatchway, he watched the sun start to peek over the horizon in shades of salmon and gray. The ground looked very, very far down.
    “Last chance,” Lincoln said. “Just stay on board, and you’ll get dropped off at the airfield. Take one of the limos waiting there. It’ll get you home, no questions, no judgments.”
    Scott waited a long, painful moment.
    He pulled his goggles over his eyes.
    “Let’s do this.”
    He caught Lincoln’s quick grin, making the guy look ten years younger. Within a minute, he was hooked up on Lincoln’s harness. Lincoln told him what the jump would be like, but in Scott’s hyper state, he barely understood a word.
    “Okay, here we go,” Lincoln said. “One…two…”
    Scott held his hands out, feeling the rush of the wind.
    “Three!”
    With that, Scott found himself leaping out of the plane, with nothing but air whooshing between him and the ground.
     
     
    IT HAD TAKEN AMANDA A FEW days from her brunch with Jackie to actually get the courage to ask Scott out to dinner. Now she stood in front of Scott’s apartment, wearing her “sexiest” outfit—a white, eyelet-trimmed tank top over a breezy, silvery skirt, with white sandals. It might not scream “have-wild-hot-sex-with-me,” but it was the best she could manage with what was in her wardrobe. She confessed she mostly had either business outfits, or comfy, grungy clothes.
    If he took the bait, she thought anxiously, she might need some wardrobe improvements. Underwear— lingerie, she corrected herself—at the very least.
    She knocked on his door gingerly. She’d decided the best approach would be to ask him out in the early afternoon, before he went out for the evening. She doubted he spent a lot of evenings home alone. She’d see if she could book some time with him during the week, like a Wednesday night or something. The guy couldn’t be busy every night of the week, could he?
    There was no answer. She knocked again, feeling uneasy. Maybe he wasn’t home. Maybe he was home…and with, er, company.
    This could be bad. Very bad.
    Oh, God, what was I thinking?
    She heard someone fumbling with locks, muttering incoherently. The door swung open wide. “Mmmmhello?”
    She struggled not to gape. There was a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom beyond. At least they were presumably only his clothes…
    Then she got a good look at him and her mouth fell open. He was standing there, just wearing a pair of shorts. Did the guy not own a shirt? Not that she was complaining, but… damn.
    “Um, hi,” she said, biting her lip. His hair stuck out in cute angles, and his eyes were low-lidded, his skin flushed from sleep. He was good enough to eat—as if he’d just gotten out of bed, and would like nothing more than to go right back. She wouldn’t mind joining him.
    What is he doing getting out of bed at one o’clock in the afternoon? Even for a Sunday that seemed a little, well, unusual. On the other hand, not everyone was a morning person like herself.
    She forced herself to focus.
    “Hi,” he said, his voice husky and a touch warmer. He stretched a little, the motion doing nice things for his muscles. She knew she was staring. “Sorry. I was out really late last night. This morning, I mean.” He looked a tiny bit goofy as he sent her a crooked smile, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “What’s up?”
    Her hormone levels were up, for one thing. And