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But, in a blink, she locks her features down, pinning her gaze on our resident prima donna.
“No,” she says simply. “I don’t watch football. If that’s a prerequisite, I’m afraid I’m not right for this job. But, if you would rather have someone who understands people and aesthetics and knows how to reinvigorate your fan base instead of some knot-for-brains, who’s probably just interested in kissing your butt and getting box seats, then maybe you should give me a chance.”
Usually, as our pack leader, it makes me twitchy to watch other people put the guys in their place. I don’t even like to watch Coach Henshaw reprimand Theo or Declan on the field.
But this feels different.
For one, she really is adorable.
As if she realizes she might not look intimidating enough, she tosses a cocky hip and narrows those big blue eyes at the man who just insulted her, waiting for his retort. Declan stares back at her for a beat, wrestling with his options.
Damn. She really did nail him.
Very deliberately, Megera Reed slides her attention from Declan and shoots it toward the door before blinking back to him. Wordlessly suggesting that she may just turn around and walk out the door if he says the wrong thing.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t have to bark or snap to get Declan’s head out of his ass. He shifts, sitting forward and begrudgingly reaching for the stack of papers she pushed toward us.
Rage shifts in his eyes, his expression seething. But he picks up a packet and starts to read.
And, this time, I do smile.
“Have a seat, Miss Reed.”
chapter
four
I have to get out of here.
Now.
How I even managed to last three minutes is beyond me. The second their scents assaulted me, my vision tunneled. My heart’s been stuttering in response to so many alphas staring at me…
Smelling so utterly edible.
Walking into the interview was like getting hit in the face with all of my wildest dreams. Three exceptionally striking men, sprawled around a conference table. The elegant, dangerous billionaire; a gorgeous Black man in sexy Clark Kent glasses; and one international sex symbol wearing gray freaking sweatpants.
Am I gaping like a fish?
Drooling?
Oh. Em. Gee.
Deliciously Dangerous has on a black suit with an open-collar onyx shirt underneath. It makes his glowing, gray eyes even more arresting. A matching head of short, black hair and stubble covering his wide jaw. The curls of a solid, thick tattoo creep over his sternum. I notice a matching tail of ink wrapped around the top of his left hand.
The man with glasses and a flawless brown complexion has a tattoo, too. I just barely make out a thin geometric pattern peeking out from the rolled sleeve of his white button-down. It ends halfway down his forearm, tapering into large hands with long fingers. Between his loafers, slacks, glasses, and impressive physique, he gives off hot professor vibes.
And then, of course, there’s THE Declan Howard.
All my research pointed to quarterbacks being more compact than other football players, but Declan is pretty massive. His shoulders ripple under his black Ospreys T-shirt, his forearms and the black feathers inked over his left bicep bulging when he adjusts himself to glare ice-blue daggers at me.
Well, then.
I just about manage not to drop my jaw to the floor. But the second my eyes adjust to their otherworldly hotness, three incredible scents slam into me.
The mouth-watering aroma of fresh-churned ice cream hits first—vanilla beans and smooth lusciousness. A blend of rich liquor and spice comes next. It’s as mysterious as it is delectable—warm layers of bourbon and ginger that somehow elevate the vanilla cream.
Then there’s smoke. The deep, almost-sweet aroma of a bonfire. Earthy woods, crackling flames. It makes the vanilla sweeter and the spice more pungent.
