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Being a sports agent had to mean London didn’t want for anything financially. She’d heard that agents got a percentage of their athletes’ monies, and if the client signed a crazy contract, London would reap in the benefits.
That was how he could afford the condo in their building.
And it certainly explained the beautiful women.
Alana, on the other hand, used money from her inheritance to buy her luxury home. Her parents, God rest their souls, had died a few years ago, a year apart from each other.
Her father, Max Thornton, had died from a long, drawn-out fight with colon cancer. Her mother, Anna Thornton, was said to have died from a broken heart almost a year to the day her beloved husband had died.
Between her parents’ life insurance policies, Alana—as long as she budgeted—could live her life comfortably, while supplementing it with her income from her job.
“I’m the one who helps negotiate on behalf of my clients for their contracts and endorsements.” Reaching for his wine, London took a hefty sip. “My work is boring. What about you? What does Alana do for a living?”
“Nothing as interesting as you,” she snickered. “I work for Medical Health as a financial analyst. My job would really bore you. If you ever have trouble falling asleep, I can come over and start talking about what I do. I guarantee you’ll be out like a light in no time.”
London barked a laugh, and she felt a small smile playing on her lips. When he cut into the lasagna, she watched anxiously as he lifted it to his lips.
Closing his mouth around the fork, his eyes fluttered closed.
She needed to get laid.
Quick.
Fast.
And soon.
She shouldn’t be close to orgasm watching a sexy man enjoy his food.
Food that she cooked for him.
“Alana,” he groaned before opening his eyes.
She gave him a smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? Jesus, woman, I’m in love.”
Relieved, Alana dug into her food, not batting an eye when London went in for seconds, and a third helping.
The wine bottle was soon empty, as were their plates.
Alana wasn’t sure when they’d made it to the couch. They’d turned the television on to a movie, but they ignored it, talking the night away.
She had learned much about him. Not only did he run the company, but his brother worked with him. He spoke of his college football days, which explained his perfect physique.
She felt comfortable and relaxed with London. They were sharing some of their most embarrassing stories from their teenage years.
“I don’t believe it.”
“I swear, I never thought my hair would grow back.” She chuckled, thinking of the time she and Sofie had given each other perms. The chemicals were too strong and burned Alana’s hair. She had been left with a large patch missing in the back, and she ended up having to cut her hair pixie short. “The painful things women have to go through to look beautiful.”
“Glad I’m not a woman.” London shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think I can go through what you all do.”
Alana wasn’t sure when they had gotten so close to each other. London’s arm was lying across the back of the couch, and she was practically tucked into his side.
He studied her, just as she took the time to do the same to him.
Reaching up, she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear and whispered, “This was fun.”
