It was almost a shame she was going to be in charge of the scavenger hunt, and unable to take part in it, because she would have loved to play side by side with Trevor. But she still intended to have a great time managing the festivities.

The caterers were setting up in the expansive dining room, as well as the breakfast bar in the kitchen. An extremely competent staff of four people who clearly knew what they were doing put up tables and covered Trevor’s dining room table to serve the food. Trevor also informed her he was going to have bar service.

Bar service. Sure . . . why not?

This was so far outside the realm of her life, but hey, at least it made for interesting observations about his.

He threw impromptu parties for his teammates. And, he’d explained to her, because the rookie tight end had some kind of attitude issue.

She couldn’t quite make the connection between the rookie’s problem and inviting him to a party.

Maybe that was a guy thing. If it were her and one of her coworkers was copping ’tude, she’d ignore them. Or tell them to f**k off.

But that was her, and in her world, things were obviously different.

Men were certainly different. She’d showered after her day of running around, curled her hair and done her makeup, then put on a sundress and sandals. Though why she was primping she had no idea. Especially since she came downstairs and saw Trevor in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt, which showcased his awesome arms. Once again, his body took center stage.

The guy was ripped. She was going to have to quit ogling all the photos she’d taken of him. It was kind of obsessive, in a weird stalker-girlfriend kind of way.

She laughed at herself.

“You’re all dressed up,” he said as he looked up and smiled at her. “You look beautiful.”

Okay, worth the compliment, though it shouldn’t matter to her. “Thank you. Obviously, considering how you’re dressed, this is very low-key.”

“Very. The guys know not to dress up, but you’ll see some of the women dressed like you.”

“Is that right.”

“Yeah.”

“And there will be actual women here?” She’d gone over the list of attendees with him, and he’d given her names of couples, so she hoped he wasn’t wrong about that.

“Promise. Most of the guys will bring wives or girlfriends. Unless they’re not seeing anyone.”

“Okay.” Not that she cared. In the sportscasting world, she’d have to get used to being around athletes, and a lot of those athletes were going to be men.

“Which, I guess, makes you my date for the night.”

She felt a little flutter in the vicinity of her stomach. “I’m not your date. I’m a sports reporter, remember?”

He leaned in, and she caught his just-showered scent. Resisting the urge to breathe deeply, she took a step back. She had to act like a professional tonight. Not Trevor’s girlfriend.

“Can’t you be both?”

She wanted to be. “I don’t know, Trevor. I think we have to maintain a separation.”

“We’ll be co-hosts of the party tonight. I’ll introduce you to the guys on the team. I’ve already told them about the story you’re doing. You can grill them about me.”

She couldn’t really object to that. “That works.”

When the guests started to arrive, Trevor was right. Guys brought women with them. And the offensive coach came, too—a guy in his forties named George, if Haven recalled her research correctly. He’d brought his wife, Amanda, a slim brunette with a great smile.

“And who is this, Trevor?” Amanda asked, smiling at Haven.

“This is Haven Briscoe. She’s a sports reporter, and she’s doing some work with me.”

Amanda turned to Haven and shook her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Haven. Just what our Trevor here needs—more attention.”

Haven laughed. “Well, you might be right about that, but I do what my bosses tell me.”

“And here I thought you might be Trevor’s girlfriend, that someone finally tamed the wild animal.”

“Sorry. That wouldn’t be me.” She wondered why Amanda referred to Trevor as a wild animal.

And there went her thoughts again, that visual of his hips moving up and down while he stroked his cock. The way he thrust when he was inside her. The room grew warmer.

Focus, Haven. And not on your very vivid imagination.

“Oh, well. Surely some woman someday will get you to settle down and decide that football is the one sport you should be playing.”