CHARLIE’S LEGS LOCKED up, and she jerked to a stop. He halted beside her, concern in his eyes.
“You okay? Feeling weak again?”
She wasn’t okay. And she definitely felt weak again, but not from running.
“Hutch Barlow?” she asked in horror. “As in wide-receiver-for-the-Oakland-Raiders Hutch Barlow?”
It was a stupid question because the truth was so obvious now. Physically, he was a god among men. There couldn’t be two Hutch Barlows in the Bay area who looked like that.
A weird expression — one close to disappointment — rippled over his face, and his green eyes narrowed a little. “Are you a fan?”
It was the narrowing of his eyes that did it. Now she could picture him in his red Ohio State jersey. She must have seen that photo in Kurt’s file a dozen times. The football player’s blond hair was shorter in the shot, his eyes almost provoking the camera. He wore an arrogant smirk meant to gall the opposing team’s defense.
The picture held nothing of the open, playful, flirtatious energy of the man standing in front of her.
But that open, playful, flirtatious energy was vanishing before her eyes as he stared down at her, waiting for her to answer his questions.
“A fan?” She gulped. She was no fan. Charlie could tolerate football, but she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the sport. Soccer was her spectator sport of choice. Because soccer was a runner’s game. “Um… no… but—”
His frown sharpened, and his green eyes seemed to glint in the light of the streetlamps. “Is… is your boyfriend a fan?”
Blood rushed to her cheeks. Did an NFL wide receiver just ask — in a roundabout way — if she had a boyfriend?
“N-no,” she stammered.
Hutch Barlow’s left brow lifted in an authoritative arch. The corners of his mouth might have turned up just a fraction. “Is he more of baseball guy?”
So, yeah, he was definitely asking.
Charlie shook her head. “No baseball guy. No guy. Period.”
As if it had all the time in the world, a smile that held both joy and heat slowly claimed every feature of his face. Lips. Dimples. Eyes. Even his perfect nose. Charlie watched the life of this smile unfold, and it was as though she could feel it spreading across her whole body.
She swallowed and tried to fill her lungs.
“So… if there’s no guy. Period. And you’re not a football fan…” he said, still smiling, the joy and heat making a little room for hunger. “How do you know who I am?”
Even as his smile still held her in its power, Charlie tried to stave off a crushing disappointment. If she were honest with herself, the moment she’d glanced over her shoulder to see who dared to pass her, she had been struck. Not just by his beauty — though, who wouldn’t be? — but also by the look of challenge he’d given her, both playful and relentless. In that look, she’d seen his determination to claim what he wanted…
And Charlie wanted to be claimed.
But that could never happen with Hutch Barlow. He was a client. And like the responsible, eager-to-please, young public-relations assistant she was, Charlie Woodruff had read every word of Prestige Media Group’s employee handbook, and there was no ambiguity about staff and client relationships. They were expressly forbidden.
“I…” she began, her throat as dry as chalk, “…I work for Prestige.”
Hutch blinked. “Prestige?” He looked so confused, Charlie actually felt a flutter of hope that maybe there’d been some misunderstanding, and he wasn’t a client after all.
“Prestige Media Group. I work for Kurt Vincent,” she said, emphasizing his name. “Your agent.”
Recognition lit his eyes, and the smile returned. “Oh, cool… Wow… You really work for Kurt?” he asked, shaking his head in surprise. “What are the odds?”
Yeah, what are the odds? Charlie thought. Her mouth tasted like sawdust. When was the last time a guy had looked at her like that? One who could match her stride? One whose real name was even more old-fashioned than her own? One who made her feel like reaching up, losing her fingers in the wild wheat wonder of his hair, and pulling him down to her kiss?
Never.
This evening stood out as a singular phenomenon — the most sexually charged run of her life — and if she wanted to keep her job, she would have to walk away from it.
“Crazy, right?” She tried to smile, but she just couldn’t manage it.
“I guess that’s it,” he said, staring down at her, his expression blank but his voice carrying a note of finality.
Yep, that’s it, she thought. Disappointment sagged in her gut like a sack of gravel.
“Yep. We were destined to meet,” Hutch said, nodding with certainty, a teasing look in his eyes. “Want to grab some dinner with me?”
Charlie blinked a half-dozen times in the span of two seconds. “I-I can’t… I should be getting home. It’s dark now.”
She moved to launch back into her stride when his hand encircled her wrist. He didn’t hold it tightly, but he stilled her. “Wait, I don’t mean right now. I mean after we’ve had a chance to get cleaned up,” he said, his look of hope twisting her insides into a knot. “I could come get you in like an hour.”
He’s a nice guy, Charlie realized with sadness. A gorgeous guy who’d stopped running to take care of her. And now he was asking her out, and she had to say no.
Charlie shook her head. “I’d love that, but… I’m not allowed to go out with you,” she said, wrinkling her nose and biting the corner of her lip. “Company policy.”
Hutch’s eyes bugged. His focus went from her gaze, down to the lip between her teeth, back to her eyes again. “Wait… what?” he asked, frowning.
She sighed. “You’re asking me out to dinner. Prestige doesn’t allow any of its employees to date clients.” Saying the words aloud only made the disappointment worse. The sky was completely dark now, the street lit with lamps and an ambitious full moon, and, even in shadow, Charlie found him incredibly attractive.
He stood there for a moment before he raised a brow and eyed her with mischief. “Who said anything about a date? We’ve both been running for miles. I’m hungry and you’re just this side of malnourished,” he said, raking his eyes up and down her body in a way she could almost feel. “We need to eat. What if we happened to turn up at the same restaurant at the same time? Surely, no one could object to us sharing a table, right?”
Her smile had a will of its own, even though she regretted the words she’d have to say. “I’m flattered, really, but the policy’s pretty clear,” she said, hoping he heard the disappointment in her voice. “I just got this job. It’s one I’ve wanted for a whole year. I can’t take any chances.”
Hutch watched her for a moment before pressing his lips together and nodding. “I get it.” He looked up at the street sign on the corner of Oak and Steiner just ahead of them. “Where do you live? Can I at least make sure you get home okay?”
It was early, and she didn’t mind running home by herself at this time of night, but night had fallen, and if he was offering, she wasn’t about to turn him down. She lifted her hand and pointed to the right. “I’m four blocks that way.”
He walked to the intersection and stared down Steiner before looking back at her. “Can we walk?”
If they ran it, she’d be home in less than five minutes. Walking would take them more than ten. Did he want more time with her? She definitely wanted more time with him.
“Sure.”
“Good,” he said quietly. So they walked.
They were silent for a moment, the evening breeze picking up, the air cooler now that the sun had left the sky. Charlie felt the hair on her arms stand up, and she suppressed a shiver.
“So, what’s your last name, Charlie-not-Charlotte?” He walked beside her — just inches from her, and he set the pace. It was slow, barely a stroll.
“Woodruff,” she answered, looking up to see him watching her. His look made her swallow.
“And where are you from, Charlie Woodruff?”
“I grew up in Goleta. Just outside Santa Barbara. My parents both teach at UCSB.”
He smiled with approval. “You must be smart, growing up with two professors.”
Charlie shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I can hold my own, but, yeah, education was important in our house.”
“What do they teach?”
She forced a smile. “Dad’s a professor of ecology. Mom’s head of the psychology department.”
Hutch’s eyebrows climbed. “Wow. They sound impressive.”
“Oh, they are,” she muttered, ready to change the subject. “What about you? I mean, I know you were drafted from Ohio State, but—”
“Peebles, Ohio,” he said. “It’s a tiny little town you’ve never heard of.”
Charlie nodded, smiling. “Yep. You’re right. I’ve never heard of it.” The truth was out before she could stop it. “But I think I’d like to. Tell me about it.”
He chuckled. “Okay… um… It’s about an hour east of Cincinnati, but it may as well be about a million miles from anywhere.” He scanned the view surrounding them. “Definitely a million miles from here.”
Charlie tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you miss it?” Sometimes Goleta felt a million miles away, and she was grateful.
He coughed. “Uh, no. Hell, no. If you stay in Peebles, you’re either a farmer, a school teacher, or a technician for GE.” He raised a humorless brow at her. “My uncle’s a farmer. My mom and my sister, Violet, teach at Peebles Elementary, and my dad tests turbofans for GE Aviation. I had to get out of there.”
And suddenly, Hutch Barlow wasn’t just a hot guy walking her home. He wasn’t just a professional football player who was so far out of her league it was silly. And he wasn’t an untouchable client. He was a person with a past and a dream he’d chased like hell to get right where he was.
Just like her.
They walked in silence for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him steal glances at her every few seconds. She wanted to ask him what he saw. She wanted to ask him a million questions. “Do you ever go back?”
“Sure. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he said, shaking his head and frowning. “Peebles is a great place to grow up. You know everybody, and everybody knows you. It’s safe. It’s sane. And people are good. But…”
“But you couldn’t breathe,” she said softly.
He locked eyes with her and nodded. “Yeah.” Hutch peered up Steiner as they fought their way uphill. “And it’s too flat. These hills are kicking my ass, but I love them.”
Charlie laughed. “I know what you mean.” Goleta and Malibu had hills, but nothing like San Francisco. “I love walking this city. I don’t even miss my car.”
He blinked at her. “No car? What happened to it?”
“I sold it before moving here,” she said, shrugging. “What I save in gas and insurance goes to rent. I mean, almost everything goes to rent, but this city’s worth it.”
Hutch eyed her for a moment. “What about groceries?”
Charlie frowned. “What about groceries?”
“Do you buy them?”
It was too dark now to make out the evergreen of his eyes, but Charlie could see clearly enough that he was pinning her with his stare.
“Um… yeah. Of course, I buy groceries.” Where was he going with this?
He watched her a moment longer, nodding slowly and seeming to consider his words. A look of resolve claimed his features, and he shook his head. They were just a half a block from Hermann now, and when they reached the corner, Charlie slowed to a stop.
“This is my street,” she said, pointing east up to her block. “Are you far?”
“Me?” He chuckled, suddenly looking embarrassed.
“Yeah, you. Where do you live?”
“Um…” He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced from left to right, seeming unsure. “…I live on Jordan Avenue.”
Charlie frowned. “Where’s that?”
She watched him work his mouth. He definitely looked embarrassed. “It’s a couple miles from here… in Laurel Heights.”
Charlie’s mouth fell open. A couple of miles? He lived in Laurel Heights?
Of course he lives in Laurel Heights. He plays pro!
“Wh-why did—”
“I wanted to keep talking to you.” He spoke with such certainty that he seemed to banish his embarrassment — or chase it in her direction. As soon as his words were out, Charlie’s face grew hot again.
He’d run two miles out of his way just to keep talking to her?
Charlie’s heart hammered against the walls of her chest. What could she say to that? She was thrilled from the soles of her feet to the ends of her hair, but did she dare show it?
“I… I…”
Hutch shook his head, smiling gently.
“It was worth it,” he said, striding again, turning them onto Hermann. “C’mon. Which one’s yours?”
Charlie didn’t move. Now that they were walking, her muscles drooped with fatigue. She didn’t know how long he’d run before he started tailing her, but it had been a good five miles since then.
“But… are you going to run back home?” She heard the concern in her voice just as Hutch gave her a radiant smile.
“No, sweetheart, I’m done for the night.” The smile. The endearment. Both probably meant nothing, but that didn’t make them any less potent. Charlie felt them behind each knee. “I’ll get you home and call an Uber.”
It took every ounce of willpower she had not to reach for his hand.
Instead, she peeled her feet from the sidewalk and started making her way down Hermann Street, wanting each second to stretch out into its own hour.
But in under a minute, they were at her front gate.
“This is me,” she said, pointing to the dormers of her little garret. “I’m up top.”
Hutch looked up, the left side of his mouth crooking in a smile. “Of course you are.”
Charlie’s brows came together. “Huh?”
He turned his gaze on her. “Rapunzel could only be on the highest floor.” Then he reached out and caught the end of her ponytail between his fingers.
Charlie felt the gentle tug before he let it drop, but her scalp and the back of her neck tingled with sensation. It was the third time he’d touched her, and each time had left a fingerprint of delight that stayed with her.
What would it be like to kiss him?
Charlie stifled a sigh. She’d never know. It was best just to say goodnight.
“Thank you for looking out for me,” she said, wincing at the memory of her near collapse. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been around.”
Hutch gave a humorless chuckle. “You probably wouldn’t have pushed yourself to do sprint intervals on a long-distance run if I hadn’t been around.”
“You’re right,” she admitted, laughing. “But thanks for not leaving me by the side of the road.”
He watched her for a moment. “My goal was to catch you, Charlie. Not to pass you by.”
Charlie’s heart turned a cartwheel in her chest. The words, the look in his eyes, and the melted butter richness of his voice made her feel light-headed all over again.
“I… It was really nice to meet you.”
Again, he let silence fall between them as he looked at her. “You’ll see me again.”
As dumbstruck as she was, it took her a minute to understand. “Right, yeah. Friday at the party.”
Hutch made no move to confirm this. Instead, he took out his phone, and Charlie recognized the Request a Ride screen on the Uber app.
“Should I wait out here until your ride comes?”
He lifted his eyes to hers and shook his head. “Nah. Go on in. Put some food in your stomach before you faint again.”
She arched a brow at him. “I didn’t faint. I just got a little dizzy is all.”
Judging by the look on his face, Hutch silently disagreed with her. He nodded up to her apartment. “Do you actually have food up there?”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Of course. I’m going to take a shower, slice up some vegetables, and make a salad.”
He screwed up his face. “A salad?”
“It’ll have chicken,” she added, defensively.
Hutch shook his head again as if dismissing her meal choices. “After that run you put me through, I’m going to chow down.”
His wide-eyed look of raw hunger made her laugh. He’d told her not to wait for his Uber, but Charlie couldn’t make herself leave. Even now, she was already looking forward to seeing him again on Friday.
But that was all it could be. She’d just be able to watch him at the party. Say hello to him and talk for a moment or two before guests, or his buddies on the team, or a photographer pulled him away. But she would enjoy it.
And Charlie already knew that, even though she wasn’t a football fan, she’d be watching every Raiders game from now on.
“So what’s on the menu for a starving football player?” she asked, wanting any reason to keep talking to him.
Hutch stroked his chin in mock deliberation. “I’ve been wondering about that myself. There’s a little Indian place a few blocks from my house, and I can’t decide if I want the chicken jalfrezi or the satay.”
Charlie swallowed to keep from drooling. Indian food was her hands-down favorite. When she allowed herself to eat out, of course. That was pretty much only on her birthday or if she was training for a marathon.
“Maybe I’ll get both,” he muttered, clearly as hungry as she was. Yeah, he was going to enjoy his dinner a lot more than she would hers.
“That sounds really good,” she heard herself whisper.
His eyes fixed on hers, and he grinned just as his ride pulled up. Hutch waved to the driver before turning back to Charlie. “I’m really glad I chased you through Golden Gate Park.”
Even if the chase ended here at her front steps, Charlie was too. “Yeah, so am I.”
“Honestly, I can’t wait until Friday.”
His candor had her breath coming up short. This could go nowhere, but it still felt amazing. The days between now and Friday would seem like an eternity, but Charlie had a feeling she’d savor them. Because if she still felt this way about him at the party, what would she feel like after?
She kept these misgivings to herself. “Good night, Hutch. It was so nice meeting you.”
His dimples came out again. “Good night, Charlie.”
Instead of standing on the sidewalk and watching like an idiot as he disappeared, Charlie walked through the low front gate and took the stone path that led to the back stairs.
“Charlie.” Her name echoed across the yard and bounced between the houses.
She walked back toward the front of the house and found Hutch standing at the picket fence. “Yeah?”
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
Charlie pointed toward the back of the house. “To the stairs that lead to my apartment.”
He said nothing in response to this, but Hutch came through the gate and met her at the side of the house.
“Your Uber is waiting,” she said.
He gave a nod. “I know. I want to make sure you get inside okay.”
A rush of sparks swept down her chest and into her belly. “Oh… thanks.”
He walked her to the foot of the wrought iron stairs in the back yard and waited while she climbed up and unlocked her door. She felt his eyes on her the whole time. When she opened the door, Charlie looked down at him standing there staring up at her. His blond hair falling around his shoulders. His hands on his hips.
He was without a doubt the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
“Good night, Hutch.” She waved down to him.
“Good night, Charlie.”
Charlie slipped into her apartment, closed and locked the door behind her, and then leaned back against it for support.
“Why?” she groaned aloud in the empty space. “Why does he have to be a client?”