Playing it Cool (Sydney Smoke Rugby)

Score one for the curvy girls.

Harper Nugent might have a little extra junk in her trunk, but her stepbrother calling her out on it is the last straw… When rugby hottie, Dexter Blake, witnesses the insult, he surprises Harper by asking her out. In front of her dumbass brother. Score! Of course, she knows it’s not for reals, but Dex won’t take no for an answer.

Dexter Blake’s life revolves around rugby with one hard and fast rule: no women. Sure, his left hand is getting a workout, but he’s focused on his career for now. Then he overhears an asshat reporter belittle the curvy chick he’d been secretly ogling. What’s a guy to do but ask her out? It’s just a little revenge against a poser, and then he’ll get his head back in the game.

But the date is better than either expected. So is the next one. And the next. And the heat between them…sizzles their clothes right off.

Suddenly, this fake relationship is feeling all too real…

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Amy Andrews. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit
www.brazenbooks.com
.

Edited by Liz Pelletier

Cover design by Heather Howland

Cover photo by Lindee Robinson, featuring Matthew Engelke

ISBN 978-1-63375-750-9

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition September 2016

To Curtis Svehlak from Entangled, for all the practical stuff you do behind the scenes.

We’ve never met but I feel like it’s high time I said thanks to a guy who’s in my inbox more than any other (and I mean that in a completely non-sleazy way).

I owe you a vat of whatever you’re drinking when we do finally meet.

Chapter One

Dexter Blake liked a woman with some junk in her trunk. And the tall, curvy chick on the sidelines was packing a whole lot of booty. She had one of those itty-bitty waists, too. And her cups floweth’d over.

Staring at her chest was practically a religious experience.

Unfortunately, she only had eyes for Chuck Nugent, the pretty boy sports reporter for Channel Five. He was currently doing his sycophantish spiel on the field, a cameraman following him around as he interviewed the players still milling around for their obligatory post-match interviews.

She was impatient for his attention, too, if her pacing was anything to go by.

Lucky bastard
.

As far as Dex was concerned, she could keep pacing. Watching everything jiggle was the cherry on the top of his pie tonight. There was nothing better than winning a hard-fought game of rugby union. But watching a fine-looking woman strutting her stuff came a very close second.

“I’d say don’t look now, booty at six o’clock, but I can see you’re ahead of me.”

Dex smiled at Tanner Stone, the captain of the Sydney Smoke and his good mate, as he pulled up beside him then dropped at the waist to stretch out his hamstrings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, Dex,” Bodie Webb said as he pulled up on the other side. “Your kinda ass on the sideline.”

A low whistle came from behind them. “I hope you’re planning on hitting that, Dex,” Lincoln Quinn murmured as he also appeared, casually waving at some teenage girls hollering at him from the dispersing crowd.

Dex chuckled. “Since when did you all turn into pimps?”

Linc clapped him on the back. “Just lending a hand.”

“Thanks. I can get my own ass.”

And, sadly, as much as sideline-chick ticked every box, her ass was off-limits. One look at her told him she was the kind of girl a guy loved. Got into a relationship with. The kind he married. Made babies with.

She was the commitment type.

Over a decade of avoiding romantic entanglements had alerted Dex to the signs, and this woman had
I don’t do casual
written all over her.

And he didn’t do commitment. His career came first. He’d fought hard for his place on the team, and at thirty, he probably only had a few good years left. He couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the ball for a second. He knew how easy it was to lose everything. To have it all go to shit when you least expected it.

He was never going back to Perry Hill.

There would be time for commitment later. Rugby was it for now.

“But you don’t,” Tanner said.

“Just because I don’t walk around with a permanent hard-on like Linc—”

“Hey!”

Everyone ignored Linc’s half-hearted protest. The cocky back rower wore his horniness like a badge of frickin’ honour. “—doesn’t mean I go without.”

And if he did—it was none of their damn business.

Chuck finished his interview with the skipper of the losing team and, spotting Tanner, headed toward them.

“Christ,” Dex said. “Dickhead approaching.”

Tanner sighed. “Best to just think of our contracts and smile for the camera.”

“Ooh,
helllllo
,” Bodie purred. “She’s on the move, too.”

Dex’s gaze flicked to the woman again, tracking her progress as she hurried after Chuck. Her hips swung enticingly and her chest moved interestingly beneath her T-shirt.

Christ,
it was a turn-on.

“Chuck,” she called, hurrying to catch up with him.

Idiot
. Dex would never let a woman trail behind him like that. Not when she could walk in front and he could check out her luscious ass.

“What in hell does she see in that guy?” Bodie asked.

Dex had no idea, but the urge to throttle the smarmy reporter—something that was never far from the surface—spewed like the sudden rush of a geyser in his chest.

“Chuck,” she called, louder this time, almost caught up with him.

Dickhead stopped. Turned. Then glared before looking around him as if he was embarrassed. He hissed, “What the fuck, Harper?” He’d kept his voice low, but the edge of fury carried it farther than Dex was sure Chuck would have liked.

“I told you to
stay
in the stands, not embarrass me by running onto the goddamn field in a pair of jeans you’ve barely managed to squeeze your lard ass into. I have a certain image to maintain, and it does not involve being followed around by fat chicks.”

Dex’s jaw clamped tight as the hackles rose on the back of his neck.
Fat chick?
He could see the stain of red creeping up her neck from here, and the spewing geyser in his chest turned viscous, like lava.

“God, he’s a fuckwit,” Bodie whispered.

“Excuse me,” Dex growled.

Lava burning in his chest, he strode purposefully toward Chuck and the woman, who was hissing something back at the reporter Dex couldn’t quite hear. He was sweaty and dirty and every damn muscle bitched at him, but Dex paid none of it any heed.

The urge to deck the smarmy front man rode him hard, but by the time he pulled up beside Chuck, Dex had another plan.

A better plan.

One that involved less potential penalty. And more potential booty.

“Hey, Chuck,” he said, forcing himself to smile as he clapped the reporter hard on the back. It was satisfying to hear a strained, involuntary cough from the man.

“Oh Dex, hi,” Chuck said, sleazy smile in place, turning as if he were trying to block the woman from Dex’s view.

No chance with those puny coat hanger shoulders.

“Great game tonight,” Chuck enthused. “If you could just give me thirty seconds, I’ll be right over.”

“Actually, Chuck,” Dex glanced at the woman and smiled at her. She was even more magnificent up close, with a whole lot of pissed-off glittering in the depths of her Marsala brown eyes. “I was hoping you might introduce me to the lady.”

It was amusing to watch the pretty boy almost choke on his tongue. For a moment, Dex thought he was going to say
lady, what lady?
But he finally turned to acknowledge the woman behind him. “Of course. This is Harper…Nugent. My…”

The woman—
Harper
—folded her arms across her chest, and all the blood rushed from Dex’s big head to his little one. “Come on, Chuck, you can say it,” she said, her voice dry with amused sarcasm. “It starts with S.
Ssss
ister.”

Something eased in Dex’s chest. So she was
not
getting naked with Pretty Boy. There was a God.

“Step!” Chuck said quickly, his voice sharp.

She rolled her eyes as she smiled at Dex and offered her hand. He absently noted there were streaks of paint on her fingers. “Nice to meet you.”

Dex was a tall guy. Big. Not as big as some of the team’s front row, but he was still six foot and had trouble buying shirts that weren’t tight in the shoulders. This tall—hell,
Amazonian
—woman could look him straight in the eye. He’d never met a woman who could do that in a pair of flats, and it was a strange kind of turn-on.

“The pleasure’s entirely mine,” he murmured, returning her firm and sure grip with one of his own.

He liked a woman who could handshake like a boss.

“Yes…anyway,” Chuck said, his expression pained, as Harper’s hand fell away. “Harper has to run. A girlfriend crisis or something.”

Dex’s eyebrow kicked up. A girlfriend crisis? A crushing sense of disappointment slugged him in the chest.

She was a lesbian?

She laughed and shook her head. “Not
that k
ind of girlfriend.”

His gaze was drawn to her mouth, a plush, sexy crescent in the midst of her flawless olive complexion. He didn’t think she was wearing any makeup, but she was sporting some kind of clear lip gloss that emphasized the luscious curve of her lips.

They glistened, wet and tempting.

Dex laughed, too, as relief flowed like champagne bubbles through his veins. “I am
so
pleased to hear that.”

Chuck cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. I have to interview the team.” He looked pointedly at his sister.

“Fine. Just don’t forget to pick up Jace and Tabby after you’re done. They’re fine in the stands with Jenny while you wrap up, but she can’t take them home and I’ve told your mother that you’re bringing her kids now instead of me.”

“I’m not going to bloody forget them, Harper,” Chuck replied testily.

She shot an apologetic smile at Dex then turned to go. He and Chuck watched her. The outline of her sexy, rounded butt in the denim of her jeans actually made Dex a little light-headed. It was a sight to behold.

“God, she has a fat ass,” Chuck muttered, disgust colouring his voice.

Dex’s hands tightened to fists.
What a monumental wanker.
He opened his mouth before he engaged his brain. “Harper! Wait up.”

She looked over her shoulder, a puzzled expression drawing a crease between her brows. “Dex,” Chuck said, putting a hand on Dex’s arm as he took a step in Harper’s direction.

“Tanner’s waiting,” Dex said, shaking off the hand before jogging the short distance to where she’d stopped.

“Hey,” she said, tossing the long strands of her rich dark hair behind her shoulder, clearly still puzzled.

He smiled. “I was hoping you might like to go out with me one night.”

She blinked, the crease between her eyebrows almost cavernous now. “Oh.”

Dex chuckled. It wasn’t the standard response he got from women. Normally, they were tripping over themselves to be asked out by him. Hell, most of them didn’t wait to be asked. It was well known that he didn’t generally date, so they were more than happy to do the asking.

A man with a less healthy ego might have been insulted by Harper’s tepid response. But he could sense her reticence was real as she glanced at the guys to her left, all gawking and smirking, clearly talking about them. Her gaze travelled over his shoulder to where Chuck stood—glaring, if the prickle between Dex’s shoulder blades was anything to go by.

Her gaze returned to him. “Um…”

Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. He looked pointedly at the mobile she held. “Give me your phone.”

She glanced at it for a moment, frowning some more. “Why?”

Dex gave an exaggerated sigh and plucked it out of her unresisting hand. “It’s okay,” he assured her as she murmured a protest, and his fingers busily navigating to her address book. “I’m just going to put my number in because obviously I don’t have my phone available to put yours into mine.”

She crossed her arms as she watched him enter the details, and it took him twice as long.

“There,” he said, passing the phone back to her.

She glanced at the entry, and his heart tap-danced in his chest as a smile pulled at the curve of her mouth. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Dex the Stud?”

He grinned and shrugged. “What can I say?”

“And what do you expect me to do with this?”

“As soon as you’re done with your girlfriend thing, give it a ring and we can set up a time and a place for our date.”

“Well, that’s a step up from the last guy, who put his number into my phone hoping I’d send him nude photos,” she said, her tone flippant.

Dex blinked.
What the actual fuck
? “Absolutely no class.”

“Well, to be fair, he did request
arty
ones.”

He laughed. “Hey.” He held his hands up in faux surrender. “Never let it be said that I stand in the way of artistic expression, if you feel so inclined with my number. But definitely lose his.”

She laughed back, and it grabbed him by the balls. Like everything else about her, it was big and rich and real. But then her gaze flicked over his shoulder again, and her smile slowly slipped from her face.

Dex gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re not going to ring it, are you?”

She shook her head, a glossy smile playing on her glossy mouth. “No chance in hell.”

“Why?”

She glanced at her stepbrother again. “Some things just aren’t worth the hassle.”

Dex couldn’t agree more. But he didn’t think Harper Nugent was one of them. Undeterred, he grabbed for her phone again, his reflexes lightning fast after a decade of professional rugby. “You leave me no choice,” he chided as he quickly rang his own number.

“Hi, Dex the Stud,” he said as the ring tone eventually gave way to his message bank. “It’s Dex.” He waggled his brows at Harper, and she smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’m ringing to remind you to call Harper Nugent on this number and ask her on a date again. Do not take no for an answer. Even”—he grinned at her—“if she offers nude arty photos in lieu.”

Dex hit the end button and passed the phone back to her. “There now. You’re in my phone. And I
will
be ringing you.”

She glanced at the phone then at him before flicking a look at the guys again. Linc was grinning like a loon as he shot Dex two thumbs-up.

“Sure you will,” she said, the tight, polite smile on her face making Dex want to slap Linc upside the head.

She bade him farewell and walked away, and for the first time in his life, Dex looked forward to something other than rugby and inflicting bodily harm on Linc.

…

Harper’s phone rang three hours later. She was a bottle of wine down with her best friend Em, who was in the middle of a boyfriend-number-sixteen crisis. Em was cute, peppy, and up for anything.

She just had really lousy taste in men.

When Em went into a relationship, she went all in, something which Harper had always admired even if her friend consistently chose the wrong guys to be “in” with. The type who were only out for a
good
time, not a
long
time. But she always sprang back, and Harper was in awe of her friend’s tenacity and absolute conviction that the right person was out there for everyone.

Although not tonight. While Harper was drinking wine, Em’s breakup booze of choice was butterscotch schnapps, and tonight it was leading her to seriously consider becoming a nun. To prove her seriousness, she was currently Googling how to re-virginise.