Truth or Tequila

One night. One game. One bad idea in the form of top-shelf tequila.

When my college besties and I made a pact to play Truth or Tequila at each of our bachelorette parties, I knew I'd regret it eventually-and it seems like tonight's that night.

I should be at home studying media reports and memorizing baseball jargon for my early morning meeting, not in a bar making questionable decisions.

But then he walks in.

Tall. Lean. Muscles packed into a tight white tee like it was stitched directly onto his body. Hair long enough to curl behind his ears. The kind you want to tug on while doing something reckless.

He watches me all night. Ocean-blue eyes tracking every laugh, every step, every flip of my hair like he already knows how I taste. So when my friends' dare lands me in his lap with one simple goal-get him to kiss me-I expect it to be easy. 

Instead, I get heat. Chemistry. A low, rough voice that says he wants to kiss me... but won't. Not when I'm this drunk.

So I leave with tequila on my lips and an almost-kiss lingering in the air between us. Fine. I'll survive the rejection. It's not like I'll ever see him again.

Or so I thought.

But the next morning, I walk into my meeting and come face-to-face with the stranger from last night.

Apparently, he's Seb Miller, star catcher for Miami's major league baseball team. And the man whose heated gaze follows me across the boardroom like he's ready to claim his kiss.

There's just one problem.

The team hired me as a PR consultant... so now he's my client.

Strictly off limits. Contractually untouchable. Professionally forbidden.

And my full-time assignment for the rest of the summer.

Too bad he's looking at me like he fully intends to finish what we started last night.

And too bad... I'm not sure I want him to stop.