Mr. Cooper’s eyes slowly roam up and down my body, and unconsciously, my nips grow hard. His blue eyes gleam and oh God, but he’s definitely noticed.
“You must be Chrissy,” he says in a low voice that makes my ovaries shiver. “Would you like to sit?”
I nod as he pulls out my chair.
“Thank you,” is my whisper. But then I catch myself. Why am I whispering? This is nothing like the sassy woman I usually am. However, there’s a lump in my throat as I stare worshipfully at him, and I can’t take my eyes off that large frame as he sits down.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks.
I nod and swallow almost painfully while squeezing my thighs tight.
“Thanks. I’ll take a red wine, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course not, honey. That sounds like an excellent choice.” Then, he waves over the waiter and orders my drink as well as a bourbon on the rocks for himself.
“So it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sanford,” he says.
I smile like a simpering fool.
“Sanford,” I say, rolling the name on my lips. “That’s very unique, and I like it. I’m Chrissy.”
He chuckles. “Yes, the agency already told me.” But then he stares at me for a minute, looking thoughtful.
“Do you know who I am?”
I shake my head.
“No, but I’d love to learn about you, Mr. Cooper. Why?”
He looks at me for a moment and then stares hard.
“You really don’t know who I am?”
My eyebrows draw together. Am I missing something here? I can’t tell.
“Well, the agency didn’t give me anything but your name, and Sanford Cooper is your real name, isn’t it? They don’t usually let our clients use made up monikers. Why, is there something I should know?”
He leans back and smiles.
“Maybe not,” he says in an offhand manner. “I guess I’m just used to people recognizing me on sight.”
I giggle with amusement.
“Don’t get me wrong: I love celebrity gossip but you know there are tons of gossip magazines out there. Maybe I’m not reading the right ones? Why don’t you tell me what you think I should know?”
He chuckles.
“You’re a sassy one, aren’t you honey? Sorry, I don’t mean to sound arrogant with all these questions. I just don’t meet many people who don’t recognize me. After all, I’m a professional athlete, or at least I used to be. I’m on the business side now.”
Oh, an athlete. My ovaries immediately quiver as my insides melt. So his muscles aren’t just for show. Good to know.
“What sport did you play?” I ask with a smile.
“I was a wrestler known as the Hulk.”
I cover my mouth as a giggle escapes.
“Really? Well, I don’t know anything about wrestling, but I’d say the name is apt, right? Are you six foot four? Six foot five?”
He grins.
“Try six six and two seventy.”
I gasp, my eyes going wide.
“Are you serious? I’m one seventy, so that means you’re a hundred pounds more than me.”
He chuckles.
“Yeah, I’m a hundred pounds more than most people, but that’s what you get when you’re called the Hulk.”
The sly grin that crosses his face make me feel like I’m on fire and melting at the same time.
“So did you like wrestling?” I ask shyly. “How was it?”
He nods.
“I did pretty well back in the day. I won a few championships in my time and even appeared on the show American Gladiator as one of the gladiators. That’s why I was a bit shocked you didn’t recognize me.”
I giggle.
“Well, I’m glad I know now. Maybe I’ll have to watch some episodes online because I’ve definitely heard of American Gladiators before. If my memory serves, the gladiators wore tight, shiny spandex unitards. Were you dressed in one?”
He grins.
“Hell yeah. I was totally into the tight spandex. The tighter the better, in my opinion. If they wanted to put sequins on it, I would have been game.”
I titter.
“Oh then, I’ll definitely have to watch. When were you on? Do you still have the uniform?”
“I was on for years, so it won’t be hard to find the episodes where I fought. And yes, I still have my costume. We might be able to arrange something if you want to see,” he winks.
Oh, Sanford’s hot and funny too. How has no one snagged him yet? I giggle again, but then grow serious.
“Not to sound hypocritical given my profession, but why do you need an escort service, Mr. Cooper? I mean, being a former professional athlete alone is enough to have women throwing themselves at you. Hell, there are probably women in this very room who would push me out of the way just to get to you. So why Curves?”
I smile, expecting him to laugh, but instead, Sanford does the complete opposite. The smile and humor he demonstrated moments ago fall away, replaced by the frown so serious it leaves wrinkles on his forehead. His blue eyes turn to black, and he looks away for a moment. My heart thumps.