Michael. She was doing this for Michael.
Blowing out a mouthful of air, she lifted her gaze until it clashed with his. “Maybe for an hour…”
“An hour sounds good.” He smiled at her. He had a dimple in his cheek. A damn dimple. Dear lord, could he get any sexier?
She had a horrible feeling the answer was yes.
“I’ll text you my address. There’s a key locker on the side of the house, I’ll send you the code to it. Let yourself in, and I’ll grab us some food from the diner. Burgers okay?”
Nothing was okay. She was about to have a heart attack.
“Burgers are fine. Thank you.”
“No problem.” He flashed those dimples again. “I’ll see you at my place.”
“You’re in an NFL player’s house? Shut up!” Joanna laughed down the phone line, then cleared her throat. “Just a minute, I need to close the living room door because the guys are playing a damn card game and they’re all sore losers.”
“You don’t need to close the door,” Mia whispered, even though she was alone in his house. Maybe he had surveillance cameras. Or hidden microphones. “There isn’t any more to tell you.”
“Oh come on. Tell me his name at least. I might’ve heard of him. There has to be some kind of silver lining to all those times Grant made me watch Sunday football with him.”
“Cam Hartson.”
“Oh. My. God.” Joanna let out a little squeal. “There’s no way you’re in his house. He lives in Boston, doesn’t he?”
“Not anymore, apparently.” It was weird how Mia’s cousin knew more about Cam than she did. But there was nobody else she could think of to call when she walked into his huge, opulent house that overlooked the creek. And she had to call somebody because she was freaking out.
Big time.
“I can’t believe it. Damn, he’s hot. He dated Soraya, didn’t he?”
“Soraya?”
“The supermodel. She’s from Iran, I think. Beautiful brown glossy hair and shining skin. She did that perfume ad where the guy sniffs her and practically comes in his pants.”
“Oh god. You’re disgusting.” Mia winced. And not just because Joanna was gross. She was used to that. The two of them were cousins, but they’d practically grown up together, thanks to their grandma being their child minder. Mia was three years older than Joanna, and that had seemed like a lot growing up. Not so much now though. “He really dated a supermodel?” Her voice was small. She so didn’t belong here. Not even as a mom asking for his help with her son.
She’d eat with him, and tell him a little about Michael’s background. That would be more than enough to make sure there was never anything between them. Men like Cam dated supermodels. They weren’t interested in soon to be divorced women with two children.
And that was a good thing. It really was.
“So are you gonna do it?” Joanna asked, her voice low.
“Do what?”
“Have sex with him, dumb dumb. I mean, he’s a football player. He has the moves, right? I bet he’s amazing in bed. You don’t date somebody like Soraya without being able to please a woman.”
“Stop it. I think I’m going to vomit. And no, I’m not gonna do it. I’m here as a parent, to talk about Michael. Then I’ll go home and let him get back to his supermodels.”
“Model. Singular. He’s not Leonardo DiCaprio. She’s the only model he’s dated as far as I know.”
Yeah, and one was enough. Because it told Mia all she needed to know. Cam Hartson wasn’t just out of her league, he was out of her stratosphere.
“Even if I was interested, which I’m not, I’m not his type. And technically I’m still married.”
“Technically, you’re almost divorced and your husband is living with another woman, which means the marriage is over in all ways but name,” Jo reminded her. “You can do exactly what, or who, you like. Please promise me if he makes a move you’ll let him.”
“Jo…”