“Let me know either way.”
“I will.” She zipped up her coat and bade Jane good-bye. As Jane watched Luc walk his sister to the door, her gaze fell on her briefcase and she was reminded why she was in his apartment in the first place. They might be attracted to each other, but they were both professionals and she was here to do a job. She wasn’t his kind of woman, and she didn’t want to fall in love with a man who would break her heart like a Dorito.
She moved from the kitchen to the sofa in the living room. She unzipped her briefcase and pulled out a pad of paper and her tape recorder. Jane didn’t want her heart broken. She didn’t want to love Luc Martineau, but each beat of her heart told her it was too late.
When Luc shut the door behind Marie, Jane looked up at him. “Ready to get busy?” she asked.
“Are we officially on the clock?”
“Yep.” She took a pen from the pocket of her briefcase.
He moved toward her, his long stride closing the distance between them. What was it about him walking toward her, looking at her through his beautiful blue eyes, that melted her beneath his molten mojo?
“Where do you want to do it?” she asked.
“Now, there’s a question,” he said through a warm sexy smile.
Chapter 13
Hat Trick: Player Scores Three Goals in One Night
“Are you going to sexually harass me?”
Luc folded his arms across his chest and stared down at Jane. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes. I’m here to interview you for the Times.” Damn. Her shoulders straight, her gaze direct, she was all business. Too bad. He liked harassing her. “Have a seat.” It had been a long time since Luc had seen a woman other than Gloria Jackson in his home. Since before Marie had come to live with him.
Earlier, when he’d first looked up and Jane had been standing in the living room, it had been a shock to see her, surrounded by his things. Like it had been in the beginning when he’d looked around and had seen her sitting on the team jet or bus. An out-of-place female in an unexpected place. Now, as then, it didn’t take long before she seemed to fit. As if she’d always belonged.
He took a seat at one end of the couch and Jane sat in the middle. Several dark curls fell across her temple and cheek as she looked at the notepad and tape recorder in her lap. She wore her usual black pants and white blouse, and he knew her skin was as soft as it looked.
“How much of your past do you want to talk about?” she began, keeping her head bent over her notebook as she asked her first question.
“None.”
“There’s been a lot written about it. You could clear the air.”
“The less said about it, the better.”
“Which bothers you the most, the stuff written about you that is true?” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Or the total fabrications?”
No one had ever asked him that question, and he thought about that for a moment. “Probably the stuff that isn’t true.”
“Even if it’s flattering?”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She sucked in a breath and blew it out. “The women. The all-night sex stuff.”
He was a little disappointed that she would bring it up. Since she hadn’t turned on her tape recorder yet, he said, “There was never any all night sex. If I stayed up all night, it was because I was high.”
She looked down at her lap again and chewed on the inside of her lip. “Most men would probably be flattered if they were portrayed as some sort of sexual marathoner.”
He figured he must trust her or he wouldn’t have told her as much as he had. So much so that he added, “If I was high and up all night, I wasn’t up sexually, if you get my meaning.”
“So none of that stuff about you and the different women is flattering?”
He wondered if she asked because she was a bit of a prude and was intrigued by that sort of thing. “Not really. I’m trying to rebuild my career and that shit gets in the way of what’s important.”