The Player I Hate to Love (Elite Players #2) Read Online Jillian Quinn

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Elite Players Series by Jillian Quinn
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Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
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“Yeah. He said to run with the idea. I was afraid he would give it to one of my co-workers.”

Will unwrapped his cheesesteak and set it on his plate. “Does he do that often?”

“If it means giving one of his friends some undeserved attention, then yes.”

“That blows. I’m sorry that happens to you.” He took my plate and got up to put it in the microwave. He tapped a few buttons, then turned around to face me. “The same thing happens to Mia. She gets passed over all the time for promotions she deserves.”

“It’s harder for women to get ahead,” I admitted. “We’re paid less, overlooked, and often treated differently than our male co-workers. I have to work twice as hard to get respect.”

His expression turned grim. “Now I get why you were resistant to staying married to me.”

“A scandal like this could destroy my reputation. My friend, Savanna, the one you met at the club a few years ago. She works with me now. She doesn’t buy for one second that we’re in love and wants to see for herself. If my friend doesn’t believe me, it’s going to take a lot of convincing to make the public believe it.”

“We won’t get caught.”

The microwave beeped, and he passed my plate to me. I handed Will his plate to heat.

“Savanna is coming over for dinner on Thursday.”

“We’ll sell the shit out of our lie,” he promised.

I sank my teeth into the chicken parm sandwich and moaned as the sauce and cheese hit my tongue. “Mmm, this is so good. Thank you.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Will sat beside me and bit into his cheesesteak. We ate in silence, tearing through our food as if we hadn’t eaten in days. After we finished, I cleaned our plates as Will watched me from the other side of the island.

“I have to do some work,” I told him. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

“Go head. I want to watch the game, anyway.” He glanced at his cell phone, then slid off the stool. “I’ll be in the living room. Come find me when you’re done.”

I smiled in response.

He walked away, giving me the perfect view of his toned ass in a pair of black track pants. Even through his thin Under Armour shirt, I could see his defined back muscles and his strong shoulders. Real or not, my husband was one hunky man, and I was a lucky lady.

Around nine o’clock, I emerged from my home office to find Will in the living room watching the Phillies game. He leaned forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees, drinking a bottle of water. His bare chest was on full display, his muscles stretched so tight they looked like stone.

“Hey,” I said as I walked into the living room. “Can we talk for a sec?”

One of his boyish grins graced his full, pink lips I wanted to kiss. That kiss earlier was smoking hot. I gave Will a lot of shit to keep him from hurting me, but I cared about him. A part of me wanted this marriage to work, even though I’d been too afraid to put effort into it.

“We’re meeting with The Gossip Queen tomorrow. Do you want to run through our answers?”

“It’s an interview, not a quiz. She’s not grading us.”

“No, but we have to be believable. Callie will see right through the lies.”

“I’m in it to win it,” Will said with a cocky grin. “She’ll believe I have feelings for you. Because I do.”

He words shocked me, but I recouped without him noticing.

“We should talk about all the bad press you’ve gotten over the past year. She’ll want to know how you went from womanizer to a married man in one month.”

“Easy. Because I found the love of my life.”

“You got an answer for everything.”

“I have to. Comes with the territory of being famous.”

“We should get down the basic details. Like my birthday—”

“June seventeenth,” he said without hesitation.

“Okay… How do you know that?”

“You told me once.” He tapped the side of his head. “I remember everything you tell me.”

“I don’t know yours.”

“May ninth.” He hooked his arm around my thighs and pulled me onto his lap. “I doubt she’ll ask questions this basic, but what else do you want to know about me?”

“What should I know?”

“Hmmm…” His eyes roamed to the television screen for a moment before he found mine. “Let’s see. Middle name is Michael, my favorite color is navy blue. I’m ambidextrous.”

“You are?”

He nodded. “I broke my right arm when I was ten. It forced me to learn how to use my left hand for a few months. Best damn thing that ever happened to me. Being good with both hands has helped my hockey career.”

“How did you break your arm?”

He laughed as if recalling the memory. “I jumped out of my friend’s tree fort, thinking I was as cool as Bruce Willis in Die Hard, but I tripped when I landed and fell hard. It was a clean break, thankfully, so I healed okay and got right back to hockey.”


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