False Start – Red Zone Rivals Read Online Kandi Steiner

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Sports Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)

Kyle Robbins: Seattle's rookie tight end and the first boy to break my heart.
Oh, did I mention he's also my new client... and fake boyfriend?

I thought I left Kyle and our complicated past behind me, but when he saunters up as my new client at a house showing, I’m quickly reminded how much he still haunts me.

I try to walk away, but the stubborn jerk isn’t having it. In fact, he doubles down on working with me, as if our tragic history doesn’t exist at all.

The commission from working with him is the key to a new life for me and my son. It’s worth putting up with the cocky athlete long enough to find him a house. But when Kyle sees the bruises left by my darling ex-husband, he thinks he can save me — and suddenly, he’s interested in much more than just being a client.

Before I know it, I’m wrangled into a scheme so crazy it just might work. Kyle pretends to be my fake boyfriend so he can keep my ex in line until I get the commission from this house sale and get the hell out of Seattle for good.

But with a past as thick with chemistry and tension as ours is, it’s not long before those fake touches feel all too real. Every brush of his hand against my back has me spinning back to that night. Every kiss has me dizzy with the love I felt at eighteen. And every day that passes without me finding him a house has me wondering how much longer I can survive this game we’re playing.

Fake-dating each other was supposed to be for my safety.

But I can't help thinking my heart is more at risk now than ever before.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


I wondered how big his cock was.

It was an entirely inappropriate thought for a real estate agent to have about her new client, but standing in the middle of the vast mansion with marble floors, high ceilings, and a striking view of Mount Rainier, it was all I could think.

Because this smelled a lot like overcompensating.

My guess was the guy wasn’t even serious. I’d been alerted at two in the morning by a real estate app that someone wanted to see this house, and since I hadn’t slept through the night since I was a kid, I was easily the first agent to respond to the request. It was a nearly four-million-dollar home, which got my attention, because even if it was likely just a prank, the possibility of that commission was life changing and too good to pass up.

I’d also learned that in today’s day and age, most people preferred to be texted rather than hounded on the phone.

So, I’d sent a text right away, saying I had availability today and sending over my times. My mystery client had picked the first one, and so here I was, tea in hand, standing in the middle of a seven-thousand-square-foot home and wondering who the hell could possibly need this much space.

I sighed.

It was probably a joke.

I’d dealt with enough of those in my five years as an agent. People loved to play that trick, pretending to be interested in buying just to see the inside of a nice house. Most of the larger homes required some sort of background check before allowing anyone in to see, some sort of proof that the client had real intent to buy. But, sometimes, like in this case, anyone could request a viewing.

The listing was new, and my guess was the sellers would learn their lesson to put some parameters in place soon enough.

I glanced at my watch, noting that the guy was already twenty minutes late. Of course, it could be a woman. It wasn’t fair that I assumed it was a man. But judging by the house listing boasting a man cave complete with an indoor golf simulator, I guess you could say I had a pretty good hunch.

The name they’d given in the app request was Nunya Biznaz, which either meant this was absolutely some nosy prick who just wanted to see inside a mansion, or that it was someone high profile who didn’t want the media snooping on their real estate inquiries.

Both were plausible in Seattle.

I was just about to break my text-only rule and call the guy when a loud engine alerted me to his arrival.

That overcompensating thought came rushing back.

Slapping a smile on my face, I let my stiletto heels carry me toward the front door, the soft click-clack a bit soothing as I did. I’d left the door open, so I stood in the foyer, ready to greet my client — who’d just pulled up the stone drive in a forest green Aston Martin that still purred even while idle.

The engine cut, and the door opened, revealing one long leg and a very large sneaker.

My theory on overcompensating went out the door when the man stood.

He towered over the tiny sports car.

In fact, I was trying to figure out how he fit in that car at all as he smoothed a hand over his long-sleeve shirt, his eyes surveying the house in front of him like it wasn’t measuring up to be what he expected.

He was insanely tall, at least six-foot-seven, but built like a tank. His waist was lean somehow, but his shoulders broad, his arms thick and corded with muscle that strained against the fabric of his shirt. He wore a pair of light-gray joggers that stretched over thick thighs, thighs I didn’t have to study long to know were just as muscular as his arms. He also didn’t have to turn around for me to know he likely had an ass to match.

His hair was hidden under a beanie, but I imagined it matched the brown of the stubble lining his jaw. That wasn’t oops I forgot to shave stubble, either. It was purposeful, neatly trimmed, the kind of stubble that drove a woman mad if she thought about what it would feel like brushing her neck.

My neck heated with that thought, one I hadn’t had in years, a feeling I thought was dead stirring to life deep in my gut.

The man was dripping in sex appeal, from his casual attire to his hot sports car.

And though I wanted to be immune to it, I wasn’t.

My thighs clenched, and I tried to fend off the electricity buzzing in my veins by standing a bit straighter as I waited for him to climb the steps. He wore sunglasses, even though it was too early for him to need them, and his thick lips were in a sort of unamused pout as he scanned the yard.