Playing to Win

by Jaci Burton.
    Excerpt from Thrown by a Curve copyright © 2012 by Jaci Burton.
    Cover photograph by Claudio Marinesco.
    Cover art direction and design by Rita Frangie.
    Text design by Kristin del Rosario.
    All rights reserved.
    No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
    HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
    PUBLISHING HISTORY
    Heat trade paperback edition / September 2012
    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
    Burton, Jaci.
    Playing to win / Jaci Burton.—Heat trade paperback ed.
    p.      cm.
    ISBN: 978-1-101-58149-0
    1. Man-woman relationships—Fiction.   I. Title.
    PS3602.U776P56   2012
    813’.6—dc23
    2012011830
    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
    10   9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1
    ALWAYS LEARNING
    PEARSON

To Charlie.
When it’s fun and when it’s not so fun,
I know I can always reach for you and you’ll be there.
Love you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    Thanks to Maya Banks, for the lengthy phone calls that always inspire me, make me laugh, and renew me. And to Shannon Stacey, for always being there, for always being my friend.



ONE

    COLE RILEY HAD BUILT HIS REPUTATION ON BEING tough, especially on the football field. He didn’t yield, and when he had the ball in his hands, there was only one thing on his mind—the end zone. He was hardheaded and single-minded, and he liked to win.
    Same thing with women—once he had a target in mind, he went for her until he scored.
    So even though tonight’s team party was a target-rich environment, and more than a handful of the sexy women who’d come tonight were giving him the once-over, he hadn’t set his mind on anyone during the few hours he’d been here.
    Which was unusual for him. He liked the ladies. The ladies liked him. No ego on his part; he just enjoyed women, and he loved being around them. They were sweet, fun to be with, smelled great, and made him feel good. There was nothing bad about that. In return, he showed them a good time, spent money on them, and never lied to them or tried to be anything other than who he was.
    He’d learned a long time ago that women liked honest men. His mother would slap him sideways if he ever lied to a woman. He might be a little wild and reckless, but he wasn’t dishonest. He never promised a woman anything he wasn’t willing to deliver.
    Which meant steering clear of women looking to hook a boyfriend, a husband, or any kind of commitment. He gravitated toward the party girls, like the hot redhead and the statuesque brunette who’d been hovering near his radar all night. Those were the women who wanted to have the same kind of no-strings-attached fun he did. It was only a matter of time before he went in for the kill. After all, the hunt was part of the fun. All the circling, eyeing, and flirting was a game. He did love the game—and he played the game to win.
    Trying to figure out a woman’s angle was the fun part. They each had an angle, an ulterior motive. Some wanted nothing more than an autograph or a picture they could post on some social media site so they could show their friends they’d partied with football player Cole Riley. Others wanted to hook up for the night, hoping to share his bed so they’d have more permanent memories. If they wanted a good time, he was more than willing to show them one.
    The redhead and the brunette were definitely good-time girls. He could tell by the body language and the looks they gave him. They wanted a lot more than an autograph or a picture.
    Easy score, right?
    So why did his focus keep drifting to the cool blonde sitting by herself at a table in the corner? She wasn’t his type at all. She wasn’t wearing a skintight dress that showed ample amounts of tits and ass. She wore a simple, black short-sleeved dress that fell to her knees. Though she did have killer legs—legs he’d like to see a lot more of. She just wasn’t showing off her assets.
    She was beautiful, sure, with a face that would stop traffic. Andthe way she was put together screamed money or high society. Her hair was twisted up behind her head, she wore a pearl necklace that didn’t look cheap or fake, and he’d been with enough women to know that little designer purse sitting on the