One of the perks of being one of the best wide receivers in the league was having my pick of cleat chasers looking for a good time. Unfortunately, the only one to hold my attention was the feisty brunette who wanted nothing to do with me.

Did I still try to flirt with her—you bet I did.

Did she fall for my charms? That would be a hard no.

Instead of laughing at my jokes, she pretended I didn't exist.

Until I tried to rescue her from a bad date, did she thank me? Of course not, but she did try to kiss me (at least, that was my version of the story). The girl was trouble with a capital T.

She was also smart, gorgeous, and all wrong for me—just ask her brother.

My best friend.

Dating her would be a terrible idea, but then again, I was famous for making bad decisions.

So, when her car broke down, and I came to her rescue, I offered up a way she could pay me back—one dinner! That's all I needed to prove I wasn't just a player.

I should have put a stop to things right then and there. Because now she wasn't just under my skin, but under my sheets too.

Until I messed up—big time, and now I have to prove to her that I deserved a second chance, because I refused to accept that it was game over.

I knew the rules, I knew the stakes, and I was playing for keeps.

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