Page 50 of Turn Me On
Already this man makes me want him in more ways than one. I can’t have him, but I can, at least, be completely honest with him.
Next time I see him, I’m going to tell him the true story about my tattoo.
12
THE REAL STORY
Maddox
During lunch at the golf club in San Francisco a few days later, Zane courts Priyam like a Regency era suitor. Over chicken salad, Zane asks about the London man’s family, then listens attentively to tales of Priyam’s grandchildren back in England.
I sit there and observe, enjoying the ease of their conversation.
I never know whether a celebrity will be a likable human, let alone come across as one. Thankfully, my client is genuine and warm, sharing stories of his brother and his niece.
“Eliza has a game coming up soon, so I’ll be there,” Zane says. “And get this—Gage convinced her Little League coach to let me be a guest first-base coach.” He’s full of unbridled enthusiasm, like the coach might have turned him down.
“Make sure to wear something dapper,” Priyam says cheerily.
“Always,” Zane says.
“And what about your mom?” Priyam asks. “You said she runs a coffee shop in Sacramento. Does she go to the games too?”
“She’ll be there. She goes to every one of Eliza’s games. But pray for me—she’s been bugging me to give her more grandkids,” Zane says. I note that he doesn’t mention his father, and I file that info, perhaps to pursue later.
“Maybe someday you will, if you want to,” Priyam says, giving a simple reply to a complicated question.
“Maybe someday, indeed. For now, got any pics of your grandkids?”
Priyam whips out his phone and takes us through a camera roll of his family. Zane and I lean in close on either side of our lunch guest.
“Check it out,” Zane says, pointing to a pic of a grade-schooler in a lamplighter costume. “Mary Poppins?”
“Yes. That’s Chandra. They did a gender-bendingMary Poppins, and she played the lamplighter.”
“Sweet. Bet that was an awesome show,” Zane says.
“I’m not impartial, but I gave it a standing ovation,” Priyam says, with obvious pride.
As they chat, a sense of calm flows through me. Zane is so great with this guy, and it doesn’t feel like he’s acting the part to win the deal.Of course, he wants the partnership. I knowthat. But his way with people is all natural and hard to fake.
When lunch ends, we head to the golf course, setting our bags in the back of a cart.
“I have one rule,” Priyam says as he stares up at the first baseman, who’s half a foot taller and easily has seventy pounds on him.
“Hit me up,” Zane says affably.
“Don’t go easy on me. If I sense that you’re going easy on me, I will be very upset,” Priyam says in a friendly warning.
Zane laughs. “It’s not in my nature to go easy in a sport,” he reassures the Londoner.
Priyam nods, pleased, then he pats the back of the golf cart. “Great. Then we should wager. How about the winner gets treated to dinner if you’re in New York before I head back to London?”
I fight off a grin. If Priyam is hinting at dinner in the future, that’s a damn good sign. I steal a glimpse at Zane, and he’s reining in a smile too.
The British man adopts a devilish grin. “Now would be a good time to let you know I competed in golf at uni.”
“Ah, so you’re planning on taking us for all we’re worth,” I put in.