Seduced by the Playboy. Pamela Yaye

“I read in Forbes magazine that his new mansion is so big, he needs a helicopter to get him from one end to the other!”

      Angela’s eyes strayed back to the computer. For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about Demetri. He had a dreamy look and such a compelling presence, he could give a perfectly healthy woman asthma. Long after he’d stalked out of her studio, Angela was still thinking about how good he smelled, how broad his shoulders were and how sexy he looked in his workout gear.

      “The guy is so frickin’ hot, actresses and pop stars are constantly fighting over him!”

      Scowling, Angela took the mug Simone offered her and cradled it in her hands. “I don’t see why. He’s a pain in the ass. And rude, too.”

      “Girl, don’t hate. Demetri Morretti is the hottest thing in sports right now and for good reason. He’s guest starred on a slew of TV shows, hosted Saturday Night Live, and he’s been on the cover of dozens of magazines, as well.”

      Angela raised an eyebrow and studied her best friend closely. “For someone who doesn’t like baseball, you sure know a lot about the guy.”

      “It’s not my fault. My husband’s a sports addict, and he thinks Demetri’s mad cool,” Simone explained, opening the fridge and grabbing a bag of mixed vegetables. “They’ve worked out together a few times at Samson’s and really hit it off.”

      “Why didn’t you say anything?”

      “Girl, please, with all I’ve got going on I can barely remember what day of the week it is, let alone who Marcus trains on a daily basis.”

      “The fifteenth can’t come fast enough,” Angela said, slumping down into her chair. “I’m really looking forward to us hanging out and cutting loose. It’s long overdue.”

      Simone glanced up from the marble cutting board. “We have plans for Friday?”

      “Ah, yeah. We’re going to the grand opening of Dolce Vita, remember?” Angela shot her friend a funny look. “I’m covering the event for the station, but I should be done and ready to party by eight—nine at the latest.”

      “Sorry, girl, but I can’t go. Marcus has the weekend off, and he’s taking me away for a few days,” she explained, a girlie smile exploding onto her face.

      “What are you going to do with the boys?” Angela asked. “Cart them off to your mother-in-law’s house again?”

      “You know it!”

      The friends laughed.

      “I never dreamed Gladys and I would be close, but ever since I got pregnant, she’s gone out of her way to help me,” Simone confessed. “She never follows the boys’ schedule, but she’ll babysit at a moment’s notice and always encourages me to take time out for myself.”

      Angela concealed a grin. “I’m glad you and Gladys worked out your differences, because you’re really going to need her help when you get pregnant with baby number five and six!”

      “No way. After I have these girls, I’m done. It’s your turn to be barefoot and pregnant.”

      “I’m not having children, remember?”

      “Why not?” Wrinkling her nose, her lips pursed, she placed a hand on her hip. “You’re great with my boys and the kids at the shelter love you. Even the teenagers. And everyone knows, teenagers hate everybody!”

      “That’s different. The kids at the shelter don’t have anybody else.”

      “Good with kids is good with kids. It doesn’t matter if they’re yours or not,” Simone argued. “You can have a career and a family, Angela. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

      “It does for me.”

      “That’s because you’re a perfectionist with implausibly high standards.”

      “And proud of it,” Angela said. I’m going to make it to the top and no one is going to stop me, she decided, as an idea began taking shape in her mind. Tomorrow, she’d tell Salem she was on board to do the interview and submit a list of fake questions. Questions she had no intention of asking Demetri Morretti on the air.

      A smirk tickled her lips. By the time Angela was finished with the baseball star, he’d be toast, and she’d be the talk of the town. And one step closer to sliding into that lead-anchor chair. Angela was going to take the news world by storm, and she wasn’t letting anyone—especially a sly superstar athlete with a chiseled physique—get in her way.