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Look what people are saying about Kathy Lyons…

“A sexy new approach to the military hunk stories.”

—RT Book Reviews on Night After Night…

“If you enjoy reading books with Alpha males, then Night After Night… is definitely a book for you! This book comes with some seriously kinky and steamy sex scenes and a very modern happy ending!” —Night Owl Reviews

“Detailed, empathetic characters mix with a fascinating plot and sizzling sex to make one extraordinary tale.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Night After Night…

“This book is hard to resist.”

—Affaire de Coeur on In Good Hands

“Lyons’ latest is a fun, flirty and unexpectedly kinky book.”

—RT Book Reviews on Taking Care of Business

About the Author

A USA TODAY bestselling author, KATHY LYONS has made her mark with sizzling romances. She adores unique settings, wild characters and erotic, exotic love. And if she throws in a dragon or a tigress here and there, it’s only in the name of fun! An author of more than thirty novels, she adores the fabu-lousness that is Mills & boon blaze. She calls them her sexy treat and hopes you find them equally delicious. Kathy loves hearing from readers. Visit her at www.kathylyons.com or find her on Facebook and Twitter under her other pen name, Jade Lee.

Living the Fantasy
Kathy Lyons

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Brenda, you made this book awesome.

THANK YOU!

1

OMG I’m going to kill this client!

ALI FLORES LAUGHED as she looked at the text message from her best friend, Elisa. Apparently some guy had hired Elisa’s modeling agency to find an actress for him but he couldn’t verbalize what he was looking for. Go figure. A guy who didn’t know what he wanted in a woman. What were the odds?

Ali was smiling as she texted back.

I’m still coming for lunch. Have to get out of here!

She’d just hit Send when her boss popped his head into her cubicle.

“Hey, Ali, did you proofread that brochure?”

“Right here,” she said as she handed over the document. “But I really think the photos could be better—”

“Great. I’m having a terrible time getting those promotional pens out of China. Can you call their customs department for me and get it worked out?”

“Because I speak such good Chinese?” Not.

“Because you’re the best. Thanks!” And off he went with a wave. She wanted to scream. How the heck was she supposed to navigate Chinese customs? But she didn’t say a word. Instead, she grabbed her phone and typed out another quick text to Elisa.

My boss knows exactly what he wants: me, chained to my desk. Until I DIE!

She had to get a new job. Truthfully, she had to get a new life, but what? And how? She dropped her chin on her hand and stared at her computer screen. And as she glared at the blinking cursor, she imagined a knight in shining armor stepping up to her desk to rescue her. He’d take her away to his castle, he’d shower her with jewels, and…and he’d probably ask her to mother his seven screaming brats from a previous marriage.

Not!

Ali groaned and started pulling up all the correspondence with the Chinese factory. But as she worked, her mind kept churning on her own life problems.

Ali believed in happily ever after. Perhaps that was the problem. She didn’t just believe in it, she ached for it. She obsessed about it. She wanted it with a hunger that filled her fantasy life to overflowing.

But she needed some way to shape her dreams. It wasn’t like knights in shining armor were wandering around Houston looking for her. And she wasn’t really a damsel in distress. Truth was, she didn’t know who or what she was.

She’d been a quiet child growing up, buried in books because that’s what she liked. She and her single mom had been happy up until she was ten. Then suddenly her mom up and married a guy with two sons, both younger than Ali. And if that weren’t enough, Mom got pregnant just a few months later.

Ali went from the girl who liked to read to the girl who changed diapers, did laundry and screamed at the boys to stay out of her room. In the end, she escaped to college only to quit when the money ran out.

She’d got this job as a secretary to the head of PR in a hospital. Talk about being unimportant. The hospital saved lives. Her boss kept the hospital looking good so it could save lives. And what did she do? She made sure their booth at a health fair was well stocked with promotional pens. Sure, she wasn’t screaming at toddlers anymore, but she was working just as hard screaming at customs or tracking UPS shipments or doing whatever menial task her boss threw at her.

Other people had passions, they had goals and a purpose. She had fantasies about handsome pirates not because she liked pirates but because she didn’t know what she did like. And she wasn’t going to find out sitting here filling out customs forms.

It was time to make a change. So she whipped out her phone and texted Elisa.

Lunch NOW. We’re going to find me a new life.

KEN JOHNSON WAS SEARCHING for a queen. And for some ridiculous reason, he couldn’t find one. Maybe because Queen Guinevere didn’t exist in Houston. Still, he was determined to try. He was now at his seventeenth modeling agency praying that the woman he sought walked through the door. But so far, he’d been sorely disappointed.

Ken was CEO of Quirky Games, Inc., and he was about to launch a new adventure game that he hoped would take the geek world by storm. But in order to do that, he had to throw a huge publicity campaign that included gaming conventions, comic conventions and even a theme-park opening. And after years of experience in the geek gaming world, he knew that every event hinged on one thing: the actors who played the characters.

Any model could strap on a corset and a sword. Put a babe in a brass bra and kids would look, but they wouldn’t necessarily buy. These days, players needed more than a hot chick before they invested the hours to get fluent in a game. They needed a goal, a challenge and, most of all…a queen.

His queen needed to be divinely beautiful but so approachable that boys would immediately want to talk to her, be with her, play the game for hours just to spend more time around her. She needed to be reserved enough to seem mysterious, and yet so warm that you believed she could strap on an apron and serve chocolate-chip cookies. Sex goddess and Betty Crocker, all rolled into one.

That was the queen he wanted, and damn it, she was nowhere to be found.

“I need a break,” he said, shoving up from his chair. He was in the primary conference room of the last modeling agency on his list: OMG Action! But just as all the others, every woman who’d strutted, shimmied or swaggered in front of him had left him cold. Not just cold, but vaguely nauseated. They were certainly beautiful, but the personalities beneath the flawless skin and high cheekbones were arrogant or just plain over-the-top.

The agency owner, Marilyn Madison, pushed out of her chair and teetered on her ultra-high heels. “Mr. Johnson!” she cried, panic in her voice.

Then her assistant—a very sweet young woman named Elisa—offered him yet another folder of pictures. “If you could just tell me what look you’re going for, perhaps in this pile—”

“I don’t care about a look,” he said for what felt like the billionth time. “I need the woman to feel right, and these girls just don’t.” And with that he stomped out the door. He didn’t stop until he’d pushed through the doors of the elegant glass foyer, but as the office was on the thirty-seventh floor, he ended up standing in the hallway near the elevator bank.

He toyed with the idea of just leaving the building. He could be at his favorite comic-book store in twenty minutes. Except, of course, he was an adult today. He had a company and—more important—twenty employees who needed him to make Winning Guinevere into a multimillion-dollar success. Their jobs and his life savings depended on it.

Eight years ago, he’d been fresh out of college with a computer-science degree and a hunger to make it rich. He had a cool game written, and he and his best friend, Paul, had marketed the heck out of it and sold a zillion copies. Quirky Games, Inc. was born. But that was eight years ago. Since then, they’d launched one game after another to only middling success. Winning Guinevere was their last hope, and Ken was pouring everything he had into it. Which meant he had to find the right Guinevere. Without her, he might as well declare bankruptcy now.

He took a deep breath and tried to think. Maybe there was a compromise somewhere. He ran through different scenarios in his mind, but every one just made him sigh. Everything hinged on the woman. He couldn’t compromise there. It would compromise everything.

He was on the verge of muttering curse words in Klingon when the elevator doors dinged. He didn’t look out of curiosity—his eyes were just focused in that direction. But since his eyes were aimed at the elevator door, he could hardly fail to notice when she walked out. Normal height, nice curves and thick dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He caught a flash of flawless skin, high cheekbones and enticing legs that had enough muscle to be strong and enough softness to be sexy. She wore a dress of muted blue and a sweater that covered her curves but didn’t hide them.

And none of that made him leap off the wall until he heard her chuckle. Low, throaty and so damn sexy, he felt his jaw drop in shock. It seemed to fill the air and vibrate in his soul. Sexy and warm. Chocolate-chip-cookie warm.

Oh my God, had he just found his queen?

He pulled himself together—a lot harder to do than it should have been—and scrambled for a way to introduce himself. Meanwhile, she turned out of the elevator alcove and headed down the hall toward him. Her eyes were trained on her cell phone. That was apparently what had made her laugh because a second later, she did it again.

Wow. He felt this one in his spine, and every part of him leaped to follow her. The words were out of his mouth before he could think twice.

“Excuse me, miss…” he began, but then his voice trailed away. What could he say to this woman?

She looked up, her eyes going wide as she realized she’d been so focused on her phone that she hadn’t seen him there. “Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I should look where I’m going, huh?” She immediately folded up her phone.

“No, no. My fault. I…uh…” He tried his best smile, his mind scrambling. The problem was that as smart as he was—and frankly, he was considered very smart—he’d never been very good at communicating with girls. He wanted to be suave and ended up just looking like a tongue-tied geek. Which was exactly what he was. “I was just admiring your phone.”

She blinked and looked down at the cell in her hand. Ken noted with dismay that it wasn’t a cool phone. It wasn’t even a smartphone, which made it a virtual dinosaur.

“This phone?” she asked.

“Um, no. Actually I was just looking for a way to talk to you.”

She smiled. “Bad luck then, choosing to talk about my phone. I’m just grateful it can handle text messages.”

He stared at her, lost in her face. Flawless skin was right: like the smoothest latte ever, only with a dusting of gold. She seemed to be of Polynesian descent, which made her look exotic. But what really caught him were her meltingly chocolate-brown eyes. And, best of all, each of her cheeks sported a dimple.

She was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Meanwhile, she put away her big clunker of a phone while he grabbed for something more to say. “So you must not be one of those ultra-plugged-in people. Internet, social media, a zillion apps just to get coffee?”

She shook her head, but didn’t laugh. In truth, she seemed almost shy the way she ducked her head. But her eyes sparkled when she spoke. “Not me. Whenever I check my email, I get junk or more things to do from my boss.”

He gave a mock shudder. “Hate that.” Even though he was technically the boss, every time he opened his email he ended up with ten more things on his to-do list. Meanwhile, he tried to cover his ultra-slick phone with his elbow. She noticed of course, and gestured to where it was hanging like a lead weight on his belt.

“You seem kinda plugged in, though.”

“Um, yeah. You never know when the urge to get a triple mocha latte will hit.”

She lifted her chin, her eyes dropping to a sexy half mast as she murmured a long, appreciative, “Yummmm.”

His blood went straight south. Not only did she sound sexy, but suddenly her expression sparked all sorts of dark things in his imagination. Meanwhile, she had straightened and was looking down the hall. Hell, he was about to lose her, so he scrambled for another way to keep her with him for just a moment longer.

“Um, really, I was just looking for a way to talk to you.” Lord, was there ever a more lame way to approach a girl? Especially since he now realized he’d already said that.

“Talk to me?” she echoed. Then she flushed slightly and smiled back at him. “I mean, hello. Nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand, but out of habit, he wiped it first on his pants. He’d spent so much of his adolescence with sweaty, gross hands that it was just an automatic gesture. Then he cursed himself for being an idiot. He was in a suit, for God’s sake. And now she was wondering what had been on his hands when it had been nothing!

Mentally he sighed and tried even harder to be charming. He grabbed her hand and shook it too hard. “My name is Ken. Ken Johnson.”

“I’m Ali,” she said, as she glanced beyond his left shoulder. “And, um, I have a meeting…”

“Oh, right!” He stepped aside, his thoughts whirling. Could she possibly be going into the agency? Was God smiling on him? Could she maybe be a model?

She stepped past him, and he tried not to look like a creepy stalker. But that was harder than it seemed given that he was loitering in the hallway for no reason at all. Then it didn’t matter because, yes, she pushed through the doorway of the agency.

She was a model and she was hired!

He stumbled after her, nearly tripping over himself in his excitement. He made it through the doors right on her heels. She turned at his noisy entrance, her eyes going wide and her lips parting on a sweet gasp of surprise. In the background, Elisa came forward, talking to the newcomer.

“There you are! I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t apologize, Miss…” What was her name? All he could remember was Elisa. “Look, Elisa, this girl right here, I want her.” Belatedly he realized he couldn’t afford to pay exorbitant rates, and he ought to be negotiating. “I mean, assuming she’s a reasonable price.”

Both women gaped at him. It took him a moment to realize that Elisa had been talking to the newcomer, not him. Meanwhile, Elisa recovered first, her skin flushing a dark red. “Oh, no, Mr. Johnson. I’m sorry. She’s not for sale.”

He ground his teeth together. Damn it, she was already booked. He turned to the model, trying not to appear desperate. But he was desperate! “How long until you’re available? Are there breaks? A weekend or two? I’m sure we could work things out.”

He reached out to touch her arm, but Elisa quickly stepped between them. “Mr. Johnson, you don’t understand.”

He refused to let anyone come between him and his queen. He pushed Elisa aside as gently as he could. Fortunately she wasn’t all that stable on her stiletto heels or he might not have managed it. Meanwhile, his eyes were on the woman he wanted.

“What’s your normal rate?”

Instead of answering, his queen swallowed, and her eyes darted anxiously between him and Elisa. Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

“Look,” he said, “I know this is unusual, but I’m not crazy.”

“You just want to buy me,” she said, her voice soft. God, she had the most beautiful voice. Just listening to it made everything in him go still.

“Hire you,” he scrambled to say. “Hire you. To be my queen.”

She blinked at him.

“Mr. Johnson!” snapped Elisa. “She’s not our model!”

She wasn’t…Oh! “So you’re with a different agency?” he asked.

“Um, no,” his goddess answered. “St. Catherine’s Hospital.”

He frowned and looked at her, his body actually lurching as he tried to understand her words. “Hospital? You’re a…a…” He looked at her, mentally trying to fit her into the medical profession. Doctor? Nurse? None of that seemed to fit. “Um…”

“I work in the PR department doing events. Health fairs and the like.”

“Health fairs?” His queen was…a PR girl? But that was perfect! She was in PR. She knew how to handle—

“Sorry. I’m just here for lunch.” She gave him a self-conscious shrug and turned to Elisa. “Are you free yet?”

“Uh…” began Elisa, but then from directly behind them, the head of OMG Action! spoke, her voice cutting through the foyer in strident tones.

“No, she’s not!” said Marilyn Madison. “Both of them are coming with me!”

Then the strangest thing happened. All three of them—himself, Elisa and his queen—all groaned at once.

2

ALI FLORES COULDN’T LOOK AT the cute guy who’d tried to flirt with her in the hallway. She’d figured out his problem. He’d assumed she was a model just because she was headed into the agency, and wasn’t that just too funny! The idea of her as a model cracked her up. She wasn’t tall, blonde or rail-thin. And she certainly didn’t have the style sense to do anything like modeling.

Still, she had to admit she was flattered, even if he really needed to get his eyes checked. She had been looking forward to giggling with Elisa about it over lunch when Mad Marilyn saw them. That was their code name for Marilyn Madison, owner of the agency and somewhat of a bitch.

Last week, Elisa had taken Ali out to lunch for her twenty-eighth birthday. It wasn’t until they were on their way back to the office that Elisa realized she’d accidentally paid using the corporate credit card. Sure, Elisa had refunded the money into the petty-cash drawer along with the receipt and the explanation, but Ali just knew the madwoman was going to ream them both out at the first opportunity. And now the time had come to pay the piper.

Too bad it had to happen in front of that cute guy she couldn’t quite look at.

Ali mouthed the word busted to her friend, then turned around to face Marilyn. Since she wasn’t employed here, Ali fully intended to take all the blame. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to manage that except that she was really good at constructing elaborate cover stories. She’d just have to make sure it was really good.

With that thought in mind, she pasted on an ultra-innocent smile and turned around. First off: start with flattery.

“Why, Miss Madison, look at you! You’ve lost weight!”

As expected, the woman stopped glaring long enough to shoot Ali an I-know-what-you’re-doing smile. “Thank you for noticing,” the woman said. “I’ve always thought you to be unusually perceptive.”

Ali blinked. She had? Since when? As far as she was aware, the woman didn’t even know her name. Then she had to mentally slap herself. Obviously, the woman was simply shooting back the same insincere flattery that Ali had given her.

“Now come along, you two,” the woman said, punctuating her order with a glare at Elisa.

Ali shuddered. This was not good.

Then the woman turned a dazzling smile on the sweet Blind Ken, as Ali had now named him in her mind.

“Mr. Johnson, please, if you would give us just a moment, I’m sure I can work things out just as you’d like.”

“But I’d like—”

“Yes,” Mad Marilyn interrupted. “I know exactly what you want, and I’m going to make sure you get it. But first, I’ve ordered some sandwiches and coffee. They’ll be up in just a moment. Why don’t you wait with your VP in the conference room. I’ll be just a moment.”

Blind Ken had a VP? Wow, he must be the difficult client Elisa had been texting her about. The guy who wasn’t happy with any of their usual models, but couldn’t say why.

She looked up at him, and immediately regretted her decision. He was staring intently at her. He obviously wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. She could relate. She spent half her life thinking she ought to say something, but not knowing what would work.

The moment stretched on, and the pressure to say something—anything—built inside her. She took a breath at the very same moment he did, but then Mad Marilyn beat them both to the punch.

“In here please, Miss Flores,” she said in a freezing tone.

Nothing to do now but shut her mouth and follow the madwoman into her office. At least Elisa would be in there, too, but one look at her friend’s face and she could tell they were both equally clueless about what was going on.

She’d barely stepped into the large room when Marilyn started talking and rooting through files at the same moment.

“Shut the door, Elisa. Have a seat, Miss Flores. We really need to change your name. Never model under your real name. How do you feel about Flowers?”

Ali frowned, replaying the sentences in her mind. Nope. They still didn’t make any sense. But Mad Marilyn looked up to pin her with a glare.

“Well? Do you like Flowers?”

“Um, yes?” Who didn’t like flowers?

“Excellent.” Marilyn pulled out a thick contract, set it down on the desk and started writing. “So your name will be Ali Flowers. You’ll have the standard agency agreement, but before I can release you to Mr. Johnson, you’ll need some training. Emergency training, if you catch my drift. But lucky for you, I can simply deduct the cost of that from the contract with GQ.”

Elisa stepped closer after having closed the door. “I think you mean QG. Quirky Games.”

Marilyn looked up and frowned. “What? Oh, right. These games. Ridiculous name. Quirky. Whatever. Now, Ms. Flowers, will you please sign here, here, here, and initial here.” She pushed a pen forward into Ali’s hand.

Ali barely managed to grab hold of the pen, but beyond that, she didn’t move a muscle. She felt like an idiot—and a slow one to boot—but she had no clue what was going on and no interest in signing anything until she did.

So she carefully set the pen down. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why would I sign an agency agreement with you?”

“So you can be GQ’s Guinevere!”

“QG,” she corrected. It was the only thing she understood. That they were definitely not talking about Gentlemen’s Quarterly.

Mad Marilyn waved that away with an impatient snort. “Look, I understand you want more money. Don’t we all? But I simply can’t get you ready in time and forgo the usual agency cut. Believe me I’ll be earning every cent!”

Ali shook her head. “But I don’t want to be a model.” The idea was laughable! “And why would you—”

“Marilyn, please,” cried Elisa. Apparently, she understood what was going on. “Ali just came here for lunch.”

“Well, what has that to do with anything? Look,” she said, turning her laser eyes on Ali. “That man out there has a lot of money. He’s been looking all over the city for some woman to play his Queen Guinevere in a summer promotional sweep. And now he wants you.” She grabbed the pen and pushed it into Ali’s hand. “So sign. Then you and I can make a lot of money.”

Ali gaped at her. “Guinevere? Me?”

Marilyn rolled her eyes. “Yes, you!”

“But why?”

“Because he’s a crazy man! You’re not tall enough, you’re not trained in any way and you could stand to lose a few pounds.”

“Hey!” That was Elisa, not Ali. Sadly, Ali knew everything the woman said was absolutely correct.

“But I don’t understand why,” said Ali, her gaze going to Elisa. Sadly, Mad Marilyn wasn’t allowing anyone to talk but herself.

“It doesn’t matter why, Miss Flowers. It matters that you say yes!” This time she forcibly wrapped Ali’s fingers around the pen.

“But I don’t know anything about modeling—”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“—and I already have a job!” That last protest was pure reflex. After all, hadn’t she just decided she needed to remake her life? But modeling had never entered her mind as a possibility.

Meanwhile, Marilyn huffed as she sat back in her chair. “Shall I be blunt?” she asked.

As if she was ever anything else! “I’m not a model,” Ali said.

“No, my dear, you’re a secretary in a hospital PR department.”

Ali blinked. How did Marilyn know that? “I manage events, coordinate publicity and logistics. It’s an important job!” She said the words, but inside, she knew it really was a lame job. Sure, what she did was valuable, but all it took was an organized mind. She had that in spades. She was valued (at least she hoped she was) but from anyone else’s perspective, she was just another cog in a very big machine.

“And now you have a chance to be something better. Something special! A Marilyn Madison Model!”

Ali didn’t know how to answer. The idea of her as a model was just too far to go, and yet she was starting to think about it. Could she really be pretty enough to be a model? She wasn’t ugly, but she’d never thought of herself as beautiful.

“Think of it!” Mad Marilyn pressed. “Your picture in the paper, screaming fans, cameras, a life under the lights! It’s what every girl wants, and it’s being handed to you on a silver platter!”

Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say. As Marilyn started speaking, the reality of what a model had to do started hitting. She’d be put on display. All those cameras! What if she said the wrong thing? What if she did the wrong thing? She would be promoting Blind Ken’s product—whatever it was—but if she screwed up then that would reflect badly on him.

“No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t do that.”

Marilyn released her breath on a huff of disgust. Then she shook her head. “Listen to me, Miss Flores. I know this is fast, I know this is a big change. But sometimes opportunity happens like that. It’s there and then it’s gone like that.” She snapped her fingers with a loud crack. “So take it now while it’s being offered. Otherwise it’s gone.” Again, she snapped her fingers and the sound seemed to echo in Ali’s head. “Think hard. And think fast.”

Then she pushed out of her chair and shot a glare at Elisa. “You’re her friend! Explain the situation. Explain how great an opportunity this is.” She straightened her very tight fitted jacket. “I’ll go negotiate your fee.” Then she was gone.

Ali waited a long time after Marilyn was gone before looking at Elisa. They were best friends, had been since college when they’d been assigned each other as roommates. They couldn’t be more opposite. Where Ali was studious and shy, an introvert with a love of reading, Elisa was vivacious, spontaneous and had a burning desire to be a runway model. After she’d failed a dozen auditions, Elisa decided to use her brain and body a little differently. She interned at Marilyn’s agency and was so good at it that Marilyn hired her as soon as the internship was over.

Elisa couldn’t be a top model, but she could help other girls attain the dream. And now, apparently, her job was to see that Ali became exactly what Elisa had dreamed of. But Ali just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be a model. She didn’t know anything about it!

“Don’t shake your head, sweetie,” Elisa said as she pulled up a chair. “Let me guess. You’re thinking that you can’t be a model, not because you aren’t pretty enough—”

“I’m not!”

“The client says you are.”

Ali didn’t have an answer to that, so she buttoned her lip.

“You’re thinking that you can’t stand having people look at you. That you’d be the center of attention and that you’d mess it up somehow.”

Ali sighed. “It’s not fair of Marilyn to make you talk me into this.”

Elisa shrugged. “Don’t think about me right now. Let’s talk about you.”

“I can’t be a model!”

“You keep saying that, but what really is stopping you?”

“I have a job.”

“And didn’t you just text me that you wanted a new one?” Elisa pulled out her phone and paged through to the right text message. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “What you actually said was: ‘We’re going to find me a new life.’”

Ali sighed. Sure she’d said that, and she’d even meant it. “But I can’t just change my entire life over lunch.”

Elisa shrugged. “Like Marilyn said, sometimes things happen that fast.”

“Don’t you dare snap your fingers!” Ali groused. Of course Elisa didn’t have to. Ali still had the sound of Marilyn’s snap echoing in her brain. But even as her heart was starting to think of the possibility, her brain was busy coming up with reasons she couldn’t possibly do this.

“I’d be a lousy model.” She’d spent her life on logistics and organization. It had been a necessary survival skill while managing her three younger siblings. “My skills are great backstage.”

Again, Elisa just shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to learn some new skills.”

Sure it was. But modeling? “I haven’t a clue what to do.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. We’ll teach you. And besides, you’re not going on a runway. You’re just dressing up and talking to people. You do that every day.”

“I talk to people at health fairs. About finding the right doctor and managing their blood pressure.”

“And now you’ll talk to kids about a game. Really, Ali, you’re incredibly smart. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

Ali tried to picture it. She imagined herself as one of those product girls she saw at health fairs, the ones attached to some drug company. They looked good, but dressed on the edge of too slutty, in her opinion. They were there to draw people to the booth so that they could try a sample of an over-the-counter medication. Or a new arch support. Or something. They were product girls, and…and well, what they did wasn’t that hard.