“I don’t have a boyfriend, but you can be certain that I’ll be able to control myself. I’m a professional, and you’re not my type anyway,” she says, looking at me like she’s unimpressed with what she sees. “Tall, handsome, athletic men aren’t your type?” I ask. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms with a smirk. “They are.” I bite back a smile. I walked into that one.
