Playing Mr. Perfect

What happens in Paris, stays in Paris, right?Oh, Pepper. If only...Okay, I admit it.Sleeping with the NFL quarterback who the media has dubbed Mr. Perfect might not have been the smartest move, but I’m in the City of Love, I’d had a few drinks, and was jacked up on giddy girl talk and hopeful hearts—two things I never buy into—and I threw caution to the wind.I want to sneak out before he wakes up, but when I open my eyes, he’s already up.In more ways than one.Convincing the ridiculously cocky (pun intended) man that I’m not the woman he slept with last night is awkward.Actually, he makes it impossible.The thing is, I don’t even know who that woman was.And now he’s determined to find out.