In her heart, she knew that Brody’s manager wouldn’t release him for the previous day’s offense. He’d been out of line, but not that out of line. Jeff Rally was known for running a tight ship, so it made sense that he’d at least throw the threat out there. But Rally hadn’t been in the game for most of his life by being the kind of manager who released players with a .660 slugging percentage.
And sure enough, her guess was confirmed by Brody’s easy smile, his heartfelt apology, and his promise to be on the plane to Baltimore by nightfall.
But then, that was something she understood about Brody. He could get upset and yell, but just as quickly as the storm cloud of temper came, it would be gone again. And he was as sincere in his apologies as he was with his outbursts. It was part of his charm, and she hoped the media and his fans would come to recognize the way this passionate, driven man could do more than just hit and field the ball. His bouts of anger could fire up team members who weren’t playing with heart. Brody Davis could fuel a whole field to excel.
When he closed the phone, he dropped it back in his pocket.
“Looks like we’re headed to Baltimore.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I can’t believe you’d go with me.”
The rightness of her decision filled her.
“It’s August. There’s enough time to find a teacher to take my classes before school starts. And I think the kids I coach will forgive me for bailing on them a week before their season ends if I come up with some Aces tickets for a field trip.” She allowed herself to sink into his arms. Into the moment. “Too bad you tossed my keys into the middle of the woods where we’ll never find them again. You’ll have to walk to Baltimore at this rate.”
“Geez, woman.” He kissed the top of her head and stroked a possessive hand along her spine. “I understand you inside and out and you don’t know me at all.”
“What do you mean?” She tipped away from him to gauge his expression.
“I make that play an average of five times a night, five times a week.” He took her by the hand and pulled her toward the woods, counting off his paces as they walked.
“You think you’ll find those keys?” She rather hoped so because she couldn’t wait to start their new life. Together.
“Second base is 127 feet and change from home. And I’ve got killer aim. So as long as we stay in a straight line…” He ducked beneath a low-hanging branch as they entered the tree line. And right on cue, she could see the glint of silver ahead, among the pine needles and fallen leaves. “We’ll find them right where second base would be.”
Laughing, she picked them up, jingling their weight on her finger. “Except you didn’t account for the lack of rotation like a baseball would have, or the non-aerodynamic shape. I think you’re pushing it to suggest you got more than 110 feet.”
“And I think you forgot just what a rocket I’ve got for a right arm.” He looped his arms around her again and she was half tempted to pinch herself to make sure that today had been real. “But I don’t mind working harder to prove myself to you.”
She stretched on her toes to brush a kiss along his bristly jaw.
“You already made my personal highlight film. I know you’re pretty damn amazing.”
He pulled her hips to his, the heat of him already warming her body in the most delicious way.
“I’ve got another highlight film I want to make though.” Leaning down, he nipped her ear and backed her against the trunk of an old locust tree.
“Oh, really?”
“Actually a few of them. I think we’ll start with top ten lovemaking moments.” He picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Then we can work on top ten shower scenes. Most memorable ways to put my mouth to work—”
“Oh, my.” She thought she might overheat despite the ocean breeze.
“You know how I like to set the record in whatever I do.”
Her heart fluttered fast as she thought about the life he wanted for them. Being part of Brody’s world was going to be purely magical. Not because he was a big deal baseball player, but because he was a warm-hearted person who had never stopped caring about her. A passionate man who was ready to devote himself to her.
Tunneling her fingers through his hair, she pulled him close.
“Have I told you how much I love a man with a competitive streak?” She melted into a slow tangle of tongues she would put at the very top of her list for the best kisses she’d ever had the pure pleasure to receive.
SQUEEZE PLAY
1
SCRAPERS’ MONTERO NO STRANGERto New York’s Most Wanted List.
Lance Montero re-read the headline on a summary sheet from his publicist as he downed his morning espresso at the trendy new coffee shop across the street from his Manhattan apartment building.
His romantic eligibility status had landed him in some social column about the city’s bachelors. Which wasn’t a big deal on its own, but the piece had been picked up all over the country and generated a slew of personal articles about him.
That, in turn, made it look like his focus wasn’t on his game. The Scrapers’ manager had called him in for a meeting about it after the All-Star break, grilling him about his level of commitment to the team. To making the playoffs.
And damn, did that tick him off. If you ignored the press, you were labeled as inaccessible and not a “team player.” But if you attracted too much notice, you were a media hog.
“Can I get you anything else?”
The waitress returned to his end of the coffeehouse, her dark pantsuit a staple of the employees.
But she wasn’t the same waitress he’d had earlier. Her throaty voice wasn’t the same chipper soprano that had greeted him at five this morning and her perfume was subtle but distinct to a man who noticed that kind of thing. In fact, it was the appeal of her scent that pulled his nose out of the PR report he’d been reviewing.
Petite and brunette, the woman now holding the espresso carafe was drop-dead gorgeous if you were into the sexpot type. Which Lance wasn’t. Especially not when he planned to quit dating until after the postseason.
“No, thank you. That’ll do it.” He withdrew his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table, realizing the brew house had grown far more crowded since he’d entered. Maintaining a low profile wasn’t easy for a player in the city that never slept, but Lance worked hard to avoid heavy traffic times at establishments like this in order to stay out of the papers.
In order to live down his undeserved reputation as some kind of lothario and direct attention back to his career.
“You sure are cute,” the waitress observed, setting the espresso carafe on the table before looking over her shoulder. As if confident no one was close enough to overhear her, she leaned down to speak more softly. “How come there are never any good-looking, normal guys like you sitting alone in a coffee shop whenever I go out?”
Lance grinned because, even though he was swearing off dating, what guy didn’t enjoy open flirtation with an attractive woman? Especially one who viewed him as a “normal guy” and not a target on some enterprising woman’s list of most eligible bachelors. Her shoulder-length dark hair slid down to fall alongside them, curtaining them in privacy for a moment. He noticed her gold name tag read Jamie.
“I don’t know.” He folded his wallet and shoved it in his jacket pocket. “How come I never run into any nice girls who smell as good as you do when I’m in the market for a date?”
She nodded as if she understood completely. Her eyes betrayed no hint of recognition that he was a baseball player or anyone who looked vaguely familiar, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the anonymity of the encounter. Too often, women hit on him because of who he was.