Cursing a blue streak, he knew he was screwed. And not in the good way.
No wonder he’d kept his head down and his nose clean for two years with the Rebels. The one time he gave himself permission to enjoy life, it bit him on the ass with a surefire ticket off the team.
But even as the curtains threatened to fall on his career, Rick turned to jog back down the stairs to Delaney. If he was going to be lambasted publicly for his indiscretion, he would damn well have the satisfaction of seeing their encounter through to completion.
2
THERE WAS SOMETHING foreboding about Rick’s footsteps on the stairs.
Delaney heard it as she retrieved the sarong from the floor and retreated back to the main office to find more substantial clothing. She needed to speak to someone on the building staff about tightening up security at night, but her thoughts were too scattered to follow through on the task now.
She’d made a play for Rick and it had backfired with flare. Now she owed it to him to do the damage control it would take to protect his position with the Rebels. No doubt about it, her father would have him shipped to Seattle or Arizona—somewhere far from here—even if he had to trade for less talent. Her daddy might accept that he couldn’t interfere in her life anymore, but he’d have no qualms about interfering with someone else’s if he thought he was protecting her.
Damn it.
She adored her family, but they had never thought twice about meddling in her affairs. Some days she still wondered if it had been a bad decision to work for her father since it put her very much within his reach if he chose to stick his nose in her business. But the work was fun and exciting, a family legacy she was as proud of as any other Blair.
“Delaney.” Rick’s deep voice sliced right through her churning panic, putting all her focus back on him.
A shiver tickled her skin as a parade of sweet, sensual memories reminded her how exhilarating it had felt to be in this man’s arms after fantasizing about him for too long.
She looked up to find him in the doorway between the locker room and the reception area of the front offices.
“He got out of the building?” She was already unlocking her office, needing access to her computer if she wanted any hope of spinning the story. “Any chance you recognized him from press conferences? If we can figure out who he works for—”
“A guy like that wouldn’t be at a press conference. Anyone snapping those kinds of pics isn’t a member of the legitimate media.” He followed her into her office, his shirt still half-buttoned from her roaming fingers.
Wow. She couldn’t help a moment to admire the view since she wasn’t going to be able to capitalize on it tonight. Rick needed her help now.
“I’m so sorry I put you in such an awkward position.” She shouldn’t feel embarrassed—that had been the whole point of her disrobing tonight. But she was confused and worried and still extremely turned on.
Being a selective dater had left her without a man in her life for almost two years—a fact that coincided neatly with Rick’s arrival in town. And frankly, doing without for two years made a woman—edgy.
“What awkward position?” He shrugged. “I had my clothes on and I was standing in front of you so no one will know you were undressed. The way I see it, those photos are going to cause the kind of public flap that keeps sports stars in the papers. It’s not always a bad thing.”
While her brain grappled to comprehend how he could think this wasn’t a crisis in the extreme, he turned to close her office door. Then he locked them inside.
She jumped at the sound of the lock catching.
“What are you doing?” She clicked through a few keys on the computer, hoping for inspiration on how to handle this situation. She’d worry about beefing up security tomorrow. Tonight, she needed to help Rick prepare for a media tsunami.
“I’m making sure lightning doesn’t strike twice.” He stalked toward her.
He couldn’t be suggesting what she thought. And then it occurred to her what he meant.
“You want to be sure there are no more unwanted intruders.” How crappy that they had to think that way in the heart of a building owned by one of the best bank-rolled teams in baseball. “But I don’t think our picture taker would be stupid enough to come back here tonight.”
She moved to take a seat at her desk. He moved faster. Planting himself in the leather chair, he was already there when she ended up in his lap.
“Good.” He gathered her legs in his arm and spun her so she sat crosswise on his thighs. “We can finish what we started.”
The thrill of delicious possibility tickled her skin.
But she could not let it sweep her away again. She’d been so damn close to exactly what she’d wanted and instead she’d ended up with a publicity nightmare on her hands.
“No.” She had to close her eyes when she said it. She couldn’t have refused that hot look in his eyes otherwise. Not after she’d dreamed about Rick looking at her this way for so very long. “I need to salvage this before those photos show up somewhere and—”
“Why?” He ran one hand up her thigh, his touch impeded by such a thin layer of silk she could feel every nuance of his palm through the fabric. “The damage is done. We might as well wrest every ounce of pleasure out of this night if we’re going to pay the price for it tomorrow.”
His fingers began to bunch the sarong in his palm, lifting it higher on her thigh with each clench of his fist. She had to squeeze her thighs tight to stifle the stir of liquid heat between her legs.
“But the damage hasn’t been done.” Levering herself upright, her hip grazed the evidence of his desire straining the fly of his khakis. She could have cried with the frustration she felt at having to ignore it. “I can’t let you suffer the consequences of bad press and my father’s retribution if there’s any chance we can buy those pictures or halt the story.”
“I’m a grown man. I make my own choices and I take full responsibility for my actions.” His level look dared her to challenge him. He kept his arms around her hips, holding her there.
“I know.” Her heart beat faster at his declaration, further proof that he was an honorable man worthy of her trust. “And while I admire that about you tremendously, the truth is I caught you off guard by stripping down in the locker room and effectively instigated the whole thing because—”
She stopped herself just in time. Yet, judging by the narrowing of his gaze, her save hadn’t been timely at all.
“Because why?”
She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lemon oil on the freshly polished office furniture and a hint of spicy aftershave.
“Because I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a long time.” It was true. It just wasn’t the whole truth. So she braved a little more. “Because I was afraid you’d leave at the end of the season without me ever getting to know you and I—didn’t want to wait for life to happen to me anymore.”
She watched him, hoping that would be enough for him to release her, to let her go to work on fixing the mess she’d made. Given a little time, she knew she could find that rogue photographer. The pool of sleazy journalists in Atlanta was small and the pool of folks who would cover baseball stars was even smaller.
“Why now?” Rick asked, as if he’d telepathically keyed in on that one kernel of information she’d hoped to keep quiet. “Why tonight?”
The temptation to fib came and went in about a nanosecond. She’d gone into contract law because she’d known she’d never be a litigator. It just wasn’t in her nature to lie, especially not to a man with the kind of upstanding values that made her notice him from day one. Rick Warren was the go-to player on the team when you needed a base hit or to advance a runner. An unselfish player, he did his job year in and year out whether or not he got the spotlight or the fattest contracts. And she admired the heck out of him.