Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball) (22 page)

Shit.

She’d
opened the blinds in order to dust them and forgot to close them afterward. Not
a smart thing for a single woman living on the first floor to do.

Knock.
Knock. Knock
.

“Clare.
Please.”

Maybe
it was the breathless way he said her name, or perhaps it was the desperation
she sensed behind the word please, but she gave in. Taking a deep breath and
exhaling, she opened the door.

“Thank
God.” He held out the bouquet. “These are for you.”

She
reached for the vase and, stepping back, allowed him to enter. “New job
delivering flowers?”

“No,
but it’s not a bad idea. It might pay better than hawking peanuts in the
stands.”

The
flowers were spectacular and artfully arranged. She made a mental note to use
his florist the next time she needed to send flowers. They clearly knew what
they were doing. She made room on the coffee table for them and went to the
window to close the blinds. Lesson learned.

Her
apartment seemed adequate for her, but with Antonio taking up most of the floor
space, her living room felt crowded.

“Thanks
for the flowers,” she said, inviting him to have a seat.

He
sat at one end of the sofa, and she took her one and only chair. She could
barely see him over the flowers. Thanks to good genes, she supposed, his face
was normally free from worry lines, but today he looked both tired and worried.
She knew the signs, saw them every time she looked in the mirror.

“Why
are you here? Is something wrong?”

He
fidgeted, scooted to the edge of the sofa cushion. “I came to see you and
apologize. There’s no excuse for the way I behaved at the airport and on the
way home. I won’t make excuses because we both know there aren’t any that would
make it all right. I screwed up. I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

She
nodded, twisting her hands together in her lap. Her love for him felt like a
river coursing through her, branching out in a million different directions,
bringing life to every part of her body. It was all she could do to keep from
leaping over the coffee table and tackling him. Her skin tingled with the need
to touch him, to feel his body pressed against hers, inside hers.

“Apology
accepted. Was there anything else?” she asked.

“Yes.”
He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I talked with your uncle, and I have a
plan.”

She
sat up straight. “You what?” she shouted.

“I
talked to your uncle. I told him about that Jessica woman, and…everything.”

Her
head spun, and she gripped the armrest to keep from tumbling face first out of
her chair. “Everything?” she squeaked.
Please, God, no.

“Well…not
everything
, but I told him enough that he understands what’s at stake. I
had to tell him, in case my plan fails. All kinds of shit could come back on
the team, and him specifically, if my plan to shut that woman up doesn’t work.”

She
couldn’t speak, couldn’t process what he was saying. He continued, and she did
her best to keep up. When he wound down, she remained silent.

“So…what
do you think? Are you willing to give it a try?”

“Can
you give me some time to think about this?” Her brain still felt like it was a
few sentences behind in comprehending.

“How
much time? I’ve made all the arrangements. There’s a plane waiting for us at
the airport.”

She
closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She’d inhaled too many mold
spores or it was the bump on the back of her head, but she was having a hard
time keeping up.

“What
do you say? We’ll be back in a few days, as soon as you’re…up to traveling.”

“My
classes. Finals are in two weeks.” Was she seriously thinking about going to
New York with him and…?

“Cancel
them, or ask someone to take them for you. You’ll be back in plenty of time for
finals week.”

She
searched her brain for a response and came up blank.

“Oh
yeah.” He stood and reached into the pocket of his jacket. “I can’t believe I
forgot.”

He
was on one knee beside her chair in the blink of an eye. Capturing her hand in
one of his, he held an open ring box aloft with the other. The biggest diamond
she’d ever seen flashed fire around the room.

“I
love you, Clare Kincaid. And no matter what happens, even if I end up
delivering flowers or selling popcorn in the stands, I want you to be my wife.
Forever. Please. Say you’ll marry me.”

She
tore her gaze away from the ring that seemed to have the power to hypnotize and
looked at Antonio. His gaze met hers and held. She looked for any hint he had
another motive besides not being capable of living without her, but found none.

“You
love me?” she asked.

“More
than anything in this world. More than my career. More than my own life. If
this whole thing blows up in our faces, we’ll go live somewhere no one knows us
and start over. Even if I lose my contract with the Mustangs, I’ve got enough
money for us to live on the rest of our lives. Please, Clare. You’re killing
me. Will you marry me?”

“What
if I don’t want to carry out this plan of yours?”

“Then
we’ll just wait and see what happens. Maybe Jessica will forget about us. I
don’t care. I just want to be with you for the rest of my life. This week has
been Hell on Earth without you. I can’t go on like this. I can’t play baseball
unless the organist playing my intro is you—my wife.”

Her
heart felt like a balloon filled to bursting. She didn’t know if the
hallucination was the result of mold spores or inhaling too much furniture
polish and she didn’t care. The man she loved was asking the question she never
thought she would hear from him say. She bit her lower lip, savoring the sharp
bite of pain that meant she wasn’t dreaming. This was real. And there was only
one answer.

A
bead of sweat glistened on his forehead before it lost its grip and slid down
his temple. The balloon inside her burst wide open, unable to contain her love
for him. She’d brought Antonio Ramirez to his knees. Her. Clare Kincaid.

“Yes,”
she said.

His
eyes sparkled, but he wasn’t smiling. “Yes, what?”

“Yes.
I’ll help you with your plan, and yes, I’ll marry you. Yes to it all.”

Antonio
smiled. The hand holding the ring came up to her nape, urging her down. His
lips captured hers in a kiss that promised a lifetime of love, and at least a
few hours of immediate pleasure. His tongue plunged deep, freeing all the
pent-up passion she’d tried to deny since they’d argued. Her nipples grew hard,
begging for his touch. Between her legs, she was embarrassingly wet and ready
for him. He ended the kiss a moment before she would have slipped off her chair
and thrown herself into his arms.

“First
things first.” He took the ring from the box and, lifting her left hand,
slipped the diamond onto her finger. “The next time I make love to you, I want
you to wear this.”

She
could barely see it for the tears in her eyes.

Antonio
used his thumbs to remove the ones spilling onto her cheeks. “I wish we could
do this now, but we have a plane to catch.”

“Now?”
she asked, completely thrown off balance.

“How
fast can you be ready to go?”

Chapter
Twenty-One

It
was past midnight when he ushered her into his Manhattan apartment. If what
they’d done on the plane to Colorado hadn’t qualified her for the Mile High
Club, what they’d done on the flight to New York certainly had. Private planes
were a lot more conducive to sexual activity than commercial flights, but so
were cars. If his plan didn’t work, then there would be a lot less private
planes in their future and a lot more four-wheel road trips.

“You
live here?” she asked, seeing the stark bachelor pad for the first time.

“Used
to. Almost ten years.”

She
walked around the room, looking for anything that would indicate a human lived
in the apartment. Three apartments the size of hers would fit in the living
room alone. “Decorator?”

“How
can you tell?”

“There’s
not a single thing in this room that looks like something you would pick out
for yourself, and there aren’t any pictures.”

“She
told me I couldn’t mess up her work of art with my junk.” He shrugged. “I have
some stuff in my office, down the hall.” He pointed.

“I’d
like to see that but later. I’m exhausted.”

He
smiled and pulled her close for a kiss. “I’ll never get enough of you, but you
need your rest. You know, you don’t have to do this. The guys will go along
with anything I want. Jessica would never know one way or the other.”

“I
want to do it. But if you would rather I didn’t….”

His
hands roamed from the small of her back to her hips and up to massage her
breasts. “You know I would love to see you go through with it, but it’s totally
up to you. I’m okay with whatever you decide.”

She
kissed him, letting him know how much it meant that he insisted the decision be
hers. “I want to do it. For you, for me. For us. Besides, I don’t think I’m a
good enough actress to pull your plan off otherwise.”

“I
understand that. You won’t get any argument from me. I’m through pretending I
don’t want you to run the bases. I’m so hard right now, I could go for a swim
in the Hudson, and the cold wouldn’t faze me.”

“No
swims tonight. Let’s go to bed.”

The following day,
she woke alone in Antonio’s bedroom. Like the living room she’d seen the night
before, the bedroom was as impersonal as a luxury hotel room. To say it was
uncomfortable would be wrong. The bed was like sleeping on a cloud, and the furnishing
were, if not what she would have chosen for him, beautifully sleek, modern, and
expensive.

He’d told her to
sleep as late as she wanted, explaining he would be gone most of the day,
finalizing the arrangements for tonight, and staying away so he wouldn’t be
tempted to get a head start on the evening’s activities. As much as she would
have loved to spend the day with him, he was right. She needed to rest.

After a light
lunch, she used the spa appointment Antonio had thoughtfully made for her. When
she left three hours later, her skin was soft as silk, her nails—all twenty of
them—sparkled, and her hair gleamed, bouncing in fat curls around her
shoulders. Her makeup was perfection. She’d even swallowed her embarrassment
and allowed the esthetician to tidy her pubic hair. She now sported a neat
triangle pointing the way to her secrets. She couldn’t wait for Antonio to see
it.

Back at the
apartment, she undressed and slipped into the one garment she was allowed
tonight—Antonio’s Mustangs jersey. She’d brought along a pair of high-heeled
sandals in case they went some place dressy before they returned to Dallas. She
sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on.

Standing, she
caught sight of herself in the mirror on the back of the open closet door.

Sin.

She swept a dark
curl over each shoulder and cocked one hip so her knee peeked out from between
the tails of the shirt. Pursing her lips, she made kissing sounds at her
reflection.

Switching sides,
she hitched her other hip out and fluffed her hair at her nape in an effort to
find the inner vixen she felt sure was hiding somewhere inside her. Wherever it
was, it was trembling like a leaf.

Would they take
her wearing Antonio’s jersey? That would be hot. He would like that, and so
would she.

With one hand on her
leg, she scooted the shirt hem up an inch. An inch more. She couldn’t wait to
feel Antonio’s hands on her, slowly creeping beneath the fabric to find her
naked bottom.

His eyes would go
dark like they always did when he wanted her. He would back her against the
wall, and his hands would find all her lady parts while his lips kissed her
senseless. Then he would hand her over to the others.

He’ll be here
,
she reminded herself.
Antonio will be here
.

She took a deep
breath and forced her reflection to smile back at her.

Relax. You can
do this.

“Clare?” Antonio
called from the living room.

“I’ll be right
there.” She dried her sweaty palms on the jersey and said to the woman in the
mirror. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“No jersey has
ever looked better.”

She jumped at the
sound of his voice at the door. He wore a black suit coat with a white shirt
tucked into faded jeans. The shirt was open at the collar, revealing a hint of
bronze skin that made her mouth water.

“I feel….”

“Sexy?” he
supplied. “Because you look good enough to eat.” The gleam in his eye told her
he wasn’t kidding.

“Antonio,” she
warned.

“No worries. It’s
all part of the game.” He took her hand in his and drew her to him. “The guys
are waiting for us in the living room.”

“Oh.” Reality hit.
The game wasn’t hypothetical any longer. There were three men in the other room
prepared to spend an entire evening, or as long as it took, to fuck her
senseless.

“You can still say
no,” he reminded her. He nibbled her neck while his hands found her bare ass beneath
the heavy game jersey.

“No. I mean, yes.
I want to do this.”

He lifted his
head, and his gaze met hers. “You trust me?”

She nodded.

“If you are
uncomfortable at any time, physically or otherwise, you have to say something.
We can’t feel what you’re feeling, and we don’t read minds.”

“I understand.”

“We’ll do our best
to make sure you’re aroused and ready, and we’ll use plenty of lube. We don’t
want to hurt you.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve talked with
them. They have my permission to touch you, but your permission is the only one
that counts.”

She nodded again,
afraid to try to form words. Her legs were shaking so badly she was afraid she
might topple off her high heels.

“Okay, then. Let’s
go.” He stepped back, and the jersey fell into place over her ass. Looking her
up and down, his eyes blazed. “Nice shoes.”

If he hadn’t
supported her with an arm around her waist, she might not have made it to the
living room without tripping. Her legs were jelly. Couple that with the heels
and nearly ankle-deep carpet and unsteady was an understatement.

They paused inside
the living room. Three of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen in her life
stood in a line with their backs to the gas fireplace.

“Clare Kincaid,”
he said. “May I introduce your team?” He swept a hand toward the man to his
left. “You know Keith O’Brian. We played on the Marauders together.”

Keith smiled.
“Clare. Good to see you again. I’m looking forward to this.”

Her skin prickled,
and her face flushed.

“This is Mike
Waverly from the Sidewinders.” Antonio indicated the man in the middle. He was
the shortest of the three, but he still had several inches on her. His hair
wasn’t as light as Keith’s or as dark as Antonio’s.

“Clare,” Mike said
with a half smile that would have made her swoon if she’d been capable of reacting,
but she was a ball of fire on the inside and frozen solid at the same time.
“You’re more beautiful than Tony said.”

She nodded. Or at
least, she thought she did.

“Last, but not
least,” Antonio said, “is Conner Ostenhouse from the Claimjumpers.”

She shifted her
attention to the last man. Conner was perhaps the youngest of the four men, but
it was difficult to tell. Norse gods didn’t age, did they? They were all big
men. Not fat. No. There didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat between them. They
were all shoulders, and legs, and rock-hard muscle. Athletes in their prime.

“Pleased to meet
you, Clare,” Conner said. “That jersey will have to go. It’s criminal to cover
a work of art.”

Could she possibly
blush any brighter? She nodded, accepting the compliment. This is what she’d
wanted for so long, for men to look at her and tell her she was beautiful, find
her desirable. Their approval satisfied the deep-seated insecurity that had
plagued her since her teenage years when her body had shown signs of being curvy
instead of fashionably thin.

As flattering as
it was to be desired by strangers, the reality of what was about to take place
scared the living daylights out of her. All she had to do was say the word, and
it would end here.

She tried to
swallow, but her mouth felt like it was filled with sand. She turned to
Antonio. He smiled, squeezed her hand reassuringly, and all thoughts of ending
the game evaporated in the heat of his desire.

“Rules of the
game,” he said. “Three on base, one plate umpire. The plate umpire can touch
Clare anywhere, with any part of his body he chooses, as long as he doesn’t
interfere with the players. All four men have to come each inning. We play four
innings instead of the usual three, with an hour break in between each one.
Longer if Clare needs more time. I’ll umpire first. If Clare also comes all
four innings, she earns not only the clit charm, but the diamond necklace as
well. That’s our goal, team. She needs that necklace.”

“We’ll do our
best,” Conner said.

“Not a problem,
Tony,” Keith said.

“Ditto. What they
said,” Mike added.

Antonio turned to
her. He still held her hand in his, and the heat of the connection steadied
her. “Your word is Miners. Say it and we stop. We end it. If you need a minute
to adjust, cross your fingers,” he said, demonstrating the universal sign for
luck, “and wave your hand in front of someone’s face. You may not be capable of
speech, but your hands will be free. You may touch any of us, anywhere, or
yourself at any time.”

Her brain was on
overload, but she managed a nod.

“Do you understand
and consent to having sex multiple times tonight with these men?” He squeezed
her hand again. “We need a verbal response, Clare.”

She opened her
mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Get her a glass
of water,” he said.

Keith broke away
from the group and returned with a filled tumbler he pressed into her hand. He
held the glass steady while she sipped the cool liquid.

“Thanks,” she
said. “I…. Yes, I want to do this.”

Antonio squeezed
her fingers again. She squeezed his in return. If he was touching her, she
could do anything. His strength was her strength.

Keith smiled at
her response then rejoined the others, setting the water glass on the fireplace
mantle behind him.

Antonio put
himself between them and her. With one more reassuring squeeze, he released
her. “As Mike said, this has to go.”

He slipped the
first button on her jersey free, then the next. His gaze held hers until the
last button came loose. He kissed her while his hands pushed the shirt open,
using her breasts to hold the two sides apart. Cool air brushed her exposed
skin, but soon his hands warmed her, sweeping across her sensitized flesh,
arousing and teasing. Her nipples peaked beneath his palms. She almost forgot
the others were there, but then he ended the kiss, gave her one long, assessing
look, and stepped away.

Three sets of eyes
blazing with desire took in her body framed by Antonio’s jersey. The scarlet
fabric should contrast nicely with her cream skin, but she feared her entire
body was an embarrassing shade of puce.

“Holy shit,”
Conner said. “I knew she was a work of art.”

“Oh, man,” Mike
chimed in. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Tony.”

Keith smiled and
chuckled beneath his breath. “Clare.” He waited until she looked directly at
him. “We are honored to be of service to you tonight.”

Memories of his
gentle, caring touch allowed her to return his smile. Antonio urged her
forward. She followed him to the large, square ottoman that was both a footrest
and a coffee table for the sectional sofa. When she was seated on the edge, he
went to his knees in front of her and spread her legs.

Her breath caught,
knowing four men were now privy to her most intimate secrets. He stroked along
the tops of her thighs, comforting her. She focused on him, and only him.

“Lie back,” he
said, “and let us love you.”

Her gaze locked
with his, and the storm of passion in his eyes fueled a fire within her. His
hands on her legs were her lifelines. She lay back, raising her arms over her
head, offering herself to them.

“Players.” Antonio
called his friends to the field. “Let’s play ball.”

His hands slid
beneath her thighs, lifting and parting her. Fingers closed over her ankles,
and she looked up to see Mike standing over Antonio, holding her legs aloft.
Keith and Conner knelt on either side of the ottoman. They reached for her
breasts, and she closed her eyes as they caressed her. She tilted her head and
arched her back, inviting them to taste her. A heated mouth closed over each
aching nipple, forcing a moan from her throat. Then Antonio claimed her pussy.
Claimed her. Her brain short-circuited. She lost the ability to think, leaving
herself at the mercy of her senses.