Stopping Short: A Hot Baseball Romance (11 page)

Jamie laughed. “Whirlwind romance will do that to a girl. Stick around for a few months, and you’ll know a lot about baseball too. That’s all the guys talk about—who made what play when.” She rolled her eyes, but she laughed as she said it. Jessica got the distinct impression that Jamie didn’t mind hearing about spectacular plays from Nick Durban.

Back at the plate, the umpire shouted, “Strike one!” Drew hadn’t even swung his bat. He kicked at the dirt and lowered his head. Jessica thought she saw his lips move, but she couldn’t hear what he said.

“Strike two!”

Ashley elbowed Jessica in disgust. “If they’re going to give Nakamura the high strike
and
the low one, Drew doesn’t stand a chance.”

Jessica held her breath as the slender pitcher wound up his arm again. Drew swung his bat in a perfect arc; the sound belonged in an orchestra. Ashley shouted, “That one’s out of here!” and she was right—the ball looked like it was still rising when it flew over the fence. Drew trotted around the bases, raising his arms at the end to take the high-five congratulations of the next guy to bat.

He paused, though, before he headed back to the dugout. He scanned the stands quickly, until he found Jessica. He tipped his cap toward her, and she felt her cheeks flame as every single person in the tiny stadium turned to stare at her.

So she did what any good fiancée would do. She blew him a kiss.

And she wondered if his body ached the way hers did, if he’d discovered muscles he hadn’t used in far too long, if he was feeling giddy and jumpy and just a little bit drunk from lack of sleep the night before.

She hoped so. Because it would be a crime for him not to share how happy she was.

~~~

Drew could get used to this.

He could get used to waking up beneath crisp hotel sheets. He could get used to the glow of sunrise outside the arched window. He could get used to propping himself up on the pillows, to studying the woman beside him, to watching the way the morning light caught the red streaks deep in her dark brown hair.

Forget about her hair. It was her body he was staring at. He wanted to run his hand over her hip, to dip his fingers into the warmth between her thighs. He wanted to fold his arm over her side and cup one of her tits in his palm, to feel her nipple stiffen before she even woke up. He wanted to lick the hollow behind her knee, to trace his lips up the back of her thigh, to graze his teeth across the curve of her ass.

Shit. He was hard again. It felt like he’d regressed to seventh grade, like he’d been hard every waking moment—and half his sleeping ones—since Wednesday night.

He marched one stiff finger down her spine, grinning like a fool when she moved in her sleep, rising to meet his touch. He spread his hand over her ass, rubbing each cheek, pulling close enough that he could touch her with his throbbing cock.

Her eyes opened. “What time is it?”

He leaned down and kissed the twin Vs at the base of her spine. “Good morning to you too.”

She rolled away from him. “No, really. What time is it?”

He couldn’t help but glance at her bare wrist before he turned to the clock on the nightstand. “A couple of minutes to six.”

“Dammit! I should have set an alarm.” She scrambled out of bed before he could stop her. She didn’t bother finding a robe, or covering herself with a sheet the way she had on Thursday. Instead, she fished around on the floor until she came up with the white dress shirt he’d worn the night before. She pulled it on and fastened a few strategic buttons. He wasn’t about to tell her she was every bit as sexy barely covering up her assets as she’d been when she was stark naked. He wasn’t an idiot. But he sure as hell enjoyed the view as she sat on the edge of the desk chair.

“Come on…” she muttered as she waited for her computer to connect up.

He leaned back on his pillows and shifted the sheets to cover the hard-on that wasn’t giving any signs of letting up. Then he laced his fingers behind his head and asked, “What’s more interesting than Sunday morning nookie with a gen-u-ine major league baseball player?”

She barely glanced at him. “Sunday morning news stories
about
a gen-u-ine major league baseball player.”

Her computer must have loaded whatever page she’d been waiting for. She pounced on it like a lion bringing down a gazelle. She read with a fierce intensity, scrolling through paragraphs more rapidly than anyone he’d ever seen before. Her lips pursed and she nodded, tight little acknowledgments like she was counting items on a checklist. When she got to the end, she typed in a series of quick commands, her fingers flashing faster than a catcher giving signs.

She swore when the first page came up. He watched her eyes dart from top to bottom, watched her wrist flick as she scrolled down. Then it was time for more typing, more secret messages jumping between her hands and the computer.

This time, she was happier with what she found. The tension in her shoulders eased; she sat back just a little in the chair. She read more of the page before she typed another command.

He watched her for half an hour, fascinated by her intensity, by her sheer determination as she leaped from page to page. Somewhere along the way, his cock accepted it wasn’t getting any. Instead, he marveled at the way she buried herself in her work, the way she tuned out everything—and everyone—around her.

She didn’t even notice when he climbed out of bed. She didn’t see when he reached into the pocket of her jeans, when he plucked out her phone and turned off its power. For good measure, he pulled his own off its charger. He turned it off, too, and then he padded into the bathroom to hide both of them behind his shaving cream.

And not a minute too soon. When he returned to the main room, she was pushing her chair back from the desk. “Where did I leave my phone?” she asked, sounding like they were in the middle of a conversation.

“You can find it after breakfast.”

“Let’s order room service. I have to call Chip.”

“Room service will bring us soggy toast and cold eggs. I’m taking you out for a real meal. You can tell me the bad news over crab cakes and hollandaise.”

That
caught her attention, but she still shook her head. “It isn’t bad news, not really. Parker’s article is rough, but we knew it would be. The really amazing thing is how quickly the rest of the story’s spreading. I thought we’d have to wait until Monday round-ups at least, to see a kicker to your Charisma Index, but the line’s already starting to move.”

He crossed to the dresser and pulled out clean underwear and socks. “I’ll take your word. Maybe I’ll even understand what you’re saying after coffee. But we aren’t going to get that far, if you don’t cover up a lot more than that shirt lets you hide.”

She looked down like she was surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a suit of armor. “You’d get turned on by granny panties and a latex girdle.”

“If you were wearing them, yeah. I would.”

He loved that he could make her blush. And he wanted to prove to her that he was right. But just a tiny bit more, he wanted to stock up on some breakfast, some fuel to get him through the rest of what promised to be a long day. Most of all, though, he wanted to get her out of the hotel room before she could insist on finding her phone, before she could demand that they wait while she talked to Chip.

They’d already lost out on screwing their brains out in the morning sunshine that streamed through the tall windows. He wasn’t going to give up on mimosas and Crab Benedict too.

A few teasing kisses made his argument. That, and the promise to pick out clothes for her himself, to dress her and throw her over his shoulder and carry her through the lobby even if she kicked and screamed the entire way. She threatened to make him do all that. But he knew she was really as hungry as he was.

~~~

Two hours later, Jessica twisted her fingers around Drew’s and said, “Ready to walk the gauntlet?”

“Do we have a choice?”

The lobby had a lot more people in it than when they’d slipped out earlier. She scanned past the usual tourists, barely acknowledging their existence. The handful of players were worth a bit more time. Nick Durban nodded at them from across the room, interrupting his conversation with Jamie Martin. The photographer turned and broadcast her own smile. They’d both obviously read the news, at least Parker’s main article, but they were making it clear they remained on Drew’s side.

Other guys were oblivious. They were talking together, slouching like fraternity brothers, speculating on women or baseball games or what bar had the best happy hour. Good. Jessica’s job would have been a thousand times more difficult if she had to rebuild Drew’s connections to his teammates.

They’d almost reached the elevator when she saw the one person she most wanted to avoid. Ross Parker was sitting in one of the hotel’s oversize Queen Anne chairs; she might have missed him entirely, if he hadn’t made a big show of folding up his print newspaper.

Of course, the rustling newsprint should have been her first cue. There weren’t a lot of people reading the
News & Observer
in the Vista Linda lobby. At least not in print. Who knew
what
anyone was skimming on an electronic screen?

“
There’s
the happy couple,” he said, offering his customary half-bow, as if they were squaring off for a duel. He made a show of checking out Jessica’s ring finger. “You never did get that setting fixed?”

“What do you want, Parker?” Drew’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

“To deliver a complimentary copy of today’s
News
.” He tried to hand over the paper he’d been reading. “It can be so hard to find a copy down here in the Sunbelt.”

Jessica answered before Drew could say anything. “We’ve already read it, thank you.”

“Excellent! Any comments?”

“Off the record?”

“Sorry.” The reporter shook his head mournfully.

“Then no comment,” Jessica said flatly. She broke a fingernail stabbing at the elevator’s call button.

“Hey,” Drew said, as soon as the doors closed behind them. “
I
wanted to say something to that asshole.”

“Exactly.” At least she managed a smile for him. “And no matter what else happens today, I’ve earned my pay just keeping that from happening.” She let Drew slip his keycard through the lock on the door. “Now, may I have my phone back please?”

“If you’ve already earned your pay…” He let his voice trail off suggestively.

The thing was, she wanted to give in to him. She wanted to hang the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, to throw the covers off the bed, to explore every idea Drew had put into her head as he watched her at breakfast, as his fingers flexed on his silverware, as his eyes traced the syrup-laden waffle she’d carried to her lips, all the while his leg stretching out to brush against hers.

This was so different from her early days with Kevin. Sure, back then she’d been awash in surprise and wonder and lots and lots of sex. Just like now.

But with Kevin there’d always been something else. Some difficult emotion that she’d never managed to name. It wasn’t
fear
, not exactly, although she’d worried from the day she met him that she’d lose him in some horrible accident. And it wasn’t
frustration
, not quite. He’d been devoted to her sexual satisfaction, even if she’d sometimes felt he was keeping score in some gigantic ledger.

She’d loved Kevin. She had. But he wasn’t a perfect man; no one was. And with the hard-won perspective of the past year, Jessica now realized that she’d tied her own tongue too much of the time they’d been together. She’d always let Kevin be Kevin, without ever asking him to consider being something different for her. She’d always stopped short of asking for what she needed.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Drew asked gently.

She shook her head. “I’ll need that penny, and a lot more, if I don’t call Chip now. He’ll fire me before lunch if I don’t check in.”

Drew heaved an exaggerated sigh and marched into the bathroom. He presented her with her phone and turned his on as well. She watched as he keyed in his password, heard him suck air between his teeth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said automatically. But he followed up with, “Six calls from Williamson. He started at seven o’clock, and he’s called every fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” she said, glancing down at the clock on her own device. “That gives you three minutes before Mother Hen checks in again.”

“I’ll take my call on the balcony,” he said.

She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks. You’ll still be able to hear Chip from there.” She waited until Drew had closed the sliding door before she returned the one call that waited in her own voicemail. She didn’t need to listen to the message. She knew exactly what he’d said.

Chip answered on the first ring. “Jessica.”

“Good morning.” She tried to match his perfectly neutral tone.

“I’m certain there’s a reason you didn’t pick up when I called.”

“It’s been a busy morning here. I just finished meeting with Parker.”

Okay. That made a chance encounter in the lobby sound a lot more important than it had been, but she didn’t mind leading Chip astray. At least a little.

“How is he reacting?”

“About as you’d expect. He’s gloating. Looking for an official comment. I don’t think he’s read our counter-stories yet. He obviously has no idea about the ones that will go out tomorrow.”

“What did Mr. Marshall say to him?”

“Nothing at all. I controlled the situation, Chip.”

“Excellent. Then you’ll have no problem getting on the 5:30 tonight. You can report at the Status Meeting tomorrow morning.”

Even though she’d been expecting the words, her belly clenched with anxiety. She glanced out the window to the balcony. Drew’s back was to her. He was staring out at the palm trees, holding his phone to his ear.

“I need to be here, Chip.”

Silence. But Chip didn’t
do
silence. She tried to muster her next argument, tried to pull her thoughts together. Staring at Drew’s butt wasn’t helping. Damn. Looking at the bed wasn’t any better.