Bringing Down Sam

by Leslie Kelly

  But she couldn't resist. "It's the damn dimples," she said aloud as she quickly braided her still wet hair and put on a bit of makeup. She'd always been a sucker for dimples...be they on cute, apple-cheeked toddlers or gorgeous, green-eyed, hunky men.

  Eve lied to herself for just a few more seconds. Then she stared at her face in the mirror and admitted the truth. "It's also the lips, the hands, the grin...and, oh, yeah, that little comment about foreplay." Her reflection did not disagree.

  Dressing quickly in a pair of jean shorts and a red tank top, she yanked on her sneakers and pulled her favorite Phillies baseball cap out of her suitcase. She tugged her braid through the hole in the back of the cap as she entered the living room and found Sam dozing off on the couch.

  "Come on, big shot. You woke me up, now let's see what you can do," Eve said. Walking behind the couch, she leaned over and shoved his feet off the side. His legs slid, too, and the momentum pulled him off the couch. He landed with a thump on the floor. Sam kept his eyes closed, lying there, between the base of the sofa and the glass coffee table.

  "Well?" she insisted.

  "I thought you wanted to see what I could do. I figured you preferred the floor.”

  "Yeah, well, I thought you weren't interested," she retorted, feeling hot blood rush into her face.

  He opened his eyes and peered up at her intently. "Ahh-ahh, I never said that, Eve. If I recall, what I said was..."

  "Never mind," she interjected. "I've completely forgotten."

  His smirk called her a liar. She ignored it. "Let’s go. You said your game started at ten."

  "But there's such a great view from down here," Sam said with genuine regret as his gaze slid up her bare legs.

  Eve felt the stare as if his eyes were fingers, and her breath caught in her throat. She wondered if she could see the goose-flesh rising on her skin. "Come on," she managed to say as she self-consciously turned and walked toward the door.

  "If you insist," he said with a sigh as he followed her out.

  They drove to a nearby city park, talking about nothing more significant than the weather at first. Eve kept glancing out the corner of her eye, looking at Sam's legs as he drove. She liked men with good legs. Nothing was worse than going out several times with a great guy who looked good in a suit, then seeing him in shorts and finding out he had scrawny chicken legs.

  Sam didn't. She'd noticed how good he looked in gym shorts and his black T-shirt as they rode down in the elevator. His arms were thick and she wouldn't be a bit surprised if he told her he lifted weights. His body was hard, his chest broader than it had appeared in his suit or tux. And his legs were powerful, heavily muscled and tanned from an obviously active outdoor lifestyle.

  The fact that the man's body was just as appealing as his face made Eve even more uncomfortable in the close confines of his car. Having been in his arms, with the memory of his kisses keeping her up half the night, she was aware of each shift he made, every breath he took.

  Finally, he broke the silence in the car. "Sleep well?"

  "Oh, like a rock," she lied. "The bed is huge."

  She nearly kicked herself as soon as the words left her lips. "Of course," she said quickly, trying to cover her embarrassment at what he'd certainly think was a come-on, "since it was so big I was able to sleep on the dry half!"

  "Sure, Eve," Sam said. She heard the laughter in his voice.

  When they arrived at the park, Eve saw several vehicles parked near the ball field. A few men were warming up, whistling at their wives or girlfriends who were sitting at nearby picnic tables. Some children played near the dugout, more on a swingset. "Are most of your friends married?" Eve asked in surprise.

  "Some. There are a few of us holdouts. And we bachelors take it as our personal responsibility to make them as envious as possible." Sam grinned as he swung the car into a parking place and cut the ignition. "We lie about our fabulous sex lives, act like we escort beautiful women to expensive restaurants every night of the week. The usual stuff."

  "And is it a lie?"

  "Generally," Sam admitted. "Most single guys would give their right arm for a home-cooked meal and someone to moan to about their day, though they'd never admit it. And as for the sex factor...didja ever read the article I wrote for His World about married sex vs. single sex?"

  "Can't say I ever did," Eve replied warily, wondering if he was about to say sex was one reason men wanted to stay single.

  "Most married men typically get more sex than bachelors."

  "Are you saying most married men cheat?"

  Sam laughed. "No, Eve, I'm talking about sex within the marriage. Single guys like to pretend they're gettin' it all over the place, but most thirty-something, professional men are socially aware, and just don't sleep around too much. Men in safe, long-term relationships have the best sex...so I'm told."

  Eve didn't know what to make of his comments. Here was a man who'd written a handbook telling men how to avoid commitment, basically saying married men had it better than single men.

  "Aren't you contradicting what you wrote in your book?"

  He shook his head, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "When are people going to get it...the book is a joke, Eve. It's one long, rambling, 'I'm a sexist pig' joke!"

  Though she'd figured that out before now, Eve felt relief course through her. All her instincts had been telling her Sam was a good guy since the first time they’d met. Now he was confirming it…he wasn’t the guy the world thought him to be. And if some men were taking his words seriously, and hurting women—like her own friends—could that really be held against him?

  No. Not by any reasonable person. "I thought that might be the case."

  "People who know me understand," Sam said. "I wrote the original article because my editor called me, said they needed a funny piece on relationships, and I had just had a griping session with some guys about commitment. It flew off the top of my head."

  "And the book came out of the article?"

  "Exactly," he affirmed. "It could just as easily have spun out of my articles on living on macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, or flavored condoms!"

  She grinned. "Living on flavored condoms?"

  "Different article."

  "Whew!"

  He chuckled, flashing that dimpled grin that she was quickly coming to adore. She thrust off the reaction, reaching for the door handle.

  Sam placed a hand on her arm. "So are we clear now? I'm not a sexist pig. All those things I said last night while we were dancing were just to get a rise out of you."

  "All clear, Sam. And, I have to say, I'm glad. I'm very glad." Eve didn't mean for her words to sound as intimate as they did. She should have kept it light but she was unable to keep the genuine emotion out of her voice. She was, indeed, glad to know her impressions were correct.

  "So, maybe now, you feel like coming clean with your own confession? Don't bother to deny it. I know there's more to the story of Eve Barret than you've let on."

  She swallowed hard, realizing he still hadn't given up on finding out all of her secrets. It was the gentle humor in his eyes that made her think it might not be such a bad thing to tell him the truth. The guy had a sense of humor, after all. Maybe he would be flattered. Maybe he would admire her ingenuity and suggest they see each other again. Maybe when he found out she'd schemed with a bunch of girlfriends to make him fall in love with her, then dump and humiliate him, he'd just chuckle himself all over the place.

  Maybe pigs would fly.

  But whatever the case, it was worth getting everything out into the open. Finally.

  Sam watched Eve closely, knowing she was about to tell him the real story. He could see her take a deep breath, and part her lips, ready to spill forth the rest of the story about why she'd been posing as a blonde bimbo for him. He wasn’t the type to flatter himself and think she was trying to become the kind of woman he wanted because she’d read his book and decided he was the one and only guy for her. But he’d lay money it
had something to do with the book.

  “Well?”

  She opened her mouth. But before she could say a word, someone knocked sharply on the car window.

  "You guys in there making out or what? Come on, the game's about to start!"

  Sam glanced outside and saw one of his buddies grinning back at him. He sighed. Whatever Eve had been about to tell him was gone now. The moment was lost. "Come on, we can finish this conversation later." He saw her relieved expression. "And we will finish it, right, Eve?"

  She hesitated, then gave him a quick nod.

  Stepping out of the car, Sam greeted his friend Mac. "You've always had such impeccable timing."

  "Hah. It's broad daylight in a public park, Sammy boy. And a Sunday morning, no less. Keep it in the bedroom."

  Sam fell right into the traditional routine. "Sorry, I forgot you're married. You probably don't remember how to do it anywhere but in a dark bedroom underneath piles of covers with her wearing a flannel night shirt and sweat socks."

  His friend groaned, then playfully punched him in the chest. "So you've finally brought yourself a date, huh, Sam?"

  Sam followed Mac's stare, watching as Eve got out of the passenger side and walked around the car. "Ho-ly mo-ly," the other man drawled as his mouth fell open.

  "You're drooling right down your chin, pal," Sam said. "And Carla's standing right over there...remember Carla? Your wife?"

  His friend shook off the daze he'd been under and attempted a weak smile. "Women never looked like that when I was single."

  Sam ignored him and walked up to take Eve's arm. Again, as she had the night before at the cocktail party, Eve pressed closer into his side than was entirely necessary. Feeling the tenseness of her body, he wondered what was wrong. Then he noticed the cluster of wives and girlfriends watching her warily.

  "Don't sweat it Eve. They're all nice people. Just give them a chance to get to know you."

  She shrugged and straightened her back. "Women don't always bother to try to get to know me."

  He wondered at her comment, but by that point they'd reached the picnic tables. A dark-haired woman, who was a girlfriend of one of the other guys, at least made the effort and offered Eve a smile of welcome. The others remained silent.

  Eve sent a silent prayer upward, hoping the day wouldn't be a complete wash-out. Now was the make-or-break moment. The women would either close ranks, because their husbands and boyfriends were leering at her from the ball field, or they'd offer a friendly smile, make fun of their ape-man mates, and give her a chance. She'd played this scenario many times before. The former outcome, unfortunately, was the one she experienced more often.

  Eve held her breath. Finally, the decision was made by the apparent leader of the group. A smile lit up the face of a pregnant redhead wearing a bright yellow maternity dress. "Sam, it's about time you showed up! And finally you've brought your own cheering section." The woman's eyes twinkled in welcome.

  "Hey, you're getting too big for cartwheels," Sam retorted easily. "This is Eve Barret."

  "I'm Carla Jaeger, that's my big dopey husband still standing there wiping the drool off of Sam's windshield." She gave an exasperated sigh, but the humor was evident in her face. Eve felt a huge surge of relief.

  Sam squeezed her hand before he walked toward the field, warming up with one of the other players. As soon as he left, Carla introduced her to all the other women, and only one or two continued to stare at her with suspicion. The others seemed friendly, unthreatened as any woman in a strong, secure relationship would be.

  "So what's the deal?" Eve asked, noticing several of them were dressed in flowery sun dresses and sandals. "You don't play?"

  "Once in awhile," Carla replied. "I used to play a lot, but I don't run so fast these days. It can be just as much fun to watch. These guys are such babies, they get totally anal over these stupid games, and end up arguing and quitting half the time. I keep telling them to lighten up and just enjoy it but they're way too competitive. They act like spoiled fifth graders when they have to take a 'girl' on their team!"

  "Sounds like they need a 'girl' to show them up,” Eve said.

  Carla must have heard the note of confidence in Eve's voice, because she studied her intently. "Are you up to the challenge?"

  "Absolutely," Eve replied with calm assurance.

  "A little feminine maneuvering might catch them by surprise." Her stare was purely speculative.

  Eve narrowed her eyes, nodding. "I understand completely."

  Tina, the brunette who'd been the first to offer a smile, said, "I'm up for playing, Eve, if you're going to. I just didn't want to if none of the other women were."

  "You up for playing to win, Tina?"

  "That's what I'm here for," Tina said, putting her hands on her hips. "My boyfriend told me none of the other girlfriends ever play...and boy would I love to show him up."

  Eve smiled, resolute. "Anybody have a glove I could borrow?"

  Carla reached into a beach bag on the ground near her feet. It was obviously difficult for her to bend over the huge mound of stomach, and she grimaced. Retrieving a worn glove, she tossed it to Eve. "I always bring it along because I threaten Mac if he doesn't behave, I'm going to pull him out of the game and play myself. Our baby could be born on the third base line."

  Eve laughed. "You stay right here. Tina, wanna warm up?"

  The woman tugged her own glove and ball from another bag. As they left the picnic area to walk over to the field, Eve heard Carla tell the other women what Eve planned to do. Funny that Carla had been able to read her so easily. Eve liked her already.

  Watching out of the corner of her eye, Eve noticed as the men on the field glanced over to see what was going on. Most of them laughed out loud, but Sam stared at her intently.

  "I came to play, big guy," Eve said.

  He grinned. "Play on, doll. Throw me some of those curves."

  A few good natured catcalls came from some of the other players, but Eve ignored them. "Whose team are we on?"

  All the players on the field immediately pointed to members of the opposite team. Sam silenced them. "Mine. Both of you are on mine." He gave his teammates a glare, and they quit grumbling.

  "Let us warm up, then we'll be ready," Eve said as she gently tossed the ball to Tina. She heard the sigh of a nearby player, and smothered a grin when he mumbled something that sounded like "throws like a girl".

  Eve knew what she was doing. She knew exactly what she was doing. "You know, Tina, I do need to stretch out. Okay?"

  Eve strolled close to the bench where some of the players already sat. They were watching. All of them. Biting the inside of her cheek to hide a grin, Eve raised her arms over her head and began to stretch, side to side, knowing the cotton fabric of her red tank top was pulled tight over her breasts. The bottom of the shirt slipped out of the waistband of her jean shorts, and she felt eight pairs of male eyes slide down her body to peek at her pierced belly button. She waited for the quick rush of anxiety she always felt when people stared at her, but didn't feel it. She felt like she did in front of a camera. Like she was performing...pretending to be someone else.

  Glancing toward Tina, she gave her a broad wink and a nod of encouragement. The other woman seemed to understand, and she smothered a giggle with her hand. Then she, too, began exercising, bending completely over to stretch out her leg muscles. Good girl, Tina. The men's eyes moved faster than scampering rats, shifting their attention back and forth between Tina's long, toned legs and Eve's bare belly.

  By the time they were completely warmed up, Eve and Tina had the focus of each male player on the field. Right now, they were thinking about anything but what skill at softball the two women might have.

  "It's almost too easy," Eve muttered as she and Tina took their places on the bench with the other players.

  Eve glanced at Sam and noticed his dark frown. He didn't seem pleased with her performance, and kept shooting glares at two of his teammates who whispered to
one another nearby. When he realized she was watching, he caught her eye and held it.

  While she'd been completely disinterested in the admiring, mindless glances of the other men, she was very much affected by Sam's. His gaze shifted away from her face, down her torso, sliding across her hips and legs with the confidence of a man who thought he had the right to look at her. And more. Eve felt the heat in his stare, and her pulse beat more rapidly in her veins.

  They were far from alone. Three sweaty guys separated them on the bench. But his stare was as intimate as a touch, and nearly as pleasurable.

  "Let's play," he said softly, so softly she didn’t even hear the words so much as read them on his lips.

  Eve nodded slowly. "Absolutely."

  Sam wondered what Eve was up to. There was no question she was up to something. Her stretching performance had been completely intentional. She'd had the lustful attention of every player on the field. And Sam hadn't liked it one bit.

  Again, he was confused by the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy. He'd never experienced it with any woman before Eve. And now, after knowing her for a few short days, he was ready to rip the arms off two guys who were whispering about her.

  "Ready?" Eve asked.

  Sam narrowed his eyes. "You sure you're up for this?"

  She nodded. "Batting order?"

  "How 'bout you bat first," he said, his tone challenging.

  Sam watched as she walked to home plate, picked up a medium-weight wooden bat and slid it across her shoulders for another quick stretch, a look of casual nonchalance on her face.

  "I got a mean high-curve pitch, Blondie. You sure you wanna do this?" said the player on the pitcher's mound.

  If anything, Eve's casual attitude was more pronounced after the pitcher's taunt. She shrugged, but Sam saw the quick flash of determination in her clenched jaw. Then she was all smiles, the flirtatious bimbo he'd met at the photo shoot.