Double Play

by Shalvis, Jill

  He pulled a condom from his shorts on the floor. Straightening, he looked down at her with heated, glittering eyes as he lifted her leg and wrapped it around his hip, pulling her body up against his hot, hard one.

  And everything that had kept her heart protected from him flew right out the window as he protected them both and entered her, a deliciously hot glide that had her wild again in seconds. She arched, rocking up so he’d move within her.

  But he still couldn’t be rushed. No, the man who could throw so fast he made her head spin took his damn sweet time giving her another long, slow, perfect thrust. And suddenly, instead of racing for the finish line, she wanted it to never end. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, holding on for dear life as he pushed into her. “Oh God, please don’t . . .” Her toes curled, and she could feel herself letting go, really, fully, utterly—letting go.

  “Feel it, Holly. Feel me.”

  Yes. She was getting a real feel for him, thick and straining for release inside her.

  “Yeah, like that,” he whispered gruffly in her ear, and it hit her like a freight train, making her cry out again, hearing him do the same as he pumped into her one last time. It was earth-shattering, and her mouth, disconnected from her brain, let three little words slip right out of her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I love you.”

  Above her, Pace went utterly still, and oh God, she did, too.

  Then he lifted his head, slipped his hands into her hair, and tilted her head to his. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, still gasping for air. “I said your name. And then . . . and then I just stopped talking.”

  Eyes locked on hers, he slowly shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay, then pretend I said nothing, the way we used to pretend that this was just an odd, inexplicable chemistry.”

  He stayed still, holding her against him as he supported the both of them, his arms still quaking faintly, his torso damp, his eyes opaque. “Holly—”

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please, Pace.”

  Looking staggered, he leaned in and kissed her softly, whispered her name, and then nuzzled her throat.

  And very slowly, she relaxed. He was going to let it go, and in relief she curled into him.

  “Okay, first,” he murmured, “I hope you got the license plate of whatever that was that just hit us.”

  Yeah. That’s exactly how it felt. A damn big truck. See? It wasn’t her fault. The next time they were together, she’d simply tape her mouth shut first, that’s all. Or maybe she’d do it starting right now—

  “And second—” he said, much more seriously, meeting her gaze.

  Oh God. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit—

  “Holly, I—”

  The knock at the door startled the both of them. As did Chipper’s voice coming through it.

  “Pace?”

  Suitably distracted from wondering what he’d been about to say, Holly looked at Pace in horror because she was naked. Naked, with a twelve-year-old boy knocking on the door. “We lost track of the time!”

  “Yeah.” He helped her off the table. “The minute you took off your top, I lost all control of my thought processes.”

  No time for her bra, she grabbed her tank top as Chipper banged on the door. “Pace? You there?”

  “Hold onto your shorts, buddy,” Pace called back, tossing Holly hers.

  “I am not going without panties again!” she hissed, but then slid on her shorts sans panties for speed. Dammit.

  “I’m sorry,” Pace whispered softly, giving her one last hard kiss as Chipper kept knocking. “So sorry.”

  She could do nothing but laugh in disbelief as he slipped her panties in his pocket, looking so damn sexy as he smiled at her in a way that had the love she hadn’t known she felt brimming to the surface. Yeah, it’d really snuck up on her and grabbed her by the heartstrings.

  Which meant in spite of her best intentions, she had a world of hurt coming her way.

  Chapter 27

  The charm of baseball is that dull as it may be on the field, it is endlessly fascinating as a rehash.

  —Jim Murray

  Chipper and the guys were ecstatic at the news that Pace had purchased the park and were arguing over who was going to help him fix up the building while Pace struggled to get his head on straight. Not easy, because Holly stood there in her shorts, once again wearing no panties.

  “I’m great with power tools,” River said. “I helped my older brother tear down a car once.”

  Jesus. “Stay away from stolen cars, River.”

  “ ’Kay. So can I use the power tools?”

  “Me, too,” Chipper said. “I’m helping, too.”

  “You’re all helping,” Pace told them. “And then we’ll put out the word about baseball clinics, and more kids will come, and maybe we can start a league.”

  “Who’s going to coach us?”

  “Me. I’m going to coach you, and by the time you get to high school, the coach there will be begging you to try out.”

  Chipper grinned and followed as Pace walked Holly out to her car. The others came, too. Pace’s legs were still wobbling from the climax that had nearly blown his hair off. The lack of underwear wasn’t helping, but there was a bigger reason he couldn’t catch his breath or balance.

  She loved him.

  She.

  Loved.

  Him.

  Never in a million years would he have guessed that they’d get to this point. He felt unprepared and disoriented and . . .

  Well, he wasn’t sure exactly. But he had butterflies in his stomach, and somehow his heart had gotten on the outside of his ribs. He might have mentioned these odd symptoms to her, but he had five kids hanging on their every word and a game to get to.

  A game he was going to have to prepare for, somehow.

  “Okay, well . . .” Holly turned toward her car. “I’ll see you later.”

  “I’m glad you took Pace back,” Chipper said. “I’m glad you’re his girlfriend again.”

  Pace could tell by the look on Holly’s face that she was trying to formulate a denial, a denial for his sake, to protect him, and that killed him. She was smart and sweet and loyal as hell, and she loved him—not because he was a baseball player, but in spite of it.

  His own miracle. “Me, too,” he told Chipper, grabbing Holly’s hand. “I’m glad she’s my girlfriend, too.” He felt her stiffen in surprise at his side, and he looked into her eyes, which were warm and filled with things that somehow warmed him, too. From inside his pocket, his cell phone rang, and he pulled it out “It’s Sam,” he said.

  “Pace,” the publicist said in a voice that told him she’d been crying, possibly still was. “Holly isn’t the leak. She never was. It’s Jeremy.”

  “What? How did you find that out?”

  “I lied and told him I had proof it was him, and he caved like a cheap suitcase. He’d stolen my password and was accessing my computer for privileged information. He’s turned in his resignation at the Bucks.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Not really, no. I tried to turn in my resignation but no one would take it.”

  “Good.” He couldn’t imagine the Heat’s PR department without her running it. “This isn’t your fault, Sam. Any more than it was Holly’s.”

  “I’ll work on believing that.”

  “Good. You and Holly both deserve better.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and found Holly looking at him. “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She leaned in and kissed him. “Everything. You stood up for me.”

  “That’s what boyfriends do,” Chipper said. “Right, Pace?”

  Pace found himself smiling into Holly’s eyes. “Right.”

  She smiled back, and for the first time ever before a game, he felt light as a feather. Like he could do anything.

  With her at his side.

  In the stands, Holly distracted hers
elf with her camera, taking shots of the guys warming up and interacting on the field. As practice ended and the stadium began to fill, adrenaline seemed to run high. From where she sat, she could see straight into the Heat’s dugout, and she turned her camera there, zooming in for some great shots. She hadn’t gone online to see the lineup today, and she wondered who was pitching as she got pictures of Gage talking to Pace, and then she went still, her eyes locked on the lens as Pace looked up and unerringly found her in the crowd.

  He was a hundred yards away and yet in her lens he was right there, eyes warming. He smiled and mouthed her name.

  And then, oh God, and then he mouthed three little words.

  I love you.

  Staggered, she sank to her seat, lowering her camera to take in the real Pace, but he was nothing more than a blur so she went back to the lens.

  Because surely she’d imagined it, just a funny little trick her brain had decided to play. Ha ha. Funny.

  Her eyes soaked him up, willing him to say it again, but Gage got in her way, squinting out into the stands to see what Pace had been looking at.

  Holly sucked in a breath, painfully aware that she was probably still persona non grata around these parts. And it was then, while trying to lie low, that her cell phone buzzed. “You coming?” Gage asked in her ear.

  “Um, what?”

  “Get your ass down here. You have a player to kiss.”

  She dropped her phone, stuffed her camera in her bag, and raced to the clubhouse, passing by several of the training staff and maintenance staff, all of whom greeted her. At the door to the clubhouse, Gage pulled her in for a hug.

  Stunned, she hugged him back.

  Henry smiled at her. All the guys smiled at her, some even hugging her as Gage had. Hell, Wade gave her a smacking kiss right on the lips, lingering over it until she was yanked out of his arms and into another pair that she knew like the back of her hand.

  “Hands off,” Pace said over her head to Wade.

  Wade grinned broadly. “Aw, that color of green looks so hot on you.”

  Gage pushed Wade clear. “You two have a shower room to get to in a damn hurry.” He pretty much shoved them inside. “You know the drill.”

  When the door shut, Holly leaned back against the tile wall, her heart so full she could scarcely stand it. “I think we’ve had our quota today already.”

  Pace grinned as he came in close. Trapping her against the tile with a hand on either side of her face, he stepped into her. “Maybe we’re due for more than our fair share.”

  “I’m game.” She was still smiling when he kissed her, but at the first touch of his lips all humor faded, replaced by a familiarity that was as natural as breathing and a heat that never failed to amaze her. She wound her arms around his neck, loving the feel of his bigger, stronger arms pulling her up against the body she planned on nibbling every single inch of later. He smelled like soap and deodorant and Ace Wrap and she inhaled him in—

  “Okay, that’s all we have time for, thank you.” Gage fisted his hand in the back of Pace’s jersey, pulling him free.

  “Wait,” Pace told him. “I’ve got to—”

  “Later.”

  And just like that, he and Pace were gone.

  A little dizzy, Holly made her way back to the stands, where just before the first pitch, Sam appeared at the empty seat next to her. “Is this seat taken?”

  Holly looked up at the woman she’d become such good friends with and felt her throat tighten. “Yes. By you.”

  Sam sank down next to her. “I’m so sorry, Holly. I’ve given you such a hard time, and it wasn’t your fault and I’m just so . . .” Her eyes filled. “Sorry.”

  Holly hugged her. “You were only protecting your team. I get that. I heard about Jeremy. Are you okay?”

  “I’m shocked and hurt and pissed off, but I’m okay. And we’re going to kick ass today to prove it.”

  When the announcer called out the starting lineup, the pitcher walked onto the mound.

  Pace.

  Holly gasped as the home crowd went crazy. “What?” she whispered to Sam. “He’s pitching?”

  “Yes.”

  He stood on the mound looking tall, tough, and a little lean after all the rehabbing he’d done.

  And ready.

  He pitched a tight seven innings and left the game with the score tied three all. By the bottom of the ninth, the Heat was down two. Henry, a power hitter, came up to bat with two men on base. He singled.

  And then Wade came up to bat. Holly began to sweat. Sam was chewing her nails. “He can do this, he can—”

  He hit hard, bringing all three runners home, and the crowd went wild with the win.

  The players and management poured out of the dugout, all tumbling over each other right there at the home plate. Holly stood up, watching them from eyes that burned with fierce pride and joy.

  After a minute, Pace separated himself from the pack, and with cameramen and reporters dogging him, he climbed the fence, determination all over his face.

  Heart racing, Holly stared at him in shock as he leapt lithely to his feet right in front of her.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She grinned. “Well, hey yourself, and congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” He eyed the cameramen trying to follow his route, stymied by the fencing, then looked at her wryly as he rubbed his jaw. “We’ve got maybe ten seconds of privacy, so I’ll be quick. About what I said in the dugout. About what I’d been trying to say since the boys showed early at the park.”

  She brought a hand up to her chest to keep her heart from leaping right out. “I . . . I thought maybe it was my imagination.”

  “No.”

  Around them she was aware of the other spectators, how they were beginning to take notice of them, a few even pulling out their cell phones to take pictures. She didn’t care, and tried to pull him in.

  “I’m filthy,” he said, then gave up the fight and hugged her back. “All this time,” he said in her ear, “I thought I was the worldly one, that between the two of us, I was more experienced, that I was waiting for your heart to catch up, but I was wrong.” Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. “Every single moment since you came to Santa Barbara, you’ve schooled me. On top of being smart as hell, loyal, passionate, gorgeous, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

  Behind them, two camera guys finally made it over the fence. Huffing, they stuck microphones in their faces.

  Pace turned his back on them and, still holding on to Holly, looked down in her face. “I fell hard for you,” he said quietly, for her ears only. “And the only thing better than knowing it, is going for it. Going for something other than baseball, something that means even more to me.”

  “Me?” she asked with a smile.

  “You. Only you. I love you, Holly, so much.”

  “Hey.” One of the camera guys behind them pushed his way around to look at Pace in horror. “You’re not retiring, are you? You just got back.”

  Pace glanced at him with irritation, and the camera guy lifted his free hand. “Sorry, man. You’re trying to get laid. Carry on.”

  Pace looked like maybe he wanted to shove him back over the fence, but then yet another camera guy came running down the aisle and stuck out another microphone. “What’s this about retirement?”

  Pace shook his head. “Okay, all of you, back up. I need a second.” He turned back to Holly. “I’m trying to propose here.”

  “Propose?” she gasped.

  “Yeah. I—oomph,” he let out as she flung herself into his arms.

  He smelled like the dust and dirt and sweat that was all over him, and she couldn’t get enough. “Oh, Pace. I don’t need a proposal.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I just need you.”

  He let out a slow, heartbreaking smile. “You were right before, you know.”

  “When?” she asked, liking to be right, about anything.

  “When you said b
aseball was everything to me. It was, until you. Now you’re my everything.”

  “Love the sound of that.” She melted against him and put her mouth to his ear. “I also loved your pitching tonight. It turned me on.”

  His eyes heated. His hands tightened on her. They might have been alone as he dropped his forehead to hers. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She put her mouth back to his ear. “Now get me out of here, because you have another perfect game coming. This one private.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed out loud as the flashes went off all around them. And that was the shot of him that made it into all the papers the next day, and later into many books on the sport.

  And only Holly knew that the special light in his eyes at that moment wasn’t for the game the Heat had just won, but all for her . . .

  Turn the page for a preview of the next novel by Jill Shalvis Perfect Game Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!

  She’d read somewhere that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but Samantha McNead knew better than that—in certain men the stomach was aiming just a bit too high.

  Wade O’Riley was one of them.

  One of the most celebrated catchers in Major League Baseball, he had women lining up to meet him wherever he went.

  And it wasn’t home cooking that they wanted to give him either.

  Not that Wade minded. Nope, even with all the constraints that went with the new big, fat contract he’d just signed with Santa Barbara’s expansion team, the Heat, the guy seemed oblivious to pressure. Laid-back and easygoing, he took everything as it came, with a grain of salt and a slow, knowing smile that let everyone in on the joke.

  Because life was one big funny to Wade.

  She appreciated that, she just didn’t live it the way he did. Didn’t know how. As the publicist for the Heat and the lone female in a man’s world, Samantha’s life tended to be more work than fun lately. Hence her mission today.

  The limo pulled up in front of Wade’s big beach-cottage-style house, which was perched on a bluff over the ocean. From the backseat she could see the ocean froth and pitch.