by Roz Lee
“Antonio?”
Ah, God. The vulnerability in her voice nearly broke him in half. “I’m here, babe. I’ll always be here.”
She sighed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Mmm. I’m good.”
“You’re perfect.” He almost told her then, but when he said the words, he wanted to see her face. It was the only way he could be sure she believed him.
“I’m a mess.”
“A beautiful mess. Your skin glows for hours after an orgasm.”
“Oh!”
He almost laughed, imagining her lifting her cum coated hand to her face. “Don’t worry. No one will know,” he lied.
Every male, no matter what the species, would recognize the soft expression on her face, the flush of her skin. But he wasn’t going to tell her. Every man she encountered today would instinctively understand she’d been claimed. The thought made him feel marginally better.
“Take the panties off,” he said, “and put them inside the rabbit’s pocket. They’re mine now.”
“Antonio.” No warning, just a hint of acceptance.
“You’re going to love Aspen.”
“We aren’t going to see a single thing in Aspen, are we?”
“We’re going to see plenty, but it will all be inside our condo. I’m going to look all I want, explore every nook and cranny.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’ll allow you to do the same.”
He held his breath until she sighed. “Okay. You win. I’ll cancel my plans for Thanksgiving.”
* * *
“Where are we going?” Clare peered out the limo window. This was not the way to the airport.
“We need to make a stop first. It won’t take long,” Antonio said.
She shrugged. If they missed their flight to Aspen, she wouldn’t exactly be disappointed. Sure, she wanted to spend time with Antonio, but the man still had blinders on when it came to what she really wanted. He’d managed to deflect the conversation about Bases Loaded every time it came up, and somehow he’d convinced her to go on this trip with him. Not one of her finer moments.
They exited the freeway and, after several miles, turned down what appeared to be a private driveway.
Old growth trees lined the roadway and dotted open pastureland as far as she could see. They approached the end of the street, and a house came into view. Clare sat up. From the outside, it was everything she’d wanted in a home, and she envied whoever lived there.
“Where are we?” she asked as they followed the drive to the back of the house.
“Home.” He exited the car, not waiting for the driver to come and open the door. He extended his hand to assist her.
Her spine tingled—whether from his touch or the implication of that one word, she had no idea. “Who’s home?”
“Ours,” he said, smiling.
“What are you talking about?”
Heading toward the house, he pulled her along behind him. “I bought it. Signed the papers yesterday.” Stopping at the back door, he stuck his hand in the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a Mustangs key ring with two keys hanging from it. He held them out to her. “These are yours.”
He dropped the keys in her palm and closed her fingers around them. “I have a set, too.” He produced another key ring from his pocket and fitted a key to the lock. The tumblers fell, and he turned the knob.
“Come on,” he urged her through the open door. “See what you think.”
The backdoor opened into a large, eat-in kitchen. Acres of granite countertops gleamed in the light shining through the multi-paned bay window that looked out over a beautifully landscaped backyard and created a natural alcove for a table. Oak cabinets and restaurant quality appliances were enough to make a gourmet chef weep with joy. She’d never seen a more perfect kitchen.
“What do you think? Can you see yourself in here? Not that I’m insinuating you belong in the kitchen or anything, but you know what I mean.” He walked to the windowed alcove and turned to her. “Can you see it? A big round table here where we can eat our meals and the kids can do their homework while they snack.”
Huh? The mention of kids, snacks, and homework snapped her back to her senses. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No, I don’t think so. Remember when we were looking at apartments? You said none of them were me. You were right. Maybe they were the old me, but the new me wouldn’t be happy in an apartment. I was very specific with the real estate lady about what I wanted…well, what you said you wanted, in a house. Come on. Let me show you the rest of the place.”
“Antonio.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Explain yourself. Now.”
“I thought I just did.”
“If you did, it sounded like you bought this house for me, not for you.”
“I bought it for us. I thought you would like it,” he said, pitifully.
Between the look on his face, and the dejected tone in his voice, she caved. What would it hurt to see the house, then she would break the news to him—he would be living here alone.
After touring upstairs and down they made their way to the front of the house where they stood in opposite doorways opening into the limestone-tiled entryway.
“It’s lovely,” she said, meaning it. If she could have picked her dream house, this would be it.
“I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure about the inside, but you can change anything you want.”
“I’m not going to live in this house with you. We’ve been over this before. I’m not the kind of woman men like you keep around.”
“Yes, you are.” He crossed to stand in front of her, his broad shoulders blocking everything but him from her view. “What can I do to convince you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? You say you love me, but I’ve only ever asked one thing of you, and you refuse to give it to me.”
“That’s because what you want is something completely insane. I love you. I want to marry you. And I don’t want other men touching you, much less running the bases with you. You’re mine.”
The deep timbre of his voice sent a thrill down her spine while the voice of reason told her to beware of silver-tongued devils. He was so close the heat radiating off his body reminded her of a furnace. His scent drew her in, called to her in a way no other ever had. Her heart tripped and slid to her toes. It would be so easy to believe his pretty words. But not today.
She sidestepped, intending to put the necessary distance between them before the horny, love-struck idiot inside her told the stubborn man how she felt about him.
He moved fast. She gasped. Pinned between a wall of solid muscle and, well…a wall, she had nowhere to go and nowhere to look but up.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Clare. I give up. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you my feelings are real. I want you. I love you.” He punctuated each declaration with a kiss that was neither quick nor friendly. His body pressed against hers, making his physical state clear. With anyone else, she would have been frightened, but she was certain Antonio would never hurt her.
“I want to run the bases. Please, let me.”
His gaze burned through her skull—straight to her gray matter. Refusal was written in the creases fanning out from his eyes and along the chiseled line of his jaw. He ground his erection against her stomach.
“You’re mine,” he growled.
“Please, Antonio. I have to do this.”
He spun away from her, raking both hands through his hair as if to keep from strangling her. “It means that much to you?”
“I told you before. It does. Running the bases may be wrong, but it will make all the difference in the world. Can’t you see?”
“Hell no, I can’t see.” He fisted his hands on his hips and stared her down. “I’ve tried. I really have, but it doesn’t make any sense to me at all. I guess it all boils down to one thing—I’m not enough for you.”
She pressed her p
alms flat against the wall behind her for support and fought back the tears threatening to fall. “You’re wrong. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
“Make me understand, because nothing you’ve told me so far has made any sense at all to me.”
She nodded, swiping moisture from her eyes with trembling fingers. “Did you know I was at Julliard when the Marauders brought you up from the minors?”
“No. Damn it, you haven’t told me anything about yourself.”
“You’re right.” She choked back a sob and swung for the bleachers.
He leaned against the far wall, one knee bent, his foot bracing him. He listened while she told him of her time at Julliard and how she had, in her words, worshiped him from afar. She looked anywhere but at him. When she wound down, her gaze landed on her feet.
“I’ve been living my fantasy these past weeks, but I’m a nobody. Just a silly girl with a crush on a professional athlete, and everyone knows it. So, you see, it’s me who isn’t enough for you. I never have been.”
He let her words sink in. He admired her for having the guts to tell him how she felt. Most women would never admit to having a crush on a guy—not to his face anyway. But there was more to her telling than admitting to a young woman’s obsession with a celebrity. With her connections, she could have arranged to meet him long ago, but she hadn’t because deep down inside she hadn’t thought she was good enough for him, or for any man, he suspected. Yet, she’d opened up to him, admitted her insecurities, and in her own way, begged for his help.
He had a savage urge to strangle the bullies who had made her feel that way about herself. Realizing what he needed to do made his stomach churn. He tasted bile in the back of his throat and swallowed hard.
“Running the bases means so much to you that you would tell me all your deep, dark secrets?”
“I wouldn’t call my crush on you a deep, dark secret. More like a silly memory.”
“Why me? Why not A Rod or Jeter or someone more famous?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s something about you I liked from the first time I saw you.”
“That’s the way it was for me, too.” He paused, waiting for her to look up at him. When she didn’t, he continued, “I don’t know why you won’t believe me, but I can see you don’t.”
“I want to….”
“Clare, look at me.”
She raised her chin, and slowly, her eyelids lifted until her gaze locked with his. The despair in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. He gave one last thought to his decision. Was there another way? Had he missed anything that might change her mind? He’d made love to her, shown her all the tenderness he possessed, and shown her the depth of his feelings for her.
He’d ignored the need clawing at him to give into his desires, believing what he wanted couldn’t possibly be in her best interest.
He’d told her he loved her. But that wasn’t enough.
He looked at the ceiling and prayed for divine guidance. When none came, he sighed and cradled his face in his hands.
Dropping his hands, he clenched them into fists at his sides. Never in his wildest moments had he thought he would ever say these words to the woman he loved. “Okay. I’ll call some friends and arrange for you to run the bases.”
Chapter Sixteen
That went well. Not. He’d hoped to win Clare over with the house of her dreams and ended up consenting to letting her run the bases.
He was an idiot. Nothing to do now but accept the inevitable.
She was going to do it.
He needed to wrap his fucked up head around the idea and make damned sure it was, if not the best experience of her life, at least a memorable one. That meant choosing her team wisely and making sure she was prepared. The woman had no clue what she was getting herself into. It was up to him to remedy the situation.
They made it to the airport with time to spare, so while Clare shopped in one of the you-won’t-find-this-anywhere-else shops, he made a few phone calls. He had three days to show her what to expect, and he would need every minute.
He turned, locating her at the checkout counter of a nearby store. Leaning his shoulders against the wall, he watched her pay for her purchases. Unlike most travelers, she took the time to converse with the cashier, offering her a smile before she moved on to the next store. Tony pocketed his phone and crossed his arms and ankles, content to watch her without her knowing.
Just like the first time he saw her, she took his breath away. Every luscious curve of her body promised a lifetime of passion. She dipped her head to look at something, causing her hair to fall across her shoulder. He flexed his fingers, remembering the way those silken strands felt against his skin. She tucked the wayward locks behind her ear, framing her in profile. Why she didn’t believe in her own beauty was beyond him.
Another traveler paused next to her, and she appeared to be unaware the only merchandise the man had eyes for was hers. He pushed away from the wall and headed in her direction. Before he could weave his way through the throng of passengers rushing to and from their gates, the man spoke to her. She was about to respond when Tony stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight against him.
The interloper took a cautious step back, eyeing him. Tony recognized the look. Confused recognition. He knew Tony’s face, but had no idea why. And Tony felt no inclination to help him out, not after the way he’d looked at Clare.
“Babe, we need to go,” he said.
Instantly, her hands covered his at her waist, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her smile was like a jolt of electricity that went straight to his groin, with predictable results.
“Okay.” She allowed him to steer her out of the store without a second glance at the other man.
Several stores down, with his hand at the small of her back, Tony turned her into a coffee shop. There was one unoccupied table in the back, and once he’d settled her in the dimly lit recesses and admonished her to stay put, he went to the counter to procure drinks.
He needed the time standing in line to wrestle his body under control. What was it about Clare that made him act like a caveman protecting his woman? He’d never felt this way about anyone else. Hell, most of the women he’d been out with, he’d actually hoped would find someone else to go home with. But Clare? He couldn’t stand the idea of her talking to another man, much less….
Ah, hell. No way around it. He’d promised her she could play the game, and he was going to make good on it. First, though, she needed to prepare, and that was one thing he silently vowed, he would enjoy.
Tony returned to the table with two steaming cups of coffee and a couple of chocolate chip cookies.
“Thanks,” she said, reaching for one of the cups.
He took the other chair at the table for two and handed her a cookie and napkins. “We need to talk.”
“Oh?” She pried the plastic lid off the cup and with pursed lips, blew across the hot brew “I thought we were in a hurry.”
He bit into his cookie to keep from tossing coffee, cookies, and everything else to the floor, so he could drag her across the table and taste those that mouth of hers. And the hell of it was, she hadn’t done it on purpose. She’d been cooling her coffee, which wasn’t anywhere near as hot as he was at the moment. His dick had begun to feel like a pogo stick. Up. Down. Up. Down.
“I made it up to get you out of there. That guy was hitting on you.”
“He was not.”
“Was, too. And we do need to talk. I was going to take you to the V.I.P. Lounge, but the place is like a morgue. We couldn’t have any kind of conversation in there without everyone hearing.”
“The guy wasn’t hitting on me,” she repeated. “And I’m fine with this coffee shop while we wait. What do you want to talk about?”
Tony sipped his coffee. “He was, and we aren’t going to talk about him anymore. We are going to talk about this weekend.”
She shrugged, to
ok a big bite of her cookie, and chewed. He had to look away or risk arrest for doing indecent things in public.
“What about this weekend? I’m a lousy skier.”
“We aren’t going to be skiing,” he said, trying not to notice the way the muscles in her throat worked when she swallowed. “I made some calls. A buddy of mine is going to meet us at the airport in Colorado. I asked him to purchase some things for me.”
“What kind of things?”
“Let’s just say they’re training equipment. You have a big game coming up, and you need to get in shape for it.”
Her face turned Mustangs red then ghostly pale in the space of a heartbeat.
“No need to worry. I’ll make sure you’re ready.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I can’t let you go into the game unprepared.”
“He’s coming with us?” she asked in a startled whisper.
“Hell, no. He’s just bringing the stuff to the airport for me.”
Her color evened out, but she still could pass for a vampire. She slipped her hand out from under his, grabbed a napkin from the stack he’d put on her side of the table earlier, and balled it in her fist.
“You still want to play, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“If you’ve changed your mind, then we won’t need all the stuff. As a matter of fact, if you change your mind at any time, just say so. I haven’t made any arrangements yet, and even if I had, I could cancel. All you have to do is say the word.” Please say the word. Please don’t make me go through with this.
“I want to play. But I’m a little intimidated by your plans for this weekend. Do we have to…?”
“Practice?” he supplied.
She turned bright red again.
“Yes, we do. You’ve only been to two of the bases, haven’t you?”
If he hadn’t seen it for himself, he might not of believed a person could turn that particular shade of red.
