The Long Ball

by Aria Cole

  He stared intently, as if he wanted to speak to me without words, before he finally tipped his helmet and stood straight. He was well over six feet, the uniform hanging perfectly on his body, in just the right way to hint at the taut muscles beneath. I shifted in my seat, feeling an unfamiliar throbbing between my thighs. I’d never been turned on by a guy in uniform before. What the hell was going on with me? Was this some sort of premature midlife crisis? I’d vowed over and over again to never even look at a baseball player. Like breaking a bad habit, I’d trained my mind to divert whenever I saw an attractive one, but it wasn’t working this time. Cash was on my mind all the time.

  “Damn you, Cash Greenwood,” I said out loud, knowing he wouldn't be able to make out my words from all the way across the field. I had to stay professional, keep my wits about me. Don’t let him get under your skin, Delilah.

  Cash grinned at me one last time before turning his attention to the pitcher and slamming a wild home run right out of the ball park. My eyes widened at the sheer force of his batting abilities. No wonder he was on the radar of every single team in Major League Baseball. The man was a monster, a force to be reckoned with. This was going to be a long day. Him, his pitching and catching, and me, tamping down my urge to rip his clothes off.

  I knew sitting here for the next three hours would be torture. Because every time I glanced up, my eyes somehow found his, like we were in the middle of a magnetic field. I hated that magnetic field. It was complete and utter bullshit.

  Nearly four hours later, when I’d finally packed up my laptop and headed out of the stands and down into the inside of the stadium, I took the long, dark back hallway to the employee parking area. I hadn’t spoken to any of the players after the game. I’d promised Coach the stats by morning, so there was no chance I could stop and get that drink with Tori.

  I dug through the oversized bag on my shoulder, pulling out my phone to text her, when I ran smack into a wall of a body. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

  “If you wanted to touch me, Grey, you could have just asked.” Cash. Dammit.

  “Hardly.” I narrowed my eyes. I knew there was no logical reason for my distaste toward him, but my history with ball players and my attraction to him made me insane. It was a lethal combination of hate and lust. Besides, I had no patience for arrogance, and it came off of him in waves. Sexy waves of bulging muscle, rich eyes, and the face of a rugged angel. Why did he have to be so damn attractive?

  “In a hurry? Let's get a drink.”

  “No can do, Greenwood. I’ve got stats to run tonight.”

  “Sounds fun. I’ll bring pizza.”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “No, I need to focus. You are the last thing I want in my life.”

  “Or exactly the thing you didn’t know you needed.”

  “Are you always so…”

  “Charming?” His lips twitched up in a smile.

  “I was going to say irritating.” His grin turned wider then, and I swear to God, my ovaries just exploded while my heart skipped a beat.

  “I’ll warn you, I don’t have any plans of giving up anytime soon.” His presence ate up all the oxygen between us. It had to be a hundred degrees in this hallway. I placed a hand to my neck, my mind racing with the effect he had. I wondered if I looked like how I felt, desperate, needy, and a little confused. That combination was one that caused anger to simmer within me. I just wanted to get away, but something was keeping me at a standstill.

  “Why not? I’ve made it clear you and I are never happening.”

  “Because you’re the only woman who’s ever made me interested enough to try before. That makes you and me a sure thing.”

  “What?” I laughed. “That’s some twisted logic, Cash.”

  “See, I made you laugh. You need more people in your life who make you laugh.”

  “How on earth would you know what I need more of in my life?”

  “I can see it in your eyes—focused, driven, a little lonely.” His thumb slid down the line of my neck. Just the faintest of touches, sending a wildfire blazing through my body.

  “You’re wrong on one of those three.”

  “Yeah,” He leaned a little closer, his soapy, post-shower skin like a powerful punch to my girl parts. “I guess you weren’t so focused earlier.”

  His thumb danced across the curve of my jaw. I clenched my fists, vibrating with some sort of heady arousal I’d never felt before. “Good night, Greenwood.”

  “Cash. Call me Cash! I liked hearing the sound of my name on the sweetest lips I’ve ever seen,” he called, but I was already halfway down the hall, the sound of my heels echoing through my ears. “Good night, Delilah!” I heard his soft chuckle, turning only once as I pushed through the doors to chance a final glance his way.

  He was still standing there, hands on hips, and the most amused smile I’d ever seen on his sexy lips.

  I had never really been a fan of my name. It always seemed bland and rather boring, so why had it felt like fireworks blasting off in my stomach when he did it?

  Damn that arrogant son of a bitch and his pretty smile.

  3

  Cash

  “Mornin’, Delilah.” I grinned, enjoying the way her lips twitched when I passed her the hot cup of coffee.

  “You got that for me?” She crooked one eyebrow. Damn, she was beautiful. My stomach flipped wildly with just that one look. I didn't know what she was doing to me, but I definitely wanted her, and I had never wanted another before her.

  “Just for you.”

  Delilah glanced around the meeting room, her eyes making contact with a few of the other players that were watching our exchange. “Thank you.”

  She took the coffee cautiously, pursing her lips just slightly as she took her first sip.

  “My pleasure.” My gaze lingered, eyes traveling across her gorgeous face, the way her mouth lifted in a smirk, the way her eyes danced like she had so much to say she could barely contain it.

  But contain it she did. Delilah was the most reserved woman I’d ever met, but that just made me want to know more about her. I’d gone to bed last night with Delilah on my mind, and although I was amused by her constant rebuffs, I’d decided to take things up a notch. Delilah was special, I knew it down in my bones, and I was going to show her that she needed to give me a shot. I was determined to do anything to win this girl, absolutely anything. I’d have to dig deep for it given that I spent my days around a group of macho jocks. Of course, I could be a little rough around the edges, but I had a feeling all of our edges would fit just fine when it finally happened. I just had to show her.

  “Let’s go out to dinner sometime.” I lowered my voice, holding her captive with my gaze. Her eyes were so captivating, I was transported. I couldn’t believe that just staring into her eyes would make me so damn happy. I felt like a fool, but this was so new to me. My whole life I’d never thought that I would meet a girl like her, yet here she was looking at me, piercing me, making me feel things in all the dark places in my soul. I’d been drowning for thirty years, baseball my only lifeline, and now here was this stunning woman who made me want things, things I probably didn’t have any business wanting, but I fucking wanted them. And I wanted them with her.

  She sucked in a breath, setting the coffee on the table next to her before she shook her head. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

  “No isn’t my thing, I prefer positive thinking. You know, when first you don’t succeed, dust yourself off and try again.”

  She chuckled before running a hand through her hair. She’d worn it down today. Goddamn, she’d worn it down and it curled over one shoulder and caressed all her soft curves. My mouth watered, actually watered, begging to get a taste.

  Fuck, I wanted to be against a wall, tasting her with my tongue, hearing her moans crash down on my ears.

  “You’re cute, Cash, I’ll give you that. But that’s it. Dating a ball player isn’t my thing. Let’s just say I have an aversion to t
hem.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second,” I said.

  “Well, I’m telling you, it’s true.”

  “I know you keep saying you hate ball players, but I think there is something else. You didn’t have to take this job, Delilah.”

  She frowned, her eyes narrowing on me, swirling with fire and passion and everything that made my dick pound so fucking hard behind my zipper I thought I might lose my fucking mind. “Baseball players are ignorant pigs, but they lead the industry in analytics, so here I am.”

  “You’re sweet when you get all fired up.”

  “Cash!” She huffed, turning back to the coffee at the table and thrusting it at me. “If accepting this coffee means we have to be friends, you can have it back.”

  I laughed, following her out the doors and into the hallway, away from all the guys. “What is your favorite type of food?”

  “What? No, Cash. I mean it. I think you’re disgusting, and I promise there will never be one thing between us.”

  I turned, my gaze focused on hers. “Then why does your breathing pick up whenever I come in the room? And why couldn’t you keep your eyes off me during the game? Lie to yourself all you want, Delilah.” I leaned in, twisting a soft lock of hair through my fingers. “But you can’t lie to me. You feel it, too.”

  She paused, her jaw tight as her labored pants grew even more frantic. “You’re infuriating, Cash Greenwood. And don’t forget, if you piss me off I can fudge your numbers.” She crossed her arms adorably, but it only served to push her gorgeous tits up even higher, drawing attention to the fact that she was full of curves and heaven-sent for a man like me. God, I had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “But you won’t.”

  She shook her head, and I swear I was waiting for her to stomp her foot with fury.

  “You’d never compromise the job, because despite everything you say, you love being here.” My mouth twisted in a smile as she puffed out a breath of air.

  “Fine. You’re right. But believe me, if I were an asshole it’s the first thing I would do, Greenwood.”

  “Bullshit.” I caught her chin between my fingers. “You’re too good for that, and that’s why I find you so damn irresistible. Beautiful beyond reason and stronger than I ever could have imagined. And that, my sweet Delilah, is why you are something I want in my universe. I’m a man who appreciates perfection, and you are perfect.”

  I spun and walked back into the room, sliding out a chair before dropping down into it to take a sip of my own coffee. Her eyes were still on me, shocked as she watched my every move. I smiled sweetly at her, loving the hell out of this game we were playing. But eventually she would be mine. I was one of the best players in Major League Baseball, and it wasn’t just because I was gifted. It was because when I set my mind on a goal, I kept at it until I achieved it. And Delilah was worth more than any other goal I had ever had in my entire life.

  Delilah shook her head, finally breaking my gaze and turning her attention to the players filtering into the room to prepare for the analytics meeting.

  Delilah had only been here less than a few days and already the energy in the locker room was different. The guys a little more respectful, all except Rod, of course, and Coach seemed to be digging all the new stats that Delilah could provide after every play.

  She was brilliant, she was pretty, she was sexy, and she was fierce. I tapped my fingers on the desk as Delilah cleared her voice and started the meeting.

  “Numbers were good last night. Great job, you guys. We can talk individually about a few things each of you should work on, but so far the numbers look even better than last year. Carlos, you threw 96 on that pitch last night. That was stellar.”

  The team clapped before Delilah continued. “And that home run was your best yet, Miller.” She turned to another teammate and gave him a wide smile. What the fuck? I’d hit four homers during the game—where were my stats? I shifted in my seat, clearing my throat before Delilah’s eyes glanced to me, then away again, her eyes shifting down to her laptop as she rattled off a few more numbers and congratulated the team members.

  “Unless Coach has any questions, I think we’re done, then.”

  “I’ve got a question,” I spoke up.

  Delilah’s eyes didn’t meet my gaze. Damn, she was baiting me. She hadn’t wanted to draw attention to us, so she was avoiding my ass altogether. But I was the star pitcher. I needed my stats if I was going to have any idea how I’d played. I’d felt strong, powerful, smooth, and efficient, but the numbers helped confirm that in my head.

  “What’s up, Cash?” Coach chimed in when he saw Delilah wasn’t answering.

  “Well, considering I pitched four innings last night, I’d like to know my stats.”

  Delilah narrowed her eyes, sending daggers at me before she made a few clicks on her laptop, then twisted it around for me to see. “Your numbers are down.”

  “What? How is that possible? I pitched a great game.”

  She shrugged, spinning the laptop to her again. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been on top of it last night. My mind rattled with anxiety as I wondered if turning 30 also meant my career was headed down the toilet. A lot of guys didn’t make it to forty in this business, I knew that, but I’d hoped with constant and focused practice I could beat the odds, at least for a while. If I was looking at retirement anytime soon, I might lose my mind.

  “It’s normal for players to take a few games to get into the swing of things and see the numbers they were seeing end of last season.”

  I frowned deeper, taking another long drink of my coffee, my muscles bunched and tensed as I thought I needed to get into the bullpen and throw a few more balls a few more hours every day. I knew pitchers were the first to show signs of age, shoulder injuries the most common problem, but damn if I was going to let that happen to me.

  Suddenly feeling like I couldn’t be in the room any longer, I stood, scraping the chair loudly across the floor before leaving the room, the door closing with a resounding thump.

  4

  Delilah

  I walked down the long corridor, my heels echoing on the cement floors as I headed for the coach’s office to leave the reports I’d printed for the players’ stats. The repetitive thud thud thud of a baseball hitting workout pads took me back to a time when I was so much younger, so much more impressionable, so much more out of control than I was now.

  I paused when I reached the semi-soundproof room, my eyes widening when I realized Cash was the one throwing balls on repeat. The meeting had ended an hour and a half ago—had he been here the whole time, practicing until he blew his arm out for tonight’s game? I frowned, leaning against the door as I watched him. He was determined, hell-bent on getting his arm stronger, and focused like I’d never seen in all my years of watching this sport. His arm wound up, and with the force of an oncoming truck, he launched the little white ball across the room. Thwack!

  I sighed, my eyes taking in the lean lines of his chiseled body. He was hands-down the hottest guy on the team, and his ass in a pair of baseball pants was one of the biggest distractions I faced on this job. If I wasn’t gritting my teeth when he cast me that sexy, one-sided smile, I was squirming in my seat checking him out from behind.

  It was like an uncontrollable primal impulse. If Cash was in the room, my body was on high alert.

  Cash finally paused, working his arm back and forth and rubbing at it with a wince.

  “Shit,” I murmured before opening the door and letting myself in. “Don’t wear your arm out, Cash.”

  His eyes flashed up with surprise, his face softening for a minute when he saw me. He shook his head. “I don’t do second best, and your numbers from last night indicate that, so I’m going to work like hell until my pitch is what it was last year.”

  I paused the thoughts rushing through my brain as, for once, I saw the thing that he really cared about, the thing that lit fire in his eyes and made him more determined than ever. I respecte
d that in him.

  “You’ll get there.”

  He shook his head again, still rubbing at his shoulder as he looked down at his feet. “If I don’t have baseball, I don’t have anything. I have to get there or it’s the beginning of the end for me.”

  “Cash…” My heart bled for him. I walked behind him and rubbed at the tight knot forming in his shoulder. “Don't be so hard on yourself.”

  He didn’t say anything, but his muscles began to relax as I kneaded at the tight tissue. I licked my lips, sucking in a breath of air for the first time since I’d stepped into his presence. I caught a whiff of his woodsy scent, soap, and the pure mix of him, and it left me dizzy with arousal.

  “You’re going to have to see the massage therapist for this arm before the game.” I used both my hands to work at his shoulder and down his bicep.

  Good lord, his arms were so massive. The way the fabric pulled across the expanse of his strong shoulders was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. An unbidden fantasy slipped into my thoughts—me, wearing his jersey and not another stitch of clothing.

  Oh my God, where had that come from? I didn’t do this, didn’t fraternize with players, didn’t mix business with pleasure. God, I didn’t date ball players! For that matter, I didn’t even date, as sad and pathetic as that was. My hands dropped instantly, all the old triggers bubbling up and making me want to run from the room, and from Cash, as quickly as humanly possible.

  “Thanks for the pep talk.” Cash turned then, his eyes leveling with mine as silence stretched between us.

  “Thank you for the coffee this morning.” I finally interrupted the silence. “It was nice of you.”

  “I can be a pretty nice guy. I wish you’d give me a chance to show you.”

  A small grin lifted my mouth before I shook my head. “Persistent must be your middle name.”