Except I really wanted to keep him. I forced my hands to halt their petting motions.
Miss Klapper glanced at me scathingly. “You’ve a water stain on your dress.”
Oh crap. It would come out though… when it dried? Wouldn’t’ it? God, I hoped so.
I clutched my purse tightly and held her gaze as intently as I could. “Please, Miss Klapper?”
But she was already shaking her head. “As much as I’d love to,” she practically growled in Hunter’s direction. “I can not. It’s a business matter.”
Thunk.
My hopes and my heart dropped into my feet. She was going to interview him.
I was dead meat.
The svelte cougar pulled a card out of her own sparkling clutch and handed it to Hunter. “Call me next week Hunter. We’d love to have you on. Your fans would love to hear from you.”
After she walked away I bent down to retrieve my bag and shoes. When I rose, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the mirrors.
Bedraggled. Broken. I looked as much of a mess on the outside as I was on the inside.
“Let’s get you out of here.” Hunter’s patience seemed to have run out.
I didn’t have the heart to resist when he took my bag and dragged me toward one of the elevators. “There’s a coffee shop around the corner.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Hunter
Karen Klapper was a bitch. As soon as I realized one of Denver’s biggest gossips had won the Senator, I nearly turned Holly in the opposite direction. A date with her would be my worst nightmare. Sure enough, she’d twist anything I told her into something more “newsworthy” if she thought it would bring in better ratings.
As bad as I felt for Holly that she wasn’t going to get Flint, I couldn’t’ help breathing a sigh of relief. The talk show hosts in this city were ruthless. A few other players had experienced the phenomenon first hand.
And paid for it with their good names.
But none of that solved Holly’s problem.
Which for some reason, I’d allowed to become mine as well. I glanced at my watch. Quarter till twelve.
Four thirty was gonna come damn early tomorrow. But I couldn’t just leave her.
Which didn’t make sense.
I wasn’t that guy.
I was the selfish asshole – love ’em and leave ’em – playboy. I limited my involvement with women to one thing and it damn well didn’t include carting their lingerie around.
So why did I have the urge to lift this incorrigible woman in my arms and carry her away from all her problems?
Fuck.
We stepped outside onto the pavement and she began picking her way along the sidewalk. Just when I nearly swept her up out of sheer frustration she stopped and held up one hand. “I better put these on.”
Yeah, that might be better.
When she bent down to slip them on her dress rode up. She wasn’t wearing nylons and my hands itched to slide up the length of her thighs… She wiggled her ass a little as she fussed with the shoe and I forced myself to look anywhere else.
Not that I felt guilty looking, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could resist touching.
When she finally stood in the heels, she wobbled a little and looked up at me. At six feet four, I still loomed over her by a good eight inches.
“I’m all right now.” She fidgeted with the lace on her dress. How did she manage to look so sexy, adorable and yet certifiable at the same time? Her eyes flicked across the street where the Starbucks had gone dark. “Closed.”
I slouched a shoulder against the brick building and tried to figure out what I wanted to do with her.
Trouble might as well have been written across her forehead. Along with chaos. Confusion.
Passion.
I wanted to devour her lips and then pin her body beneath mine. I wanted all that humming vitality homed in on me. Exhaust her so much she couldn’t think.
I wanted to fuck the darkness out of her.
“How bout I drive you home?” I just couldn’t let her go quite yet. Her expression didn’t quite hide her indecisiveness. “You can’t drive like that.” I persisted.
But she shook her head. “I would never! And then pointed south. I need to catch the light rail.”
This late? In a dress that left very little up to the imagination? I damned sure wasn’t about to let her hop on a public train all alone.
“I’m a safer bet at this time of night.” Or was I?
She bit her bottom lip and shivered.
Maybe.
I slipped off my jacket and dropped it on her shoulders. These tall buildings acted like a canyon sometimes and the breeze coming through carried a chill.
“My car’s parked in the garage at my apartment. That’s closer than the station.” I jerked my thumb in the direction of the Tower where we’d run into each other earlier and rocked back on my heels.
After coming to some decision, she nodded and tentatively began walking in front of me. Feeling like I shouldn’t crowd her right now, I jammed my hands in my pockets and slowed my steps to stroll beside her.
“Did you really almost win the super bowl?” She glanced at me sideways.
I couldn’t help smiling. “The World Series,” I corrected her. “And… We didn’t even get there. Got knocked out in the last game of the National League Championship series.”
“You don’t sound very excited., she commented.
I wasn’t excited about it. How far would we have gone if I’d thrown one more guy out?
“I fucked up.” I took her elbow and steered her around the sidewalk grates.
I didn’t release her though. I felt better holding on to her. Even if it was only her arm. Instead of smelling the downtown pollution in the breeze, I could smell her shampoo. I didn’t think she wore any perfume. She just smelled fruity and clean. My groin tightened when I imagined tasting her skin. Even more so when I imagined the scent she’d leave on my hands after I’d made her come.
“Well that sucks.” Her astute comment held more truth than anything anyone else had said to me.
“We were so close.” I don’t know why I was telling her this. I hated it when players relived a game over and over again.
“How close is so close?”
I laughed. Damn. I remembered tasting it. Knowing we were moving on. “Series was tied. We were ahead by two runs. Ninth ending and I had a full count.”
“Full count?”
I looked at her and she shrugged. “I don’t watch much baseball.”
“Two strikes and three balls. Unless the hitter fouls than the next pitch ends the at bat.”
“Oh, and you’re the pitcher, right?”
This was kind of refreshing. Usually people tried to impress me with their knowledge of the game. Even women. I rolled my shoulder. “Yeah. I’m a pitcher.”
“Does it hurt? Your shoulder?”
“Sometimes. But that’s okay. It’s not a bad hurt.” God, I hated when it felt bad in a weird way.
“So, what happened then? After that full count thing?”
Yes. Back to my epic fail. “I just needed to finish this guy out. Ya know? Coach came in. He said he could bring in a reliever but nah, I told him. ‘I’ve got this.’” I thought I did. One more fucking pitch.
“So, he let you stay. Did you pitch a lot already? Like, the whole game?”
I nodded and then shook my head. “Fast ball, low and outside. I knew this guy’s weaknesses. I had him.”
“You thought.” She reminded me.
I slid her a sideways glance. “Am I telling this story, or are you?”
She giggled. This was the first time anyone had ever laughed about this whole fucking thing. Sure as hell was the first time I’d joked about it.
She swiped her fingers across her mouth and made like she was turning a key. Which unfortunately drew my attention to her lips again.
“I wind up. I’ve thrown this damn pitch a thousand times. Except
for some reason I release early.” Saying it sucks all the air out of my lungs. Because as soon as I let go of that ball I knew it was over. I hadn’t even had to hear the bat make contact to know it. “It was a fucking sloppy pitch.”
“Hold up a minute.” She stopped and stepped out of her shoes. “I just can’t do this anymore tonight. I think I’d rather walk across glass.” When she stepped out of those shoes the top of her head dropped to a few inches shy of my shoulders. How had such a tiny thing twisted me up?
“Your coach should have pulled you,” she said the words casually as she began walking again. We walked even slower now. Even though I had to get up early the next morning I didn’t mind. All her craziness earlier had lightened my heart somehow. I shook my head at such an idiotic thought.
“Except I told him I could close it out.”
“Not your decision.” She picked her way around some gravel. “I mean, did you consciously decide to pitch sloppy?”
“Of course not.”
“And you’d pitched a lot already?”
“Nine innings. But I told him I was good.” I didn’t want sympathy from her.
“Doesn’t matter.” She sounded so sure of herself. “Look, I don’t really follow baseball, but I used to play basketball.”
I laughed at that.
“Don’t laugh man, I have a heck of a lay-up.”
I could have so much fun playing basketball with her. The thought of some illegal contact turned me on all over again.
She wasn’t finished though. “It’s the coaches job to have the best players in when he needs them. It’s their job to know when a player is running on fumes. Of course, you’re gonna tell your coach you can do it. That’s a player’s job – leave everything on the court… or in your case, the field. Which is what you did. You just didn’t have enough left. Your coach should have seen it. He should have known better. It’s not like you decided to throw a sloppy pitch. Your body was done.” She shrugged. “But I get it. Some opportunities don’t come around a second time.” Regret tinged her voice when she said this last part. Like she’d missed a big opportunity herself.
“Sorry about the whole auction fiasco.” I hoped she didn’t lose her job. I felt like it was my fault. I’d been eye fucking her the entire time I’d been on stage. I’d been so god damn thrilled to see her sitting down there. Bidding on me… How pathetic was that?
She contemplated her words and then surprised me. “I’ll live. It’s just a job.” And then she scrunched her nose up. “You think I can get sued for something like this?” And then she winced and stopped to brush a sharp rock from the bottom of her foot.
Which jolted me into action.
“Let me carry you.” I went to put an arm around her and swing her into my arms but she backed away.
“You can’t carry me like that! You’ve been rubbing your shoulder all night. Turn around and squat down.” She ordered. Was she kidding? One look at her face and I realized she wasn’t. “Besides, people will think I’m injured if you carry me down the street.”
I rubbed my shoulder. “I’m good.”
She twirled one finger in the air. “Turn and squat.”
I liked this side of her. Bossy. I must have spent too much time in the sun today.
I turned around and bent my knees. When she hopped up behind me, I grabbed her thighs and then bounced her a few times.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, swinging her shoes and bag in front of me.
“Isn’t this easier?” She asked. Her sweet breath felt hot on my neck. I tried not to think about the fact that my hands were on her bare legs and her breasts pressed into my back. She was killing me. This attraction I had for her was killing me.
I glanced down at her shoes. Sexy for sure, but the heels looked like some strange torture device.
“I don’t know why women wear those things.”
I could feel the vibrations from her laughter before she made a sound. “Makes the legs look longer, sexier. Apparently, I have short legs and need all the help I can get.”
“Bullshit.”
She laughed again. “Seriously. I’m a fashion nightmare.”
“Fuck that.” And then I couldn’t help adding. “You’re a wet dream.”
She got quiet for a minute. I wish I could have seen her face when I said that. We were almost to the parking garage. She pulled herself up higher and tightened her legs. I squeezed her legs where I had a hold of them.
“These,” I added. “Are damn near the most perfect legs I’ve ever seen.”
CHAPTER SIX
Holly
Hunter liked me. I don’t know why, or how, I just knew he did. Maybe it was the novelty of me buying him for ten thousand dollars… I doubt I’d ever know, but when he said my legs were perfect, I swear, I would have swooned if he hadn’t already been carrying me.
Unfortunately, I really liked him too.
My buzz had pretty much worn off by now. Funny how a ten thousand dollar mistake did that to me.
Which reminded me that I should be depressed right now, stressing out over the fact that I’d probably lost my job.
Instead of letting a super-hot guy carry me through downtown Denver piggy back style.
Grinning ear to ear.
With my ass most likely hanging out the whole way.
Maybe I should have let him just carry me like prince charming or something.
We were trekking through the garage now and I was feeling sad that I’d have to release him in a minute or two. I couldn’t help inhaling the back of his neck… he smelled so good… that same woodsy smell I remembered from earlier today. Had that really just been today? It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.
When he got to what looked like a restored mustang, he bent his knees and dropped his hands so I could slide off.
I tried to step away from him but he took hold of my wrist with one hand while searching in his pockets with his other. After a few seconds, he switched hands and dug into his other side.
“Ah shit.” And then he met my eyes. “My keys are upstairs.”
Warnings drilled into me since I’d turned about thirteen made me wary. Good girls didn’t go home with men they just met.
“It’s okay. I can call for an Uber. It’s a long drive anyway.” I slid my purse off my shoulder and started digging around for my phone. This day had to end sometime, might as well be now… before I did something really stupid.
I nearly laughed out loud at that thought. Today my middle name might as well be stupid. Holly Stupid Mercer.
“Why don’t you come up? Have a cup of coffee or something and then I’ll run you home?” He’d dug both hands into his pockets now and was kind of rocking on his heels again. When he glanced up at me from under thick black lashes I felt that magnetism all over again. If I didn’t know he was a professional ball player I’d almost think he looked vulnerable.
“Just coffee? And to talk?” I bit my lip and waited for him to laugh at me. I didn’t want him to expect anything more.
Instead he took hold of my wrist again. “Just Coffee.” He winked as he dragged me toward the elevators.
“And to talk?” I confirmed.
“And to talk.”
When we stepped inside, without thinking, I nearly pushed the button for Star’s apartment. I’d been in this elevator, geesh, probably at least a thousand times before. He pushed the number thirty-three and leaned back against the metal railing. After a second or two, he tugged at my wrist, pulling me closer to him.
I had no problem with that. Every inch of my skin screamed to be close to him.
“I’m sorry about the Senator.” He took my other hand and straightened both his arms downward, drawing me closer still. “You really think you’ll lose your job?”
I glanced up at him. Suddenly I felt shy about meeting his eyes. Did everyone react to them this way or was it just me?
Probably every woman in Colorado…
“Probably.” I shrugged. �
�But I’ll live. There’s more important things that a job, you know?” Except my brother would kill me. And my mom and dad would worry about me some more. When you disappoint the people you love most in the world, it tears you apart inside. I didn’t want to dwell on all that.
He wasn’t shy about meeting my gaze. I couldn’t help it. “Really, no contacts?”
He tilted his head and laughed, still holding my hands. Our bodies nearly touched. If I leaned forward the tiniest bit…. “Nope.”
And now somehow my eyes were trapped by his. We just stood there in that elevator, staring into one another’s eyes. So corny, I know! I’d never experienced anything like it before.
When the bell pinged and the doors swung open I jumped. If anybody looked inside right now I felt like they’d be infringing on a very intimate moment.
Except we weren’t doing anything.
Hunter turned me around and ushered me into the hallway. This floor wasn’t quite as fancy as Star’s. No artwork on the walls, no plush carpeting. But it still felt expensive.
“Have you lived here long?” I thought most athletes bought big homes in Cherry Hills, one of Denver’s most elite communities.
“Since March.” I leased it at the end of spring training.
Last March.
I hated thinking about last March.
“So, you aren’t from Colorado?” I wanted to know more about him. He seemed to just see himself as a baseball player but I wanted to know the other stuff.
“Actually, I am. I grew up in Littleton, went to college in Boulder.”
“You did?” I smiled. “Me too. I mean, I grew up in Morrison but I got my undergraduate degree from University of Colorado too. How old are you?” I wondered if we’d been there at the same time.
Not that it mattered. CU was huge.
“Twenty-nine. How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.” Ah, we’d just missed one another.
He used a card to unlock his door. When it clicked open he slid me one of those sideways glances that made my tummy flip over. “Good to know I’m not robbing the cradle. You don’t look much over eighteen.”
The Mile High Madness Page 4
