by Cole, Aria
“Yeah, I bet you do.” I’d never liked how Rodriguez embraced the cliché ball player persona. He played ball hard—out on the field he was a beast. But he partied even harder, a revolving door of girls after every game. I was always up for a few drinks, but the groupies that surrounded Rodriguez always made my stomach turn. It was so obvious they wanted him for his status and money—his staggering salary was very appealing to bunt bunnies. I had absolutely zero interest in them.
All the women around ball players didn’t have much to offer, and my life was so messed up that I doubt any woman wanted anything to do with it when she found out. The only kind that would stay would be one that would hope for a staggering payday at the end. I had enough people standing by with their hand out, so I wasn’t interested in a woman who wanted that, too. Besides, I only had a few more years to play this game, and I wasn’t going to squander them for some chick. These women didn’t care about the men. They cared about the limos, the big ticket items the ball players paid for, and the thousand-dollar dinners. Rodriguez made hundreds of millions, just like so many of my buddies, and just like the other ball players, he had no issue living like a king. But that lifestyle didn’t interest me in the least.
This life wasn’t for everyone, I wasn’t even sure it was for me sometimes. I rarely liked to go out, and the women did nothing for me. I lived and breathed the game, so much so that I couldn’t imagine what else I would be doing if it wasn’t this. I had one single focus and that was to win the World Series. I had been playing ball for eleven years with the MLB, and that was the only thing that eluded me. I was known as the best player in the entire league and yet I didn’t have that World Series title under my belt. My years left playing ball were dwindling—a ball player was gettin’ some age by thirty—but it was the one dream I hadn’t yet attained.
“Let’s head over, man. Don’t want to piss off Coach.”
Rod slammed his shot glass down on the counter, his eyes shining with excitement. “Wanna place bets on how fast I can get up the analytic girl’s skirt?”
“You haven’t even seen her yet.” We walked out the doors of the corner bar, afternoon light heating my skin as we walked the short block to the stadium. Today we had a meeting with what would be the new official star analytics firm for the club, before opening day tomorrow. I’d been waiting months for this day, the time between playoffs and opening season always left a pit of dread in my stomach. If I could play twelve months of the year I would.
We pushed through the stadium doors and made our way down the dim hallway, headed for the conference room next to the locker room. I nodded at Coach when we walked in and greeted a few of the other guys as the entire team settled on benches around the center of the room.
“I don’t want to take up much of your time, so I’ll cut right to the chase.” Coach looked around the room. “A few of you have been fucking off, so we need focus if we’re going to have a good season. I don’t expect miracles, but I do expect you to listen. No more antics. Stay focused. I expect each of you to improve your averages by the end of the season. “
“Like it or not, stats are down, guys. We need all heads in the game if we’re gonna improve and have a shot at going all the way this year. Delilah Grey from Lionsgate Analytics is here to help us do that. She’ll be with us—every game, every day—all season. She’ll be sending me the stats throughout the game, and I want you guys tuned in to your averages. Push yourselves every night.” He glanced around the room, pausing for a moment on Rod. “And please treat Delilah with respect. She knows we need some help, but she doesn't need to know you’re all a bunch of animals.” God, I loved Coach. So steady and calm. He was the reason this team was great. Without him we’d all be a bunch of animals on the field.
Coach swung open the locker room door and in walked a fucking vision.
I noticed the heels first. Sexy stilettos with leather cutouts that made me want to get down on my knees and slip them off her feet one at a time. My eyes devoured her creamy, toned calves, and not even the conservative pencil skirt could hide the full curves of her hips.
“Jesus,” Rod said under his breath.
I nudged him, for the first time in my life irritated by his overt appreciation of a woman. Looking at Delilah, the hairs on my arms stood to attention. As did something else. Damn, she was stunning, I’d never seen a woman so radiant in my entire life. She had dark silky hair cascading down her back in loose curls, so damn soft-looking that my hand itched to brush up against them. I, Cash Greenwood, for the first time in my life, had a desire to brush up against a woman’s hair.
“Hey guys, I’m Delilah Grey.” She nodded, her spine rigid as she leafed through a handful of papers in her arms. “If you could pass these around, I’ll tell you a little about me, then we can chat individually.”
“Individually?” Rod chimed, his horny grin sending anger racing through my stomach.
“Yes, that’s how I prefer to work. Deal with each player’s specific issues before we bring the whole team together.”
“I’ve only got one issue.” Rod shifted in his seat, his hand brushing over his crotch. My nostrils flared. Why was he such a dick? At that moment I hated my best friend so much I wanted to pound his face into the ground. The thought made me feel ashamed and idiotic. I knew Rod, he was a joker, more talk than action on most days, but the fact that he was being crass to this woman upset me beyond all reason. I didn’t have an explanation, but I did not enjoy the idea of Rod looking at her like she was a piece of meat. Not one bit.
Delilah’s deep chocolate eyes narrowed in a flare of anger for a moment before she turned back to her paperwork. If one paid close attention to her, as I was doing, one could see the patch of red forming on the back of her neck. “I started Lionsgate Analytics nearly three years ago. I want you to be the best players, on and off the field, and excelling in this world isn’t just about home runs and fly balls. It’s also about measuring, distance, velocity, and spin rates.” Her eyes flicked over the team again. “I’ll be hanging out at all the games, laptop open and watching just how consistent everyone is, and hopefully it won’t take us long to get an average. Anyone have questions for me?”
“Yeah, got plans tonight, sweetheart?” That was Rod, and I nearly shoved my fist in his gut for that one. I watched as Delilah’s jaw ticked. She was tough, I could tell. I liked that. I liked that she wouldn’t take anything sitting down. I had had enough of women taking things sitting down, so the fighter in me was drawn to the fire in her.
“Let me make one other thing clear: if anyone calls me sweetheart, toots, doll, baby, or any other demeaning term of endearment again, I can’t promise you won’t feel my high heel in your balls. I don’t play well with men who act like animals. We’re here for one thing and one thing only—to get this team in shape to win this year. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make an ass out of yourself in the process. Have I made myself clear?”
Fire blazed through my veins when she spun and exited the very door she’d come from. Well damn, after thirty years I finally found a woman who could make me take notice, make me want to chase. And not only chase, but tie her up and hold her against me, bind her to me in every way possible.
“Well, glad that went well.” Coach pushed a hand through his graying hair. “Cash, you go first.”
I followed her out of the room and into the smaller suite next door. When I entered she was already seated at the small desk, a few papers spread out before her, arms crossed over her chest as she waited. I licked my lips when I saw her. God, she was something else, all hard and edgy but yet so soft and delicate at the same time. She was wearing a crisp, white, button-down shirt under her blazer, and although she wasn’t showing any skin, I knew that the pretty packaging was nothing compared to the delectable gift of her flesh. She had her shirt buttoned almost to her chin, but that only made me want to pop those buttons with my teeth and peel the fabric off her body, exploring every inch of her with my tongue as I went.
&n
bsp; I shook my head to clear the images of her naked body displayed before me, a wonderland waiting for me to enter, and I sat down, rather uncomfortably, in the seat across from her.
“Cash Greenwood?” She held up a sheet of paper, my black-and-white team photo printed across the top.
“That’s me.” I crossed my arms, relaxing back into my chair as I watched her with an interested eye.
“Why do you think Coach asked me to sit down with you?”
“Because he asked everyone to?”
Her eyes flickered at my smart reply. She sucked in a quick breath, her chest heaving with the movement and stretching the fabric across her round, sexy tits. I wondered if she was wearing a push-up bra, but then figured there was no way tits that beautiful could be a slight of hand.
“Because you’re the pitcher. The pitcher tends to be the natural-born leader, and according to these stats…” She glanced down at the sheet of paper. “You’re the star hitter, too. You have any idea how rare your talent is?” She arched an eyebrow. “So is there anything you want to start with, beyond a smart-ass remark?”
A deep grin pulled at my cheeks as I held her eyes, letting the silence stretch between us until she started squirming in her chair. I made her nervous. I bit down on my bottom lip as my eyes flicked up and down her body before I finally spoke. “Maybe I was hoping you could teach me a thing or two.”
Why the fuck did I just do that?
I wanted to kick my own ass. I sounded like a waste-of-space asshole jock, one who thinks he can do whatever and act however just because he plays baseball. Like some instinct kicked in, I’d wanted to protect myself, and acting like a dick meant that no one would try to penetrate the shell I had set into place so very long ago.
Delilah’s cheeks flamed, the crimson crawling right up her neck and making me wish I could see what the rest of her looked like when she blushed. I liked the idea of her being flushed red based on something I’d said. I wondered if her nipples were the same shade as her petal-pink lips, and what the weight of her heavy tits in my hands would feel like. Jesus, I sounded like Rod, because this kind of thinking sure as hell wasn’t me.
“You may be used to girls fawning all over you, pulling up their skirts with one cocky grin, but save your breath, hot shot. I’m not that girl, and I never will be. Now, if you’re done with the eye-fucking, can we get on to business?”
Her reply swept the air from my lungs. She certainly wasn’t that girl, and that’s exactly why she’d caught my interest. She wasn’t impressed by any of the talent on this team, including mine, but I’m a man who likes a challenge. And Delilah Grey was one hell of a challenge.
“To answer your question, no, there isn’t anything I want to say to you. I’m not the guy who should be in this seat.”
“And who do you think is?”
“Coach called you in after Rodriguez fucked up. Look, he’s my best friend, I’m not going to bullshit you. He isn’t a bad guy. He means well. He just likes to have fun. Every team needs that guy, and Rod is that guy. He keeps spirits up. I know you’re here because Coach thinks the partying has slowed us down, and I think it’s a great idea. Get the guys focused on their stats, challenging themselves and bettering their game. I think it’s a good plan, but don’t be too hard on Rod. His heart’s in the game. That’s the part that counts.” Sometimes he drinks too much, and that affects his game. I didn’t want to share that with her, but it was obvious that’s what was going on. Rod’s drinking was out of hand, but at least he showed up to practice and never lost his temper. He wasn’t an angry drunk, and that at least was something in my book.
Delilah leaned back in her chair, eyes burning up the space between us before she swept her long dark hair over one shoulder. It fell down past the full swell of her breast, and the only thing I could think of was getting a look at all those dark tresses against the creamy flesh of her naked body.
“So if you don’t think you need me, why are you here then?”
“Because you interest me.” I was unable to keep the wide grin from my face.
A wry smile cut across her full lips. Fuck, I wanted to bite those lips. I wanted to trace her curves under my palms and push my hands in her hair, kiss her so fucking hard that when we’d finish we’d both be gasping for air. “Well, I’ve got news for you, Cash Greenwood. I hate ball players. You couldn’t pay me to date one. You’re all the same, and I have no desire to get swept up in your bullshit. I’m here to help the team out, and I guarantee I’ll be gone just as soon as my job is done. Just between you and me, I refused this job three times, but your coach begged me, so here I am.”
“Christ, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. I’d wanted to say something witty, but all I could think about was how her beauty took my breath away, so I’d said it. I’d called her beautiful.
Her mouth opened and closed, shock lacing the features of her pretty face. “Excuse me?”
“I said you’re beautiful when you’re angry. I didn’t know a person could be, I usually just think of pinched faces and ruddy cheeks, but the way your nose crinkles—”
“Okay, stop.” She stood from her chair, sending it sliding on the floor behind her. Her eyes were wild, the fire burning bright behind her irises, her chest heaving with exasperated pants before she put a hand on one hip and pointed to the door with her other hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Greenwood. Send the next caveman in, if you could.”
“Caveman?” I stood, hands planted on the desk in front of me as I leaned across the table, shortening the distance between us. “I can’t speak for the rest of the guys, but I’m definitely not a caveman. Give me a little time and you might even find I surprise you.” The fact that she lumped me in with all men bothered me. I didn’t want her thinking that I was one of these assholes who used women like they were nothing, then disregarded them.
“Doubt it.”
“I don’t.” I paused, eyes riveted on her pretty deep brown ones. The air hung heavy with a heady mix of arousal and irritation.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Greenwood.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’m not.”
“Ya know, for a girl who hates baseball players so much, I find it odd you’re spending the next few months living and breathing it.”
Her jaw worked back and forth at my words, her eyes falling to my cocky grin, then back to my eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s complicated.”
I waited, hoping she’d elaborate. I was desperate to find out why she had such a chip on her shoulder. Hell, I was desperate to spend more time with her, period.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, Ms. Grey.” I winked when I pushed off the table, her frown deepening as her thighs shifted back and forth beneath that sexy power suit. I left the room with two thoughts running through my head: what would it look like if she was wearing nothing but those heels, and how would they feel digging in my back?
“Man, Grey has a stick up her ass,” Rod commented as we left the clubhouse nearly three hours later. Apparently Delilah had lain into him, not that he didn’t deserve it.
“I think it’s hot.” And I did. I was used to these women who would do anything I said whenever I said it. This one, though, was a hard ass. I liked the embers that burned in her, the inferno under the librarian get-up and cold stance. This girl was a fighter.
“What?! Fuck that, I don’t like working for my dinner.”
I shook my head, shoving my hands in my pockets and fishing out my keys. Rod and I had driven together because we lived in the same high-rise.
“Since when have you ever liked the idea of any woman?” he scoffed as we approached my car.
“Just because I don’t eat up the chicks that fall all over you doesn’t make me blind. It makes me selective. I don’t want a Big Mac when I could have a filet mignon.”
“Pussy is pussy. No one is looking at the mantle when they’re poking a fire. You’re a Timberwolf, man. Enjoy the spoil
s.” Rod humped the air in a juvenile gesture. Some days I’m shocked that he’s my best friend.
“Delilah wasn’t wrong when she called you a caveman.” I shook my head.
“Caveman? Fuck, she’s a barracuda. I’m a great guy! Do you know anyone who doesn’t think I’m the life of the party?”
“Aside from every woman you’ve ever met?”
“No, people that really know me.”
“People don’t really know you, man. You put so much noise out there—”
“Hey, whose side are you on here?” Rod cut me an irritated look.
“I’m not taking sides. Just not feelin’ the young, drunk, dumb, and full of cum vibe anymore.” That statement wasn’t fair. Rod had been there for me whenever I needed him, no questions asked. He had his faults, but the man was loyal, and I knew that if I needed him for anything he would be there. But just like everyone else, he had his own demons.
“Oh, look at your holier-than-thou ass. Spare me, Cash. Spare me.”
I shook my head as we pulled out of the parking garage, heading for our building, where I could thankfully drop his ass off and enjoy my last night alone for a long time. After this it was all double headers and late nights for me.
“Wanna order pizza tonight?”
“Nah, I’m gonna get some rest.” I pushed a hand through my hair, my thoughts still on Delilah Grey and her long dark hair. Would it be inappropriate to invite her to my place for a one-on-one session? Because I really fucking wanted to. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but as soon as I saw her, I’d tucked my balls right into her purse. Now I just had to figure out how to get her to give me the time of day.
No one had ever made me feel the things she’d made me feel down deep in my gut when she’d walked into the room. I’d wanted to haul her off over my shoulder and steal her back to my place. Sure, I had caveman tendencies, but I did a pretty good job at keeping them to myself. Until now. Until her.
