The Sweet Spot

by Stephanie Evanovich

  Amanda nodded; there really was nothing to say. But she was sad for him, too, even if he was little more than a stranger whom she had to fight off to keep that way.

  “He’d be real disappointed in me if he knew I spent the rest of my life mourning him. He wanted me to do great things,” Chase said by way of closing the subject. He didn’t want to see pity in her eyes; he much preferred her feisty. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and took a hearty swig of champagne before standing up and holding out his hand.

  “Dance with me.” It sounded more like a command than a request.

  She stared at him blankly before looking out into the restaurant. Several tables had been pushed to the sides, creating a space in the middle of the room. Had they been moved before she got there and she just didn’t notice? Earth, Wind & Fire was still playing, rich and soulful. Eric was still behind the bar. minding his own business and working on what Amanda was sure was a crossword puzzle. She took Chase’s hand and he led her to the impromptu dance floor and pulled her in close. Although it required a reach on her part, one of her hands rested on his shoulder. Her other hand, secure in his, was placed directly over his heart. Together they began to sway to the music.

  Finally he had her in his arms, which was right where she belonged.

  “We fit together well,” he whispered in her ear, and the pressure of his fingertips on the small of her back increased. “Don’t you think?”

  It was likely her neck would need a chiropractor if she spent too much time looking up at his face. But staring at his chest had its benefits. Despite his size, he was light on his feet. She resisted the urge to melt into him and he dipped them a little.

  “You are just full of surprises, Mr. Walker, right down to your choice of music. Isn’t your theme music the chorus from ‘Head Like a Hole’ by Nine Inch Nails?”

  He chuckled. “I have my aggressive head-banging moments, but they don’t make for good romance.”

  “And once again, I need to remind you, romance with you is not part of my equation,” she reiterated, hoping she sounded convincing. It felt good, huddled up against him, so good.

  “Aren’t you even the least bit curious to see what a guy like me has to offer?”

  “I already know what you have to offer, being on the road for half the year with the added bonus of women throwing themselves at you.” The argument was as weak as the accusation.

  “I never took you for a gal who reads the National Enquirer,” he mused, foiling her again.

  “I don’t need a tabloid to get a good read on you,” she said, wondering if every woman who danced with him wound up feeling like putty.

  “You’re not going to be one of those people to whom I’m going to have to say ‘Having my picture taken at a party with Kate Upton doesn’t mean I slept with her,’ are you?” He didn’t ask it as if he thought he needed to try to change her mind. He had an air about him as if he already knew she was going to become what he probably referred to as “a done deal.”

  “I can’t get wrapped up in a guy like you,” she said, mostly to herself to fight it off, although he clearly heard her.

  “Why not?” he queried.

  “Because you’re so very nice and way too complicated,” she was able to say automatically, since it had become one of her mantras.

  “And you’re way too pragmatic. I’m the simplest guy there is. I remember everything my parents taught me. Do the right thing and everything turns out right. Stay loyal to those you want loyalty from. I have almost everything a man could want; I’m a complete tool if I don’t appreciate it.”

  “See? Now that’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about. You sound too good to be true. And why are you even interested in someone like me? You’re supposed to be hooked up with some Southern belle who’s got a waistline the size of my pinky. Sports Illustrated will take pictures of you both in your bathing suits, you holding her over your head.”

  “What’s so difficult to believe? You’re a natural beauty who’s smart and witty, even when trying to keep your defenses up. You would never be so impolite to me if you weren’t attracted. I watch you with other people. You have perfect decorum even with total asshats.”

  And then Chase smiled, still sweet but with the tiniest touch of sinister.

  “But you try to tell me, usually in the freshest way, my own mind. I think I know why you’re doing it, too, but we can talk about that later,” he said, his hand curling tighter around her waist. “And don’t be so foolish to think I’m not strong enough to hold you over my head. The only question would be for how long. You’re no Kelly Ripa.”

  Amanda laughed. He wasn’t insulting her. It wasn’t a backhanded compliment, either. The way he said it was more in appreciation. It wasn’t like he compared her to his ex-girlfriend, who had a celebrated figure and her size 8 earned her the Hollywood assessment of obese. Besides, Amanda was comfortable in her double-digit size. The extra weight made her feel strong and powerful, a force to be reckoned with and not a pushover. Of course, next to him, it was hard not to feel like a dwarf; he was just too intimidating.

  He finished up with, “As for me, I’ve been totally blessed. The least I can do is not be a jerk about it.”

  How was she supposed to come up with an answer to that? He took every argument she had and charmingly shut it down. There was no denying that from the second she met him, Chase was polite and chivalrous and way too accommodating. And it wasn’t an act, but who he naturally was. He was warm and approachable, and it was clear people mattered to him. But she also knew that he was rich and powerful and accustomed to getting what he wanted. It was also clear that apparently what he wanted at the moment was her, for whatever reason. The only thing she could do was continue to keep him at arm’s length physically and hope that he would lose interest because it was too much effort, and then they could both go back to the very different lives they knew.

  Neither of them said anything more and continued to move to the music. Earth, Wind & Fire switched to “Reasons.” It was one of the most random and romantic songs in her own repertoire, handed down from when all her musical influence was reflective of her parents. From when as a tween in her bedroom she used to dance with her pillow and dreamed of being a princess, not a contender. It was only after she felt his fingertips curl in on her back that she realized she had rested her head on his shoulder, well mostly his chest, and closed her eyes. She could’ve easily stepped on his feet and let him do all the dancing, but they weren’t doing too much moving anyway.

  They continued to slightly sway, even after the music stopped until Amanda realized it. She had gotten caught up in the closeness. His touch, the scent of his Burberry cologne, even his heartbeat through his shirt was mesmerizing. They hesitantly separated and she looked around. The place was empty. The table where they’d dined had been cleared of dinner dishes and replaced with tiramisu and coffee. The kitchen was dark. Everyone else seemed to have left. She had been so wrapped up in their dance; she didn’t even notice any of it taking place. She could add magical to the list of adjectives she had started compiling to describe him.

  They had their dessert and returned to small talk. He quizzed her about baseball, and she wowed him with her knowledge. She didn’t just know the basics, but the intricate points of the game, why the infield fly rule was important, why bats came in different weights and sizes, and why a player would choose one over another. She was able to talk about strategy. His face briefly clouded over defensively while confirming that he never took steroids, and they both agreed it was cheating, but that players who took them before they became illegal shouldn’t necessarily be denied entry into the Hall of Fame. By the time they left and caught Eric napping in his car, waiting to lock up, Chase knew Amanda Cole was the woman he’d been waiting for. There was only one question left to answer: Could she—would she—be willing to play all his games, even the kinky ones? Something in his gut told him no, and then his head told him he could worry about it later. His heart told him no
ne of it mattered.

  He held her hand as he drove her home, and she let him, though she wasn’t sure why. It felt wrong to encourage him only to leave him hanging when they said good night. There was no way she was going to invite him in. If he and his magic magnetism got past her threshold, she’d be a goner.

  But he didn’t ask to come in. He didn’t even suggest it. When they reached her door, she had already fully prepared her excuses, but none was required.

  “I had a great time tonight,” he said politely. “Thanks for a wonderful evening.”

  Once again, he had thrown her a curve. “I did, too,” she murmured.

  His hand reached out to brush his knuckles across her cheek. When she didn’t protest, he cupped her face in his hand and bent his head down, bringing his lips to hers.

  The kiss was warm and gentle. He took his time, savoring it. His mouth opened slightly, but his tongue didn’t probe. Instead, Chase softly drew the breath right out of her. She couldn’t recall anything quite like it. The man knew how to kiss. And then it was over. He pulled away to stand up straight and she swallowed a mouthful of disappointment that it ended.

  “I’ll see you when I get back on Friday. Keep my barstool warm?” he said.

  She nodded, still trying to catch her breath and wishing that he would kiss her again. And it was a wish that he fulfilled, but this time quickly, mostly because he couldn’t stop himself from stealing one more taste of her delicious lips. And then, as if by magic, he was gone and she was standing alone in her living room. She didn’t remember saying that final good-bye or opening the door. Chase Walker’s kiss had nearly caused her to black out. All her excuses were silenced by the memory of it; her logical reasoning was nothing more than white noise. But of two things she was certain: The time had come for her to begin her quest in earnest to find his fatal flaw. And she couldn’t wait for Friday.

  CHAPTER 6

  WHILE IN CLEVELAND, Chase called Amanda every day. When she was too busy to talk, he also began to text. He sent a random stream of amusing anecdotes about his travels or questions about how her day was going. His texts were playful but benign, no requests for sexting or even a hint of impropriety. But before her day was over, without fail, the same text arrived, often right before she got into bed: “Sleep well, angel, miss you.”

  She spent all her free time researching him. As soon as she entered his name in her browser’s search engine, she had a plethora of ways to peek into his world. Countless glimpses into his history and his lifestyle were made available with a single keystroke. Like her, Chase was an only child, which seemed unusual for a farmer’s son, unlike her upbringing, which Amanda had surmised was a case of two career-driven people who thought procreation was expected of them, at least once. Upon further investigation, she uncovered that while he was growing up, his parents ran free summer camps out of their farm for urban youth designed to introduce them to animals and teach them about agriculture. They took in foster children and sponsored local athletic programs. His mother won national awards for her volunteer work. On his own, he was charitable almost to a fault, his focus mostly on family issues; literacy, terminally ill children, and wounded veterans in particular. There were no stories of mayhem or debauchery, no reports of him partying too hard or getting into bar fights. He was never busted for drunk driving or trashing a hotel room. He had no axes to grind with other baseball players or team management or celebrities. As far as Amanda could tell, Chase Walker appeared to be the offspring of Gandhi and Mother Teresa.

  It was maddening. The flaw had to be somewhere. It seemed silly to take comfort in thinking that maybe he was a Satan worshipper or spent his off-season participating in human sacrifices.

  He did seem to like his women, though, and there were plenty of pictures to prove it. She scrolled through hundreds of photos posted to the web. There were dozens of him with the actress she already knew about, but there were also ones with pop stars, models, and baseball fans, his arm always curled around their waists and his smile a clear indicator that he didn’t mind the closeness. And at the end of that arm was the same hand that had held hers when they danced and brushed against her cheek.

  It was terribly disconcerting that she did mind. As the days wore on and she continued to peruse the women he’d dated, Amanda realized that she minded very much. Maybe that was it? He really was a womanizer who collected orgasms like he did awards. But while he had all the makings of a playboy, it was completely contradictory. He was just too attentive and accessible. That could be his modus operandi; shower with attention until the mission is accomplished, then on to the next conquest. And then she thought that maybe it would be best if she got her fling over with so she could be free of him. Amanda did have several casual hookups on her sexual resume, the result of her being single-minded on the success of the Cold Creek and unwilling to commit to potential long-term boyfriends who were too eager to give her unsolicited business advice. When she was first starting out, it was easy to shake her. She was too strong in her business decisions now to ever consider a man’s opinion a challenge, and had several failed relationships to prove it. But she had made an error. She should’ve had her one-night stand that first night, before he started turning on the charm. When he stopped doing all the little things that had romance written all over them she knew the outcome wouldn’t be the same. And overruling all logical thought was, she wanted to try out his kiss again. She got the distinct impression that letting Chase have her body would result in her wanting him to have her heart and soul, and that was a losing proposition.

  As she continued to browse and discover, she began to conjure mental images of Chase seducing and deflowering virgins and swinging from the rafters with prostitutes, all with Earth, Wind & Fire playing in the background. Jealousy mounted and then turned irrational. By the time he surprised her and showed up on his way to the stadium before his Friday-night home game, unwilling to wait until after it to see her, she didn’t know whether to throw herself into his arms or slug him.

  Because the restaurant was already open and there were witnesses around, she refrained from doing either.

  “If you’re in this to add me to a list of conquests, turn around and leave right now,” she hissed quietly at him from across the podium where she was standing as soon as he walked in.

  He looked momentarily shocked, and then the smile appeared.

  “Either you’ve been doing some homework while I was gone or your workstation is the portal to hell.” He chuckled, delighted by her outburst. “You get pretty brazen behind that thing.”

  He got as close as he could to her, much closer than the last time he did it with the podium still between them. “Over the years, I’ve gotten very good at reading signs. You sound jealous, and I think it’s adorable,” he whispered, then pulled back enough for her to see him raising both his eyebrows, daring her to dispute it.

  She didn’t answer him because she didn’t know how, and he had just prevented her from making a scene. She did sound jealous, because she was. It was unsettling, having to acknowledge that whenever she was in his presence, she was so willing to forsake her good manners and instead become bitchy and shrewlike. Since meeting him, she had slowly become a walking contradiction. One she had moved to blaming on that first kiss, which still made her tingle. Why was she so dead-set denying the attraction to him? Maybe it was time to just sit back and enjoy the attention, but be mindful that it was most likely temporary. If promiscuity was his flaw, it was sure to show itself. And if she didn’t just hop into bed with him, it was likely to show itself sooner rather than later. He had already wedged himself into her life.

  “I can’t keep fighting you, Chase, but I’m scared to death you’re going to use me,” she said, finally blurting out the confession.

  He straightened back up and looked down at her from across the podium, shaking his head. “What’s it going to take for me to prove to you I’m not that guy? I think I’m in this one for the long haul.”

  He had al
ready proven it, in every conversation they’d had and every overture he’d made. She glanced past him and saw a party of four waiting patiently to be seated. She could tell they knew exactly who he was, with only having the back of him to go by. She saw the two camera phones ready for when he turned around.

  “I need to go slow,” she murmured.

  “However long it takes,” he promised.

  “Will you be back after your game?”

  He merely smiled before turning and getting ready to have his picture taken. “Silly question.”

  THEY BEGAN DATING AND THE game changed. She dropped the attitude and focused on enjoying his company. That following Monday and Tuesday, she tagged along with Chase on some of his routine. She went with him to the gym, and won what she secretly named “the eye-candy sweepstakes.” Chase’s friend Logan Montgomery was also his personal trainer. She used a treadmill while the pair worked out in Logan’s private Englewood facility, and she tried to keep from ogling the men as they pumped iron. Not that the beautiful Logan could hold a candle to Chase’s rugged athleticism. But it couldn’t be denied, the view was spectacular. It also confirmed that he really was strong enough to hold her over his head. Chase knew how to beast up a weight bench. The only way it could’ve gotten any better was if the whole workout was done with both of them naked; however, seeing them in shorts and T-shirts gave her imagination a good sweat.

  She went with him to his games Monday and Tuesday night. She had her picture taken from yards away by questionable-looking characters while he was on the field. He answered a question at his postgame about whether they were an item with a boyish “Yep.” He picked her up early before his Tuesday-night game and took her on a road trip to nowhere, just drove a few hours in a random direction to check out weird stuff, then turn around and headed back, the GPS at the ready if needed. She enjoyed that for all sorts of reasons. At sixty miles an hour, she had him all to herself since he shut off his phone. And he wasn’t able to concentrate on giving her all the looks that made her question her ability to keep her hands off him. She wasn’t going to be able to hold him off much longer. She was losing all her motivation to try. She wanted to make out. A moving car gave her an advantage, but only a slight one. Because as he drove, he touched her always, mostly stroking her forearm with his free hand, sometimes taking her hand and lightly playing with her thumb. If he was able to incorporate the look into that, she’d be hard-pressed not to start ripping his clothes off. By the time they got to the stadium for Tuesday night’s game, Amanda had determined that the next overture he made, she was taking him up on it.