Double Play

by Joanne Rock

  She had headed out here to snag some fresh air before she made her first-ever move on some hapless studly type as part of her plan to be more emotionally daring.

  Well, that and she also hoped the darkness outside the bar would help ease her nervousness about approaching a stranger strictly to hit on him. Somehow the dark lent a sense of anonymity to the whole nerve-racking business. She’d found a spot at a picnic table at the edge of the action where she could people-watch and plot her next move.

  But the sight of Rochelle’s megahot neighbor walking toward her saved her from having to flirt with some random stranger for a little while longer. Which was not only utterly unexpected, it was welcome news. She’d felt an odd connection with the star player when he’d bumped into her, when he’d held her steady with strong, warm hands. Crazy, yes. Improbable, definitely.

  That didn’t stop the way her eyes found his in a crowd while the rest of the world faded to insignificance.

  Of course, that only meant he was magnetic as hell.

  She had no reason to feel as if the moment was full of destiny as he ambled his gorgeous self closer to her. She purposely hadn’t tried to hone her flirting skills on him because he must be highly sought after by women who were a whole lot better than her at this dating business.

  Maybe she was just damned glad to see him because now she could relax.

  Since the ballplayer wasn’t a dating prospect, she could let her guard down and be herself around him.

  “According to my book—” she patted the volume resting in her purse pocket “—you should move closer to the center of action if you’re hoping to meet people.”

  Not that she necessarily wanted to watch him hooking up with any of the endlessly tall, cool blondes that seemed to populate Nantucket this weekend. But it was second nature to share the tidbits she’d picked up about dating from the book.

  As a book reviewer, she frequently read about life instead of living it. At first, the tactic had been a brilliant way to save herself from a tumultuous childhood, holding her mom’s hand between husbands who let her down. But at the age of twenty-eight, Amber knew her old standby of finding life’s answers in a library wasn’t exactly a healthy practice.

  The ballplayer paused in front of her picnic table, empty save her. Most of the bar patrons were dancing—either inside or out—or playing beach games such as bocce and horseshoes near the water. Torches ringed the property, while a few strands of Christmas lights illuminated walkways and the gazebo down by a small pier.

  He deposited a paper take-out bag on the end of the table and then—surprise—two bottles of beer.

  “What makes you think I need tips from a book?” He sat down, uninvited but not unwelcome.

  It gave her the chance to peruse him at length close-up. And, man, what a treat it was to ogle a handsome male from such an intimate distance. His knee brushed hers under the table, the denim rough against her bare leg.

  She appreciated the casualness that kept her from getting nervous around him. Or worse, prickly. Sometimes when she liked a guy, her defenses turned into force fields worthy of a Starfleet ship.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess because you barrel through the place knocking women down before they know what hit them—”

  “I hardly knocked you down.” He set a longneck closer to her and moved his aside so he could open the box full of chicken wings with a side of ribs. “But in an effort to make it up to you, I’ve brought you dinner.”

  He picked up his beer bottle and clinked the side gently against hers where the brew still sat on the table.

  “To chance encounters that don’t have a damn thing to do with the mating season,” he offered as a toast.

  Charmed, she lifted the cold bottle and clinked it back.

  “Cheers.” Tipping the glass to her lips, she watched him do the same, her heartbeat stuttering at his warm regard.

  She knew better than to pay attention to good looks—she’d trained that instinct out of herself at an early age, realizing even in high school that she had more fun hanging out with guys who could look beneath the surface. Still, here was the baseball hero, looking her right in the eye and seeming to like what he saw just fine.

  “I’m Heath, by the way.” He slid a paper plate across the table with a half-dozen wings. “Dig in.”

  Heath? Amber couldn’t recall the name of the ballplayer, but she’d thought it was something more Hispanic sounding than Heath. She wasn’t sure if Heath was part of the alias—as “Jones” so obviously had been—or if she’d gotten mixed up about the name Rochelle had mentioned. She’d never paid any attention to professional sports.

  “Amber Nichols, book reviewer extraordinaire,” she returned, telling herself it didn’t matter either way since she hadn’t expected him to be honest with her. Men in bars lied all the time. Even The Mating Season said so. “I’ve already eaten, but thanks for the beer.”

  She took another sip, savoring the icy flavor of a Boston microbrew while she watched him devour his first two wings.

  “I figured if I bought you a drink maybe you’d fill me in on why you brought a book to a bar on a Friday night. But I guess I have my answer. You’re writing a book review?”

  The outdoor speakers blared a reggae tune while a new volleyball game got under way and the previous rivals paired off to walk on the beach. Amber realized her pool of dating prospects was dwindling, but with Heath sitting across from her, it was hard to care. He could seriously turn a woman’s head.

  “It’s a long overdue case of reading for pleasure.” She hadn’t picked up a book of her own choosing in months.

  He paused in his methodical demolishing of the food.

  “If you’re hanging out in a meat market like this, it seems like you could observe all you need to about—what was it?—the ‘ancient dance of gender politics’ from a firsthand perspective. Why be here and use the time to read?”

  “Great question,” she admitted, drawn to the natural inquisitiveness in his eyes that didn’t seem like a put-on. “And I’m honestly not sure if it’s because I’m too much of a chicken to face a bar crowd while I’m alone, or because I need a great deal of remedial help playing the pickup game.”

  She’d decided to be sincere with him since he was just being friendly.

  A chicken wing fell from his fingers and he appeared surprised for a moment before he grinned and shook his head.

  “It was a serious question.”

  Confused, she frowned.

  “It was a serious answer.”

  He leaned back in his seat and angled his head to see under the table. Then, straightening, he looked her in the eye again.

  “With legs like that, I find it tough to believe you don’t rake in your fair share of male attention.” He turned his gaze back to his dinner.

  Flustered and half wishing she could consult her book for advice on what a guy like Heath might want from this kind of conversation with a woman of her tepid outward charm, Amber tensed.

  “Now who’s not being serious?” She knew very well her legs were nothing to write home about. The temptation to open up The Mating Season and reread the chapter “Liars, Posers and Pickup Artists” made her fingers itch. “I’m only here because I need to force myself to be more social.”

  His eyebrows lifted in unison, perhaps reacting to the surliness that had crept into her tone. “Okay, that I believe. Are you always this defensive?”

  “Actually, I’m being amazingly friendly toward you.” When was the last time she’d let a stranger buy her a drink, let alone sit down and make himself at home at her table at an overcrowded nightclub? “I think it’s because I’m certain you have no interest in me.”

  Heath balled up the paper plate and stuffed it inside the empty sack before sending the bag sailing in a neat hook shot into a nearby trash can.

  “Well, Amber, I guess that just proves you can’t learn everything you need to know from books because I’m more than interested.” He lowered his voice a
nd the brim of his ball cap as a group of women sat down at a table right next to theirs. “I’m flat-out attracted and hoping you’ll let me take you home.”

  2

  AMBER’S JAW DROPPED in an expression that was downright priceless. Had the male population become so blinded by a generation of silicone-enhanced females that they didn’t recognize a truly hot version of the real thing?

  He couldn’t think of any other reason why Amber Nichols would have gotten this far in life without having a better awareness of her own appeal.

  “Isn’t that moving a little fast?” Her hand strayed to her purse, where that book of hers stuck out of an outside pocket. She ran an unvarnished nail along the closed pages, creating a soft zipping noise.

  Heath couldn’t remember ever having a conversation like this one. He’d been on the receiving end of big-time female attention from the time he was an All-State baseball player as a ninth grader on the varsity team. As a major leaguer, he’d had women stalk him, flash him and bribe the elevator guy in his building to get close to him. Not once in all that time had a woman questioned his technique.

  “I don’t know,” he deadpanned. “Should we check the book?”

  For a moment, she bit her lip and he wondered if she was honestly tempted. He half regretted teasing her.

  “Make fun if you want, but I’m a little out of my element here.” She stood abruptly, putting her purse strap over her shoulder and leaving the beer on the table. “Thanks for the drink, but I think I’ll be heading home.”

  Strike. Out.

  She couldn’t have made the call any more clearly if she’d been sporting a blue shirt and a chest protector. Her long, dark braid whipped over her shoulder to trail obediently behind her as she walked away from him for the second time that night.

  And for the second time, he realized he didn’t want her to go.

  Something about uptight, blind-to-her-own-appeal Amber Nichols made him want to turn her around and show her the time of her life. It seemed like a truly ill-timed impulse given the state of his slipping career status and his well-under- .500 ball club.

  But look where all his intense focus on the team had gotten him. Booted out of the ballpark for two days until he could rein in his mouth and his temper on the field.

  What if Ms. Serious who didn’t know his famous name was just the ticket to a major attitude adjustment for him? He’d been so determined to set women aside this year. What if all the pent-up anger and stress stemmed from a lack of that basic release? Maybe he really needed the mood-altering benefits of a rollicking good time with a woman who was about as far from a clingy groupie as he could possibly get.

  His feet were already making tracks to follow her while his brain slowly caught up. This was a good idea.

  Instead of two days of reinventing his losing team, he’d have two days of Amber. Two days of mouthwatering legs. Two days of teasing her about her choice of reading material while showing her how sexy she really was.

  Assuming he had any idea how to seduce a woman. The very real possibility that he’d only ever gotten laid because of his bat speed gave him pause.

  “Amber.” He caught up with her in the parking lot as she searched the long row of mopeds. “Sorry to give you such a hard time back there. I’m a wiseass, but sometimes it strays more toward pain in the ass.”

  She nodded, hardly looking at him.

  “It’s okay. I’m very uppity,” she admitted, not sounding overly concerned about it. “Apparently I’m also very forgetful as I have no idea which one of these is my rental.”

  His eyes followed hers down the row of scooters, half of which were the exact same make, model and color. Even the helmets were identical since the local dealership issued the same basic gear to everyone.

  “Well, I offered to drive you home earlier since you’re staying at the beach house right next to mine. The offer still stands.”

  She straightened from her examination of the vehicles.

  “You said you wanted to take me home.” She pursed her mouth in a thoughtful little frown and he wondered what her lips would taste like if he nibbled on one. They looked slick and glossy, and he bet they smelled good, too. “I thought you meant you wanted to…”

  He wondered if she was blushing as her words trailed off. He almost wouldn’t be surprised. She was an interesting mix of fresh honesty and disarming sweetness.

  He all around liked Amber Nichols.

  “I do. That is, you didn’t misunderstand.” He closed the distance between them, the scent of the ocean and the bonfire filling the air. “I issued a purposely ambiguous invitation, thinking I’d be happy if you took me up on it no matter how you interpreted it.”

  Her fist tightened on the key in her hand, her dark braid slithering over one bare shoulder as she straightened.

  “So you did proposition me?” She sounded surprised.

  “I did.” He gestured toward his classic British motorcycle parked between the scooters and the Jeeps. “But you deserve a much better proposition than that. You can listen to my pitch on the way home and if you don’t like it, I’ll drop you at your doorstep—no harm, no foul.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to hear a proposition if I ride on that thing.” She lifted one eyebrow, her expression skeptical.

  He thought of all the women he’d known who would slither suggestively all over that bike for the chance to ride with him. And damn, but wasn’t it different to be the one doing the convincing for a change?

  “So technically, you might have to hear the pros and cons on your front porch instead of on the highway.” He snagged a generic helmet off the nearest scooter and handed it to her. “Here. Put this on. No matter whose it is, there are enough here for everyone since you wore one.”

  She hesitated, peering back over her shoulder at the beach party kicking into high gear with the scent of the clambake and a vintage Lynyrd Skynyrd tune drifting on the breeze.

  Heath dug for the last bit of persuasive ammo he could think of without touching her.

  “I thought you wanted to read less and live more?” He parroted her words from earlier when he’d run into her.

  Apparently, she was committed to that bit of wisdom because the prompt worked like a charm. She snatched the helmet from him and strapped it in place. “You’re on.”

  He didn’t bother to hide a grin as he secured his own helmet and fired up the engine. She never hesitated when it came time to straddle the bike in her dress. With modesty and determination, she managed the trick without flashing him.

  A damn shame.

  “Ready?” he asked, looking forward to the moment when she realized she’d need to wrap herself around him.

  As it was, she sat with her knees grazing his thighs, but the fun stopped there.

  “I think so?” The rising inflection suggested she’d quite possibly never ridden a motorcycle.

  “Hold on to me.” The words came out rougher than he’d intended. Not that he was frustrated. If anything, he was more eager than he would have imagined to have her touch him.

  There was a light brush of fingertips along his upper back.

  “Uh, lower.” His skin tightened with the myriad of implications in that one simple word.

  Her touch vanished briefly, then reappeared at his waist. She slid her arms around him, her breasts pressed against his back.

  “I’m beginning to think you had an ulterior motive in wanting to give me a ride.”

  He blinked to clear his mind of the wicked double entendres he’d begun to hear in their every exchange.

  She had his pulse fired up so hard he couldn’t think straight.

  “Is that right?”

  She tucked her chin against his shoulder as he backed out of the parking spot and pulled onto the highway.

  “I think you knew all along the persuasive measures were going to start on the way home, even if we weren’t speaking.”

  She’d seen straight through him. But fortunately, she didn’t sou
nd annoyed about it. If anything, she just might be warming up to the idea of spending the night with him if the pebble-hard peaks of her breasts against his back were any indication.

  No matter that his ball club was at the bottom of their division and the team owner was gunning for his ass.

  At this moment, everything felt right in his world.

  AMBER WORRIED THAT HER brain had shut off right about the time her libido kicked into high gear.

  Maybe that was why she’d always avoided situations like this.

  She could never remember feeling so sexually edgy that she was about to come out of her skin.

  Was it because of the element of daring involved with flirting with a stranger? The frank masculine appeal of a man who’d turned her on physically with just one look even before she’d arrived at the bar that night?

  Or could it be the raw stimulation of having her thighs wrapped around Heath with nothing but a layer of cotton sundress and whisper-thin silk panties to separate her from the rough denim of his jeans?

  No doubt it was a potent combination of all of the above. He revved the engine faster on a straightaway that cut through a patch of trees, casting them in even more shadows without the glow of the moon. She tightened her hold on his waist, her hands splayed against the rigid muscles of his abs.

  And, heaven help her, she couldn’t even think about words such as rigid without getting all hot and bothered. Which brought her to yet another reason for her turned-on condition. Heath had put the whole notion of sleeping together into her brain, the possibility teasing her thoughts at every turn until she could barely think at all. She could only feel.

  The motor hummed a conspiratorial vibration between her legs, a ridiculously erotic stimulation that reminded her of sex. Well, right now, everything seemed to remind her of sex.