by Joanne Rock
She did look hot as hell with her cheeks all flushed and her lips swollen from his kisses. And that hair—so long and wavy—made her look like some lush, mythical goddess.
“I’m not due on the mound tomorrow, boss,” Jay clarified, though they all knew that Chase would be tapped for a save if the Aces got a lead. “Tonight, we figured we’d hit the bars for a celebrity hunt.”
With Montoya a veteran earning the big bucks, Heath let it go. As a player, he’d never appreciated being told how to prepare for games. But damn it, these guys set a bad example for the new and impressionable types.
“Just stay away from fans with videophones, all right? I don’t need to see you two on TMZ highlights tonight.” Heath wondered if he’d even be employed by the team on Saturday when it was Jay’s turn to pitch.
Ding!
The car arrived at their floor, and Amber wrapped her arms around him.
“Night!” she called to them as Heath escorted her out of the elevator and down the hall to his suite.
Nothing else was getting in the way of what he wanted now. No players. No meetings. No phone calls threatening his job.
“I’m bolting the door and throwing my phone across the room,” he warned her, inserting his key card into the lock. “No more interruptions. No more trips to the library.”
“Really?” She crossed the threshold as he held open the door. “What if I have a sudden urge to consult a book?”
He followed her inside and slid the bolt into place. Blue lights from above the bar were the only illumination, except for the glow from the street below that filtered in under partially closed blinds. The lights from Rodeo Drive remained bright long after the stores closed.
He regretted that she hadn’t gotten to see anything of the city so far, but that was what his life was like on the road—hotels and ball fields.
“I’m going to teach you everything you’ll need to know. No books necessary.” He stepped deeper into the room and shrugged off his suit jacket.
Loosened his tie.
Her eyes followed the movement of his hand on the knot before her gaze tracked back up to his face.
“But I like being an expert on things,” she persisted, though she was already stepping out of her shoes. Her purse hit the bar with a thud.
“Guess I’ll have to send you straight to the master class.”
He reached for her, and she was in his arms in a heartbeat. Quick, clever fingers fluttered all over his chest, dipping between shirt buttons to unfasten them.
“Less talk. More naked.” She yanked his shirt backward off his shoulders and nearly strangled him with his tie. “Oh!”
She reached to loosen it more, but he beat her to the knot.
“I’ve got it.” He tossed the neckwear with all the power of a centerfielder going straight to the plate.
“I told you I need my reference manuals,” she reminded him, placing a kiss on the hot skin of his chest.
The soft curve of her breasts teased him through the fabric of her cotton dress. She was so sexy in her classic, simple clothes and her practical braid. Not femme fatale heels and knock-him-out perfume. Amber was beautiful for not trying. And just what he needed to keep his mind off tomorrow’s game. This was more than a good idea. It was a damn great idea.
“One day when we’re not in a hurry, I’ll give you a step-by-step tutorial,” he assured her. “Right now, we’re going to fast-forward through all that.”
“No instructions?”
“No more fighting with the clothes. We can work around the rest.” He picked her up and backed her against the door they’d just entered. He gripped her bare thighs beneath her dress, but she wrapped her legs so hard around him, he could have let go and she wouldn’t have fallen.
A gasp rose from her lips. She clutched his shoulders and made sexy little sounds that drove him crazy.
“I’ve wanted this all day.” His thumbs speared beneath the lace of her panties, claiming the new terrain of unbelievably soft skin.
Silky damp curls hid her slick heat, but he sifted his way through to touch the tender bud of her sex. Wet with wanting, her body wept for him in the sweetest sign of feminine desire.
Heat fired through him, his whole body a hot, hard ache. He didn’t just want Amber. He needed her with a fierceness that rocked him.
The drive to be inside her—to give and take, pleasure and possess—was so strong he unfastened his pants and nudged his boxers aside. He was beyond ready.
“Condom,” a voice of reason murmured. Her voice. “Please say you restocked.”
It took him a moment to realize she was digging through his pants pocket for a reason. A damn good one, at that. When had he ever lost control so badly that he never even thought about protection?
She emerged from the pocket with the necessary item and lost no time ripping open the packet with her teeth. Her one-handed effort to slide the condom on him was a teeth-clenching exercise in restraint, but he managed to hold back until she guided him toward the slick feminine heat between her legs.
The urge to explain himself—that he couldn’t slow down because he’d never felt like this before—died in his throat. He gripped her thighs, drawing her closer to edge his way deeper.
Burying his face in the cascade of hair over her shoulder, he inhaled the scent of her. Soap and flowers. Sex and desire.
For a long moment, he just held her there, acclimating to the feel of her. Relishing the fact that he’d gotten lucky enough to find her that night at The Lighthouse.
“I’m so close,” she whispered, her voice thin and sweet in the darkness broken only by the blue bar light. “It feels so good.”
Heath thrust and watched her through half-opened eyes, her head tossing back and forth as if she were in the throes of a dream she didn’t want to end. Raw masculine pride surged through him that he did that to her.
And suddenly, it was all too much.
He held her steady, burying himself inside her over and over again as his release blindsided him. Amber held on tight, her nails finding purchase in his shoulders for a moment before she shuddered and contracted all around him.
Nothing else mattered but her. This moment.
Their bodies slick with heat and sex, they dissolved together in a boneless heap and he was damn lucky he didn’t drop her. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he stalked through the suite to the bedroom with her in his arms. They collapsed onto the pristine navy comforter, surrounded by pillows and bolsters.
For once, baseball didn’t come rushing back to his brain in the quiet moment when his body was satiated. It was there in the background, but he could separate himself from it, and for that, he was damn glad.
“You’re amazing.” He couldn’t begin to analyze the way she’d gotten into his head and stayed there.
She’d crashed into his life, not looking where she was going, and that had turned out to be the best accident that had ever happened to him.
“Maybe it should be me teaching the master class after all,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder like a contented cat.
Like someone who cared about him.
The warmth of the moment fractured a little at the realization. Funny that it wasn’t baseball that did it, but his own fear of hurting her. Of disappointing her.
His gut clenched at the thought.
Ruthlessly, he ignored the niggling concern, knowing he couldn’t think about that now with her lying beside him. She’d come to him with too many old worries about sex for him to get wrapped up in his head now. She deserved to have him wax poetic about how fantastic she was.
“All that book smarts must be paying off,” he agreed, vowing he would not let himself hurt her. Even if that meant he’d have to let her go sooner than what he wanted. Reaching for her, he rubbed her hip and realized he’d never undressed her. A fact which he would remedy immediately. “But I think we’ll need to test your skills one more time before you’re awarded that designation.”
&
nbsp; “Knute Rockne said we should build up our weaknesses until they become our strong points.” She helped him untangle her bra straps from her clothes so he could reveal every smoking hot inch of creamy flesh.
“Bring it on, Professor,” he replied.
It was going to be so damn hard not to fall for her.
13
“I CAN SEND A PLANE down there right now and you could be watching my game tonight.” Diego cradled the hotel phone against his ear at one o’clock in the morning, grateful to have Jasmine on the other end of the line after so many failed attempts to reach her over the past two weeks.
“Forget it. I’m not some spoiled socialite who needs a private jet and a designer purse with a cross-breed dog the size of a rodent,” she protested, stringing her words together in a whispered rant out of deference to their sleeping son.
Damn but she was a good mom.
He could picture her in the condo he’d helped her move into after college so she could be close enough to the local rec center to walk to her job. She’d worked hard to obtain a four-year degree as a counselor in three years. And he’d known she would be great at setting wayward kids straight since she was the most no-nonsense, get-your-act-together person he’d ever met. Jasmine had always been the practical problem solver. He’d been the dreamer.
“I would never try to make you into someone you’re not. I respect you and the way you see the world. You encourage people to look beyond themselves to make it a better place.” He hoped he’d said that right. He didn’t want to waste his one chance. “But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with you right now. And you’ve got to know I can’t wait to meet Alex.”
His throat burned if he thought about it too much—that he’d missed his son’s first weeks. Diego punched the overstuffed hotel pillow next to his head to try to make a dent, but the thing exploded right back into shape. “I do want him to know you.” Jasmine’s quiet admission surprised him. Up until now, she’d only defended her right to raise the child on her own since Diego had left, according to her, without a backward glance.
Which had been true. But damn it, he hadn’t possessed all the facts.
“You have a damn funny way of showing it. You could have called me. Or told my mom.” Diego had moved his mother to southern Florida after his father died last year. “You know my mom would have been so happy.”
“Have you told her?” Jasmine diverted the underlying question, but he didn’t mind.
As long as she came here, Diego didn’t care about the rest.
“No.” He flipped the pillow, hoping the other side would be more accommodating than the rest of his screwed-up life. “Can you imagine if I told her she had a grandson and the boy wasn’t right there for her to kiss and hug and spoil? I’d never hear the end of it. When I tell her, it’s going to be with you at my side and a kid in hand.”
“I’ll bet your mom has had a hard year with you being away all the time.”
“She’s living in the nicest house in Coral Gables.” Did she think he wouldn’t take care of his own mother? “Mmm.”
She didn’t say anything about the house, but he could tell he’d somehow screwed that up, too, although how a guy could go wrong buying his mother a sweet-ass house with a hot tub and a security gate, he didn’t know. He was about to ask, but she filled the quiet space with an observation of her own.
“She lost her husband right when she was trying to get used to you being in the States. And while I know you had good intentions moving her to Florida, I’m sure she’s a little homesick for the Dominican Republic. She has so many friends here.” Jasmine made sympathetic sort of noises that made him feel less as if she was blaming him. “What’s all that noise on your end?”
He stilled in between the blows he delivered to the crappy piece of foam that had become his worst enemy. The damn thing wasn’t like the ones back home, just like nothing else in his life was the same as it used to be.
“I can’t get comfortable with these hotel pillows.” It was a small thing, but damn.
Her squeal of laughter on the other end surprised him.
“Oh, God, I can picture that. You only like those squirrelly down pillows once there’s no feathers left inside.” More laughter. “Why don’t you travel with yours in your suitcase? It wouldn’t take up more room than a pair of jeans, knowing how you like a pillow.”
He tossed the foam imposter onto the floor and balled up the bedsheet to put under his head instead. He felt better—not just because of the sheet solution. But because he had Jasmine laughing that big, brassy laugh in his ear, keeping him real and solving problems in ways he wouldn’t have thought of if he traveled for ten more years.
“Were you born knowing everything, woman?” He wasn’t about to let her discover she could buy and sell his heart three times over. Not when she could still hang up the phone and shut him out of her life again.
“Not even close.” Her sigh put him on alert. Something was bothering her.
“Why do you say that? What’s wrong?” Diego might suck at fixing his own problems, but he would make sure hers went away.
She was a good person and she deserved life to be easier a whole lot more than he did. Too bad working with kids and keeping them out of harm’s way in the inner city didn’t pay nearly as much as baseball.
“There’s a lot I don’t have figured out, Diego. Starting with how I’d deal with the fame if I got involved in your life again.”
She was actually considering it? That was the best freaking news he’d had in weeks. No. Honestly, it was the best news he’d had all year. He’d missed having her around to keep him grounded. To call him on it when he let success go to his head. To help him ward off false friends who only wanted to borrow money or cash in on his career. Beyond that, he missed the down-to-earth reality of a woman who was more concerned with living a happy life than keeping up appearances.
“Baby, the fame has some perks that can make your life easier.”
“Like your mama’s big house in Coral Gables? I don’t want to be stashed away in some cold mansion and wait around for you to visit twice a year, thank you very much.”
Damn. He remembered what Amber had said about the fame—well, actually, the abundance of available females—giving a woman a complex. Maybe that was part of what was bugging Jasmine.
“You and Alex could travel with me,” Diego assured her, already picturing how different his hotel room would look if there was a playpen on one side of his bed and Jasmine lying right next to him. His heart hurt just thinking how much better he’d like that. “You both can be with me every minute I’m not on the field. And it’s not like in the minors where we travel on buses and stay in crap places. We’d have the money for a nanny and direct flights first-class—anything that would make it easier for you.”
“A nanny?” She sounded indignant, but amused at the same time. “Wait until you see this baby of yours. You won’t ever want to give him up long enough to hand him over to anyone else.”
His heart did that aching thing again.
“Let me see.” His voice went all hoarse and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “Go take a picture and send it to me on the phone.”
“Okay.” She made some rustling noises and he heard a door creak on her end. “It might be a little dark, but I can’t turn on the light.”
“It’s okay.” Diego lay back down, wondering if he could convince her to stay on the phone all night. He couldn’t go back to that place he’d been the past two weeks—running around like a jackass, taking nips from a flask and hitting the skipper’s security gate. What would she think of him if she knew about that?
“There,” she whispered. The creaking noise returned and he pictured her leaving the nursery. “I’m sending it now. You can check your e-mail in a second.”
He listened to her messing with the phone buttons as he stared out the open blinds at the lights from Rodeo Drive below. Los Angeles held no appeal for him without her. Without
his family.
“Jasmine, I need you to be here for tomorrow’s game.” So much was riding on it. Heath hadn’t said as much, but Diego knew the higher-ups were breathing down his neck.
Diego also knew a lot of that was his fault. He had to pull himself out of this slump.
“I don’t know, Diego. I don’t want to be the woman who holds you back from achieving your dreams. That was the main reason I had to set you free the first time. I knew you were too big to stay here and I wasn’t ready to leave home.”
He digested her words and the idea of her “setting him free” so he could chase his dreams instead of her dumping him. Was that really how she saw it?
“My dreams aren’t all that fun without you.” He put the phone on speaker so he could tap his way through to his e-mail.
“They say you’re a ladies’ man now.” Her voice was formal, with no trace of the warmth or the laughter that had been there before.
“Jasmine.” He wondered how to address that and figured the best response was the truth. “It hurt like hell when you broke up with me. I only dated a lot of women because I could tell after one dinner out that they didn’t come close to you.”
He heard a little sigh from her on the other end of the phone and he thought maybe he’d made some small amount of headway. God, he regretted hurting her. He’d make damn sure it didn’t happen again.
“I’m a single mom, you know. I can’t afford to get my heart broken, or worse, have you get close to our son and break his heart, too.”
Just then, he found the e-mail in his inbox. His gut clenched. He clicked it open.
“Oh, my God.” Diego stared at the picture of the sleeping baby with a Spider-Man pajama top snapped on little red shorts that showed off chubby legs. Little Alex gripped the ear of a terry-cloth rabbit with one hand, while the other rested by his mouth, as if he’d just quit sucking a thumb. Diego felt his heart damn near burst out of his chest. “That’s our boy.”
“Yeah.” Her voice went soft again and he could hear maternal pride radiating from eight thousand miles away. “He sure is.”
