Played: Scandalous Moves Series

by Staley, Deborah Grace

  She killed the engine and sat in her car. Matt . . . So much had changed since that night they’d met in Puerto Rico, but intense feelings still simmered between them. The smart, business savvy Jaye should have stayed away. He was a player in trouble, and her boss trusted her get his head straightened out so he could help the team clinch a spot in the playoffs and then the Series. Stan had specifically said, “no women” without knowing she’d be one of the many women who couldn’t resist his newly acquired star.

  Matt made her weak. She hated the feeling, yet at the same time, loved it. He reminded her that, despite the fact that she lived and functioned capably in a man’s world, she was a woman—a fact she and most of the men around her too easily forgot. With Matt, the fact that she was a woman he found sexy and desirable was the only thing that mattered. How ironic that the one man who awakened her feminine side turned out to be an off-limits baseball player.

  She got out of her car and walked to his unit. He opened the door before she’d made it up two steps. He wore jeans, faded from many washings, that molded to his body. Barefoot, he wore a soft-looking white knit pullover with a V-neck. She swallowed. His shiny black hair was damp and curled untamed around his face. Suddenly, she wished she’d taken the time to go home to shower and change before coming over. If she had, she might have done the sensible thing and stayed away.

  “I thought you’d changed your mind,” he said as she came up the remaining steps. “You sat in your car for some time.”

  “You knew I was here?”

  “I’ve been watching the parking lot since I got here.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”

  Might as well get this over. Matt stood aside, and Jaye walked inside. The open concept of the condo allowed her to see a living room with neutral tile, plush area rugs, modern furnishings, and a wall of windows with opened accordion doors that led to a balcony. Jaye heard the sounds and smell of the ocean and felt herself relax a bit. She set her purse on a table by the door, but didn’t move away from the foyer. “I promised I’d come.”

  Matt smiled. “And yet you look like you regret having done so.”

  “We both know I shouldn’t be here,” she said simply.

  Nevertheless, he took her hand and led her across the room to the balcony where he handed her a glass of white wine. Without hesitating, Jaye took a long sip of excellent chardonnay, and then another. Jackie had thought of everything. “I trust the condo meets your needs,” she said. She’d reviewed the floor plan before approving the rental. It was a townhome-style, three-level unit with a garage on the first level, a balcony on the main level as well as one off the master suite upstairs.

  “It’ll do,” he said, deadpan, then laughed. “Truthfully, I thought it felt cold and lifeless until you walked in.”

  She set her wineglass on a table then braced herself to turn and face him. “Matt, I came here to make a few things clear.”

  He moved in close, but didn’t touch her. “We both know why you came here,” he said in low, sexy tones.

  She did her best to continue as if he weren’t looking at her like she was his main course for dinner. “We have to be sensible. You’re here for a very specific reason—to get your head straight and your arm accurate. As soon as that happens, you’re going to Miami.”

  He slid a hand down her arm to lightly grasp her hand. “So we should make the most of our time.”

  She took a step back, away from his touch, his scent, but he still drew her in. “You must make the most of your time here, which means your focus has to be on the field.”

  “Impossible,” he said as he continued his forward progress, “with you so close.”

  Jaye felt the balcony at her back. Matt rested a hand on either side of her—surrounding her, tempting her. She put a hand on him to push him away. Big mistake. Touching him felt so good. So right. “This is a distraction neither of us needs,” she said, but the words, even to her own ear, sounded soft and breathy. He leaned in and opened his mouth on her neck, tasting her. Jaye moaned. “Matt . . .”

  “Matteo,” he corrected.

  “Remember why you’re here.”

  He removed the band from her hair then watched as it tumbled around her shoulders. “I can pitch and make love to you,” he offered sensibly.

  “I should go,” Jaye said, feeling panic rise inside her because remembering how he made love to her had her dangerously close to succumbing to his suggestion.

  Matt got a wicked look in his eyes. “You definitely should come,” he said, and put his hands on her waist. “How long has it been?” He pulled her shirt out of the waistband of her slacks.

  Dear God. Think reasonably, Jaye, she said to herself. “Longer than it has been for you, I’m sure.”

  “I won’t apologize for trying to exorcise you from my memory,” he said, his words low and intense. “If you’re interested, I was not successful.” His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Did you forget me easily, Jaye?” he whispered against her skin. “Were there other men?”

  In response, she tipped her head back to give him better access and slid her hands up his sides under his shirt. He growled against her throat and wedged his leg between hers.

  “Matt, please,” she whispered, unsure what she was asking.

  Not letting her off the hook so easily, he raised his head and said, “Please what? Please let me go, or please make love to me?”

  “Either choice will have consequences I’m not sure I can live with,” she admitted.

  “Then choose just for tonight with no worry about tomorrow.”

  She lifted his shirt, and he did that thing only guys can—he removed it in one smooth motion. She traced the line of his silver chain to the round medal resting in the center of his chest. “You still wear it.”

  “St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost people. He’s brought us back together.”

  She traced the coin, not looking at Matt. “Neither of us was ever lost. I knew where you were. You had to know where I was.”

  He lifted her face with a finger beneath her chin. “Ah, but our souls were lost and longing for each other. Or at least my soul longed for you.”

  “I focused on work and tried not to think of you at all,” she admitted. And most of the time it had worked. But then she’d see him on television or in a magazine with some model or actress, and the feelings they’d shared in their brief time together would flood back, making her wonder what could have been if they’d had the luxury of time and opportunity.

  “Me, too,” he admitted. “I focused on work, women, and cars, and other things money could buy. None of it worked.” He touched his lips to hers. “One look at you today and the years fell away like so many bad memories.” He kissed her again, taking his time like he was re-learning the taste and texture of her lips. Jaye slid her hands up his chest to the back of his neck, rising up on her toes to reach him more easily. He lifted her, holding her so tightly all the broken pieces inside her began to knit back together. He dipped his tongue into her mouth. The taste of their mingled desire flooded her like a cool rain after a long, dry summer.

  As soon as her feet touched the patio again, he fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, then impatient, tore it open. Buttons went airborne and bounced onto the concrete by their feet. “I’m sorry.” His hands shook as he pulled the shirt off her. “I’m afraid I can’t be gentle—not this time.” He unzipped her pants and pushed them down with her panties. She stepped out of them and her shoes, and he lifted her again, spinning to carry her inside to the couch. Jaye managed to get his jeans undone and freed him. She’d positioned him at her entrance and angled her hips to take him just as he laid her down and pushed into her in one, long, glorious slide. With his hand at the base of her back, he pressed hard against her, not allowing either of them to move for a moment.

  Her thighs clinched and she almost came then and there. “Oh God,” she said. “You feel so damn good.” She looked up into Matt’s face. He had his eyes closed, his jaw clinc
hed, like he was trying to hold onto his control. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t hold back.”

  He turned his head, still not looking at her. “I feel so much right now, not all of it good or right,” he said softly, his hand fisted beside her head. “I’m angry. So angry.” He slid out and pushed back into her. “Angry at myself for wasting so much time.” He slid out and back in again, harder this time.

  “Mmm . . .” She loved what he was doing to her. After not having him for so long, after seeing him with so many other women, she didn’t need pretty. She just needed him.

  He moved in and out of her, increasing the speed and intensity of his movements. He groaned. Jaye wrapped her legs around him and held on, absorbing the emotion of what was happening between them. She felt the regret, anger, and sadness, but also the joy and relief of reunion. Soon the world spun out of control and shattered around them, but they held on, anchored in each other’s arms. All the while, Matt mumbled a stream of Spanish in her ear. Some of it she understood, but she was too lost in the emotional release flooding her to fully comprehend most of what had just happened. If this was love, she wasn’t sure she could recommend it.

  “Dio mío,” he said. He pressed kisses to her neck and collarbone as he spoke. “I feel as if the angels did battle with our demons. I’m unsure who won.”

  Jaye laughed. She couldn’t help herself. He had the most unusual way of putting things, but she understood what he meant.

  He rose on an elbow and frowned. “It is not nice to laugh at a man when he is spent inside of you. It does crushing things to the ego.”

  She lifted her hair off her damp neck and back, spreading it out behind her on the sofa cushion, and then she traced a line of moisture on his pec. The dark hair there felt soft and moist. “Is this new?” she asked.

  Matt glanced down at himself, then back at her. “What? My chest? I don’t think so.”

  Jaye laughed again. “I don’t remember hair before.”

  “Oh, that. I waxed.” He traced the line of her collarbone. “Are you cold?”

  “No. Why would you wax?”

  He shrugged. “I thought that was what women preferred. And then, I didn’t care, but if you—”

  “That’s crazy,” Jaye said, interrupting him. She moved her palm down his chest to his abs, then up again. “Waxing hurts like hell, and for men, it looks so unnatural. Is that a word?”

  “You’re asking me?” he said, referring to the fact that English was not his first language. He rolled to his side, moving her with him, his arms still around her. Jaye bent her leg, trailing the ball of her foot from his knee to his calf and back. “Speaking of waxing,” she said, “It’s been awhile—” He squeezed the back of her thigh, and she nearly lost her chain of thought. “It’s been some time since I had a need to.”

  He frowned. “A need to . . .”

  “You know . . . Get a bikini wax.”

  His smile widened. “I ruined you for other men. Admit it.”

  She smacked his shoulder. “Stop.”

  He kissed her temple. “Thank you,” he said, “for coming to me tonight.” He grinned and added, “And coming for me.” He squeezed her tighter. “I know there is still much between us that must be settled, but we both needed this.”

  “Yes,” she agreed as she felt him harden against her. “And it would seem one of us needs more.”

  He rolled his hips and positioned himself against her clit. “Am I alone in this need, chica?”

  She moved against him. “No,” she said. No sense in denying what was obvious.

  What they felt for each other would be a problem tomorrow, but not tonight. Tonight they’d love each other as Matteo and Jade had in Puerto Rico. Tomorrow, they’d deal with the issues that came with being Matt Ruiz and Jaye Baxter.

  * * *

  Jaye woke before dawn. When she reached for Matt, she found the bed empty. She sat up, scanning the darkened room, looking for him. The balcony door stood open, but the curtains barely stirred.

  Jaye went to the bathroom, then back into the bedroom, found one of Matt’s t-shirts, and put it on. Outside on the balcony, Matt sat in a lounge chair, staring out at the still ocean. Just a hint of color lined the horizon. “Good morning,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  He wore nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that sat indecently low on his hips. He held out his hand. She went to him and curled into his side like she’d been made for him. Jaye was beginning to believe that had, in fact, been the case. Damn it all to hell.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, putting off the conversation she knew they had to have.

  For several moments, he didn’t speak. When he finally did, he said simply, “I thought if I sat out here and wished it so, the sun might not rise. But alas, no one can stop time.” In silence, they watched the light on the horizon brighten. “You have to go,” he said.

  “We both do.”

  Another long pause as they both continued watching the sunrise. “What will we do?”

  Jaye focused on the horizon instead of Matt. It was that or burst into tears. “I don’t know. I need time.” She hesitated. “Time to think.”

  He looked at her, and she nearly lost it. “Explain this to me once more. Why it—why we are impossible.”

  “I am the general manager for the team you’re playing for. That means you work for me.”

  He nodded. “And a relationship between us is inappropriate.”

  “Yes, and it’s a distraction you don’t need when you’re trying to focus on getting your career back on track.”

  He frowned. “Yes. There is that, I suppose,” he said as if his career was inconsequential.

  “What’s going on with you, Matt? What’s happened? You were on fire, and then it was like someone turned a switch and you went completely off the rails. You lost saves, couldn’t throw strikes, started no-showing for practices, were late for spring training. Your head hasn’t been in the game since the middle of the season last year.”

  He propped a hand behind his head, still watching the sunrise. Not speaking.

  Jaye sat up and touched him. “Talk to me.”

  He looked at her and said, “It’s not how I thought it would be.” He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. “Everything was perfect, except it wasn’t. I thought achieving this dream of playing in the major leagues and finding success in my career would be—” He shook his head. “I thought it would be everything I could have ever wanted, but it wasn’t. I felt empty inside.” She saw the turmoil he felt in his eyes. “There’s no life inside me, Jaye. I do not like who I have become.”

  She smoothed his furrowed brow with her fingertips. “Who do you want to be?”

  Without hesitation, he said, “A man you could respect and perhaps even care for.”

  “And if I’m not part of the equation?”

  Matt cupped her face. “But what if you are?”

  10

  “Consider this,” Matt said. “If I come back, refocused, the old me, could we be together when I go to Miami? I would no longer work for you.”

  Jaye’s heart felt heavy inside her chest. “If we send you to Miami, your old self, throwing well and saving games, the GM for the Marlins promised me a promotion . . . as the Assistant Vice President of Operations in Miami.”

  Matt dragged a hand down his face. His dark stubble rasped with the motion. He stood and walked to the balcony, braced his hands on it, and leaned forward. Jaye waited, giving him the time he needed. At last, he faced her, looking like a Greek statue, nearly naked, with the sun rising behind him. “Let me understand. If I get my mojo back, you will receive a promotion that would be very good for your career. And if I do not improve, or if I quit, you could be fired?”

  Jaye hadn’t even entertained the notion of failure, but he could very well be right. And if she was fired, it could be difficult to find another position, especially if she then had a relationship with the player who was the reason for her release. “I need time
to think,” she repeated as she stood and walked back into Matt’s bedroom. She went directly into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When steam rose in the air-conditioned space, she took Matt’s shirt off and stepped inside. With her hands braced against the tile wall, she put her head under the spray. God, this was a cluster.

  Matt moved in behind her, turning her so he could take her into his arms. He pushed her wet hair off her face and kissed her forehead, eyebrow, temple, cheek, eyes, nose, chin. “We can figure this out together, yes? We mustn’t separate again,” he coaxed.

  She grasped his forearms and held on tightly. “We can’t be together.”

  “Not openly,” he conceded.

  “We could be discovered. It’s too risky.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  Jaye shook her head. “There’s no risk for you. I’m the one who would be fired, not you.”

  “I would not allow it, not if they wanted me to remain with the team.”

  “And I wouldn’t want a job my boyfriend had to secure for me.” Matt smiled then kissed her—a slow, delicious kiss that made her knees instantly weaken. He lifted his head, still smiling. What the hell? “Why do you suddenly seem so happy?” They hadn’t resolved anything.

  “You called me your boyfriend.”

  Jaye pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and turned to look for soap. There was no reasoning with this man. The most insignificant details had him waxing romantic. Would she ever understand Latin men?

  While she scrubbed her body, Matt got the shampoo and lathered her hair. His fingers on her scalp were magic.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked when he had her feeling like mush. He positioned her so that her back was to the spray and rinsed the soap out.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “What are you going to do?”