Fastball (4 page)

Jake had to repress the impulse to pump his
fist. That last thing he wanted to do was scare her off with some
macho display of arrogance.

“Agreed,” he quickly replied. As for not
being seen, he knew the perfect spot for a clandestine dinner.
“I’ve got just the place. If it’s okay with you, we’ll meet in La
Jolla at a restaurant called
Nakamura
. Grab a cab in front
of the hotel—I’m sure the driver will know where it is, or can find
it with his GPS. It’s a bit of a drive, so leave yourself at least
half an hour for the trip. Let’s say eight o’clock?”

Maddie gave him an uncertain smile. “La
Jolla,
Nakamura
, eight o’clock. Got it. I’ll see you there.”
Then she turned and practically ran up the concrete steps toward
the concourse, as if some sharp-toothed animal was snapping at her
sweet ass.

After Jake watched her disappear inside the
stadium, he turned back toward the batting cage. He knew he’d
better put aside any ideas about biting that trim little behind for
the next three hours, or he might find himself on a one-way trip
back to Allentown.

* * *

“I’m such an idiot.”

Maddie repeated it like a mantra as she made
her way up to the press box. She hadn’t even reached the second
step on her way back up the stands when she realized she’d made a
huge mistake in agreeing to a clandestine interview with Jake
Miller. She was a professional, and she’d acted almost like a
star-struck groupie.

Okay, maybe not that bad, but she hadn’t done
herself any credit. As for hoping that a super friendly manner
might soften him up…well, that had backfired in her face, hadn’t
it?

From the minute Jack Ault had told her Miller
was going to be called up, she’d been determined to snag an
interview with him—stalking him if she’d had to. So, she’d come to
the field early, springing into action as soon as he ran out from
the clubhouse to warm up. Maddie had only ever seen him play from
the stands, and from a fair distance away. She knew, of course,
that he was a major league heartthrob, but the first time she
really got it was in that moment when he’d turned and nailed her
with his intensely focused gaze. Up close, he was way hotter than
she’d expected.

That had disconcerted the hell out of her,
throwing her off from the beginning of their conversation.

Maddie had pretty much memorized his media
guide numbers: thirty-one years old, six-four, and two hundred
thirty-five pounds. But those numbers were just that—cold numbers.
Statistics. They didn’t begin to give an adequate picture of the
man. Jake Miller was indeed a very big ballplayer, superbly
conditioned and toned without an apparent ounce of extra weight on
his imposing frame. He was simply solid from head to toe, from his
muscular neck down through strong, broad shoulders, a deep chest
and powerful thighs and calves. As she’d surreptitiously eyed his
trim waist, she was sure that if he took his jersey off she’d see
the ripped abs that come with a lot of quality time in the weight
room. His arms were iron-hard through the biceps, tapering all the
way down to strong wrists and hands. Every inch of Jake Miller
spoke of strength and power.

But what got to her even more than his
ultra-masculine body was his handsome, open face. His blond hair,
thick and stylishly cut, was a bit longer than most players. Up
close, he had deep blue eyes that gleamed with humor and
intelligence. His mouth, set above a chiseled jaw line, had lines
around it that told her he smiled a lot. And his voice—deep and
smooth as honey, was a naturally sexy one that gave a girl a funny
feeling in the pit of her stomach.

That voice had been her downfall. It had
persuaded her to throw her innate caution to the winds and agree to
his crazy plan. She knew what that dinner invitation was about,
too. Jake had been coming on to her, even though he’d done his best
to pretend he wasn’t.

Still mentally kicking herself as she took
her place in the press box, Maddie gave the other media types a
desultory greeting before sticking her nose into her laptop
computer. Staring at the screen, she saw nothing and did nothing.
She simply couldn’t believe she’d agreed to something so dangerous
and stupid—something that could even sidetrack her career if the
Patriots found out and decided to come down heavy on her. If there
was one thing Media Affairs staff hated more than anything else, it
was losing control of the players’ contact with reporters. If she
and Jake were caught, would the team pressure the paper to pull her
from the Patriots beat? Maddie had a lot of faith in her boss,
Martin James, but was sure the Patriots had more clout with the top
brass at the
Post
than she could even imagine.

God, she could even see herself being
relegated to covering high school sports again. Friday Night
Lights—she’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

That can’t happen.

She couldn’t see any way out of the potential
catastrophe except to call Jake’s room and leave a message calling
the encounter off.

Resolving to do just that, she retrieved her
cellphone from her bag. But as soon as the hotel operator
connected, asking her for the room number of the guest she wished
to talk to, Maddie disconnected. She cast a quick glance around the
press box. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying her any
attention. A guy from one of the local papers who was sitting near
her shot her a quizzical half-smile, then turned his attention back
to his computer.

She blew out a sigh and slumped back in her
seat, staring blindly out at the field. Maybe she was just being
paranoid. After all, the chances of them getting found out were
minimal if they followed the plan Miller had laid out. And even if
someone saw them and ratted them out, there was no guarantee the
team would do anything more than give her a verbal dressing down.
If she could hold any potential damage to that level, the story
would be well worth it.

An exclusive, intimate interview with Jake
Miller, just as he was returning to the bigs? That was media gold
by anybody’s standard.

The rest of Maddie’s afternoon passed in a
mental fog as her mind oscillated between wanting to cancel dinner
and wanting to damn the torpedoes and do the interview. The only
time she found it easy to focus on the game was when Miller was up
to bat or making a play in the field. Then, her attention seemed to
narrow on him with laser-like intensity as she absorbed every move
he made. Even when he was struck out by a Padres’ reliever in the
eighth inning, Maddie thought he looked better fanning than a lot
of players looked getting a hit. That, of course, simply
illustrated the complete deterioration of her mental faculties
under the onslaught of Miller’s charm offensive.

By the time she got back to her room that
evening, Maddie had pretty much given up on cancelling dinner. She
knew it would be safer in terms of her career if she insisted that
the interview be at the park. But the safe course wasn’t always the
best course, a lesson she’d been trying to learn for years. If she
could pull this interview off, there was a very good chance she
could take her career to a different level, and solidify her
position at the paper.

As she lay in bed, exhausted but too restless
to sleep, Maddie tried to make her decision based on a hard-nosed
risk assessment. But she was kidding herself, and she knew it.
Career advancement aside, one of the sexiest bachelors in baseball
had made his interest in her crystal clear. And “interest” was a
polite way of putting it—the man wanted to spend time with her, and
he’d come up with an almost irresistible carrot to dangle as
bait.

But why the heck was he hitting on her in the
first place? Maddie knew she wasn’t a hag, but she’d always classed
her looks as nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly, she in no way
resembled the leggy models and perfect ten actresses most of the
players had on their arms. Jake Miller was one of the best-looking
guys on the team, right up there with Nate Carter as a heartthrob.
Women were lining up to date him—gorgeous, experienced women who
could and would happily give Miller anything he wanted.

So, what in God’s name had he seen in her? As
Maddie finally drifted off to sleep, the answer continued to elude
her.

For Maddie, the following day crawled by,
ending with the Patriots getting nipped by the Padres in ten
innings in the afternoon game. The team’s loss added to her general
feeling of anxiety as her insides churned with a combination of
anticipation and dread. Part of her couldn’t wait to get the game
over with so she could head up to La Jolla to meet Jake, the most
interesting and hottest guy she’d encountered in a very long time.
Another part kept repeating the internal mantra that she was about
to make a very stupid mistake. But she’d made a promise to herself
to start pushing past her comfort zone, and a private dinner with
one of the most-sought after players in baseball seemed like a good
place to start.

While never someone who took forever getting
ready for dates—not that this was really a
date
—she left
plenty of time to get showered and changed. A long day sitting on
her backside in a hot, crowded press box did very little to improve
a girl’s looks. Why she should care that much about her appearance
was something she refused to think about too deeply.

Normally, she packed lightly on road trips,
taking just three or four outfits and using the hotel dry cleaning
service as necessary. But as she stood in front of the meager
pickings in her suitcase, wrapped in one of the hotel’s fluffy
white robes, she hated to admit how much that lack bothered her.
Jake had clearly appreciated the little black outfit she’d worn to
the park yesterday, but she couldn’t wear that again. After a
ridiculous amount of mental dithering, she finally chose a simple
white skirt—not too short or tight—and a red silk blouse with
matching red sandals. It was a nice compromise between flat-out
business attire and something appropriate for an evening out at an
upscale restaurant.

After dressing, she carefully applied some
makeup, shoved extra money in her purse for the
sure-to-be-expensive cab fare up the coast, and took a deep breath
before heading out the door of her hotel room. On some level she
felt like she was girding for battle, even though she wasn’t yet
sure what the nature of that battle was. But she was playing in the
big leagues now—in more ways than one—and she’d better bring her A
game, starting right now.

* * *

After what seemed like an interminable and
altogether tense cab ride, Maddie arrived at the restaurant shortly
after eight. She spotted Jake immediately, already seated and
looking astoundingly handsome in a navy sports jacket that framed
his broad shoulders, a crisp white shirt, and a gold silk tie. The
tie alone would likely have cost her at least a week’s salary and,
for a moment, she couldn’t hold back a flash of anxiety. Jake
Miller was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny, and she
had to fight the urge to back slowly out of the room before he even
saw her. Impossible, of course, since the maitre’d was conducting
her to the table with as much ceremony as a drum major led the band
before a college bowl game.

Suck it up and act like a pro, girl.

She plastered a smile on her face as Jake
stood to greet her, his sexy mouth parting in a slow grin, his gaze
flicking appreciatively over her body. For a few seconds, she
actually felt faint with pleasure and nerves, and she had to clamp
down hard on the dizzy sensations rocking her body. Despite the
effort, she could still feel the blush spreading over her cheeks,
and the butterflies in her stomach went into full flap as Jake
gallantly brushed the maitre’d aside and pulled out a chair to seat
her.

As a sportswriter, Maddie was used to being
around hot guys. She’d had her share of locker room encounters, and
had seen enough naked chests and towel-wrapped asses to make such
sights routine. But no player had affected her quite like Jake
Miller, and she’d only seen him fully dressed. All he’d done so far
was smile and pull out her chair for her, but she could already
feel her hormones sparking in reaction.

And she couldn’t even remember the last time
a guy had pulled out a chair for her, waiting until she was settled
before taking his own seat. She had to get a grip on her
all-too-eager libido or she might be offering to have his babies
before they finished the first course.

“Thanks, Jake. Sorry if I’m a bit late. I
hope you haven’t been waiting long.” She tried for casual, even
though she felt anything but.

He shook his head, sending a lock of thick,
wheat-colored hair sliding onto his forehead. He quickly raked a
hand back to put it in place. “Maddie, would you mind if I say that
you look absolutely spectacular tonight?”

She accepted the compliment with a smile and
fussed with her purse for a moment before meeting his gaze. Casual
wasn’t working, so maybe a little honesty was called for. “I’m not
exactly sure how to do this, Jake. I’m obviously not used to
conducting an interview under these circumstances. Maybe the best
thing would be to eat, and then I’ll get out my recorder and we’ll
talk business over coffee. Would that be okay?”

Jake shrugged, and Maddie found herself
mesmerized by the slide of his brawny shoulders under the smooth,
expensive fabric of his jacket. She blinked and gave her head a
mental shake. Man, she truly needed to get a grip.

“Sounds good,” he said. “But why don’t we
make a start on it now, after we get you a drink?”

“Even better,” she said, relieved to focus on
work. Right now, it felt just a bit too personal for her
comfort.