Curveball (11 page)

Moments later, Chaser’s GTO rumbled to life. The muscle car looked as good as it had in 1968. “That man treats his car as well as any woman,” Romeo told Em.

Once seated in the Viper, Emerson decided it had been a spectacular morning. Hollywood Harts would make a great article. She sighed contentedly.

Romeo reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Good day?” he asked.

She nodded. “I never thought—”

“You’d enjoy spending time with me?”

“This was work related.”

“This…isn’t.”

Unexpectedly, Romeo leaned across the console and kissed her. Not a you-owe-me kiss, but
one born of warmth and promised pleasure. She gasped at the suddenness of it.

Tilting his head left, then right, he took her mouth from both angles. A prolonged, openmouthed kiss, both intimate and impassioned.

Emerson leaned into him.

Still, he didn’t touch her.

No stroking, caressing. No need for hands.

It was all in his kiss.

The soft press of his lips. The penetration of his tongue. Slow, then fast. Raking the roof of her mouth, then thrusting deep. A building mating rhythm that left her heart pounding at an orgasmic rate.

The single kiss went on and on, showing no signs of ending. He tasted of moist hunger and profound need.

Emerson Kent came undone.

Her scalp tingled.

Her heartbeat sounded in her ears.

Her breasts swelled beneath her slate-blue blouse. Her nipples were now pebble-hard.

Her skin was super sensitive.

Heat pooled in her belly, shot lower. She wiggled on the car seat. Wanted his hands on her.

He made no move to feel her up.

His kiss grew hotter, more demanding. More sinful as he flicked his tongue over her upper lip, then nipped her bottom one. Then sucked both hard.

Her hands curled and her nails scored her palms.

Her breath came in hot, short pants. Had that
deep moan risen from her throat? She’d gone mindless as the pleasure became a taunting tease.

The tease of a man skilled in kissing.

So skilled, she climaxed.

She was a boneless mass of spasms and satisfaction as her ragged sigh broke against his mouth.

One final flick of his tongue and Romeo eased back.

Shaky, Emerson forced herself to look at him. Look at him through steamed-up glasses. She’d expected smug dominance. He granted her mercy. Not a word was spoken as he started the Viper.

His kiss had said it all.

Fatigue and the challenge of a busy day rode with Jen Reid from James River Stadium to her family home on Hamilton Street. A street she could locate with her eyes closed.

Her heart warmed at the sight of the wood-and-brick two-story house. She’d grown up on this quiet street edged with Virginia pines. Pink and red hollyhocks defined the property lines, thick as a fence and far more fragrant.

Generations of families lived side by side, the children returning to the neighborhood as Jen had done when her father had died. Although she’d had her own apartment in New York City, she’d chosen to live with her mother on her return. She and Katherine needed each other. They both missed Big John. Though her mother was a strong person and actively involved in the community, both Katherine and Jen found evenings the hardest. It was hard not to remember the nights when Big John’s hearty laugh and daily
stories had held them in the kitchen long after dessert.

She climbed out of her El Camino, noting the rows of clay and peat pots across the front of the house. The seeds had been planted, and now they were waiting for gold dwarf marigolds to make a summer appearance.

She glanced next door, toward Chase Tallan’s house. He’d purchased it from his parents when they’d retired to Arizona. An outside porch light burned, but there was no shadowed silhouette or visible activity.

Nor any sign of his GTO. Chaser had the night free from baseball, so he probably had a hot date. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

The scent of sugar and cinnamon met her at the side door. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, instantly soothed.

Just beyond the pantry, voices rose from the kitchen.

One light with laughter.

Her mother.

The second, deep and masculine. Teasing.

Chaser.

Her heart jumped. He wasn’t out on a date. Instead he was camped at her kitchen table, eating ovenwarm Snickerdoodles as fast as her mother could slide them from the cookie sheet and onto a plate.

Katherine doted on Will and Jacqueline’s boy. Her mother still saw Chaser as ten and growing.

Jen saw him as a man.

A big, broad-shouldered man who’d glanced over his shoulder and was now checking her out. His clear blue gaze skimmed her pale pink T-shirt and skinny black jeans. He’d never looked at her so long or so intently. Nor with so much heat.

His stare made her nervous. Her hands fluttered at her sides and her stomach gave an unexpected twist.

“Cookie?” he offered, holding up the plate.

She snatched one, broke it in half. It was moist and delicious. “I thought we’d decided on peanut butter.” She sent a look toward her mother. Peanut butter was her favorite.

Katherine pulled the last cookie sheet from the oven and set it on an iron trivet to cool. “Chaser showed up and requested Snickerdoodles. He always liked them as a kid.”

“No one bakes like your mother,” Chaser stated.

“He’s requested a German chocolate cake on Saturday,” Katherine informed Jen.

“I asked for angel food.” Her mother baked cookies on Mondays and Thursdays. A cake on Saturday. Jen loved cake.

“Come on, Legs,” Chaser implored. “I’m a guest in your home.”

Guest, her ass. “You
lived
here as a kid,” Jen reminded him. “Big John had to toss you over the hollyhocks at bedtime.”

“The man could throw.”

Katherine untied her apron, hung it on a hook. “You two battle it out.” She tapped the cover of
her cookbook with one finger. “Leave me a note as to your decision.” Glancing at her watch, she finished with “I’m off to church. The spring bazaar is on Saturday and I’m helping to price donations. Chaser gave a team-signed baseball and two Rogues jerseys. Wasn’t that sweet?”

Sweet enough to give him cake advantage on Saturday. German chocolate was her second favorite, but Jen had been tasting angel food.

Jen watched her slim, petite mother hurry from the room. She had a lot of energy for a woman in her sixties. Jen had gotten her height from her father. Her black hair and green eyes from her mother.

“Are we going to battle over cake?” Chaser rose from the table and came to stand before her.

Feeling overpowered by his maleness, she pressed her back against the counter. She flattened her palms against his chest. Held him off. “Size and intimidation won’t work, big guy.”

“Who’s intimidating?” His sugary warm breath fanned her cheek as he planted both hands on the counter on either side of her hips, rocking forward until their bodies touched.

With the counter at her back and Chaser at her front, Jen felt flustered. They’d been in this same position a hundred times before. Him cornering her to get his way. He would tease and tower until she gave in. Before, she’d always felt safe and protected by his closeness. Today she felt aroused.

The sudden punch of his heartbeat echoed her
own. Like filings to a magnet, the pull between them was inescapable. Their bodies touched more intimately. Her nipples poked the hard wall of his chest; her belly was flush with his groin.

A groin that stirred.

The stirring drove Chaser back a step. He turned away from her, color working up his neck. Embarrassment struck him as hard as his erection. His breath hissed through his teeth as he threw back his head and stared at the ceiling.

Seconds stretched into minutes before he managed, “I came by to set you up on a date. The man’s name is Josh Burke, an old friend and a nice guy. He’s in real estate. Financially secure.”

“I’m not sure—” she said to the back of his head.

He spun around. “Don’t let Dane Maxin put you off men. We can double if you like. You’ll be safe with me, Jen.”

Safe with him? A part of her wanted to throw herself in his arms and see how unsafe she could be. Her saner self asked, “What kind of date?”

“Something simple. A late afternoon outing, light and easy. It doesn’t have to run into the evening. Josh suggested a Parade of Homes.”

Jen blinked. “A tour of model homes?”

Chaser nodded. “Josh is the realtor for a new residential development north of town. For tax purposes, he suggested I invest in a couple of the homes as rental property. I thought I’d check them out tomorrow afternoon following the game.”

She looked around her mother’s kitchen. Their
home had been built in 1935. The room was small, but homey. “Might be fun to see the new construction.”

“You can collect ideas on how to redecorate your kitchen.”

Her heart slowed. She shook her head. “Redecorating? No one’s planning any changes.”

He looked suddenly pained. “An oversight on your mother’s part. She’s been contemplating new cabinets and countertops and a fresh coat of paint for some time. She’s so busy, she may have forgotten to tell you.”

“Yet she found time to discuss it with you.” A dull ache settled in her chest. The kitchen was done in yellow and gold; filled with warmth and laughter. There was no need for change. The room still held the love and vitality of her father. She wanted things left the way they were.

“Nothing’s going to happen overnight, Legs,” he reassured her. “When you’re ready, I’ll strap on my tool belt, haul over my paintbrushes and roller, and go to work.”

A distinct image of a shirtless Chaser in lowriding jeans hit Jen square between the eyes. Whether catching a baseball or wielding a hammer, the man had large capable hands. She shivered with the thought of how those hands would feel on her body.

“Guess change is inevitable,” she finally managed.

“You’ll get used to the idea.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’re the most resilient person I know. No matter the circumstance, you bounce back. If new cabinets and paint make your mother happy, you’ll go along with it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll agree to the redecorating in exchange for angel food cake on Saturday.”

“No deal.”

She stuck out her tongue.

And Chaser’s mouth parted.

French-kissing came to mind. She wanted to slip her tongue between his lips. Engage in lots of tangling and teasing and penetrating thrusts. An oral preliminary to hot, sweaty sex.

Her breathing hitched and her knees gave out. She sought a kitchen chair. “How was the road trip?” she asked.

“Humiliating as hell.” Chaser moved to the refrigerator.

“The Rogues took a game against the Marlins.”

“The win didn’t alter the standings. We should be leading the league; instead we’re sitting in last place.”

“Four more games and you’re back on the field. You’ve been working out, staying in shape.”

He patted his flat stomach, grinning. “I
was
in shape until I ate a tray of your mother’s cookies.”

The tray of cookies wouldn’t run to fat. The man had a solid six-pack. And buns of steel, Jen noted as he poured himself a second glass of milk and returned to the table.

“Meet anyone on the road?” She’d asked the
question countless times, yet tonight her heart slowed in anticipation. She found herself afraid to hear his answer.

Out-of-town games and one-night stands were as much a part of baseball as the game itself. Groupies gathered at the hotel, available and willing. How could any single man resist glossy red lips ready to lick more than a lollypop?

A part of Jen wanted Chaser to resist.

She wanted him to come home to her.

Chaser took his sweet time answering. He slid lower on his chair, stretched out his legs, and studied her with those unreadable ice-blue eyes. For the first time ever, he made her nervous. So nervous, she reached for a cookie, broke it in half, then tried to fit it together again.

The cookie crumbled.

She then toyed with the edge on a red woven place mat, ran her tongue over her teeth, and crossed her legs. Her right foot pumped to the beat of her heart. She avoided his gaze for as long as she could. Eventually she looked up.

She found his eyes narrowed, his expression thoughtful. He ran his hand down his face, then leaned forward on his chair. “Do you want to hear about the sheet-burning sex in Atlanta or about the headboard-banging in Miami?”

Jen swore her heart stopped. She felt the color drain from her face. In times past, she would have been able to listen and laugh over the women who shared his bed.

Tonight, however, something had shifted.

She didn’t want to hear his stories.

She wanted…wanted—

“Listen to me, Jen.” Chaser’s voice reached across the table, deep, yet soft, as if he was about to tell her a secret. “Atlanta was hot, the dugout pure hell. Returning from the park, I bought a bag of peanut M&M’s from the gift shop at the hotel and called it dinner. I watched an hour of television, zoned out long before midnight.

“In Miami,” he continued, “I had a beer with Romeo and Psycho in celebration of our win. All three of us called it an early night.”

“You’re over the hill.”

“I’d call it becoming selective. Screwing around gets old. I, uh—” He hesitated. “Want sleeping with a woman to be more than a hit-and-run. A good-bye kiss in a hotel lobby leaves a lot to be desired.”

Jen absorbed the change in Chaser. He was no longer interested in road-trip sex. She wondered how many women he’d date before he finally settled down.

“Who’s your date for the Parade of Homes?” she asked. Her heart squeezed at the thought of seeing Chaser with another woman.

“Amber Parrish. You met her at Romeo’s Christmas open house last December.”

Jen remembered the woman. The former Miss Virginia had a tumble of dark hair, a beauty mark at one corner of her mouth, and a body that made men hard in a heartbeat.

Jen had never seen the woman without her
rhinestone headband, which at first glance looked strikingly like a tiara. Amber lived life on fast-forward. Self-absorbed, she liked conversation to be centered on her.

“I look forward to seeing her again,” Jen lied.

The corners of Chaser’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t fully smile. Straightening, he got off his chair. Once standing, he stretched his hands toward the ceiling until his back cracked. “Catch you tomorrow after the game.”

“See you then,” Jen called to him as he ducked through the side door.

Chaser pulled into Jen’s driveway at five o’clock. He flicked off the radio without having heard a single song. Thirty minutes had passed in which Amber Parrish had chatted endlessly about her day while Chaser half listened. Amber was so into herself, she didn’t expect him to respond, so he only gave an occasional nod.

Why had he chosen Amber for this date? Because she was the total opposite of Jen, and he wanted to keep things light. He knew Amber well enough not to be tempted by her. Amber understood he wasn’t offering more than an afternoon trip to view model homes. They’d wrapped up any attempt at intimacy long ago. She’d wanted Chaser to give while she took. Once the woman was satisfied, she’d left him hanging. He’d gotten tired of walking out her door with a hard-on.

Jen was now the woman who held his attention. She had for the past week. He couldn’t get
her off his mind. Ever since their unexpected kiss at the ballpark, she’d looked at him differently. He stared as well, fully aware the girl next door was an amazing woman.

He just wasn’t sure how to take their relationship to the next level. Or whether it was even wise to try.

He swung his car door open, just as Jen came through the front door. Her steps were as flowing as her calf-length dress in pale yellow with sprigs of blue flowers. She looked fresh and wholesome with her long black hair hanging free.

“Hi, Jenny,” Amber greeted Jen, who hated to be called Jenny.

Chaser shot Jen an apologetic look as he rounded the hood of his car. “Three in front?” he offered.

Jen hesitated. “I’ll ride in back.”

Chaser pulled open the passenger door and she climbed in. Once he returned to the driver’s side and settled himself, she caught his eye in the rearview mirror. He slid his dark Killer Loops down his nose and met her gaze.

His best friend blushed. “Sorry about your loss,” Jen managed.

“
Loss?
Who died? Anyone I know?” Amber asked. “When’s the funeral?”