Just One Night: Sex, Love & Stiletto Series (16 page)

It took all of Riley’s self-control not to smirk. The horse was being led right to the water, and
he had no idea
.

“Exactly.”
She reached forward and pressed her fingers to the back of his hand briefly, pulling back before he had a chance to suspect the touch was anything other than friendly and
instinctive.

This entire plan depended on him believing that she wasn’t the least bit attuned to him.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” she mused. “That after so long of having that weird simmering-tension thing between us, when we were on the verge of actually doing something about it we realized it was all smoke and mirrors.”

Sam blinked. Blinked again. “Wait. What?”

“You know,” she said, wrinkling her nose and waving her hand. “The awkwardness of that whole evening. I was so sure it would be explosive, and instead it was just
weird
.”

He recovered quickly. She’d known he would. “Right. It was …”

“Kind of like kissing your sister?” she supplied.

His eyes fell on her mouth for just a split second before looking away. “Sure. Aren’t you glad now that I stopped it? Even under bad circumstances?”

“
So
glad. Which is why I hate to be in this awkward situation of asking for another favor …”

She winced as though dreading the question she had to ask next.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Another favor? I don’t have to get naked for this one, do I?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“So every year, the company that owns
Stiletto
likes to make believe that it isn’t located in the middle of the country’s urban center and hosts this nightmare known as the annual softball tournament.”

He frowned. “Softball? In Manhattan?”

“Central Park. Anyway, this year,
Stiletto
is paired up against
Oxford
.”

“The guy magazine with all the stupid advice?”

“Right. So all the employees are strongly encouraged to bring a plus-one to ensure enough players for each team.”

“Well, I guess it’s a damn good thing you’ve got an older brother who played baseball in high school and college.”

“See, usually that
is
a good thing. Except when said brother is out of the country, and the game is on Saturday.”

Sam swore softly. “Right. That damn Amsterdam thing.”

“Yup.”

“What about Patrick?”

“Yes, I’m
sure
my other big-shot brother would be more than happy to take a day off from his super-important job to travel four hours from Boston for a softball game.”

“Meg? Kate?”

She gave him a withering glare. “You know full well that Meg doesn’t do well in group activities. She can’t even gracefully lose at charades at Christmas without accusing her own children of cheating. And Kate …”

“Has probably never even seen a softball,” he finished for her.

“So you’ll do it?” she asked, giving him the platonic, don’t-mind-me smile she’d been practicing in the mirror. “You
can
play softball, right?”

“Yes, McKenna, I think I can figure out how to manage a game of softball with a bunch of women who write about shoes and orgasms.”

She clapped her hands. “So you’re in?”

He hesitated. “And this is strictly as friends, right?”

“Oh gosh, of course. I don’t think I can even picture us as anything else now.” She gave a dramatic shudder.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he muttered into his drink.

She pressed her lips together to hide the smirk as she stood. “You’re the best. Seriously.”

He gave her a half smile. “I’m trying to think about it as paying it forward. I’ll remember your recent string of favors next time I need something from you. Say … Yankees tickets?”

“I’ll keep my eye out.” She winked. “See ya around, Sammy.”

“You’re leaving?” He looked a little surprised at the rapid departure, and dare she say … disappointed? Then again, that could have been her stupid, wistful heart being a pain in the ass again.

“Got a date,” she said with quick glance at her watch. “One of Mitchell’s friends from Wall Street.”

She watched his face carefully, but he revealed nothing. “So he’s going to be the subject of your story? The anniversary issue that you have to make personal, or whatever?”

“Well, that depends,” Riley replied casually, tossing back the rest of her drink.

“On?”

“How good he is in bed,” she said with a cheeky smile.

This time Sam’s poker face wasn’t nearly so impressive, and Riley had to turn on her heel so he wouldn’t see her elation at the raw possessiveness that had flashed across his face.

“See you on Saturday,” she called over her shoulder.

Sam didn’t respond, and Riley knew it was because he was brooding.

Once out of sight, she dug her phone out of her bag and sent a text message to Emma.

Got him
.

“So how am I doing?” Riley asked, trotting back to the dugout and plucking Grace’s water bottle out of her hand. It was icy cold. Of course. No lukewarm water for Grace, even though she hadn’t had access to ice in hours. She was like half MacGyver, half Martha Stewart.

Julie wrinkled her nose. “I’d say you’re doing all right. Your fielding skills suck, but you’ve gotten on base plenty, although I’m pretty sure that’s because your Yankees T-shirt is a child’s size medium, and your boobs are … ahem … not medium.”

“Or childlike,” Grace added.

“I wasn’t asking about my
softball skills
,” Riley said, handing the now empty water bottle back to Grace. “But since you went there, I’d just like to point out that my fielding skills are just fine.”

“Really?” Emma drawled. “Because last inning, the ball literally sat still at your feet for a good forty-five seconds while you fanned Maria’s brother with your eyelashes.”

“I’m sorry, did you not just see me speed across home plate?” Riley asked, pointing at the field.

Julie pursed her lips. “I thought I saw a brunette
trot
across home plate. I didn’t see anything resembling speed.”

“Says the woman who struck out twice in a row without even trying to swing. You’re lucky Mitchell’s so good. Who knew that Wall Street had sports skills?”

“He’s sporty like that,” Julie said, delicately nibbling a sunflower seed between perfect white teeth. “It’s pretty annoying actually. The other day he asked if I wanted to go on a ‘light bike ride.’ Honestly. It was freaking freezing.”

“Could be worse,” Grace said. “At least your fiancé’s not a previous baseball all-star
and
on the opposing team.”

“That’s what you get, going steady with an
Oxford
guy—”

Waaaaaaait
.

Riley stopped trying to steal Grace’s second water bottle, and she knew from the sudden stillness on her other side that Emma and Julie were in a similar state of shock.

“Grace,” Julie said, her voice never losing its trademark sweetness. “Did you just drop the F bomb?”

“What? No, I just—” Grace’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. “Oh God.”

Riley lightly tapped Grace’s naked fourth finger. “Oh God, indeed. A fiancée without the pretty ring? Not that that’s what matters, but—”

“There is a ring, and it’s perfect, but not really softball appropriate, and I—”

Grace’s babbling was stifled as three squealing women mauled her.

“You’re engaged?” Julie asked, mopping her eyes.

“It was supposed to be a secret until I had the right chance to tell you guys,” Grace said, trying to squirm out from beneath the group hug.

“Well, consider that cat out of the bag,” Emma said, glancing around at the curious stares.

Riley found she was wiping tears from her own eyes.
Tears
. “I can’t believe you didn’t call us first thing. Oh, Gracie, you’re so happy.”

“Of course she’s happy, she’s marrying that,” Julie said, pointing at Jake, who looked gorgeous and completely at home on the pitcher’s mound. Like everyone else, he’d stopped playing to stare at the spectacle the four women made, and the cocky grin on his face said that he knew exactly what they were talking about.

Riley was dying to look toward her left, where she knew Sam was standing on third. She resisted. Barely.

Slowly the game resumed, although Grace wasn’t off the hook. Not with her best friends.

“Go ahead and call me crass,” Emma said, “But um … if the ring’s so beautiful, where is it?”

“At home,” Grace said, grabbing one of the helmets off the hook and preparing for her turn at bat. “I didn’t want to take away from … you know … the softball game.”

Riley lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Because we’re
all
hoping that this goes from an annual obligation to a regular league. Try again.”

Grace sighed. “Okay, I didn’t want to take away from your day.”

It took Riley a full ten seconds to realize that Grace was talking about her. “What do you mean,
my
day?”

Grace lifted one of the bats before exchanging it for another one. Not that it would
matter. Grace was even worse at batting than Riley was at fielding and Julie was at, well … everything.

Emma was the only one with any sort of athletic skill. Something that Alex Cassidy had definitely taken notice of, if Julie’s attraction radar was working correctly—which it usually was.

“Hello?” Riley asked again when nobody responded.

“Your thing with Sam,” Julie said, nudging her tennis shoe softly against Riley’s knee. “You know, the
plan
.”

Right. That
.

She slumped onto the bench next to Julie. “I don’t think it’s working.”

“Are you kidding?” Emma said. “The man’s been burning you up with his eyes since the second he arrived on the field.”

“Only because he wants to strangle me for being a brat.”

“Oh come on,” Julie said. “That’s crazy.”

Riley pivoted her head to give her friend a long look. “He
told
me that.”

“Of course he did,” Emma said calmly. “He has to say something to keep himself from dragging you under the bleachers to make out.”

Grace stepped out of the dugout but remained close to the fence as she gave a “practice swing” that resembled something between a golf swing and a yoga stretch.

“Looking good, sweetheart!” Jake called.

They all ignored him.

“Look, I say just keep doing what you’re doing,” Grace said.

Riley started to glance toward third, where Sam had been stranded as Jake pitched his way toward the third out.

“Don’t!” all three of her friends commanded at the same time.

“What?”

“You have
hump
eyes when you look at him.”

“Hump eyes? That is not a
thing
,” Riley said.

Julie pointedly pivoted toward the spot where Mitchell stood talking with some of the
Oxford
guys and stared at her fiancé. It took Riley only four seconds to get it. Everything about Julie changed when she looked at Mitchell. Her body language, her mouth, and yup … those were definitely hump eyes.

“I look like that?” she asked, incredulous, pointing at Julie. “She looks ridiculous.”

Emma patted her knee. “Don’t feel bad. It’s the same affliction Grace has when she looks at Jake. You’re in good company.”

“Hey, I think Alex is trying to get our attention,” Julie said, jerking her chin toward the opposite dugout where
Oxford
’s editor in chief was giving his team a pep talk.

Emma turned to look at Cassidy, but Riley, Julie, and Grace all watched
Emma
.

“You see?” Grace said smugly, holding up a hand toward Emma. “Hump eyes case study number four.”

Emma’s head whipped around. “What just happened?”

“You tell us,” Julie said, studying her nails.

Emma was saved by loud cheering coming from the
Oxford
dugout as Jake struck Oliver out in a horrifically short at bat.

“It’s not my fault your guy looks so good in jeans,” Oliver muttered at Grace as he carefully removed his helmet so as not to muss his hair.

Riley sighed as Emma snapped a glove across her chest. It was their team’s turn in the field. “I hate this part.”

“Maybe if you spent more time watching the batter and less time flirting with the center field guy, you’d be more into the fielding part of the game.”

Fat chance
.

Riley told herself to get going, but she lingered as Sam ran in from third.

Sam hung up his helmet, and unlike the prissier Oliver, he merely ran a hand through his unruly hair. He nodded in thanks as she handed him his glove.

They walked shoulder to shoulder onto the field, he to shortstop and she to left field. “Try and actually get the ball in the glove this time, hmm, Ri?” he said as he settled between second and third base.

“Maybe if you were a little more adept at grounders, I wouldn’t have to do all the work. Besides, I’m carrying my weight.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “How do you figure?”

“Well, let’s see.” She tapped a fingernail against pursed lips. “One of us scored, and the other—”

“The
other
got on base because he actually made contact with the ball, not because the
pitcher was distracted with nipples,” he snapped.

So he’d noticed.

Riley did her best impression of embarrassed, although admittedly it wasn’t her best role. “Wrong bra choice, I guess.”

Sam’s eyes darkened, exactly as she’d hoped they would. “Another of those scrappy lacy numbers?”

Riley made an
oh gross
face as she walked backward. “I thought we were going to pretend that never happened.”

His gaze flicked briefly to her chest before he pulled down the bill of his hat and turned his back to her. She thought she heard him mutter something, but it was hard to know for sure when she was so distracted by the way his butt looked in those jeans.

Sam had shown up wearing a navy hoodie over a couple of layered T-shirts. The look was good on him.

She felt a glare, and glanced over to where Julie was giving her a
look
from right field.