Boys Of Summer: Sliding Home / Fever Pitch / The Sweet Spot. Leslie Kelly
she was definitely single scoop size on either side. Or maybe even less. Kid’s size.
Which gave her even less incentive to rip her shirt off, because all of a sudden she remembered who it was she was trying to tempt here. Mr. Baseball Star who could probably open his own silicone factory with all the stacked women who threw themselves at him on a daily basis.
Who the hell had she been kidding with this whole seduction thing? Even after the most intimate sex act she could perform while fully clothed, the man was looking at her as if he wanted to throw her off a building.
“Helloooo?”
Janie shook her head, hard. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Suddenly it seemed a whole lot worse for Riley to think she’d imagined herself able to seduce him than to have him think she’d been playing some kind of payback prank on him. So, while already mentally painting a big yellow “chicken” stripe up her back, she added, “I guess I just heard one too many ‘little Janie’ cracks and I decided to make sure the world—” you “—saw me as the woman I am.”
Riley stared into her face, as if assessing her honesty. It took every bit of strength Janie had to hold his gaze, not blush or blink or do that shirt-ripping-off thing.
Kid’s size. Sample cones.
She kept her shirt on.
Eventually, Riley sighed and gave her a short nod. “Well, consider the point made.” And without another word, he turned and walked out of the stockroom.
Leaving her with a bit of her pride intact, but the rest of her completely empty.
* * *
ON MONDAY MORNING, Riley left his newly purchased historic Victorian house in the Old Louisville district, planning to head straight for the airport. The trip was good timing. Like many other buildings in the area, his was undergoing renovations, and he really didn’t want to be around for the jackhammering.
He was already distracted enough, thanks.
The Slammers were playing a series out west this week, and he needed to get his head back on straight before stepping onto the field. He had no business dwelling on anything except his game. Winning his game. Which meant shaking off this string of bad luck that had kept him from having a decent play in weeks.
He knew he couldn’t blame every loss on bum luck. Riley had had some shitty streaks in the past that couldn’t be blamed on anything except a sore shoulder, a lapse in concentration or a stupid late night out. But this time felt…different. Because he had never felt better physically, and his life seemed pretty good right now.
So losing for no reason, well, this time, he feared, it just came down to chance. Like his teammate Beau Léglise liked to say in his thick Louisiana accent, “Sometimes the field, she is a flawless diamond, and sometimes she’s a damn white line in the dirt leading straight to hell.”
Exactly. Just bad luck that he’d been following that tricky white line in the wrong direction. It would require all his focus to get past the losses.
But his mind didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Because ever since Saturday night, a slim little brunette had been doing tap dances in his brain and he couldn’t shake himself loose of thoughts of her. The cute nursing home volunteer who’d turned into a sultry temptress, and then a tease.
Just Janie. The woman who right this minute was standing behind the counter of Round The Bases, looking utterly frustrated as she talked with a big, hairy guy in a cowboy hat.
“What are you doin’, jackass?” Riley asked, not sure if he was speaking to himself or the stranger paying such obvious attention to Janie inside the store.
He idled his car, which was double-parked right outside the shop. This was bad. He was watching through the front window like some kind of pathetic stalker.
Drive away.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. Because she looked so sweetly sexy, yet so…tense, somehow. He realized why when the big guy in the stupid hat, which looked as if it had come straight off of J.R.’s head, leaned far across the counter and got right in her face. Though he pointed to something behind her, the man looked down, as if trying to peek down Janie’s tight tank top, which scooped low to reveal the curves of her high, pert breasts.
Riley stiffened, his fingers clenching the steering wheel.
Janie wasn’t dressed in her loose, baggy, nice-young-volunteer getup. She wore a pair of tight-as-sin white pants with the tank top, and her hair was curled and soft around her face. No glasses, either. So he was obviously seeing the temptress from Saturday night, not the angel from the retirement home. And she was definitely getting attention from the man who leered as Janie turned around and bent over to grab something off the shelf behind the counter.
She’s a tease, not some virgin. Maybe she likes it.
But Riley knew better. Knew, deep down, that whatever had driven Janie to behave the way she had Saturday night, she was not the type of woman who sought out the attention of just any big, burly guy. Especially when she was alone with him.
Especially when he touched her.
Because when Janie rose and handed the customer whatever it was he’d asked for, the man didn’t let go of her hand. She tried to pull away, her body growing tense, but he didn’t release her.
A shocking rush of anger burst through Riley, so powerful and strong it made him shake. Jerking the steering wheel to the right, he crammed his small sports car into a parking space, nearly clipping the front fender of a sedan but not caring. He leapt out, thrusting his keys into his pocket, and ate up the sidewalk in three long strides. Yanking open the door to Round The Bases, he moved toward the checkout counter.
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