Still, it was hard to focus on budget meetings and “Ask the Mayor” sessions when all she could think about was Crush. Every time she sat down at her desk, she remembered the fantasy he’d described. Him bending her over it, pushing up her skirt. It got her all hot and bothered just thinking about it. When she got dressed in the morning, she thought about his hands cupping her breasts, the way he’d called her “spectacular.” Why hadn’t he tried to see her again? At least she’d gotten some satisfaction from their spontaneous kitchen counter moment.
All he’d gotten was a fruit basket.
Shouldn’t he be beating down her door for a repeat? Was he playing hard to get? Was this one of his games?
It was terribly distracting. And a mayor—especially one with a beauty queen past—couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Finally, after an embarrassing “Ask the Mayor” session in which she announced that Kilby was joining NATO when she really meant a new program called Neighbor To Neighbor, she gave in.
On a Saturday, she put on her best blue jeans, a silver-plaited belt, and most flattering cobalt-blue cotton top with a deep V neckline that showed off her cleavage, and drove out to Bullpen Ranch.
Crush’s ranch was impressive for many reasons: his modern steel-and-glass house with its soaring high ceilings, the enormous pool where he threw his legendary parties, the rolling hills planted with alfalfa and other crops. But for Wendy, it always brought up ambivalent feelings. She’d grown up in rural poverty. The aroma of cow manure made her think of chores and shoes that didn’t fit anymore and being bullied because she smelled like a farm. She always worried that when she set foot on Crush’s land, her old Ozark accent would slip out again.
The housekeeper directed her to an area past the barn. She followed a mowed-grass pathway that meandered past a covered pool, a barbecue pit, a gazebo, and a rose garden. All the bushes had been neatly pruned for the winter. Everything looked immaculately cared for. Crush was an excellent employer. She knew how much he contributed to the local economy, both as a philanthropist and by offering plenty of well-paying jobs to the locals. In so many ways, she respected and admired him.
So why did he irritate her so much?
As she approached the bullpen, she noticed big letters on the green siding of the open-roofed structure. CRUSH AND BURN.
Oh right. That’s why he irritated her. Because he was arrogant and full of himself and much too attractive for her peace of mind and—
“Hi there.”
She spun around to find him pacing just behind her. He wore sweatpants and a Rangers t-shirt that molded to his lean frame. Sweat dampened the hair at his temples and his eyes gleamed hazel-bright. She tried not to look as if she was eating him up with her eyes, but oh, she wanted to. She wanted to spend some time watching the muscles flex in his forearms. Maybe take an afternoon to see exactly how far the tan on the back of his neck extended. Was his entire back brown from the sun? What about the rest of him?
If he was tan all over, it was probably from vacationing with supermodels in the Caribbean, she reminded herself. Get a grip.
“Hello,” she said coolly. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Hell no. Open invitation. Want to stay for dinner? Dessert?” He gave a ghost of a wink.
She flushed all over. See, this was exactly why he irritated her. “I can’t stay, I just wanted to see Teri in action.”
He seemed unfazed by her coolness. “Sure. She’s doing great. She’s in the pen right now working on her four-seam fastball. I knew she had the stuff. She has that hunger that you don’t see much anymore.”
“Hunger?” The word made her shiver. She felt hunger. Lots of hunger, of the sexual variety. But only for him, annoyingly enough.
“Hunger to compete. Hunger to win. Some kids have it, some don’t. You can’t really teach it, but if a player doesn’t have it, he—or she—probably won’t get far. It’s a kind of desperation, in a way. I gotta do this or I’ll die. That kind of drive.”
She knew desperation all too well. If Teri had it, maybe she’d actually passed on something useful to her daughter.
“What makes you think she has it?”
“I see it. She gets knocked down, she shrugs it off and gets up again. She’s resilient. Good quality.”
His deep voice seemed to be communicating with her insides. They turned to jelly in response to every word he said, even boring words like “again.” What was wrong with her?
“I’ve been thinking about the other day,” he said, lowering his voice to a sexy murmur. Now that just wasn’t fair.
“Really? I haven’t been thinking about it at all.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Liar. How did you know what day I was talking about?”
Oops. Busted. “I assumed you meant the last day we saw each other.”
“Right. Exactly two weeks ago yesterday. You, me and a kitchen counter.”
She turned her face straight ahead, toward the bullpen, so he wouldn’t see her turning red at the memory.
“I wanted to call you every day since then, but I didn’t want to push you.”
“I’m not a teenage girl, Crush, waiting anxiously for the phone to ring.” Well…not entirely true. She had jumped a few times when her cell had rung. “I’m forty-three years old. I’m in charge of my own life.”
“I didn’t say you—”
“If I decide I want to do something, like say, have sex with you, I’ll do it.”
At his bemused expression, she added, “Assuming you want to.” And here came the blush again. Sweet lord, she sure was blushing a lot for a forty-three-year-old.
Crush cleared his throat. “You can assume that, yes. Okay, so this decision you’re talking about. Regarding sex. Have you…made it yet?”
“It’s under consideration.” She lifted her chin in the air and presented him with her best mayor of Kilby face of authority.
He threw his head back and laughed. The movement of his Adam’s apple under the stubble on his throat made her mouth go dry. “Oh well, I’m glad to hear that. Are you hiring consultants? Doing any focus groups? What about public comment sessions? I’d sure like an opportunity to weigh in on this important issue.”
“I promise you will have a say in it.”
“A say? I don’t want a say. I want a…touch.” He took her arm and turned it over, then ran his index finger along that sensitive inner skin, from wrist to elbow. She caught her breath at the exquisitely gentle feather-light touch.
“I see. I will definitely bear in mind your position on this issue,” she said weakly, trying to stay in the spirit of the game.
“My position on this issue is that I’m open to almost any position, and am more than happy to demonstrate the potential benefits of one versus another and—”
“Okay, okay.” She pulled her arm away from his teasing, maddening touch. Her breathing was coming a little faster than usual just from that simple connection. God, she was in trouble. “Believe me, you’ll be the first to know once the council has voted.”
“Hey, I’m just glad to see it’s on the agenda. But seriously, Wendy.” He tugged her to a stop before they got too close to the bullpen. After a quick glance around, he guided her behind an ancient-looking cottonwood tree whose trunk had to be four feet thick. “All banter aside, what are you worried about? Based on what happened in your kitchen, we have chemistry to burn. We’re both single, right? You dumped that guy you were seeing last season, I heard. I’m a free agent. We’re adults who don’t answer to anyone. What’s there to think about?”
With the way his hand was cupped around her neck, his thumb stroking her skin, she couldn’t think about much of anything. “I’m the mayor. You’re the Playboy Pitcher. My image would be shot.”
“That was a media thing. I never signed off on that nickname.” Was that a shadow of hurt she saw in his eyes?”
“Still, I wouldn’t want word to get out. The gossip would be too crazy. It would distract from my ability to d
o my job.”
He nodded slowly. “I can see that being a problem.” He smoothed his hand down the back of her neck and began rubbing deep and slow, working on the knot that seemed to constantly be there. She swallowed a moan of bliss. “So we don’t tell anyone. We don’t go out in public, but we screw our brains out in private. Problem solved.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The way he put it was definitely tempting.
“You know what? We could go somewhere else. Somewhere not Kilby. Paris or Aruba or some remote island where no one speaks English. I can charter a plane to take us anywhere we want. We’ll take a few days off and spend them together.”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“Of course. I’m very serious. I want to get to know you, Wendy. Not just in the carnal sense. You fascinate me. I want to know everything I can about you.” He dropped his hand to her neckline and followed the v-shaped edge into the dip between her breasts. He hooked his finger in the fabric of her bra and tugged her closer. Her pulse fluttered madly. “And maybe you wouldn’t mind knowing more about me.”
“Like what?”
“Like whatever you want. Ask me anything. I want to prove that you can trust me.”
She sighed and swayed even closer to him as he explored the soft flesh of her cleavage. His touch was so assured, so confident. It was an incredible turn-on. All her reservations about getting involved with him evaporated when she was with him. “No one can know,” she whispered.
“Unless you change your mind,” he said, after a hesitation.
“And you’ll be happy to know that I don’t ever intend to marry again.”
His hand paused, making her want to scream with frustration. “Oh?”
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter to you. You’ve already done it three times.”
“Right.” He resumed toying with her breasts. “You don’t have to remind me.”
She moaned softly at his exquisitely gentle fondling. “Crush, you’re driving me crazy with that,” she told him.
“That’s the idea. I want you so crazy you decide to forget all your worries and get down and dirty with me.” His finger caught the edge of her nipple and she gasped.
“I want that. You know I do, Crush.” He pinched her nipple between two fingers and did something magical that made spears of hot pleasure streak to her sex.
“Do you want me to promise not to propose to you? Is that it?” Amusement rippled through his voice. “Because you might want to think about dialing down the sexy, intelligent, gorgeous vibe, in that case.”
“Flattery won’t work.” She was floating, drifting on a current of warm arousal. Nothing mattered, nothing could go wrong. All she had to do was surrender to this delicious touch, those sweet words murmured in her ear, this strong, vital man…
“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” He slid his other hand under the waistband of her jeans. Oh God, another minute and she’d be way past the point of thinking. He’d touch her, and they’d end up in bed, and it would be mind-altering, life-transforming…he’d consume her. She’d be lost in Crush-world.
Cold reality washing over her, she pulled away from those magic hands and put a safe distance between them.
He groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “You’re killing me, woman.”
She focused on adjusting her top. “I just don’t think I can do this, Crush. I’m real sorry.”
He whooshed out a breath, almost like a howl at the sky, then fixed her with a sharp look. “This isn’t about the publicity, is it? We dealt with that. It’s something else.”
Yes, it was something else. She knew what it was. Crush had already gotten past a few of her barricades, and that scared her. She didn’t want any man having power over her. Ever. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she said frostily.
“You’re right,” he snapped, frustration written all over his face. “You owe me nothing. Not a word, not an explanation. But what about Teri?”
“What about her?”
“She’s afraid to ask you about her father. She has a right to know. “
Her spine snapped straight. “Not. Your. Business.” She should never have come out to the ranch. This was such a mistake. She felt hot emotion building behind her outward cool. How dare Crush even bring up the subject of Manuel? She’d already told him it was off-limits.
“I know it isn’t. But it sure is Teri’s.”
“She hasn’t said one word to me.”
“Because you put up that wall of ice and no one gets past it. She wants to know more about him. Can you blame her?”
The critical look in his eyes made her snap. “Believe me, Crush. She thinks she wants to, but that’s because she doesn’t know him. Do you want to know what he did after I left?”
Oh God, stop right there, Wendy. Don’t do this. But someone else seemed to be at the controls, someone who was tired of bottling everything up.
“He got even more messed up on crystal meth and tried to rob a bank while dressed as a mime. A mime. You know, with the white face makeup. But he parked his truck right out front and the security camera caught the whole thing. Then he got into a car chase across three counties, he had the entire Texas Highway Patrol after him. It finally ended when he veered off the road into someone’s house and nearly killed a lady in a wheelchair. Luckily, the controls on the wheelchair worked really well and she got out of the way in time. He’s a one-man wrecking crew when he’s high.”
Crush looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or yell. She couldn’t believe she’d told him that. She never talked about Manuel, but the story just popped out, like toast from a toaster. “Anyway, he’s in prison now. Every time he gets brought up for parole, he gets in trouble again. I think he knows he’s better off on the inside.”
“Prison?” Crush finally asked in a voice that suggested he wanted to find out which prison and go make some trouble.
“Yes, but you can’t say anything to Teri.” She put a hand to her forehead. Just thinking about her disaster of an ex-husband gave her a headache. “That’s why I don’t want to talk to Teri about him. She doesn’t need to know what a loser her father is. She’s nothing like him.”
“Really?” Wendy spun around at the sound of Teri’s tearful voice. “Nothing like him? Is he tall and athletic?”
Wendy’s stomach clenched. “Sweetie, you weren’t supposed to hear that.” She started toward her, but the girl backed away.
“Answer the question. Is he tall and athletic?”
“Yes.”
“Curly hair? Brown skin?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he now? What prison?”
Wendy shook her head, panic setting in. This was getting out of hand. Teri had no reason to see Manuel. Nothing good would come of that. She didn’t want him getting involved in any part of her life. As far as she knew, he knew nothing about Teri. “I won’t tell you.”
A dull flush of red swept up Teri’s face. “I have a right to know. He’s my father.”
“No, he isn’t. He doesn’t deserve that title. You have a father.”
“He’s my blood. Crush, tell her!”
Crush threw up his hands in a “keep me out of it” gesture. “This is between the two of you. If you want my opinion—”
“Yes,” Teri said at the same instant that Wendy said, “No.”
“I was going to say, my opinion is that you should both hear each other out.”
“Isn’t that just like a man?” Wendy snapped. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Hey, it’s not Crush’s fault you’re treating me like a child,” Teri shouted, jumping to Crush’s side. “He told me I should ask you myself. But I didn’t think you’d tell me. And I was right.”
Wendy looked between the two of them. “Have you two been conspiring against me? What is going on around here?”
Crush put a hand on her shoulder, possibly to calm her, but it just pissed her off more. She shook him off an
d stalked toward the path that led back to the driveway. She knew she was being ridiculous, storming off like a child. She should turn around right now and talk to Teri. They could discuss it rationally, the way she discussed line items in the budget. But it was all too much—both Crush and Teri both knew about Manuel now. She felt exposed and out of control.
She heard Crush whisper, “Let her go, Teri. Give her a little time.”
And that, for some reason, made her even more furious. Was Crush trying to manage her? How dare he?
Chapter Seven
A pounding on the front door of the ranch house woke Crush up later that night. He’d been tossing and turning, unable to sleep because he kept reliving that time with Wendy. He’d fucked up. Stepped into foul ball territory. If he could take it all back—especially the part where Teri overheard—he would. Dammit, he’d left her in the bullpen with strict instructions to throw fifty four-seam fastballs at fifty-percent velocity. What had she been thinking, wandering around the property eavesdropping?
He slid out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers. He loped down the hallway to the foyer, which felt vast as a museum in the dark of night. Flipping on the outdoor light, he looked through the peephole and saw a woman who resembled Wendy, except with wild and curly hair and steam pouring out of her ears.
He opened the door. The fireball who resembled Wendy stormed in. “How dare you try to manage me with my own daughter?”
“So it is you.” He gave her a quick survey. She was wearing the same jeans from earlier, but she’d added a pink hoodie to the outfit. It was the type of hoodie that had nothing to do with anything more athletic than mall-walking.
“Of course it’s me. What’s that supposed to mean? Who else would I be?”
“I didn’t recognize you at first. This hair.” He touched the wild curls flying every which way. She pushed his hand away.
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