Wendy watched her go, shaking her head and marveling. “Was I ever that young and innocent?”
“Don’t underestimate her, Wendy. I’ve gotten to know her and there’s a lot that she doesn’t share. Something tells me she’s keeping a few secrets herself. But then again, who are we to judge a stray secret or two?”
With his hands in his pockets, he gave her a look so hot she was surprised the grass didn’t sizzle.
“You’re picturing me naked, aren’t you? Stop that.”
He threw his head back and laughed with that deep gravelly sound that always made her knees weak. “You know me so well. Actually, I was picturing you naked in my Jacuzzi.”
“Jacuzzi?” Liquid heat pooled in her lower belly.
“Penthouse suite has one. Your room is three floors down and there’s a back staircase you can take. Total privacy.” His husky voice lowered the way it did when he talked about anything intimate.
“You have it all mapped out, do you?”
“I might. I might have champagne and a frustrated libido too.”
“Mayor Trent?”
She jumped away from Crush as Burwell Brown, one of the Kilby Press-Herald’s reporters, stepped next to them. Had he seen anything? Heard anything? She plastered her official mayoral smile on her face. “Hello there, Burwell. Great day for baseball, isn’t it?”
Over Burwell’s wire-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze shot from her to Crush. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here. Do you normally attend the spring training games?”
“No, not usually, Burwell. But I was invited to check out one of the team’s um…most interesting pitching prospects.”
“Teri Dimitri?” He poised his pen over his notebook. “The talk is that Crush has high hopes that she might make it as far as the Triple A level. That’s reaching pretty high for a female player. Do you have any comment on that?”
Wendy bristled at his patronizing tone. “You know what they say about Ginger Rogers, Burwell. She did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in heels.”
Burwell blinked, as if imagining Teri hurling a fastball backwards and in heels. “Would you have a more relevant comment than that one?”
“I have it on good authority that you shouldn’t underestimate Teri Dimitri. That’s all. I’m here to support the Friars’ willingness to give a female player a chance. She just might be the symbol for a new generation of women.”
“Yes, but isn’t this nothing more than a publicity stunt? No woman has ever played at the Triple A level.”
“No woman was ever mayor of Kilby before I got elected. Never count out a dedicated, hardworking, talented woman like Teri Dimitri. Personally, I think it’s a great step forward for women. It’s about time, and we should all be rooting for her.”
“So you’re saying you came here to root for her because she’s female? Is she getting special treatment because of her gender?”
“Not at all. You know how much I care about women’s issues, that’s not news to anyone.”
Burwell’s pen was flying across his notebook. “Well done, Mayor. I appreciate it. You just boosted my little sports-page filler article to front-page status. See you back in Kilby.”
“See you, Burwell.” As he walked away, she got the sinking feeling that she should have stuck with “no comment.” When she glanced at Crush, his thoughtful expression confirmed it. “Wrong move?”
Crush pulled out his phone and started texting. “Nothing fatal. We were hoping to keep the media at bay for as long as possible, that’s all. I better let the front office know.”
Wendy bit her lip. She should have known better than to get chatty with the press. Normally she was a very disciplined politician who watched her every word. But Burwell had flustered her with the way he was looking at her and Crush. “I hope I didn’t do any harm.”
“Forget about it.” He pocketed his phone. “Front page in Kilby isn’t exactly the LA Times. Anyway, it’s done now. We’ll roll with it, whatever happens next. You okay?”
She nodded.
“Then you can stop torturing that beautiful luscious lip of yours. If anyone’s going to nibble at it, that should be me.” He dropped his voice back into that dangerous lower register. “And you should be naked.”
“And you should be quiet or you’re going to get us in even more trouble.”
Chapter Ten
That night, there was no quiet for either of them, but there was plenty of trouble—the good kind. The “moan until your throat is raw” kind. The “bone until you pass out” kind.
They started in the Jacuzzi.
“This is good for us old folks,” Crush joked as he tangled his legs with hers. “We’re not fighting gravity.”
“You’re the one who’s over fifty and retired. I’m still in my prime.”
He wouldn’t argue with that, not with that wicked smile on her face.
“You forgot the Hall of Fame part.” He hooked her arms over the lip of the Jacuzzi so the water lapped right at her nipples. He blew on them at the same time, so she felt air and water simultaneously. The pink tips hardened, making her curving flesh look like candy. His mouth watered.
She answered breathlessly. “I didn’t think they had one for sex.”
“They will by the time we’re done.” He rubbed his thigh against her sex, savoring the delicate heat radiating from it. Done? He wasn’t sure he wanted to be done with her. Ever.
By mutual agreement, they’d abandoned condoms after they’d both tested clean last month. He chose not to think about the implications too much. Normally, he only had unprotected sex within marriage. Every other relationship had involved condoms. But Wendy’s tantalizing, curvaceous body was too much to resist. He slid into her slick sheath with a quick flex of his hips and felt her legs come around his hips. One advantage of age and experience was that they’d become familiar with each other’s bodies very quickly.
She tilted her head back and groaned with pure female satisfaction. “Do that again, please.”
“Mmm, I do love that Southern-girl politeness.”
“Missouri,” she murmured.
“What?”
“I grew up in Missouri.”
He kept stroking, because she felt so good he couldn’t stop, but hell. How had he not known that? All this time he’d thought she was from down south somewhere.
After screaming orgasm number one courtesy of an assist from the Jacuzzi jets, they went for orgasm number two. He dried her off then had her stand in the bathroom, while he rubbed insanely expensive organic argan oil into her skin. He paid especially close attention to the backs of her thighs, which he’d learned were particularly sensitive. And of course, her ass, because he loved every fleshy curve of that part of her body. When she was quivering and flushed, he brought her before the full-length mirror in the bathroom.
“You’re going to come for me,” he growled in her ear. “Then I’m going to bend you over and fuck you from behind. Got it?”
She nodded, as lust-drunk as he was. He kicked her legs apart and clamped one hand over her mound. The other went around her chest, a band of tan, sinewy muscle against her pink flesh. He crushed her breast under his palm and felt her gasp and tremble. “Feel good? Too much?”
“So good,” she whispered.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Harder, Crush. Harder against my clit.”
His cock jumped the way it always did when she said what she wanted. He stroked harder against her sex, watching her reflection as she bucked and twisted, chasing the pleasure. As soon as she exploded, with that sweet low cry that sent his heart pounding, he bent her down and put her hands on the edge of the sink. He spread her thighs and drove into that delicious hot channel.
Then they took a break. They weren’t twenty anymore, after all, Wendy pointed out, laughing. They pulled on bathrobes and each claimed a couch in the suite’s living room. Crush ordered a feast from room service, and while they waited for it to arrive, he ripped
open a bag of his favorite roasted sunflower seeds. “I used to eat exactly twenty-three of these before every start.”
“So you’re superstitious too?”
“I’m a baseball player, aren’t I? We’re all superstitious.”
He poured sunflower seeds into her palm. She cocked her head at him. With her lips swollen from his kisses and her damp curls, she looked almost painfully erotic. “Was it hard for you to retire?”
“Hell yes. I was only forty-five and people were talking about me as if I was dead already. That’s why I bought the Catfish.” But he didn’t want to go over his life history. He wanted to know more about her. “You said you grew up in Missouri? Not Texas?”
Wariness tightened her lovely features. “I left Missouri when I was nineteen, but yes, I did grow up there. I’ve been in Texas ever since, though. I consider myself a Texan.”
“When did you decide to run for mayor?”
“Well, I started as a City Hall spokesperson. The mayor who hired me was a real sexist; he just wanted some beauty queen type to look good for the cameras. Then I started writing the press releases, and handling all the press relations. I worked my rear off. I educated myself on policy and made a lot of contacts, and finally I just went for it. The first time I ran, you know how much I won by?”
“Don’t remember.”
“Three hundred and twenty-seven votes. The next time?”
“Landslide, I remember that.”
“Damn straight, bud. Landslide. Kilby knows a good thing when they see it.” She gave him such a sassy smile that he wanted to eat her up.
“So do I, babe. So do I. You love it, right? Being the mayor?”
“Of course I do.” She sat up straighter. “I love being able to set an example for girls growing up. I don’t want any girl to think they’re less than a man or that they have limited choices. If I can be mayor, or if Teri can pitch for the Catfish—that makes such a huge difference when they see that.”
The passion running through her voice hit him right in the solar plexus. It must have showed on his face, because she gave him a curious look. “Why the interrogation?”
“Just want to know more about the woman who’s rocking my world,” he answered as lightly as he could. This woman was really doing something to him.
She nibbled on a seed. “You know more than anyone else. You know about Teri. And about…Manuel.”
As if she’d tripped over some invisible tripwire, she abruptly shifted course. “Now why on earth would you consider these boring little seeds good luck?”
“Well, you have to crack them open, first of all. The shelled kind never brought me luck. I had to take the time to open each one. It calmed me down. Got me into the zone. I would count, the way you count sheep or something. Twenty-three has always been my lucky number. Wouldn’t you say I have a certain knack for cracking open shells?”
She raised her fine blond eyebrows at him. “Are you referring to me? I don’t have a shell. I have body armor.”
“The bigger the challenge, the more fired up I get.”
“Is that what you’re doing with Teri? You like the challenge?”
“I like challenges, sure. What about you? Don’t you like a good challenge?”
“Apparently I like self-sabotaging acts of insanity.” She flicked a sunflower seed at him.
“Ouch. Like a knife to the heart.” He put his hand over his chest.
She giggled. “Does it help that I like them a lot?”
That was a little better. But it still bothered him that she apparently thought being involved with him was insanity. “Haven’t I convinced you at least a little that I’m a trustworthy guy? We’ve been seeing each other since what, January? February? I think I’ve proved myself. I’m just as respectable as those others.”
She wagged her finger at him. “Correction. We’ve been sleeping together, not seeing each other. Seeing each other would be more like dating. We’re not doing that.”
“You have a point there. But if Burwell Brown is onto us, we might want to change that. Think of all the benefits you’re missing out on.”
“You mean, other than your big cock and bedroom skills?”
He nearly choked on a sunflower seed, and thumped his chest. He loved it when she talked dirty. “Yes. Other than all that. I know it’s hard to believe, but I do have more to offer.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “All right. Let’s hear it. Give me your pitch.”
“Okay. I have money to burn. I never know what to do with the stuff. You could help me spend it.”
She didn’t look at all impressed. “I’m not with you for your money, Crush. I’m not interested in that.”
“I know, big cock, blah blah, bedroom skills, blah blah.” He flashed a grin at her, trying to keep it light. Trying to make it seem light, because really it wasn’t. It had begun to bother him that they were keeping this secret. “Okay, forget my piles of money. How about…being invited to places. I could take you to the Oscars. I could take you to Fashion Week in New York. I could take you to the Met Ball, the Black and White Ball, or any other ball you like. I get invitations to them all, and if I don’t, all it takes is a phone call. I could invite you to—”
He broke off. Here it was. The heart of the matter.
A line appeared between her eyebrows as she studied him. “Invite me to what? What is it, Crush? Just say it.”
He put his package of sunflower seeds on the coffee table and brushed salt off his hands. “All right. Here it is. You could go to Cooperstown with me.”
“Cooperstown? Where’s that? Does it have a nice B&B or something?”
“Please be joking right now. I can accept some baseball ignorance, but come on….”
“I am. I’m joking,” she said quickly. “That’s where the Baseball Hall of Fame is.”
“Yes. Where I’m going to be inducted in July. There’s a whole ceremony, I have to give a little speech. Nothing big, but there will be press there. There will be boring dinners, to which everyone will bring their significant others and other significant people in their lives. Family members. Whoever.”
Her eyes went wide, their fresh bluebonnet color vibrant against the white bathrobe. “You want me to go to the Hall of Fame ceremony with you? As your mayor? Do other mayors attend that sort of thing?”
Luckily, room service knocked on the door just then, or Crush might have throttled her. Could she really be that dense or was she doing it deliberately? He didn’t want her there as his damn mayor. He wanted her there in a fancy dress and her hair swept up and her beautiful face smiling up at him while he accepted his award.
If that sounded selfish—well, all of his ex-wives would back up that assessment.
He dropped the subject of the Hall of Fame and they moved on to the feast portion of the evening’s entertainment. After that, they went back to feasting on each other. It wasn’t until they were finally falling asleep, sprawled boneless across the well-used bed, that Wendy murmured, “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Fair enough.”
“But only if we’re very careful when we get back to Kilby. If there’s even a hint of gossip, forget about it.”
He frowned at that. “We can’t control what people say.”
“No, but we can make sure they have no material to work with.” She trailed off and the next sound he heard was a soft snore.
Problem was, he wanted to give her more material to work with. And lots of it.
* * *
Back in Kilby, Burwell Brown’s front-page article about Teri sparked a day of nonstop chatter on the local sports radio stations. The issue of women in baseball really got people going. Crush was glad Teri was far away in Arizona; she didn’t need that kind of pressure.
In the article, Burwell included the fact that Crush had flown Wendy to Arizona in his own plane, and suddenly the rumors were flying.
Wendy put the brakes on, hard. She went back to her ice queen act as if they’d never gotten na
ughty in a Jacuzzi or anywhere else. Crush considered suing the reporter for emotional distress and messing up his sex life.
Crush tried to put Wendy out of his mind and focus on the Catfish. He had plenty to do to get the season started. He had to hire a new promotions girl, since Donna McIntyre had just discovered she was pregnant. She and Mike were planning a big wedding—even bigger than the one he’d planned for them, which they’d called off. With her history of hyperemesis gravidarum, they’d decided she needed to reduce stress, and that meant no more trying to rev up the Catfish crowds before every home game.
Luckily, ticket sales were already tracking ahead of last year, thanks to their Championship win. On the downside, no more Trevor Stark to draw the big crowds. He had to hand it to his future son-in-law. He’d really turned his life in the right direction. Of course, Paige had probably done the most for him, because she was quite simply one of the best people in the world. Not that he was biased or anything.
But try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about Wendy.
And thus began the most embarrassing phase of their relationship.
He found himself buying tickets to events just so he could be in her presence. Events like the Rotary Club silent auction or the Kilby Historical Society costume party. Previously, he wouldn’t have been caught dead at anything like that. No one even bothered inviting him. But now, he actually found himself checking the mayor’s website to see where she would be appearing.
But even when he showed up at these events—at which he was invariably buttonholed by old-time baseball fans wanting to talk about the Hall of Fame vote or the Catfish season—he had to watch Wendy from afar. She was always either onstage or surrounded by constituents.
For the first time in his life, he understood what his ex-wives had felt all those years when he’d been in the spotlight.
At these public events, Wendy was always careful to greet him warmly, but he got no more than a handshake or sometimes a kiss on the cheek from her. People were watching closely, so he understood why Wendy was playing it cool.
But now and then, he got a quick text late at night, followed by a knock at his door.
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