Wow. That was easier than she’d expected. She headed up to Greg’s office, intent on doing some research on previous years’ campaigns before he arrived. On her desk sat a brand-new computer with a wide-screen monitor. A red bow was tied around the monitor.
Another gift? Well, at least this one was more practical than three hundred dollars’ worth of workout clothing. And it was clearly not meant to leave the office.
She tugged off the bow and turned on the computer. By the time Greg came in, after eight, she’d made separate lists of vendors for food, beverages and party supplies. Glad to see him and eager to share what she’d been working on, she smiled a genuinely happy greeting. “Morning, Greg. I have a great idea how to help the party pay for itself.”
Humor sparkled in his eyes. “So good it can’t wait ’til I have a cup of coffee?”
“I think it’ll hold.”
She watched him stride to the coffee maker and prepare his cup. Every movement was compact, efficient. No energy wasted. Just as on the playing field. Yeah, while she’d been not sleeping last night, she’d checked out some videos of Greg’s games online. That didn’t make her creepy. She just wanted to know more about what made Jacob Gregory Bartlesby II tick.
Cup in hand, he came back and casually leaned against her desk. “What’s the big idea?”
“A home run derby.”
He spit coffee back into the cup. “What?”
“Between you, you and your dad have to know at least a dozen players to recruit. We can charge admission. Ask for audience members to pledge so many dollars per home run. Maybe pit Major Leaguers against Minor Leaguers.” She took a deep breath and dove straight into the heart of her plan. “Set up a face-off between you and your father.”
****
Greg plunked his coffee cup onto Jenn’s desk. Liquid sloshed over the side, but he didn’t care. “Hold up a minute, Jenn.”
“What?”
Guileless green eyes stared back at him. She looked so innocent, but after last night she had to have an inkling how much the idea bothered him.
“You had me right up to that part about pitting me against Dad.” He flashed her a cocky grin. “I have the advantage of almost twenty years and a just-ended season. It’s not fair to make the old man try to keep up with me.”
Her eyes didn’t leave his as she reached for his hand. Sympathy flickered in their depths. “Is that it? Or maybe you’re afraid you’ll lose?”
Shit.
He yanked his hand out of hers and pushed away from the desk. He needed to get away before she completely deflated what was left of his ego. “You must be a better lawyer than you were for me.”
Her eyes widened. “You think so?”
He heard the wobble in his voice and hated the weakness. He breathed in, out. Tried to sound more in control. “You have to understand human nature pretty damn well to cut straight through my bullshit, right to the heart of things.”
“You’re not that hard to figure out, Greg.”
“That’s not what my ex said.”
Jenn snorted. “Then she must be blind, deaf and dumb.”
“You got the dumb part at least.” He smiled again to show her he had no hard feelings. “But Jenn, my dad’s been retired for a decade. I can’t ask him to do that.”
“You don’t have to. I already did, forty minutes ago when I first thought of it. And he loves the idea.”
Greg groaned. “He would. Excuse me, Jenn. My father and I need to have a chat.”
He jogged down the hall to his father’s office. Barely sparing a nod for Ellen, he barged in. “Dad, you can’t be serious about doing this home run derby thing.”
“Welcome, Two.” His father’s voice was dry. “You remember Steve Stull.”
When he realized he and his father weren’t alone, he dropped back and put on a pleasant smile. “Good morning, Mr. Stull.”
The man’s lips twitched. “Morning, Greg. You’re looking better today.”
No doubt. When he’d last bumped into his father’s friend, Greg had been in the courthouse hallway, in a clinch with Jenn. “You, too, sir.”
“Greg, Jenn works for Steve at the law firm.”
He nodded. “I know that, Dad.”
“Well, smart guy, did you know he’s just agreed to loan us Jenn full-time through the end of the year?”
“Really?”
“I’ve always supported the Foundation’s work. I’m glad to have this opportunity to help you further its goals.” Mr. Stull stood and nodded to each of them in turn. “Jake. Greg. I’ll be seeing you around.”
Greg watched the older man leave before asking, “Does Jenn know about this? Because I have to tell you, I doubt she’ll be happy if you’re meddling with her career.”
“Know?” Big Jake chuckled. “It was her idea.”
“She’s certainly full of ideas,” he muttered.
“Yes, she is. And I, for one, think it’s great.” His father clapped his back. “Now why don’t you have a seat and tell me why you’re so worked up about the derby.”
He didn’t sit. “Why do you think?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“Dad, you’re sick, remember?”
“Not so sick I can’t kick your ass from here to Sunday.”
And wasn’t that his worst nightmare? He blanched and took that seat his dad had offered. If he didn’t get off his feet, he was likely to fall down. “You really shouldn’t overexert yourself.”
“Knocking out a few homers isn’t overexertion, Two. It’s a good workout.”
He gritted his teeth. “Dad, how many times have I asked you not to call me that?”
“More than I can count.” His father chuckled. “And I’ll be glad to—just as soon as you give me a reason.”
“The fact I’ve asked you to isn’t reason enough?”
“It’s time for you to stand on your own two feet. Be your own man.”
He gripped the arms of the chair so he wouldn’t slug his father. “What, exactly, do you think I’ve been trying to do for the last eight years?”
Big Jake shook his head. “Son, you can’t disavow everything the family stands for with one hand while grasping at it with the other.”
“Dad, I’m proud to be a Bartlesby. I am. But I want to be myself, not a pale imitation of you.”
“Which is why it’s imperative for you to succeed. Use this campaign to make a name for yourself. Become more than the boss’ slacker son.”
“Hey now.” He had to object. “I’ve never been a slacker.”
“When you’re here, you work as hard as anyone. But you’re only here one-fourth of the year.”
“On your directive. Someday I’ll retire.”
“After a nice, long career in the majors, I hope.”
“Me, too, Dad.” He sighed. “Me, too.”
A grin, so like his own, spread across his father’s face. “You know, beating me in a home run derby wouldn’t hurt your attempt to make a name for yourself.”
“I’m aware of that, old man.” If Dad was determined to go through with Jenn’s crazy idea, they might as well make a contest of it. “Get ready, because you’re going down.”
“Good luck with that, kid. You’ll need it.”
He stood and headed for the door, tossing the last word over his shoulder. “Dad, luck has nothing to do with it. It’s all skill.”
Big Jake’s hearty laugh followed him past Ellen’s desk and into the hall. Okay, so if you compared stats for him against his father at his peak, Big Jake would win hands down. But his father hadn’t played in a decade. He had to be rusty, which gave Greg the advantage.
His advantage would get bigger when he and Jenn started having all their meetings at the batting cages. He entered his office intending to suggest it—until he saw Jenn nose-to-screen with her new monitor.
“If I’d known your eyes were so bad, I’d have bought you a bigger screen.”
She reared back. “My eyes are fine. And this scree
n is plenty big enough. What is it, twenty-one inches?”
He grinned. Finally, something she couldn’t correctly size up. “Twenty-five, actually.”
“Well, come over here and look at this.”
She wanted him closer? He wasn’t about to turn down that invitation. He came up behind her and braced himself against her desk, one hand on either side of her shoulders. “What am I looking at?”
She pointed at the screen. “You know this guy, right? It says he used to play for the Condors.”
The scent of oranges teased his senses, but he forced himself to focus on the dime-sized face. “Sure. That’s Matt Thatcher.”
“Think you could get him to be part of the derby?”
“Probably.” He and Matt had never been super close, but he could call in a favor or two. “But why do you want him? Catchers aren’t known for their hitting prowess.”
“This one has the best batting average of any catcher in the NL.” She tapped the monitor. “Besides, he’s cute.”
“I’m cute.”
Her lips quirked. “Jealous much?”
Ouch. Okay, he deserved that. The orange scent, coupled with her nearness, had to be making him crazy. “He’s married.”
Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I don’t want to date the guy, Greg. I just want him to come hit a few home runs. Think about it: The more cute ballplayers for the press to come take pictures of, the better to get the word out about the Foundation and its work.”
She had a point. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Chapter Seven
Days slipped into weeks as Jenn slid seamlessly into her new role as Greg’s assistant and home run derby organizer. She took Jake up on his offer to arrange for the fundraiser’s location, but he and Greg left her in charge of everything else. She kept track of the players who’d volunteered and arranged for an age-appropriate prompt of those who were reluctant to commit. She wrote letters to recruit corporate sponsors for the event. She drafted to-do lists and then wrote out checklists to keep track of the to-dos.
And she did all of that in addition to coordinating Greg’s day-to-day schedule. She was surprised at how much she loved scheduling meetings for him and tracking the details that escaped him. Not that there were many of those.
“He’s sharper than I thought, Jess.”
On the other end of the phone, her sister laughed. “He can’t be that smart if he hasn’t figured out that you’re not a stripper.”
“Yeah, well…” Not setting Greg straight about that was something she regretted. She really ought to come clean. “I’ll have to tell him sometime.”
“Or not. What’s it hurt for him to believe it?”
“Nothing, I guess.” She loved her sister all the more for telling her what she wanted—maybe even needed—to hear. The doorknob rattled. “I’ve got to go. He’s back.”
“’Kay, Sis. I’ll see you soon.”
“You bet.”
“And Jenn?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t forget to wish him luck from Jade.”
Her cheeks warm, she ended the call just as Greg strode into the room. He wore navy sweats and a burgundy-and-white Condors shirt, and his easy smile dissolved what was left of her decorum.
“Afternoon, Jenn. I thought we’d knock off early today. We can head to the batting cages, and then I’ll take you to dinner.”
“The batting cages again? That’ll be the third time this week—and the home run derby is tomorrow. Don’t you think it’d be better to rest up?”
His blond head shook, stubborn as usual. “I need every advantage available to me.”
“Rest and relaxation are important.”
“That’s why I’m taking you out for dinner after.” He grinned. “You help me relax.”
She didn’t see how. Every time she was near him, her heart kicked into overdrive. Her body was all too aware of every shift in both his mood and physical position. If he had indigestion, it churned her gut.
Not that they’d done anything since that kiss in the gym. A few unintentional touches, heated glances, yes. But nothing that could be considered truly inappropriate. Half the time, it seemed as if he were holding himself back, afraid of something. What, she didn’t know.
“Always glad to be of service, Greg.”
His smile widened, but heat flared in his eyes. “I’ll remember that.”
Open mouth, insert sensible low-heeled pump. Again. She was getting used to the taste of shoe leather. How could someone who made a living arguing be so careless with words? Her cheeks burned as she powered down her computer and grabbed her purse from its hiding spot under her desk. “Ready.”
Fifteen minutes later, Greg waited for the machine’s first pitch. His batter’s stance was impressive, all crisp lines and leashed power.
Thwack. The ball sailed all the way to the back of the cage. So did the next fifty or so balls the machine sent his way. He apparently didn’t see that as success, though, because he wound tighter with every hit.
When the muscles in his neck vibrated with tension, she’d watched him punish himself enough. She left her spot on the bench and walked up behind him. She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Enough, Greg. You’re ready.”
He went still. “You think so?”
“I know so.” As she said it, she mentally crossed her fingers. Jake’s advanced age had to have muted the competitiveness that drove Greg. Right?
He clearly doubted her. Uh-oh. She needed a new approach. Fast. Because if she knew anything, she knew this: confidence counted for a lot. If Greg believed he was ready, he would be.
“Besides, you promised me dinner.” She dug her fingers into his knotted shoulder muscle and started to work out the kinks. His bat dropped to the ground, wood thunking against concrete. “I’m hungry.”
A low, guttural sound—could have been groan or growl—rumbled from his throat as he whirled to face her. He settled his hands on her waist and hauled her against him. “Me, too.”
Then he captured her lips.
Surprised by his move, but not really, Jenn did more than let herself be kissed. She kissed him back. Enthusiastically and without reservation. She’d spent most of a month pretending not to be attracted to Greg, and she was tired of faking it. Time to press her advantage.
Their tongues tangled with a ferocity fueled by weeks of heightened awareness. Every shared glance, every accidental brush of their fingertips poured into the experience.
When she pulled away, they were both breathless and his arousal pressed into her stomach.
Looking as dazed as she felt, he stroked her chin with his thumb. “Whaddaya say we call out for pizza?”
She leaned in to press her lips to his. That it put the rest of her parts in alignment with his was a bonus, one she savored. He quivered when her lips brushed his ear. “I say, ‘Mangia!’”
Without replying, Greg retrieved the bat he’d just dropped and hoisted it over his shoulder. Wouldn’t do to lose his lucky bat now, when he needed it to beat his father in the derby.
Bat secure, he let Jenn take his free hand and pull him toward his car. He tried not to let her softly rounded bottom mesmerize him. Losing battle, that. As was his misguided attempt to ignore her. Like he could ever forget how she’d looked the night they’d met, up on that stage, wearing nothing but some lacy lingerie. Or in the gym, her sultry green gaze devouring him before her mouth opened to let him in.
Christ. He was in trouble.
Big trouble.
When he carried this through to its natural conclusion, the one his body clamored for, he’d essentially be screwing his secretary. Echoes of the illfated fling he had with the intern right after graduating from college, before he’d signed with the Condors. They’d spent long hours together, working, screwing and working some more, until she took offense at something he’d supposedly done and threatened to sue.
Intern be damned. Jenn was more than
just his secretary or his lawyer. In the short time they’d known each other, she’d also become his friend. An insightful one, at that. Sometimes it seemed she knew him better than he knew himself.
Perhaps that should worry him, but it didn’t. A guy could never have too many friends.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are we getting in the car?”
Her voice interrupted his reverie. Greg blinked and clicked the remote to unlock the doors of his BMW convertible. “Oh, we’re going.”
And later, they’d be coming. Many, many times.
He nestled his bat safely in the trunk, then got in the car. Jenn was already buckled up. “You’re fast.”
“So I’ve been told. It’s a character flaw I’m trying to work on.”
Greg chuckled. “Don’t change for me. I happen to like fast.”
“Judging by your choice of cars, I figured as much.”
She traced a finger over the car’s steering wheel before dropping her hand to his thigh. Though it rested there lightly, the contact somehow generated enough sparks to light up all of Phoenix.
Yep. He was in big trouble. Thing was, he didn’t even care. They’d sort out the details later. Much, much later.
He peeled out of the parking lot and sped toward his condo. Every time they hit a red light, he cursed and Jenn laughed.
“People say I’m impatient,” she said after one such exchange. “They’d change their tune if they met you.”
“Can I help it if I’m eager to be alone with you?”
“I suppose not.” Her smile was hesitant. “I want to get you alone, too.”
Her pause didn’t make much sense, considering what Jenn until recently did to earn extra cash. Ah, well. Maybe she turned that part of herself on and off, the way he did when he put on his game face.
Finally, they made it to his place. She barely had closed the door behind her when he pulled out his phone.
She eyed it like she’d never seen one before.
Hmm. Maybe the phone in his hand was emitting an unfamiliar glow. He, too, glanced down. Nope. No glow. “What’s wrong?”
“What are you doing?”
“I thought you wanted pizza.”
“Not right this minute.” She took the phone out of his hand, tossed it on the end table and slid her arms around his waist. “I’d rather have you.”
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