Hitting It_Locker Room Diaries

by Kathy Lyons

  “Stop it!” I squeaked. “Let go of me!” None of it worked and, in my pumps, I had little grip to push back.

  So I went with a right cross. I had two older brothers who’d had taught me a thing or two.

  I hit him hard enough that his face snapped to the side. I’d aimed for his jaw, but instead, I clipped his nose and felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage. He howled and dropped me like a sack of potatoes. And in my impossible shoes, I went straight down.

  I was still checking my teeth from the jolt up my spine when a dark pair of men’s shoes appeared in my peripheral vision. Then someone way above me said in a deep voice, “Is there a problem here?” I looked up—way up—and saw a man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a mesmerizing stare. He wore a well-tailored suit, but what made him distinctive was the suave violence in his body. It was as if GQ had outfitted a really good-looking gangster.

  Security, obviously. And what could I say? I wasn’t stupid enough to start pointing fingers. Dirk was the regular sports reporter and in my naïveté, I’d hoped to get his help. Instead, I’d probably broken the guy’s nose. The last thing I needed was to get us both kicked out. So I took a breath and tried to cover.

  “I, um, I just slipped in these shoes. Mr. Benson was, um, offering me his seat.” Okay, so I wasn’t immune to getting my digs in.

  The security guy’s striking eyes narrowed as he peered down at me. “He wasn’t trying to manhandle you? And you’re not about to slap him with a sexual harassment suit?”

  I blinked. Wow. That was rather extreme. “N-not for this.”

  The guy nodded. “Okay then. Dirk? You know where the washroom is. And, miss, you can take his seat right here.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” I did my best not to stagger as I finally made it to my feet. Now at my full height, the security guard was still way above me, but I didn’t have to tilt my head far. He even bent down to grab my notebook and purse before handing it to me.

  Then we both stood there awkwardly while Dirk fumed. Was he going to make an issue of this? If looks could kill, I’d be a smoking pile of ash. But in the end, he shoved his way past us. Possibly because his nose was dripping blood like a leaky faucet.

  I didn’t want to take Dirk’s seat, but there were no others anywhere. The guard helped me settle and then just as he straightened up, he pressed a business card into my hand. On the back, handwritten, was a room number and a time.

  “What—?” I asked.

  “If you could come to my office after the postgame interviews, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Um, am I in some sort of trouble?”

  He arched a brow indicating the room in general. The hostility was palpable. I wasn’t sure that anyone was a big fan of Dirk, but I was the pretty young upstart taking over for a competent older reporter. No one was going to rush to be my friend.

  “Just be there.” Not a request.

  Well, hell. Now what?

  Chapter Six

  Rob

  “What do you want with her?” Nico’s voice was wary as we walked down the hallway to his tiny security office.

  I ducked the question. “She’s in there?” I couldn’t believe Heidi Wong was right here. The girl I hadn’t been able to forget. When I’d seen her in the press room this afternoon, she’d looked older, more anxious, and like a beautiful ten-ton wrecking ball into my concentration.

  Nico, the team’s head security guy, gave me a dark look. “Yeah, she’s in there. She thinks she’s in trouble, and I didn’t change that impression.”

  “Did you see that guy try to choke her? She could have died, and everyone was just standing around watching.” I’d been peering at one of the security-camera feeds designed to allow players to get a look at the media before stepping into the circus. She’d walked in, all sleek and professional in a sea of Bobcats paraphernalia, and then that bastard had grabbed her, and I’d nearly run in—against strict Bobcats policy—just to save her. Nico stopped me, then went in my place.

  “What I saw were your three shitty at bats. Two pop flies and a strikeout.”

  I winced, trying to hide the fear growing in my belly like an oil slick. “I can’t hit homers every time at bat.”

  “Except that’s exactly what you’ve been hired to do.”

  I glared at him. He was right. Heidi had seriously messed with my concentration. I’d spent the entire game thinking about seeing her afterward. What would I say to her? What would she say to me? She looked stressed. What did she think about my success?

  “Detroit’s a good team. I just—”

  “Bullshit.”

  Nico didn’t bother saying more. He rarely did. Ex-military, Nico embodied the strong, silent type. Especially if he went all dark and scary, like he was now. In addition to general security, his job was to look after the newbies, to stop them from being idiots, and warn the coaches if he saw a personal problem. Apparently, he thought I needed babysitting. I thought he was a pain-in-the-ass mother hen. I reached for the doorknob. He stopped me with three words.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  Too late. I’d been stupid three years ago during spring break and had waited this long to make it right. “It’s not like that,” I said. “I’m not looking for a quick hookup.”

  “She’s press. I’d rip off your balls if I thought you were.”

  Well that was graphic, but it was also right. I was in the most delicate time of my career. Just up from the minors, barely into my first season. All the press was glowing, but one bad game and the media would turn ugly. Right now, I was the Great Bobcats Hope. One more game like today and I’d become the Great Disappointment. I couldn’t afford to get distracted and that’s what Heidi was. A really big distraction.

  And yet, I couldn’t stop myself.

  “She’s an old friend.”

  “Then give her tickets to the next game. Don’t go in there.”

  He was right, and I knew it, but I still couldn’t stop myself. I turned the knob and pushed into the small office space.

  She was standing behind the desk looking at the team picture on the wall. My gaze dropped to her ass and my memories supplied graphic images of hips and bottom as I…

  I hauled my thoughts out of the gutter, even if they were my favorite memories. Instead, I focused on other details. Her eyes were as beautiful as I remembered. Almond shaped, yet wide with an innocent kind of sweetness. Sometime during the game, she’d managed to buy a Bobcats baseball cap, and it looked like a crime on her sleek black hair. Plus, it wasn’t fitting properly, so she had a duck-bill thing going on.

  I snorted and stepped forward, grabbing the cap to curve the bill correctly before fitting it to her head. Or maybe I just wanted to get close enough to smell the ginger-spice scent of her. Either way, she was startled by my quick movements. She shied backward, but there was nowhere to go in this tiny space. Trapped between me and the wall, she had to endure my ballcap corrections while all sorts of sexual images burst through my brain. And then when it was fixed, I had to force myself to step back.

  “That’s better,” I said, my voice gravelly rough.

  “Um. Thanks?”

  Her voice was husky and settled right at the base of my spine in the most primal way. I felt like a caveman about to throw her over my shoulder. I watched, fascinated by the slow creep of her flush up her cheeks and down to her cleavage, which lifted and lowered in short, quick breaths. God, she was more beautiful than I remembered.

  I knew I needed to say something. Jesus, my brain was screaming at me to get some words out, but hell, everything was stopped up tight. And then right when I thought I could force something out, she swallowed. It was a nervous gesture, but oh how my dick loved the sight. It flashed me pictures of her ruby lips wrapped around my cock as she swallowed whatever I gave her.

  I was depraved.

  “Mr. Lee—”

  “I was a jerk—”

  We spoke over each other, the words clashing in the small space, then both of us stopped and stared. I
had to replay her words to realize she didn’t remember me. Well that was a kick in the balls. But no way, no how could she have forgotten our night together.

  “Uh…” she began.

  Fuck this stumbling awkwardness. One of the reasons our time together had been the best night of my life was because she’d been so easy to talk to. And I could tell she wasn’t going to be the one to smooth the way. Fair enough. I’d been the jerk, so I plunged ahead.

  “I’ve been waiting three years to apologize to you. I was a first-class jerk, and I’m sorry. I should have stayed. I should have called. I should have done a lot of things, but I didn’t know how. My life was about baseball. Then there was the way you challenged me to think of why I was so good. I, uh, didn’t want to call until I had an answer, and I was practicing all the time so that let me forget or, well, not forget because I’ll never forget. But I put off calling you when I should have, even though you didn’t give me your number. And I meant to when I moved to Indianapolis, but it had been so long. I didn’t know what to say or even if you were here. And I’m sorry. Really.”

  My words ground to a halt, and I was left staring at her slightly parted lips and feeling like a perv, because I was still thinking graphic things rather than feeling the apology I’d just delivered so badly. Then she straightened her shoulders and licked her lips, as she pulled herself together. The sight was endearing. And so fucking erotic that my dick actually throbbed.

  “It was a long time ago,” she finally said.

  “Three years, two months, and four days.” Oh shit. Had I just said that out loud? I’d calculated the exact time while waiting in the dugout, and now I’d just shown her how much I still lusted after her. Some girls got off on that, but my guess was she’d be more freaked than aroused.

  “Um, okay.”

  “I sound like a stalker.”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, no…” Then her gaze flicked over my shoulder.

  I turned and saw Nico standing there, his arms folded across his chest and his guns—his biceps—bulging with intimidating effect. How had I forgotten he was there? And then I looked back at Heidi and was suddenly curious about what she was thinking. Did she like the way Nico looked? It was a completely irrational thought, but jealousy kindled anyway. I didn’t want Heidi looking at anyone but me.

  So I touched her arm, stroking slightly down the soft linen sleeve of her dress. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Her gaze jerked to mine. “A walk?”

  “Just around the stadium. I’ll show you places no one else gets to go. You’re perfectly safe.”

  “Of course.” Then she looked again at Nico. “So you asked me here so I could talk to him?” Her gaze went back to me. “You noticed me and—”

  “I wanted to see you. Nico helped me accomplish that.”

  “You’re granting me an interview?” There was a hopeful note in her voice directly at odds with the ten-ton weight that thudded into the pit of my stomach at her words. Here I was wrapped in erotic thoughts and all she wanted was an article for her paper?

  “Is that why you came here?” I demanded. “For a press interview?”

  She blinked. “Why else would I be here?” Then she frowned. “We haven’t spoken in three years, two months, and four days.”

  Had she been counting, too? My ego made me hope, rather than mention that I’d just said those words two minutes before. It was only one of the many different parts of my brain that were jabbering at once. While I was sorting out aroused from angry from nostalgic, Nico cut in with his usual bucket of ice-water reality.

  “Of course she wants an interview. She’s a reporter.” He said that last word like Heidi was a poisonous snake. Rumor was that way back when, a beautiful reporter had screwed Nico and sent him spinning off into the military instead of baseball. But that didn’t mean Heidi was the same kind of liar.

  “I can’t give an interview,” I finally pushed out. “I’m not allowed to talk to the press without approval.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointment clear in her tone. “But maybe some general comments? Nothing special. Just talk about today’s game or—”

  “No.” That was Nico, his voice clipped. And when he spoke like that, most reporters knew to shut up.

  “I’ll only be a minute. You can have prior approval before it goes to print.” She was looking at me, her eyes pleading. If Nico hadn’t been there, I would have collapsed like a house of cards.

  “We’re done here,” Nico said, holding the door open. “Thank you for coming, Miss Wong.” There was no compromise in his tone and Heidi knew it. She cast me one last pleading look, but quickly shut it down. Then she moved past me heading for the door.

  God, it was just like last time only in reverse. Only, instead of me walking out, it was her. And I wasn’t ready for things to end right when I’d just found her again. “Have dinner with me,” I asked.

  Nico shot me a glare, which I completely ignored. My attention was on Heidi, who turned with a narrowed expression. “Why?”

  “No interview,” I said for Nico’s benefit. And for my own, I suppose. “I’ll get fired.”

  “You’re the Bobcats hope. They just spent millions to get you—”

  Not millions. I only got that if I played well. Really, really well. But that wasn’t the point. “If you’re only here for an interview, you’ll have to go.” Please don’t go. “But if you’re here as a friend, if you want to just talk for a bit, then have dinner with me.”

  I studiously avoided Nico’s stare. The first thing every player was told when they stepped into professional sports was that no reporter was just a friend. Off the record didn’t exist. And female reporters were Satan’s temptation into hell.

  “Okay—” she said.

  “Great,” Nico interrupted. “You give her a tour. I’ll have dinner set up in here in an hour. Burgers okay?” Clearly he wanted us right where he could keep an eye on us. But I hated that idea.

  “Not in your office,” I said. “How about—”

  “Fine. Up in one of the boxes.”

  I’d been about to suggest the nicest restaurant in Indianapolis, but I could tell by Nico’s interruption that he wasn’t going to allow that. Which meant we were going to eat at the stadium. And it would be stadium food. But at least we’d have a nice view of the ballpark.

  “One of the boxes okay with you?” I asked Heidi. Please say yes.

  “Um, okay. Sure.”

  I grinned, but behind me Nico sighed, as if he were watching me walk down the road to hell. And perhaps he was, but I was firm.

  “Cheeseburgers in an hour,” I said as I offered Heidi my arm.

  “Press box,” Nico practically growled.

  As if I needed any reminder that she was a journalist. Then we both looked at Heidi.

  Her gaze was sharp as it darted between the two of us. But her lips, oh God, those dusky-pink lips, were curved into a tentative smile. “I’d be happy to take a tour with you, Rob,” she said. Oh hell. She sounded like a journalist who’d just gotten the break she needed for her big story.

  Nico went on alert. “And you’ll leave your purse and your cell here. No recording devices. Not even a pencil. Got it?”

  She nodded and set her purse, notebook, and Bobcats cap on the desk.

  “You can keep the hat,” Nico said, pointing to the ballcap.

  I stopped her with a touch to her hand. “Leave it. I like your hair free.”

  Her gaze cut to mine and for the first time since seeing her again, I felt a sizzle kindle in the air between us. Heat as our gazes collided. Breathless anticipation as we both felt our breath catch and hold.

  Hot, hot, hot.

  “Right this way,” I said as I gestured out the door.

  She stepped out and I followed, making sure to firmly shut the door on Nico. He wasn’t going to be our third wheel. And this time, I wasn’t going to screw up by walking out on Heidi before we were both ready.

  Chapter Seven

&nbs
p; Heidi

  Stay focused.

  Two words that had kept me on the straight and narrow for my entire life. Well, with the exception of a certain spring break sex fest.

  Get the interview.

  I had solitary one-on-one time with the hot new rookie. If I couldn’t get some sort of article together from this, then I didn’t deserve to work at a major newspaper. That was my single goal for the next hour.

  Except that every time I looked at him, I remembered the way he’d gazed at me three years ago, fascination and awe in his eyes. He’d watched me blow-dry my hair and it had been one of the single hottest moments of my life. Worse, he had a hunger, too—then and now—that made my toes curl and my mouth water. And it was hell on my concentration.

  Get the interview.

  I’d just get him talking about himself. Easy-peasy, right? What superstar didn’t like bragging? Or what guy for that matter? All it would take was a smile and a “that’s so fascinating,” and he would spill all sorts of things that I could put in a piece, even if I couldn’t quote him directly.

  Except three years ago, that hadn’t worked. He’d been the least full-of-himself guy I’d ever met. With those sweet dimples and honest expression, I knew the boy I remembered was right here. The one who had taken my breath away because he’d been fascinated by me. And part of me wanted that back. He’d made me feel powerful, fascinating, and so bold, I lived out one of my favorite fantasies with him.

  I took a deep breath and tried not to inhale his scent. Raw male plus Ivory soap. Who knew that was so sexy? But I had a job here and I decided to start with flattery.

  “I followed your career,” I said. Then I flushed. “I kind of stalked you.”

  “Really?” Did he doubt it? He probably had hundreds of women stalking him.

  “You’re amazing. You said you’d go straight to the majors and you have.”

  “My life is boring,” he said with a casual flick of his wrist. Then he smiled at me with those all-American blue eyes and I lost my train of thought. “What have you been doing since college?”