The Man For Me

by Gemma Bruce

  A sound was wrenched from him, something between a groan and a cry.

  And they began to tear at each other. Frantic to be closer. He pulled her windbreaker down her arms, clasped her around the waist while she shimmied the fabric over her hands and let it drop to the ground.

  He walked her backward, never letting go, kissing her deeply, attacking her mouth as he held her. One hand slipped around to her breast. Cupped it. Then his hand was under her shirt. He pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it to the ground as she groped for the buttons of his shirt.

  They were both driving mindlessly toward something. Toward something new. Toward something she couldn’t begin to name or even think about.

  He unclasped her bra as she yanked his shirt from his slacks. Moved to his belt buckle while his hands covered her breast. Still kissing her. Fingers clasping and unclasping the rounded, heated flesh. Releasing his lips on hers just enough to reclaim her again.

  A guttural sigh escaped from deep inside her as she unzipped his slacks and slipped her hand inside. Pressed her palm against his erection. Then caressed lower to hold his balls. They were hard and hot and she wanted more. Wanted him inside her. Wanted to make love with him. Now.

  His mouth moved from hers to her breast. Released one hand and sucked in the nipple. His free hand fumbled with the button of her jeans. And when it opened he grabbed a fist full of jeans and tore the zipper open.

  He pushed the jeans down her thighs, stopping to press his open palm between her legs.

  She was wet. She could feel the slickness as his fingers moved over her, through her and then inside. She released him to push the jeans farther down her thighs so she could open to him completely.

  J.T. used the toe of one foot to lever off her shoe. Kicked off the other. Tommy was doing the same. His tongue licked across her flesh to her other breast. Nuzzled it, blew hot breath across the wet path of his tongue.

  She shivered, then jerked as his fingers moved across her most sensitive flesh.

  “Not enough hands,” he mumbled. His breath puffed against her wet skin. She pushed his slacks and underwear down his legs.

  They released each other to shuck the rest of their clothes then met again, body to body, skin to skin in the moonlight.

  Tommy drew her down to the grass until they were facing each other on their knees. He grasped her butt and pulled her into his heat. His erection was smooth and taut against her skin. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. Pulled him down until they were lying on the grass near the pitcher’s mound.

  “I tried to call,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper. “I—”

  She placed two fingers over his lips to silence him. She didn’t want an explanation, or an excuse or apology. She didn’t want to have to think about it. She didn’t want to think at all. Because if she did, she would stop them. And she didn’t want to stop.

  He rolled into her. Spread his body over hers, pushing her into the grass. The ground was hard, Tommy was hard, everywhere. And then he was inside her. All at once. Without warning. Without a condom.

  She stiffened.

  “Shit.” He pulled out, leaving her empty. Rolled to his slacks and fumbled to find the pockets. Opened his wallet, pulled out a foil pack that glittered in the moonlight. Bills fell out and scattered on the ground. Tommy didn’t notice. He tore open the foil and pushing it down the length of his erection, he half-slid half-crawled back to her. “I’m not thinking clearly.”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t thinking at all.

  When he climbed back on top of her, she grabbed his butt and gripped the muscles as he entered her. He groaned as she closed around him. She was so close to the edge, she was wild with it.

  He withdrew to thrust again. She lifted her hips to meet him. Bent her legs until they were wrapped around his waist.

  And she shattered. She was vaguely aware of Tommy’s cry as he followed her over. And still they pummeled each other, past the point of ecstasy and into the realm of pain. Exquisite pain. Craving more even before the contractions had subsided, even before Tommy finally collapsed on the grass next to her.

  They lay there, side by side, expelling air. Bodies hyper-aware, minds oblivious. Looking up at the stars and the whole universe above them.

  And slowly reality began to seep into J.T.’s benumbed brain. They were laying stark-naked in the middle of a baseball field. Surrounded by spectator stands.

  The heat of the moment turned cold.

  Jesus. Was she asking for complete humiliation? What if someone saw? Mr. Harris could be standing in the shadows at this moment. Anyone could be looking through the fence. She could be on the front page of the tabloids again tomorrow. And she could kiss her career good-bye forever.

  She heard Tommy’s expulsion of breath as she tried frantically to decide which to do first. Run for cover. Or grab her clothes.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time on the field,” Tommy said. “But never in my wildest fantasy did I ever dream of this.”

  “Because it’s totally insane,” J.T. said, preparing to make a mad dash for her clothes.

  He seemed to sense her intention because he slipped his arm under her shoulders and held her fast.

  “Tommy. Let go. This is really dumb.”

  “It doesn’t feel dumb. It feels perfect.”

  Yeah. Try telling him that when his bare ass showed up on grocery-store magazine racks across the country.

  Tommy was frowning at her. “What’s the matter?”

  “Tommy, look at us. We’re naked in a ballpark.”

  His frown changed into a slow smile. “Yeah. And to think I was standing here feeling sorry for myself just a few minutes ago.”

  “You’ll be sorry again if anyone sees us.” She managed to slip from his arms.

  “They won’t,” Tommy said, but J.T. was already crouch-walking toward the litter of clothes. He pushed to his feet. “I’ll get them. Go stand in the dugout.”

  Unbearably relieved, J.T. nodded and scooted into the shadows of the dugout roof. Tommy collected jeans and shirts. Stooped to gather up the money that had fallen out of his wallet.

  She watched the moonlight glint off his skin, pale and white except his face and arms. And she wanted him all over again.

  Forget it. She had to get out of here. She stood up and waited for him to cross the expanse of grass, his cock still semi-erect beneath the bundle of clothes he held to his chest. He was halfway there when a series of clanks sounded from the dark. J.T. jumped, cowered.

  And suddenly it was raining. The sprinklers had timed on. Tommy stopped and lifted his face to the drops. He started laughing.

  “Tommy, damn it, hurry up.”

  But he just laughed and kept laughing until he was soaked and the clothes dripped in his arms.

  “Come out and play, Jess. It feels great.”

  “No, thank you. Could you throw me my clothes?”

  Tommy looked down at the bundle clasped to his chest. Surprised as if they’d magically appeared there. He clutched them tighter and trotted toward her. Wet cloth flapping and his cock bobbing with each step.

  As soon as he stepped into the dugout, she snatched her jacket. He held on and came with it. Stole a kiss that nearly made her forget her fear. She broke away.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head as she hastily put on the jacket. Then she grabbed her jeans and tried to hop into them.

  Tommy wrestled them out of her hand. “There’s a dryer inside. Come on.”

  She was being a wuss, she knew. But panic had set in and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He probably thought she was a prude. She wasn’t, but she was gun-shy. And she hated herself for it. She’d never had sex like this before. Not just out in the open. But so driven, so out of control. It was the best, most frightening thing she’d ever experienced. And she’d spoiled it, all because she was nervous about being caught.

  There were people who craved the danger and excitement of dis
covery, but J.T. wasn’t one of them. She already had a reputation to live down, even if it was one she didn’t deserve.

  She followed Tommy meekly inside, clutching the windbreaker to her chest, hoping it was long enough to cover other vital parts. Tommy walked ahead of her now. And J.T. was momentarily distracted by the outline of his shoulders, his waist, his narrow tight butt, his muscular thighs.

  Instead of going into the locker room, he turned left into a room with a washer and dryer. He wrestled her jacket off her and tossed it into the dryer with the rest of their clothes.

  “Mr. Harris.”

  “Mr. Harris won’t bother us. And he won’t let any late-night sightseers bother us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He sounded put out. And she supposed she didn’t blame him. But still. She stepped toward him, unsure of what to say or do. She just knew that she didn’t want the evening to end this way.

  It had to end and soon or the rumors would start flying. And how could she face the team or Bernie again? But she couldn’t think of one damn thing to say. Tommy cocked his head at her. “Come here.”

  She stepped into his arms and they closed around her. Not heated like before but cool from his unexpected shower. And not, hopefully, from his cooled ardor.

  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said. “It was the furthest thing from my mind. But then you were there like an apparition, only real and warm and I missed you. I couldn’t wait to get back, but when I got here…”

  She felt his heartbeat kick up.

  “Then it hit me, the enormity of it all. I just came here to regroup.”

  She nodded into his shoulder.

  “And to see if it felt any different, standing out there than before.”

  “And did it?”

  “Yeah. It was good-bye.”

  She pulled away. “It doesn’t have to be. You can still pitch. You could have several more decent years. If the Galaxies don’t have room for you on the roster, there are other teams that would snap you up in a New York minute.”

  Tommy shook his head. “It was time. My shoulder hurts all the time. It isn’t going to get better. And I want to have enough mobility left to enjoy life after baseball. I have plans. But I haven’t had to plan my own life for a long time. Ever maybe. It’s kind of daunting.”

  “You’ll be fine,” J.T. said, touched that he would confide this to her.

  “What are your plans?” She held up a hand. “Off the record.”

  Tommy was silent. Then, “Can I wait and tell you tomorrow?”

  Chapter 18

  “Do you think you could find us something to wear while we’re waiting for our clothes?”

  “Huh?” Tommy’s eyes were smoldering. J.T.’s eyes traveled south. He was ready for more and ordinarily she would be, too, but she was too frazzled. She stepped back. “Tommy?”

  He didn’t answer. The only sound was the thump-thump of their sneakers going around and around in the dryer.

  J.T.’s teeth were beginning to chatter. Not just from cold but from anxiety.

  Tommy moved to her, scooped her up before she could step away. He stood with her cradled in his arms, smiling at her. “What about a nice hot shower?”

  “No.” It came out in a squawk.

  Tommy blinked. “When we get out, our clothes will be nice and toasty.”

  “I have to go.” J.T. tried to squirm out of his arms.

  “No,” he said, holding her tighter.

  She really wanted to succumb. Tension was building in her belly. The fullness between her legs tingled. He was warm, strong, and she wanted to be able just to let go and let him take care of the whole situation. She tried to unclasp his arms.

  “Is it because of the way I just took what I wanted just now? It’s not like me. Really it isn’t. Something just came over me. I’m sorry.”

  “No. I wanted it, too. It was great. Better than great, but I’m skittish about public displays. I’m here on assignment. Not to play.”

  “Is that what this is. Playing?”

  “What else would it be?”

  He was holding her so close to him that she could hear him swallow before he answered. “I’m not sure. I just know that when I saw you standing there, I was so relieved after being so crazed for days that I just snapped. Give me another chance. I’m really pretty good under normal circumstances.”

  J.T. laughed in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. “Trust me, you were pretty good tonight.” And if you’d only let me go so I can get away from you, I won’t fall desperately in love. Or have my picture in the tabloids. “It isn’t you.”

  “Oh brother.”

  “No. I mean it. I—” She stopped. Deliberated. If she told him about the photos, he’d probably look it up on the Internet, then the whole sordid thing would start over again. Whether he believed her or not, it would taint his opinion of her, like it had everyone who’d seen it. And she just couldn’t take the chance. Which meant there was no future for her and Tommy Bainbridge. Not that there ever had been the chance of one.

  “It’s just that if people find out about us having sex, they won’t take me seriously as a reporter. I’ve seen it happen a lot. So many men, so much temptation.”

  “Have you been tempted before?”

  “No! I mean I’ve been tempted. But I never acted on it. I’m a professional.”

  “What if it…” He put her down. “I’d better see if the clothes are dry.”

  They were dry enough. They dressed in silence. Brushing grass blades and dirt off as they donned their damp clothes. They should have been dressing each other, only a wall had gone up, just like it had the first night they’d made love—had sex. Or whatever it was.

  It was like for a few minutes, they’d gone mad. Then come to their senses again and tried to pretend it hadn’t happened.

  It probably shouldn’t happen again, though the thought made her sad. She very much wanted it to happen again—and again.

  Yeah. Well, there’s a lot you’d like that you won’t ever get.

  They walked back to the main office without speaking. They called out a good night to Mr. Harris who didn’t make an appearance, then went toward their cars.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like me to come back to your motel with you?”

  J.T. shook her head. “Tommy, I’ve loved every minute we’ve spent together, but I have work to do.”

  He nodded and opened her car door. He stopped her as she started to get inside. Kissed her gently then eased her onto the seat. “I can be less aggressive.”

  “Tommy,” J.T. said shortly, her letdown turning to exasperation. “I meant what I said. It was great. But you’re going through a heavy life transition and quite frankly, my job is on the line. We don’t want to complicate things.”

  “No. That would be stupid.”

  “Right. Good night.”

  “Night.” He shut her door. J.T. drove away, not looking back. She didn’t dare. It was hard enough seeing the road through the blur of tears.

  Tommy watched J.T. drive away wondering what had happened. He’d told her the truth about being relieved to see her. Then he’d practically attacked her. She’d reciprocated until she realized where they were. Maybe he should have taken her home with him.

  What was she so worried about? Journalists had affairs with players all the time. Why did she have to be different? Because he would never have succumbed to her if she’d been like all the rest. And what did she mean by “her job was on the line”? Was she on some kind of probation?

  You could have asked her, dummy, if you hadn’t scared her away. J.T. was one skittish woman. But she seemed to like him. And he liked her. Ergo, dumb ass. You blew it.

  He beeped the Beemer open and got inside. It was a lonely ride back to Melrose Street. And for the first time in many years, Tommy wondered what it would be like to have someone to come home to.

  Morning came all too soon for J.T. It had taken her long enough to get to sleep. She’d a
cted like a fool last night. Not just for freaking out about being naked for the world to see. That she could rationalize. But telling Tommy they shouldn’t complicate things.

  She was putting too much spin on what was happening between them. He needed diversion, she needed…to get a life. One of her very own. One that didn’t include trying to please Skinny or the Coach or even Tommy Bainbridge.

  It had taken a lot of guts for Tommy to make the decision to leave baseball. She wished she had some of his fortitude.

  Of course, he was famous. One of the major broadcasters would pick him up as a commentator; his face and voice were made for television. He was intelligent. But somehow she couldn’t see Tommy being content to sit on the sidelines and analyze other people’s playing.

  He said he had plans, but he hadn’t told her what they were. And they are probably none of your business, she told herself. She’d ask him for an interview. Nothing personal, just news. Then she’d send it to Skinny and see if he’d give her another chance.

  But when she got to the field, Tommy wasn’t there. She refused to make any inference like every time we have sex, he disappears. Twice didn’t make a valid control group.

  And besides she didn’t have time for self-discovery right now. She had a job to save. And a conspiracy to uncover.

  The team was warming up on the field. Bernie was cracking the proverbial whip. With the first game two days away, the energy was picking up.

  At least Boskey was hitting again. Kurtz was consistently knocking them over the fence. Brown and Pisano were the other most consistent hitters. Ramirez, when he kept his mind on the game, could get the job done.

  The pitching coach was working with Milo Newton in the bullpen. J.T. wandered over to watch.

  The kid was all over the place. When he got it over the plate, it looked good. But that only happened about one out of ten times. That was a lot of walks, and professional ball games didn’t have a mercy rule.