The Hot Corner

by Amy Noelle

  His desk was plenty big without me moving anything. “This will work.” I glanced around the room. He had a big, cushy, black leather couch and a huge television set up, along with movies, a DVD and Blu-ray player, trophies, and baseball memorabilia in the room. “Now this looks like you.”

  “This is where I spend most of my time. I watch game tape in here and listen to music and such. Will that bother you?” He looked almost nervous as he asked.

  “Of course not. I like noise when I work.”

  He smiled. “I remember that, too.” It used to drive him nuts that I had to have music blaring or the television on when I was studying. “I think this will work out rather well.” He was right. And I kind of wanted to watch him watch game tape.

  “What is it you look for when you watch tape?” I took out my notebook, and he grinned.

  “Are we working now?”

  “Yes. Play later.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He grabbed a disk out of a case on his entertainment center and slid it in. “I watch the pitcher, his mechanics, how he looks when he throws a fastball, a slider, a curve . . . you get the picture.” He queued up the DVR and the screen filled with the face of Emilio Chavez, starting pitcher for the Phillies, Brad’s next opponent. He patted the couch and I sat down next to him.

  “It’s the little things.” Emilio wound up and fired a pitch right down the middle. “See, that was a fastball.” He rewound it. “He kicks higher when he throws a fastball.” He fast-forwarded, seeming to know just where to stop. “That, that was his slider.” Try as I might, I couldn’t see any difference in the way the ball was thrown.

  “He leans more, less height on the kick,” Brad murmured, seemingly forgetting I was sitting there. I watched him while he commented on infinitesimal moves, sitting forward and devouring the film like he would be tested on it. I guess in a way he would be.

  “Can you really see all that as you’re standing at the plate with a tiny ball firing at you at ninety miles an hour?” I asked, because damn.

  “Ninety-eight,” he said, and I scowled. “And no, not really. I mean, I don’t have time to think about what he’s doing, but my brain can recognize it and hopefully adjust accordingly. I react, and hopefully it’s the right way.” He hit a button, and there was Brad at the plate. “Now, I can watch myself and make changes if need be. See, I pressed on that first pitch. I knew Fields was a first pitch fastball thrower, and he changed it up on me. That’s why I popped up. And my stance, it’s all wrong.” He shook his head while I tried to see what he was seeing. Nope. He looked exactly the same to me.

  “How so?”

  “I’m too far back on my heels, my balance is off, and I’m a half-second behind on the swing.” He kept muttering as I absorbed this new side of him. In college, he’d kept practice at practice. He might complain about something he did wrong, or about getting yelled at by the coach or something, but he wouldn’t sit and watch himself for hours. It was just more evidence of the perfectionist he’d become. I liked that he took it so seriously. I doubted all players were as dedicated.

  I left Brad to his tape and sat down to type up my thoughts and occasionally jot down something he said about an opposing team’s moves and strategies. I looked at the list of people I’d talked to and the people I needed to follow up with and decided it was as good a time as any to ask about something that had been nagging at me.

  “Brad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The list of people you told me to talk to—that was complete, right?”

  He paused the television and turned around to peer at me. “Yeah, why?”

  “Where’s Bailey?”

  Silence greeted my question, and I gave him a go-ahead gesture.

  I took a deep breath, determined to keep my cool. “She was your best friend, right? Don’t you talk to her anymore?”

  “No, I don’t.” Brad turned around and started the tape up again.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, um . . . shouldn’t I talk to someone who knew you best back then?”

  I might hate her guts, but his dad was gone, and I’d already tackled teammates and coaches. Several of them had mentioned how Bailey and Brad had been joined at the hip. People called them the Killer Bs in high school, and a lot of them had thought one day they’d get married. That sick feeling in my stomach wasn’t something I was likely to forget.

  “We grew apart. It happens.” His words were short and clipped. I saved my document and moved back to the couch. Brad avoided my eyes as I sat next to him.

  “Brad? It’s okay, you can talk to me. I know she was important to you. And I know—”

  “Was being the operative word.”

  I said nothing, just sat and stared at him, and finally he sighed and stopped the tape.

  “I fucked up. We don’t talk anymore.”

  I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “You . . . you slept with her?”

  “What?” He glared at me and threw up his hands. “How many damn times do I have to tell you I didn’t fuck every girl I ever met?”

  I laid a placating hand on his arm. “It’s just, that’s the best way I know of to screw up a friendship, and . . .” And I’d seen them together. I knew what had happened.

  “Good thing you and I were never friends, then,” he said. He smiled at me, his mood shifting like lightning.

  “You were my best friend.” It slipped out before I could stop myself, and he pulled me into his arms.

  “I meant before we dated. You were my best friend, too.” He kissed the top of my head and eased me onto his lap. He held me and I continued to touch him, running my fingers through his hair and down his back for a while before he loosened his grip and buried his head in my neck. I held him and let him have his moments alone with his thoughts. Eventually, he looked up at me and I smiled at him.

  “What do you say to pizza and beer?” I asked. “My treat.” It was what we ordered whenever one of us was having a bad day back in school.

  “I’ve already got the beer, but you can get the pie.”

  “Deal. How about we meet back here and put in a crappy movie and not watch it for a couple hours?” Our other form of therapy—making out.

  I got a real smile from him. “I think that’ll work,” he said.

  Hopefully it would soothe both of us. “I’m on it. Who delivers?”

  Brad laughed. “There’s a flyer in the drawer next to the fridge.” He released me and I started for the door.

  “Dani?”

  I turned and found him where I’d left him, watching me. “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  I felt tears spring to my eyes. “It’s only a pizza.”

  He held my gaze, his face serious. “It’s a lot more than that, and you know it.”

  Yeah, I did. So I gave him the truth. “I love you, too.”

  He looked almost relieved, while I felt like I was going to hurl.

  “Dani?”

  “What?”

  “Forget the pie.” He was in front of me in seconds and his lips crushed down on mine. Who needed comfort food when I had this?

  Chapter 22

  It was surprisingly easy to fall back into old patterns I’d thought were long forgotten. Brad got up first every morning to work out, while I mumbled and buried my head under the pillows. I had coffee ready and waiting when he got out of his shower. We spent a little time together before he went to the stadium, and I showered and got to writing. Eventually I’d come up for air and go to watch him play. We’d come home and have a snack before falling into bed and either making love or going to sleep. It felt good. Right.

  He still forgot to put the toilet seat down half the time, and I still left clothes on the floor. For a change, he made the bed before he left but laughed every night when he found it either unmade from a nap I’d taken or rumpled because I’d brought my laptop into the bedroom and lain on my stomach while typing away. I made his favorite brownies, and he stocked the pantry with my fa
vorite chips and boxes of microwave popcorn.

  The museum of a condo had started feeling like a home, much to my utter shock. While I wasn’t looking forward to his next road trip, I thought I might not be as uncomfortable by myself as I’d imagined.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  I looked up from my laptop and took in my . . . jeez. My boyfriend. It sounded so weird now. “I was just thinking.”

  “Never a good thing,” he said, deadpan, dodging the pillow I chucked at him. “I’m sorry. What were you thinking, baby?”

  “Well, I was thinking how much I like staying here, but I’m having second thoughts now.”

  Brad smirked and pulled my feet into his lap. He started to rub them, and I moaned and closed my computer. “And how about now?”

  “Thoughts are shifting back to the positive.”

  He tickled my foot, clamping down on my ankles when I shrieked and tried to get away from him.

  “Negative!” I shouted. “Very negative!”

  He stopped tickling me but pulled me closer so my legs were draped across his lap. He wrapped his arm around me and I leaned into his embrace. He smelled clean and so very good after his shower. “And now?”

  “Mmm. I like day games the best, I think. So I get time with you at night.”

  “I agree. I like homestands the most now, and I used to feel differently.”

  I sat up to study him. “Why?”

  “You weren’t here.”

  “But you actually preferred living out of hotels?” I wrinkled my nose, and he laughed.

  “Says she who took days of begging and pleading to leave her hotel and move in here.” He stroked my leg, his long fingers tickling the flesh of my inner thigh. I shivered but didn’t pull away.

  “It was easier,” he said. “Not having to clean up after myself, being waited on hand and foot. You know how it is.”

  After staying in the hotel in Chicago with him for a few days, I did. “But I only held out less than a week.”

  “That’s because I’m so persuasive.”

  He was that, all right. His fingers were creeping further up my leg, sliding just underneath my shorts. I shifted a bit so he had more room, earning a smug smile for my trouble.

  “Maybe I’m just easy,” I said. He barked out a laugh, and I realized my verbal slip. “I mean a sucker.”

  “Well, you’re good at that, too,” he said, leering. Damn it, I’d walked right into that one.

  “I’m good at a lot of things you’ll be missing in the near future if you keep that up.”

  “Really? You’d cut me off?” He poked his lip out in an adorable pout as his fingers found the line of my underwear and traced the fabric. I regretted my threat instantly.

  “I could,” I said weakly.

  “But you don’t want to.” Not hardly. Especially not when those talented fingers crept a little higher and brushed over me lightly. My eyes rolled and I started to pant.

  “No, but I will.” My words sounded ridiculous even to my own ears, probably because I was breathless and pressing against his hand as I said them.

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” He stilled his hand and shifted to face the television. “Well, will you look at that?”

  I was loath to tear my glare away from his smug, handsome face, but I turned to see what he was talking about and there I was, sitting in the stands, grinning at Brad like a lovesick fool.

  “Damn it, why do they keep showing me?” The feed cut to actual game highlights, thankfully, while Brad laughed.

  “I think that cameraman has a crush on you. I’m going to have to get him fired.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. But you can tell him to stop filming me. I’m not the attraction.”

  “Au contraire, Red. I’m very attracted to you.”

  I huffed as I turned my glare his way. “Could have fooled me.”

  “What?” He smiled and flexed his fingers against me. I moaned. “Oh, you mean that? I was just respecting your boundaries.”

  “I have no boundaries when it comes to you.” It was the simple truth. The man had knocked down all my walls and wormed his way back into my heart. I was such a fool, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “You did when you first got here.”

  “And you didn’t?” I asked.

  “One look at you and I was putty in your hands.”

  I had to laugh as I slid my hand over his crotch and found him hard and ready. “You’ve never been putty when you were in my hands.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” His fingers moved against me again and we stroked each other, our gazes locked as we both started to breathe heavier. “From the first time I caught you staring at me in English class, I’ve been yours.”

  Just as I’d been his.

  “I wasn’t staring at you,” I said. “The girl next to me was, and I was just trying to see what all the hoopla was.”

  He pressed himself into my hand. “And you see it now, don’t you?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “I didn’t fall for you because of the sex.”

  “Why did you fall for me?” he asked, stilling his fingers.

  That was a loaded question. “When? Then or now?”

  “Both.”

  “Then, because despite being one of the most wanted men on campus, you were sweet and kind and only had eyes for me. You made me laugh, turned me on, and challenged me at every turn.”

  He smirked. “I like that. And now?”

  Now was so much harder. “You still challenge me at every turn.”

  Brad chuckled. “Nice.” His hand slid out of my shorts but, before I could protest, he pulled them down my legs. “Keep trying.”

  He slid his hands back up toward my thighs. “Well, you still turn me on.” That much was obvious since I was panting like a bitch in heat.

  “That we know. Keep going.”

  He was such a pain, but his fingers were creeping ever higher. “You can be sweet and kind, when you want to be.”

  “I can be lots of things,” he said, brushing his fingers over me. He could be lots of things, some good, and some bad. I wanted them all.

  “You’re still wanted by tons of women. Even more now,” I muttered, sulking.

  “And yet I still only have eyes for you.” He slid his fingers underneath the fabric and started touching me for real. I writhed against him.

  “I want you,” I said. That, too, seemed like it would never change.

  “And you’ll have me, soon.”

  I opened my eyes when Brad’s fingers left me and shot him a dirty look. He laughed.

  “What’s this soon crap?” I asked.

  He laughed harder. “You answered me, so now I’m going to do the same.” Oh. I sat up and Brad took my hand. “I turned around in that classroom that day, and you were all I saw. It was like being struck by lightning. ‘There she is. She’s the one.’ I had to talk to you after class, see if you felt it, too. You were so damn cute, blushing and stammering, and I had to ask you out. Then we went to dinner and we talked so easily, like we’d known each other forever. The attraction was still there, obviously, but it was comfortable, too. Then I kissed you for the first time, and I never wanted to stop.”

  My eyes fluttered closed and I had to catch my breath.

  “I don’t know when I fell in love with you. It might have been over that first dinner. I know it didn’t take me long. You were smart and funny and you’d argue with me instead of just agreeing with anything I said like most girls I knew. You were genuinely nice to everyone, except for the girls who hit on me in front of you.”

  I sneered at the reminder, and he laughed.

  “And even then, you didn’t make a scene. You trusted me. You supported me and learned the game for me. It was impossible not to love you.”

  Damn it. “You’re putting my answer to shame.”

  He grinned and kissed my nose. “I’ve had a long time to think about it. As to why I love you now? For all those reasons, on top of your b
eing the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. You might be more ornery and stubborn now, but I think I love that even more.”

  I felt warm all over. “Well, you’re definitely more challenging and just as ornery and stubborn, so I guess we’re pretty well matched.”

  “So it seems.”

  “Brad, I’m proud of the man you’ve become,” I said. I had to give him all of it. “You’re so focused and dedicated to your career and, frankly, that doesn’t get enough publicity because of your personal life.” He grimaced, and I squeezed his hand. “One of the best things about you is how hard you’ve worked to achieve your dreams. I find that extremely sexy.”

  He flashed his wicked grin. “And the real truth comes out. It’s my body you love.”

  I laughed. “I think I may love your dirty mind even more. But I do mean it. I’m proud of you. And I think your dad would be as well.” He blinked a few times, and I touched his cheek. “He would, Brad.”

  “I know. And we’ll talk about it, but not now. I can’t . . . not here.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t want to push him, but I knew his father was one of the reasons, maybe the main reason, that he worked so damn hard at being the best. He should know his dad would have appreciated that.

  “Tomorrow.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “I want to take you somewhere, show you someplace special to me, and we’ll talk there, okay?”

  I knew I’d go anywhere he asked. “Sure.” He appeared to be a million miles away, so I cleared my throat. “I may not love you because of the sex, but it certainly does help matters.”

  There it was. His grin was back, and he pushed me down on the couch. “Well, I guess I’d better get to it so I can keep you loving me.”

  I’d love him no matter what, it seemed, but I wasn’t going to argue, especially when his hands slid under my shirt. He cupped my breasts and squeezed them gently before tugging my shirt over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra, as that was always the first piece of clothing I lost the instant I returned home.

  “I love that that hasn’t changed either.” He lay on top of me, lowering his lips to my nipple, swirling first one and then the other with his tongue.