by Jean Joachim
“Christ, it’s hot as Hell!”
She nodded, looking at the lights still on in the city.
“Paradise shuts down about one a.m. Want to go for a swim? I’ve had enough air conditioning for the day.”
“With bathing suits?”
“Of course! Did you bring yours?”
“I did.”
“Great. Best way to cool off after a hot day.”
And a hot dinner with a hot guy?
The house was quiet when they returned. Matt’s buddies were in the living room watching a movie and eating popcorn. With the noise of machine guns blasting from the television, they didn’t even hear the couple return. Dusty slipped into her room and put on her bikini. She tossed a T-shirt on and headed for the backyard.
Matt was already in the pool. “Grab a towel there. The purple one.”
“Purple?”
“It’s for guests.”
She nodded, picked up the towel from the lounge chair, and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water. Matt swam over. Soft lighting joined the moon to create a romantic atmosphere. The water cooled her blood.
He pushed down on the edge and hoisted himself up to sit next to her. With water dripping from his chest and shoulders, his hair wet and gleaming in the light, he took her breath away. His abs weren’t washboard, but he was fit, and the brown hair on his chest was wet, sticking to his skin. His shoulders were the widest she’d ever seen up close.
God, she wanted to touch him!
He tugged on the short sleeve of her shirt. “Aren’t you coming in?”
She nodded and pulled the shirt up and off. A sound from him made her turn. He looked almost shy as he stared at her body.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Nice to have my memory refreshed,” he replied, his gaze raking her slowly.
She laughed.
“It’s hot,” he said.
Hell, yeah, it’s hot. And getting hotter the longer I sit next to you.
“Let’s go in,” he said, touching her elbow before easing himself into the water. She slid down and paddled behind him. She headed for the shallow end as Matt went into lap mode. She stood neck-deep and watched him. Doing freestyle, his powerful shoulders rotated with his even strokes. His legs kicked, and he seemed to glide through the water.
Being an excellent swimmer, she was at home in the pool and decided to show him she knew her way around. Dusty took off, doing laps in her favorite stroke, the Butterfly. She zoomed through the water, doing five laps in no time, like when she had competed in high school and college.
When she stopped, Matt was standing by the side in the shallow end, watching. “That was fuckin’ amazing. Oops. Pardon the language. You’re an awesome swimmer.”
“I competed in the Butterfly in school. Won a couple of medals too.”
“All-around athlete?”
“Sort of.”
“Why softball?”
“I don’t know. I just fell in love with it. The team thing. Whatever.”
“Yeah, I know. I never have an answer when people ask me that question, either.”
He moved closer. The chill from the water wore off as the heat from his body reached hers. He looked down at her. Dusty stepped forward, tilting her chin up and resting her palms on his pecs. Touching him sent a little shiver through her.
“Cold?” he asked, his breath warming her face.
“Not a chance,” she said.
He brought his mouth down on hers in a gentle kiss. She wound her arms around his waist, and he deepened it, unleashing her passion. Working, going to school, and playing ball had left little time for romance. Dusty was like a starving man in the desert. She molded her body to his, and he responded, closing his arms around her and hugging her to him.
He tasted a bit like steak and coffee—delicious. The scent of chlorine mixed with the remnants of his spicy aftershave, seducing her nose. His skin was soft, but the muscle underneath was as hard as rock. She pushed her fingertips into his shoulders, enjoying his soft groan.
Matt slid his hands down to cup her behind. He squeezed and pushed her against him. He was getting hard, and with only two thin scraps of material separating them, she knew exactly how aroused. Even though she was standing in water, she knew some of the wetness between her legs was her own.
He broke first. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask you down here for this.”
“What?”
“To sleep with you.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“No, no. It’s just that I don’t see anything so wrong about it.”
“You don’t?” His eyes widened.
“I mean, when two people have so much in common and are attracted to each other. Is there really something wrong with taking it to the next level?”
“Not a damn thing. I had no idea you felt that way,” he said.
“I don’t sleep with every guy, but with you…well, it’s different.”
“Same here, about you.” He snaked his arm around her shoulders and combed her hair back with his fingers.
“You’re not a man whore?”
He laughed. “Nope. Not my style. I’m no saint. I’ve had my share of short term, uh, liaisons? But I’m not combing bars, looking to get laid.”
“I thought every male athlete was.”
“Wrong,” he said.
“Good. That makes me feel better.”
“You’re special. Very special. But you must know that.” His voice had dropped to an intimate level.
“Never hurts to hear it.”
“You are the most incredible, amazing, beautiful woman,” he whispered, as he lowered his mouth again.
Dusty eased up, fastening her legs around his waist. He slid his hand up her ribcage to cover her breast. Something exploded inside her at his touch. Like a match to gasoline, her body was electrified, ready to love him.
As she was about to grab his shaft, there was a huge splash, followed by another and another. The couple looked up as three Nighthawks cannonballed into the pool. Bobby Hernandez, Skip Quincy, and Jake Lawrence bombarded them. Matt swore under his breath. Dusty slid down, but clung to him as the water turbulence threatened to knock her down.
“What the hell?” Matt looked at his buddies, who were diving and surfacing like a bunch of seals.
“Thought you guys wanted some company.” Bobby snickered.
“You thought wrong!” Matt’s temper flared.
“Gee. Too late. Sorry,” Skip said, shrugging.
Dusty pushed her way through the water to the stairs. She scampered up to the deck, sensing the gazes of four men on her scantily clad body. Grabbing the purple towel, she wrapped it around her chest and faced the catcher.
“Goodnight, Matt. Thanks for a great day and an awesome dinner.” She raised her palm.
“Wait, Dusty! These guys were just leaving!”
She shook her head, scattering drops of water, and disappeared into the house. The last words she heard were Matt’s.
“You fuckin’ bastards! I’ll get you for this. All of you!”
The sound of male laughter trailed Matt’s threat.
Dusty smiled. Maybe they had done the right thing. Perhaps this house would not be an ideal place to have intimate time with Matt Jackson. Although she’d not lost her virginity in a fraternity house, the comparison to this place was too close to miss.
Nicki would yell at her, but Dusty had done the right thing. Now, we have something to look forward to, next time we meet. But when would that be? She chewed her lip for a second, before confidence kicked in. Matt Jackson wanted her. There would be a next time. Her body tingled in anticipation.
* * * *
Serious self-control warred with rage. He’d finally been touching the flesh that had haunted his dreams and his so-called friends had interrupted. They’d stolen the fulfillment of his desire. He’d rip their hearts out.
The three players swam in th
e other direction when they saw the stormy expression on Matt’s face as he moved toward them. The resemblance of a hungry shark ready to feed was too close to reality.
Skip pushed up on the side of the deep end, barely escaping Matt’s clutches. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t realize I was interrupting anything serious.” He backed up, falling onto a lounge chair.
“Thought you were only making out. No biggie,” Bobby said, making a beeline for the stairs.
“Of course, making out, for you, is truly something. I get that. Sorry, buddy.” Jake smirked at his teammate, but still made his way to the ladder and scrambled up seconds ahead of Matt.
“None of your business what we were doing. Fuckin’ A. I finally find a girl I like, and you apes ruin it.” He shook his head, anger dissipating into frustration.
“We didn’t know,” Skip said, raising his palms.
“I was an idiot to bring her back here. Should’ve gotten a hotel room,” Matt muttered to himself.
“Right! A hotel would’ve been the place. Throwing moves on her here—just a dumb idea. ’Course if you were gettin’ any, you’d know that,” Jake said, wrapping a towel around his broad shoulders.
“Come over here and say that,” Matt growled, signaling with his fingers.
“No way. I like my balls,” Jake said, putting a hand over his crotch.
“Really, man. I’m sorry.” Skip patted his friend on the shoulder.
“Next year, I’m getting my own house,” Matt said.
He shrugged off Skip’s hand off, nabbed his towel, and huffed his way into the house. He wasn’t sure which made him madder, being interrupted or the fact that Jake was right. He never should have taken it to the next level in this crazy place.
They needed privacy, and there was no way that would happen here. She was shy, skittish, and he’d subjected her to the humiliating laughter of his teammates. Wrong move. Strike two. If he could have kicked himself in the butt, he would have. What was he thinking?
Dusty was too fine to be subjected to the catcalls of the animals he called friends. He dripped on the floor as he passed her door, shut to him. He sighed. Tomorrow was Sunday. He’d have to practice and not be able to spend as much time with her. Then, she was leaving.
He turned on the shower and spent his time rinsing off the chlorine thinking about when he could see her next. It would have to be in New York, and that would be a couple of weeks away. He dried off and slipped naked into bed. After adjusting the air conditioning, he doused the lights and gazed out the window.
Who’d ever thought he could find a woman to share baseball with? She reminded him so much of his sister, Marnie, in a good way. Still, he’d struck out with the women in his life and had vowed not to step up to the plate again.
Watching his buddies connect with women week after week drove him a little crazy. Sure, he was lonely, but a bar babe, a one-nighter, wouldn’t do it for him. When Dan had gotten together with the Hot Dog Girl—no, he must call her Holly—he’d been surprised.
Convinced she wasn’t good enough for the pitcher, he’d been amazed when he’d found out who she really was. Still doubtful, Dan’s happiness convinced him that you never knew where you’d find the right girl.
Too cautious to declare Dusty “the one,” he made up his mind he wouldn’t rule her out right away. He had to explore where things might go with her, because the fit was too good to ignore. But what did he really know about her? Not much. Not enough.
As he lay in bed, he promised himself he wouldn’t turn away from her unless he had good reason to, and until he knew more about her. A smile stretched his lips. Finding out all about Dusty Carmichael was going to be fun. He shut his eyes and let her invade his dreams like she always did, night after night.
Chapter Six
Dusty awoke at six. She stretched and headed for the bathroom, hoping the hot shower would get her blood moving. She’d tossed all night, waking several times after hot, sexy dreams about Matt Jackson.
Her mouth drew down in an angry pout. Had she been allowed to continue with him, she wouldn’t be waking up frustrated. She yawned before stepping under the warm spray. As she soaped up her body, her mind wandered, wondering what it would feel like if Matt stepped in with her and took over the job of scrubbing her clean. She hummed and closed her eyes, imagining every stroke was from him.
Reluctant to interrupt her fantasy, it was time to shut off the water if she was going to be ready to head to the stadium at seven. Her uniform was a dirty mess, so she donned jeans and a T-shirt. Just happened to be a Nighthawks shirt she had bought online. She toweled her hair dry then applied makeup. After her injury, she’d be taking it easy and watching Matt practice. She wasn’t hurt badly, but it was an excuse to observe the man, who was poetry-in-motion.
Again, she beat him to the door at five of seven. A few dark circles under his eyes indicated he’d had a rough night too. Chuckling to herself, she wondered why that made her happy.
“What’s up?”
“Looks like you didn’t sleep any better than I did,” she blurted out, before covering her mouth with her hand.
He led her to the car. “Something wrong with the bed?”
Men can be dense sometimes. “Yeah, you weren’t in it,” she tossed off, sliding onto the seat and closing the door. His wide eyes made her laugh. Was he that naïve? She bit her lip, having already said too much, but dying to say more.
He threw her a sexy grin as he turned the key. “We’ll have to fix that next time we get together,” he said, before turning his attention to the road.
“Next time?” She shut her mouth, appalled at her boldness.
“Of course, next time. There will be a next time, won’t there?” He glanced at her.
“Are you asking me out?” Nicki would be proud, but Mom would be horrified!
“Yes. When, where. Just say the word.”
“Aren’t you the one with the dicey schedule?”
“I am. I’m here until April first. Then back in New York for the season opener. Do you want to come back here for a weekend?”
“Uh, not really. Two nights in your frat house is plenty.”
He laughed. “Yeah. They do get a little crazy, don’t they? I have an apartment in the City. Northern Manhattan. Near the stadium. We could do dinner, then go there.”
“Sounds like a plan. When?” There I go again! It’s all your fault, Nicki.
“Let’s look at the schedule. I can get a copy from Cal.”
“Fine.”
He pulled up to a red light and took her hand. “I don’t want to rush you.”
“You’re not.”
“Good.” His warm smile sent heat through her veins.
Was it rushing? Maybe, a little, but before long, he’d be on the road and being together would be hard. She knew Nicki would be shocked and impressed. Dusty smiled to herself.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Give.”
“I’m not usually so, so…uh, with guys,” she stammered.
“You’re the shy type. I get it. Had you pegged that way.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“So, what’s different this time?”
“My friend, Nicki’s, pushing me. And you.” She immediately closed her mouth. Saying too much and embarrassing herself was getting old fast.
“Me?”
“I’ve said all I’m going to,” she replied, clamping her lips shut.
Matt laughed. “You’re great.”
“I am?”
“You are.” He squeezed her hand before turning the car into the parking lot.
Hand in hand, they walked into the clubhouse and hit the breakfast buffet.
Cal Crawley joined them. “Nice work out there yesterday, Dusty.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
The older man glanced at her midriff. “How are those ribs?”
“Fine today. It was nothing.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said,
moving on to a member of his team.
“Does your manager always stop and chat with you guys?”
Matt nodded. “He makes the rounds.”
They finished their food and headed out to the field.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a spectator today. Coach has me up for practice.”
“No problem. After yesterday, I’m a little sore,” she said.
“Ribs?”
“A little. Muscles, a lot. I’m out of shape.”
“Not to me,” he mumbled.
She slapped his shoulder gently and followed him to a bench.
“Why don’t you sit here? I’m going to be practicing throwing out guys stealing third.”
“Perfect seat.”
Matt palmed her cheek before donning his catcher’s gear. Bobby joined him. Then Nat, swinging a bat from side to side.
“You’re stealing?” Matt asked Bobby.
The second baseman nodded.
“It’ll be a pleasure to throw you out. And if I hit you in the head, well, I’m sorry.” Matt clamped his jaws together as last night’s antics crossed his mind.
“Don’t get crazy,” Bobby said.
Jake manned third base, and Dan took the mound. While Skip guarded second and kept his eye on the pitcher, Bobby took a generous lead. Cal took a seat next to Dusty and called to the men. “Go ahead.”
Dan pitched. Nat, a right-handed batter, took it. Bobby crouched lower, inching toward third, then started dancing around. The pitcher glanced at Skip, gave a subtle nod, then fired the ball at him. Bobby took a dive back to second base.
“No head first, Bobby!”
The young man nodded as he brushed the clay off his uniform.
“Fastest way to get killed,” Cal muttered.
Dusty sat quietly and watched the action on the field. She noticed how strong Matt’s thighs looked as he squatted.
“Watch for the signal from Dan,” Cal called. “Harder to throw a guy out on third when the batter is right-handed,” he whispered to the girl.
Dusty’s gaze jumped from Bobby to Dan, from Dan to Matt, and back to Bobby again. Dan took his stance, wound up, and threw. Matt jumped to his feet, flinging his mask to the ground as he caught the pitch and rifled it to third. Bobby had taken off like lightning, but Matt got the ball there a split second before the runner.