Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball)

by Roz Lee

  She reached for her purse. “Okay then, if you’re sure.”

  He stood aside, and she felt his heat as she scooted past him to the door. “I’m sure. But I wouldn’t blame you if you changed your mind. Doyle Walker has already warned me to stay away from you.”

  She stopped in her tracks, turned. “He did? Really? When?”

  “Yes. At the fundraiser. Right after you walked out.”

  She was going to be sick. Uncle Doyle…what, stood up for her? Tried to protect her? Oh Lord, how embarrassing. And in a way, more humiliating than what Antonio had done. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself. Well, she hadn’t handled the situation at the fundraiser very well, but she had handled it. She didn’t need, or want, her uncle interfering in her personal life.

  “I’m sorry.” What else could she say? God, he must think she was pathetic.

  “Don’t be. I told him to mind his own business.”

  “You didn’t.” Could the situation get any worse?

  “Not in so many words, but he isn’t going to keep me from seeing you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you here, with me?”

  “Because I want to be. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. About doing this.”

  He moved fast. One arm snaked around her waist, the other around her shoulder. He hauled her body tight against his before her brain could process what was going on and formulate a protest. Then his mouth was on hers, stealing her breath, her last thread of sanity, and her pride.

  For a moment, it didn’t matter she wasn’t stick thin or cover girl gorgeous. It didn’t matter they were standing in a hallway and absolutely anyone might see them. All she could do was feel. His kiss was everything she had ever dreamed it would be. His lips were hard on hers at first, then softer, coaxing her to let him inside. She opened for him. His tongue stroked hers, rimmed her mouth then plunged deep.

  She was lost. No one had ever kissed her like this before. It was carnal. Hot. Seductive. Cream your panties sexy.

  Then it was over. His large hand splayed across the back of her head, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. She gasped for breath against his heaving chest.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”

  She couldn’t move, even if she wanted to—which she didn’t. He held her in an iron grip. Blazing heat warmed her front in counterpoint to the cold at her back. When had he backed her against the concrete wall?

  His heartbeat—or was it hers?—thudded in her ears. Coming to her senses, she picked out the separate and distinct sound of footsteps. Coming closer. Oh God. She was going to get caught making out with Antonio Ramirez in the stadium!

  He held her until the footsteps faded away around the corner before his grip eased and he stepped back.

  “Who was that?”

  “I don’t know. Some guy. Maintenance staff, I think.”

  She pushed against his chest. He didn’t budge and inch. “Let me go.”

  A work-roughened finger beneath her chin urged her to look up. “No. I don’t care who sees us, Clare.”

  “What if he recognized me?”

  “So what if he does? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

  She shook her head. “No. Heaven’s no. Why would you think that? I just don’t want you to get in trouble with the team.”

  “Don’t worry about me. There isn’t anything anyone can do or say that will keep me away from you. Not after that kiss.”

  She groaned. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back. It hit the solid wall behind her with a thud. “Antonio….”

  “I like the way you say my name. Everyone calls me Tony, but there’s something about the way you say my full name with your molasses thick southern drawl that makes me want to eat you up.” His lips nibbled at her jaw then down the exposed column of her neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet brands in their wake.

  Her knees shook, and her lady parts all but begged for his attention. As if he’d heard their silent pleas, his hands began to roam. Everywhere he touched—her hips, her waist, her ass, her breasts—flamed with need.

  “We can’t….”

  “You’re right,” he whispered in her ear and then traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. “Not here.”

  Chapter Four

  The restaurant was intimate and expensive. She had to admit the mood-lit, secluded booth provided them with the kind of privacy not available at a lesser price. She couldn’t imagine having the kind of conversation they needed to have at some place with napkin holders on the table and high chairs in the aisle.

  Antonio ordered wine without looking at the menu. Clare waited until the sommelier moved off to fetch Antonio’s selection before she spoke.

  “What’s going on here, Antonio?”

  He rested his forearms on the table and nudged the flickering candle in the center with his index finger. “We’re getting to know each other.”

  Despite the carnal kiss at the stadium, she couldn’t shake the feeling he was toying with her feelings. Lord help her if he was because she had gone from closet stalker fan to hopelessly infatuated—and possibly crazy in love—the moment his lips had touched hers. Not that he would ever know. Before her stupid heart got any more involved, she wanted to know what he was up to.

  “And why do we need to do get to know each other?”

  “Because I don’t think I can keep my hands off you, and I want more than just sex.” He flashed her a grin that made her pussy clench. “In the interest of full disclosure, I’m hoping there will be plenty of that, too.”

  The sommelier brought their wine. Antonio went through the approval process like a pro and sent the man away, explaining he preferred to pour it himself.

  “I thought he’d never leave,” he said as he filled their glasses with the expensive liquid.

  “Look, Antonio, I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m not your type.”

  “Don’t say that. I wouldn’t be here with you, and I certainly wouldn’t have kissed you like that, if you weren’t my type. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you at the fundraiser I had to have you. That’s why I bid on all the things you did. At first, I just wanted to give you the things you liked then I realized everything you bid on was something for couples to do together, and I wanted to do them with you.”

  “I didn’t mean to win any of the items I bid on. It’s just what I do at those things.” She pulled her wine glass close then pushed it away. Drinking wouldn’t make her admission any less painful. “I can’t afford any of the stuff they auction at those things, so I pick a theme and bid on items that fit in. Someone always outbids me, but at least I help to escalate the bidding.”

  “What was the theme for Jason’s fundraiser?”

  She changed her mind about the alcohol and took a sip of her wine. “Romantic Interlude,” she said, half-hoping he wouldn’t hear her words.

  He smiled. “That fits. I won them all.”

  “That’s nice.” Someone’s going to get lucky.

  “Don’t look that way, Clare.” His voice had a hard edge to it, and she realized she was frowning. “I want you to do them with me. Every last one of them.”

  Oh.

  “We can get to know each other better.”

  She stared at him. Her mind replayed the list of bid items. Some were innocent enough, but most were cozy, intimate things that could possibly—would probably—lead to even more intimate things.

  “Will you enjoy them with me?”

  She pointed a finger at her chest. “Me?”

  “I understand if you don’t want to. I promise we can keep it quiet if you don’t want people to know you’re seeing me.”

  “No! I mean…I just can’t believe you really want to…with me.”

  “Let me prove it to you. Some of the out of town things will require planning, but others we can take advantage of now.”

  “Like what?” She couldn’t believe she was actual
ly considering his proposal.

  “There’s the spa thing, for one.”

  The bid item had been donated by a very exclusive local spa, and if she remembered correctly, it included several full-body treatments and a massage to be enjoyed as a couple. That would mean getting naked or mostly naked in the same room with Antonio.

  “Um….”

  “I could use a massage.” His eyebrows danced.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s disgusting.”

  His laughter filled the room. Heads turned. Clare ducked.

  “Hush,” she hissed.

  “I wasn’t talking about right now, but I like the way your mind works.”

  Heat radiated from her cheeks. This would never work. She had to get away from him before she made a bigger fool of herself. She reached for her purse.

  “Don’t go, Clare. Please.” His pleading voice stopped her.

  Go, her brain urged.

  Stay, her body countered.

  “At least have dinner with me. I promise to behave the rest of the evening.”

  Half of her wanted him to behave while the other half would give anything to have him misbehave—with her. She dropped her purse on the seat beside her.

  “I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”

  “That’s okay.” He relaxed against the booth, slinging one arm across the back. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to run screaming out of the restaurant?”

  “What?”

  “Promise not to run?”

  She crossed her fingers and toes. “I promise.”

  “I was thinking the same thing, but I didn’t want to say it. When you read my thoughts, I couldn’t help but laugh. No one has ever done that before. Read my mind, I mean.”

  She tried to contain it, but it was a futile exercise. Laughter bubbled up and spilled over, uncontrollable. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and her side ached. She was so in trouble with this guy. There was not a single doubt in her mind. She was hopelessly in love with him. Just like she had known she would be if she ever had the chance to actually meet him.

  He ordered for her while she used her napkin to dab at her eyes. Every time she looked his way, she burst out in another bout of laughter. It was absurd, but he’d smile knowingly at her and happiness tinged with wariness welled up and popped out in helpless waves.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when the waiter left with their order. “Oh, God. I have to get control here.”

  “No you don’t. I feel the same way, Clare. Happy. Scared shitless.” His face now was pensive and helped her sober up. “I want you so bad I can’t think of anything else, and somehow, I know when I finally have you, a lifetime won’t be enough.”

  She was stone cold sober.

  “Spend time with me, Clare.”

  “I don’t get it, Antonio. I’m no one special. I’m an organist. I’m—”

  “You’re beautiful,” he supplied. “When I said I can hardly keep my hands off you, I meant it. I like a woman with curves. Making love to one of those stick thin women is about as much fun as sleeping with a two-by-four.”

  “Then you weren’t making fun of me at the fundraiser?”

  “Hell, no! I didn’t even realize you thought that until it was too late. I can’t tell you how sorry I am I gave you that impression.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. I jumped to the wrong conclusion.” Her face flamed under his intense scrutiny.

  “But you had reason to believe a man would treat you that way, didn’t you?”

  Oh, yeah. Lots of reasons. Her teenage years had been nothing but hell—moving from city to city, changing schools, and never being accepted by the popular crowd because she didn’t fit into the ultra-skinny mold. And there wasn’t anything on the planet more brutal than a woman who hated other women. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say you’re right and forget about it, okay?”

  “I won’t forget it, but you don’t have to tell me right now. Maybe one day you’ll feel like you can talk about it with me. For the record, if I ever find out who made you feel that way, they better stay the hell away, or I’ll make them sorry they were born.”

  Chapter Five

  She had officially lost her mind. That’s all there was to it. Why else would she be meeting Antonio downtown to help him look for a place to live?

  He needed a friend in Dallas. With her, he could have a woman’s companionship and not feel threatened in any way. Despite his protests otherwise over dinner the other night, she couldn’t seriously expect a man like Antonio to fall for her, and he knew she knew. In his eyes, she was safe. No play at that base. He’d gone to more trouble than necessary to insure her company until he settled in and made some new friends.

  All his seductive talk had been just that—talk.

  Clare circled the block, looking for the entrance to the hotel’s parking garage. She spied the opening she needed, but a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed she would have to make the block again before she could get into the correct lane to turn in. She mumbled a curse.

  Boy, would Antonio be surprised if he knew how unsafe she actually was. Ever since her days at Julliard, she had harbored a crush on him. He’d been a rookie with the Marauders then. She had pulled every familial string she could to get tickets to the games as often as possible. It had been easy to get them when the Mustangs were in town, but her uncle had only been able to do so much the rest of the season. Their connections, plus a lot of scrimping and saving on her part, got her into the stadium a few times each year. All so she could drool over Antonio Ramirez. And dream. Or rather, fantasize. Dreams were for girls. Her fantasies were those of a red-blooded, fully hormonal woman.

  It hadn’t been until years later she’d overheard a conversation and glimpsed the small, gold charm with the jeweled bases. What Jessica had done to earn it had been shocking, and the bitch delighted in reminding Clare every time she had a chance that Clare wasn’t pretty enough to play The Game.

  She almost hated Antonio for making her think, even for one short afternoon, they could be any more than friends or that she might one day earn a Bases Loaded charm of her own.

  Two more trips around the block got her into the parking garage, and a few minutes later, she searched for Antonio in the hotel’s expansive lobby. As a sought after free agent, he had pretty much written his own ticket, signing a gazillion million dollar, multi-year contract with the Mustangs. He could easily afford the opulence of a five star hotel while he settled into his new life in Texas.

  Scanning the lobby, she felt out of place in jeans and the soft blouse that had been one of her favorites for a number of years. She at least expected to see a few tourists with kids, but everyone wore business suits, men and women alike. She caught sight of a pair of sneaker-clad feet across the room and felt marginally better until the body attached to the feet came into view.

  Damn. Antonio strode toward her like a jungle animal that had just spotted dinner. Heads turned when he walked by. The man carried himself with an air of confidence that quietly stated clothes didn’t make the man. She would have wagered not a soul in the place noticed what he was wearing.

  Her heart did a somersault then lodged itself in her throat.

  Confident strides brought him closer. His gaze stripped her bare long before he came to a stop in front of her.

  “Babe,” was all he said before he wrapped one arm around her waist, commandeered her cranium with the other, and insinuated one thick thigh between her legs. He hauled her up against him, and before her brain could comprehend what was happening, he kissed her.

  Lips. Tongue. Teeth. He devoured her right there in the hotel lobby as if he’d snatched an appetizer off a passing plate.

  When he finally broke the kiss, they were both gasping for air. Clare disentangled her fingers from his hair—too dazed to consider how they’d become tangled there in the first place.

  “I missed you,” he said, allowing her a little space, but still holding her close.

&
nbsp; “Antonio….” She glanced around the room. A few people stared at them. A few more tried to look like they weren’t watching two adults making out in public, but most apparently hadn’t found the encounter remarkable at all and had gone on with their business.

  “Did I tell you how much I like to hear you say my name?”

  “Yes, you did,” she said, returning her gaze to his.

  He smiled, and her knees turned to jelly.

  “Whoa, there.” The muscles in his arm tightened against the small of her back, supporting her. “Are you okay?”

  She pushed against his chest. “I’m fine. Really.”

  His fingers dug into the soft flesh at her waist.

  “Antonio,” she warned.

  He loosened his hold on her slightly, and she managed to create an inch or so of space between them.

  “I was worried about you earlier. I thought you might have changed your mind about helping me.”

  She explained her reason for being late and secretly vowed never to be on time if being late would get her kissed like that. “I don’t know why you’re here. Downtown, I mean. Doesn’t the traffic make you crazy?”

  “Babe, I’m from New York. This is nothing.”

  He allowed her a little more distance, and she took advantage, stepping away from him.

  She adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

  “I’d rather take you up to my suite and forget the whole apartment hunting thing.”

  But he wouldn’t. She knew that, even if her heart did do another acrobatic move at the thought of mattress aerobics with him. “You can’t live in a hotel forever, Antonio. You have a six-year contract.”

  “Okay. You convinced me. Let’s get this over with.” He grabbed her around the waist again, and they walked out hip-to-hip, despite her pleas for him to let her go.

  The realtor met them at the first high-rise, where she led them through a penthouse apartment that had recently become available. The place had about as much appeal as an empty cracker box, and Clare said so.

  “It’s not you, Antonio.”