Ogling the Outfielder (All's Fair in Love & Baseball Book 4)

by Arlene Hittle

  “No.” Sam reconsidered. Rico might listen to gossip, but he kept what he heard to himself. “Yes. I don’t know.”

  “That kid is dependable. Whatever happens between you two, she won’t go blabbing it all over Twitter.”

  “I know.”

  Rico’s grin spread. “Then what are you afraid of?”

  “I’ve gotta go. I’m on deck.” Sam pushed himself off the bench without answering the question. He took his place on deck and practiced his swing with more force than necessary.

  Even if he’d never admit it to his buddies, he knew the answer. He was afraid he’d like Alex too much.

  He wasn’t a to-do list kind of guy, but if he were, the words serious relationship would never show up on his list.

  ****

  After the game, Alex fulfilled her mascot duties until the stadium cleared out. She—rather, Connie—posed for dozens more photos with fans of all ages. When she wasn’t in front of the camera, she deposited stray soda cups and nacho boxes into the nearest trash can. The custodial staff worked way too hard; she liked to pitch in whenever she could.

  Besides, tidying up satisfied her obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

  In thirty minutes, everyone was gone. A shadowy shape emerged from the tunnel to the locker rooms. Alex held her breath, half hoping it was Sam.

  Instead, Caroline waved her to come in.

  “You’ve been sweating in that suit for hours.” Caro handed her the water bottle. “Aren’t you dying to escape?”

  Alex took a sip. Ice-cold water with a hint of lemon slid down her throat. Heaven. “I was just on my way in.”

  Caro’s narrowed eyes said she didn’t believe a word. Fitting, since Alex had her own doubts. Obsessive or not, she didn’t usually spend quite this long on trash duty. She took another sip, waiting for Caroline to continue.

  “Someone’s awfully interested in when you’ll be done.”

  “S-s-someone?” The word stuck in her throat. She coughed and tried again. “You mean Sam?”

  Caro grinned and pushed her long, black hair behind her ear. “That’s the someone. He looked ready to storm the field and carry you off, Connie suit and all—but I didn’t want him to hurt himself, so I volunteered to come get you.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Because the stadium was empty, save for the cleaning crew, she was safe to slip off Connie’s head. She stuck out her tongue at Caro, too.

  “You know what I mean. If Sam goes on the DL, Christian takes his place—and frankly, the kid’s not good enough. He’d never have made that catch Sam made today.”

  “True enough.” Alex bounced from one floppy foam foot to the other. “I’d better go change. Wouldn’t want Sam to strain something.”

  With that, she tucked Connie’s head under her arm and brushed past Caroline. There’d be plenty of time to answer her friend’s questions—after she went to the postgame party with Sam.

  Maybe then she’d have a better idea what to say. This had to be the weirdest day of her internship, what with almost getting beaned and now hanging out with Sam specifically after the game. It wasn’t like she didn’t attend all the postgame events; they were mandatory, after all. But never before had a player—the only player she had the hots for, no less—asked her to go.

  She shed Connie quickly and took her hair out of its ponytail. She bent at the waist and brushed her hair until the brush no longer caught on sweat-dampened clumps. Then she straightened up and looked in the mirror. Not great, but she’d pass for okay. Wholesome, even.

  Except for the peanut butter stain on your shirt.

  Alex groaned. How could she have forgotten her fight with the peanut butter toast? She couldn’t let Sam—or anyone else—see her in a stained shirt.

  Maybe Caro had a spare in her locker.

  She stuck her head into the hallway. Caroline wasn’t there, but Sam was, looking finer than fine in faded denim and a plain white T-shirt. He leaned back, knee bent and one foot braced against the wall. His hands were behind his head, and even from fifty yards away, she could see the bulge of his biceps.

  Dammit. He couldn’t see her yet. She pulled her head back into the women’s bathroom and let the door thud shut. What was Caro’s combination again? She fumbled with her friend’s lock, racking her thoughts to remember. On the third try, it popped open.

  She pawed through the contents of her friend’s locker. Underneath two tubes of lipstick, yellow tights and a half-eaten sandwich in a baggie lurked a black T-shirt. She checked the tag. It was only a medium.

  Double dammit. A size M might be a tent on her friend, but Alex’d be lucky if she could squeeze into it.

  Locker pilferers can’t be choosy, can they?

  Good point. She shed her stained shirt and tugged on Caro’s black T. As she’d feared, it strained across her chest. A pale white strip of midriff showed between the bottom of the shirt and the waistband of her jeans.

  But in the war between a too-small top and one that made her look as if she couldn’t feed herself, the baby T was the clear winner.

  Some women don’t think twice about showing off their assets.

  Yeah, but she wasn’t one of them.

  Until now.

  Alex sighed and swiped on her favorite cherry lip gloss. It was time for her to stop hiding and go find Sam.

  Today, she’d do exactly what she’d learned to do in therapy: Seize the day. Make her own luck.

  She was an adult now, with grown-up needs—desires she had no doubt Sam would fulfill admirably. She was no longer comfortable hiding in the shadows—or the Condor suit. She intended to grab her chance to make him take notice.

  Chapter Three

  Sam leaned against the wall, still in the same position he’d been in when Alex’s head popped through the bathroom door. The way she’d withdrawn the second she’d spotted him was enough to make him wonder if he’d forgotten to put on his pants or something.

  A quick glance down, which assured him he was fully clothed, left him seething. He didn’t know whether to be mad at himself for suggesting he and Alex go to the after-game party together or her for acting as if he suddenly scared her shitless—but someone was to blame for what would undoubtedly end in disaster.

  His mother’s voice rang in his head: Stop being so negative, Samuel. Your thoughts are self-fulfilling prophecy. If you think you’ll have a bad time, you will; if you think you’ll have fun, you will.

  He jammed the heels of his hand into his eye sockets. Problem with that was he wasn’t sure if he wanted to have a good time or a bad one.

  His mother’s most strenuous objection rang out again: pish-posh.

  Aw hell no. He gave his mother a mental shove into the corner of his mind and slammed the door shut on further pish-posh possibilities. Basing his every move on his mother’s opinion would guarantee a ruined evening.

  With his eyes closed, he heard Alex’s sneakers squeaking on the cement before he saw her.

  He half-opened one eye. The second quickly followed, giving him a better view. She was…er… “Stunning.”

  Alex’s cheeks turned pink, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Thanks.”

  Crap. Her answer meant he’d said it aloud. One good thing: at least she knew how to take a compliment. Most women he knew brushed them off—or worse, fished for more.

  Not that he wouldn’t willingly give them in Alex’s case. Her black T-shirt clung lovingly to full breasts. She was, if he had to guess, a solid C-cup. Just the way he liked—

  Alex cleared her throat. “Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d never seen boobs before.”

  The teasing note in her voice did nothing to assuage his guilt. He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Sorry.”

  She was right. He’d been ogling boobs since age thirteen—so why did these particular breasts rob him of the power of speech?

  They were nice, sure. Perfect globes, straining against soft black cotton. But he’d
seen, even felt up, some of the finest tits money could buy. This specific intern’s perfectly nice rack shouldn’t leave his mouth dry and his jaw on the floor.

  Alex’s arms crossed, thrusting what he couldn’t stop staring at into even more prominence.

  He made an effort and dragged his gaze back to her face. “I’ll behave.”

  Her lips lifted in a half smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “Would you like me better if I were well-behaved?”

  Alex’s eyes widened. Her sharp intake of breath said she was as surprised by the question as he was.

  “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Why don’t we start this whole conversation over?” He scrubbed his hand over his face as if that could erase the last several minutes. “Ready to grab some food?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Damn. So much for starting over.

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Yes, I’m hungry. Starved, as a matter of fact. The peanut butter toast I had for breakfast is long gone.”

  She paused and drew a deep breath. “No, I wouldn’t prefer a well-behaved Sam Sloane.” A slow, sexy smile spread across her face, and she laid her hand on his forearm. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

  “You think so, huh?” The warmth from her fingertips seeped into his skin. Her fingers tightened around his arm, and he stifled a groan. He was in trouble—and about as far from perfect as he could get. “What about the women in the shower?”

  “They were stupid.” Alex’s tongue darted over her lower lip. “Everyone knows it’s not nice to kiss and tell.”

  Big trouble. Sam jerked his arm out of her grasp, ignoring the hurt that flashed in her eyes. “We’d better get to the party before all the hot dogs disappear.”

  Without waiting to see if she’d follow, he strode down the hall. After a short, stunned silence, her sneakers thudded on the floor. She caught up with him before he reached the end of the corridor.

  ****

  Alex fell into step beside Sam. She ought to apologize. She’d come on too strong, too fast.

  Ha. You’re talking to Sam Sloane. He’s not exactly known for subtlety.

  And this was most likely her only chance. If she wanted to be one of Sloane’s girls, she had to let him know. Now. She couldn’t let this opportunity whiz past.

  “Sam, stop.”

  “What?” His feet stopped moving. His eyes, however, continued darting around the corridor.

  “Look at me.”

  He complied. His heavy-lidded gaze lingered on her chest before traveling down one leg and up the other side. “I’m looking.”

  “I know. I’m glad.” Blood thrummed in her ears. “Kiss me.”

  Sam squirmed but didn’t break eye contact. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

  “I’ve been kissed before.”

  “Not by me.”

  “Big talk.” She leaned back against the wall and beckoned him to come with her.

  After the barest pause, he put one hand on either side of her head and leaned in. His lips brushed her ear. “You’d better be sure this is what you want.”

  “I am.”

  Sam’s mouth covered hers, and his hands spanned her hips. His tongue explored her mouth as he settled her against his hips. Her nylon shorts did nothing to disguise the bulge straining against his fly.

  Man, was he an expert kisser. Alex surrendered to the demands of his tongue. She rocked her hips, angling for better access to him. He grunted and splayed one big hand across her butt, pressing her into his length. Welcome though it was, the contact jarred her enough that she almost swallowed a tongue. Hers…his…she didn’t know, or care. She was no longer sure where Sam ended and she began.

  And it was nirvana.

  On the edges of conscious thought, a door thudded and conversation buzzed.

  Sam’s head snapped up, and he froze. “Shhh.”

  She pressed her kiss-swollen lips together. Far be it from her to point out he was the one making noise.

  Caro’s voice carried. “You think they got lost on the way to the conference room? I don’t buy it, Chris.”

  “Coach said to look for Sam, so that’s what I’m doing.”

  An apology in his gorgeous blue eyes, Sam edged away from her. “Sounds like we’ve been missed.”

  “And your boss sent out a search party.” Alex swallowed her disappointment.

  Sam grimaced. “Sending Christian is Jerry’s not-so-subtle way of hinting I can be replaced.”

  She pushed him even farther away. “Then we’d better get down to the conference room.”

  Maybe by the time they walked across the stadium to the team’s suite, she’d have a steady grip on her racing heart and hopping hormones.

  Alex stepped around Sam and followed Caro’s louder-than-necessary conversation. When her friend came into view, she was hanging on Christian’s arm.

  “Here we are,” Alex chirped with forced cheer. Caro’s timing really sucked—but she appreciated the warning.

  Caroline’s eyebrows arched. “Nice shirt.”

  “Thanks for the loan. I’ll wash it and bring it back next time.”

  Caro waved. “Don’t bother it looks better on you.”

  “Thanks.” Even if her friend was just being nice, it was good to hear.

  Sam’s soft chuckle drew her attention away from Caroline and Christian. “Much as I’d love to stand here talking fashion, I have other plans.” He stepped around them. “Are you coming, Alex?”

  Not yet, she wanted to say. Might have said without an audience. But Sam didn’t seem to require an answer. He took off for the party as if he were being chased by rabid autograph hounds…or naked chicks in a shower.

  She shrugged at Caro and followed him, but not before her friend flashed a thumbs-up and mouthed, “Go for it.”

  There’d be plenty of time to confess she already had. And it had been glorious.

  Next up, they’d put in the required appearance and grab some food. Then, her mission was to find a nice, private place to finish what they’d started.

  ****

  Sam didn’t have to look to know Alex was behind him. Her proximity beckoned him like a perfect curveball—begging to be taken. Would Alex, like the curveball, turn out to be a mistake?

  Highly likely.

  Frankly, after that hotter-than-he-could-have-imagined kiss, he was past caring. He’d take the swing, damn the consequences.

  Music bounced off the walls long before they reached the door of the suite. Sam checked in with Linc, who manned the attendance sheet, and then beelined for the buffet table.

  The spread was large enough to feed a hundred hungry athletes, loaded with lean protein and good carbs. But the star, dominating the center of the table, was the hot dog bar. Fresh from the concession stand, premium all-beef franks were surrounded by every possible topping.

  “The perfect food,” he murmured in Alex’s ear.

  She helped herself to a hot dog and piled on relish, onion and mustard. “I’ve always thought so.”

  “A purist, eh?” He nodded at her dressed dog as he heaped his with chili, three kinds of cheese and jalapenos.

  Alex grinned. “Sometimes the basics are better.”

  Just like that, Sam imagined himself in bed with Alex, practicing his favorite basic sexual position. She rode him hard, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing.

  “Damn dirty mind,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not you. I meant me.” He scuffed his feet. “When you said ‘basics,’ dirty old man that I am, I went straight to sex.”

  She giggled. “You’re not old.” Then she pursed her lips and blew on his chili dog. “But I hope you’re dirty.”

  His cock strained at his fly. Damn, she was better at flirting than he could have hoped.

  Needing to get away, he jerked his chin toward his hot dog. “If you hold this, I’ll grab us a couple of brews.”

  Alex said nothing, but she
held out her hand. When Sam laid the chili dog across her palm, she curled her fingers around it. He gulped and tried not to think obscene thoughts.

  It was a losing battle. “Umm…I’ll get that beer.”

  “Make mine a Guinness.” Alex drummed her fingers against the bun. “I like ’em strong.”

  He strode away before that gem escaped. He used the time in line at the bar to rein himself in. After fetching the Guinness—and downing half of his, he scanned the crowd for Alex. She stood in the corner, alone, sliding his chili dog into the perfectly round O of her mouth.

  She caught sight of him and swallowed, a guilty grin played on her lips. “You were gone so long I had time to finish my hot dog and start wondering about yours.”

  “What’s the verdict?” He traded her beer for what was left of his dinner.

  “Spicy.” Mischief danced in her eyes. “Just the way I like it.”

  “You go for strong and spicy, eh?”

  She nodded and sipped her beer. A drop of condensation plopped onto her throat and rolled down, down, down. It stopped in the well of her collarbone.

  Sam crammed down the rest of his chili dog, washing it down with beer. “Want to get out of here?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She drained her beer and dropped the cup into the trash. Then she laid her hand on his arm. “Let’s go.”

  He barely managed to stop himself from dragging her out of there—but he settled for sliding his arm around her waist and guiding her through the crowd. He shot a warning glance at Jim and Rico when it looked as if they wanted to make conversation.

  Finally, the door slammed shut on the party. They were free. The instant they rounded the corner, Sam pinned Alex against the nearest vertical surface. He plunged his hands into her hair and dragged her lips to his. Her lips parted on a sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  When he pulled away, he grinned. “Chili dog tastes good on you.”

  “You, too.” She peered up and down the hall. “Is there someplace a little less…public…we can go?”

  Damn. She was right. Much as he didn’t want to wait one more minute, he couldn’t risk getting caught with his pants down again. “My place is a forty-minute drive. Longer, if there’s traffic.”