by Jill Shalvis
pulled out a bag of M&M’s to go with it.
Sam sighed in sheer pleasure as she ripped into them. “You’re a good friend.”
“I am.” Holly looked at her speculatively. “I know why I usually need sugar. Either Pace has pissed me off, or I need to get me some.”
“Some what?”
Holly waggled a brow.
Sam sighed.
“And,” Holly said, “since I know you just got some—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Uh-huh. So that leaves pissed. Question is, are you pissed off at Wade, or yourself?”
Sam busied herself with the M&M’s.
Holly snorted, then lifted a tray she’d stowed behind her feet. It held the bribes—two fully loaded hot dogs, peanuts, and cotton candy.
“I’m on a diet,” Sam said in protest, but grabbed a dog. And then on second thought, the peanuts and cotton candy as well, hugging it all to her chest.
“Atta girl.” Holly tore into her own hot dog. “So. How’s that pretend thing going?”
Sam chewed a huge bite of hot dog. “I don’t want to talk about that either.”
“Okay.”
“I mean there’s really nothing to even talk about. We got into the papers over the weekend, got the word out, as planned. Sponsor’s happy.”
“Good.”
“It’s just playing a role.” Sam sucked mustard off her finger. “Sure, maybe we got a little carried away for a minute.” She grimaced. “Okay, for like an hour, but the man is . . . well. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course not.”
“And anyway, he drives me batshit crazy,” Sam said.
Holly made a soothing, understanding noise.
“And he’s so easygoing and effortlessly sexy. He could reel in a damn nun.”
“Good thing we’re not talking about it.”
Sam just sighed and stuffed her face, and Holly smiled. “Honey, admit it. You want to go for it. For real.”
“No. If I’m going to let someone into my life, it’s going to be a grown-up.”
“That man is allllgrown-up, and he is fine.”
“I want a man who makes me laugh.”
“Hello—o—o,” Holly said. “Wade makes you laugh.”
“It’ll be someone who lights me up in the bedroom.”
Holly just slid her a long look.
“Okay, so he lit me up like Fourth of July. But I want a guy in it for the long haul.”
Holly sighed in defeat. “You have me there. He’s not shown a lot of depth in relationships before. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t, for the right woman.”
“Come on. It’s Wade.”
“Yeah, but he’s the one who told Pace to get something else in his life besides baseball, and that the something should be me. He told Pace to let himself love me.” She smiled at Sam’s clear surprise. “So see? Maybe there’s hope.”
Sam didn’t necessarily believe in hope. She believed in doing. In making one’s own destiny. And though a part of her could admit she’d had a few fantasies about Wade being hers and only hers, she had to doubt it ever becoming a reality.
They ate their way through the first two tight innings, with Sam unable to tear her gaze off a completely oblivious Wade. At the top of the third, the guy behind Sam tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”
She turned and looked at him. He was holding his iPhone open to a page from ESPN. It was a picture of her and Wade at the wedding. They were seated at a table, Wade sprawled out, his arm around the back of her chair, smiling into her face as his fingers played with her hair.
“Is this you?” the guy asked. “You Wade O’Riley’s new girl?”
Holly looked at the picture, then to Sam, biting her lip to keep her smile back.
“Yes,” Sam said on a barely there sigh. “That’s me.”
“Cool,” the guy said, and leaned back.
“The press you two have gotten is fairly incredible,” Holly whispered. “Nice to see it all positive for a change.”
Which was the only reason she was still in this. Well that, and because her body was addicted to Wade’s. She forced her mind off that problem and concentrated on the game. Wade was in his zone, running a good game. When a runner tried to steal third during a pitch, Wade made the catch, and without taking the time to wind up, shot the ball like a cannon at third to Mike, who made the pickoff. Mike pumped his fist and sent Wade a slow grin, which Wade returned.
And then he turned and looked right at her.
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t completely clueless-and God, look at him. There was just something so innately sexy about him in his zone . . . .
“You’re staring,” Holly whispered.
“Am not.”
“And you just let out a dreamy sigh, an I-wish-he-were-my-real-boyfriend sigh.”
“For your information, I’m just noticing how the new hockey-style catcher’s helmets really allow for superior side vision.”
Holly laughed. “Look at you bullshit me.”
At the top of the fifth inning, the Heat was down three-four, and tension was thick as the Heat took their field positions. Wade had all his gear on. Little of his face visible, and yet she knew what his expression would be.
Fun.
Easy.
Relaxed.
Chill.
Because that was Wade. He was all of those things. God, she envied that.
Pace was still pitching, and he was in fine form today, but she still couldn’t take her eyes off Wade. A runner tried to steal as Pace let out an unusually slow pitch. Wade was standing up almost before the ball hit his mitt, tossing off his mask to throw the ball down the line to Mason, who caught it.
Runner out.
She let out a low, appreciative breath and sank back to her seat. The runner should have known better. Wade had the best record in the league of picking off runners stealing bases. No one got past him.
In the bottom of the next inning, Wade hit a line drive and she involuntarily leapt to her feet. “Go, go, go!”
Wade made it to second.
Sam woo-hooed and jumped up and down.
Holly was grinning.
“What? I like to cheer.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shut up.” Sam held her breath during the next pitch, when Wade stole third. Sam gripped Holly’s hand hard when Mike hit a pop fly and Wade headed home, sliding into the catcher a beat ahead of the ball.
The crowd went wild while Sam stared at the pile of entangled limbs over the home plate, “Get up,” she whispered. “Get up, get up—”
Wade pushed to his feet, then reached a hand down to help the Padres player, taking a moment to look him in the eye and say something. The other player nodded and Wade headed back to his dugout.
But not before taking a quick and direct glance right at Sam.
Her breath stuttered in her throat and she lifted her hand at him before she could stop herself.
His lips curved.
“Aw,” Holly said. “Look at you, all aquiver.”
Sam sighed and sank to her chair. “It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s sweet.”
Sam closed her eyes against the bright sun and shook her head. “It’s not sweet. Does he look sweet to you?”
“No, he looks big and sexy, and like a whole lot of fun.”
Sam sighed. Yeah. Yeah, he was big and sexy and a whole lot of fun.
And a whole lot of heartache waiting to happen.
They went into the ninth inning up by one. The Heat came out ready to hold the Padres to that score. Wade crouched behind the plate and gave a sign to Pace, who shook his head. Wade gave him something else, and this time Pace nodded. He threw, but the hitter got a piece of it and the fly ball went straight up into the air.
Wade rose to his feet and shoved off his mask, squinting up into the sun, relaxed as the ball flew . . . right into his mitt.
Out. Game won.
Wade straightened just
as Pace slammed into him, picking him up in a bear hug to spin him around.
Wade grinned and hugged him back.
And Sam never took her eyes off him. Playing the game for real or for fun, even living his life, little got to him. Not the pressure of the game that was his livelihood, not the responsibilities that came with the level of fame and fortune he dealt with on a daily basis, and not her.
And wasn’t that just the crux.
Oh, he wanted her again. She knew it. It was there in the heat of his eyes as he once again turned and from twenty-five yards away met her gaze. A gaze which happened to melt her bones every time she found it leveled on her.
But it was lust. Nothing more. Because Wade didn’t do more.
And she didn’t do less.
After the game, the players signed autographs for an hour, during which time Sam stayed on scene as she always did, helping out with both crowd control and merchandise give-aways.
Wade was sitting at the table with the other players, signing autographs, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just had security drag Tia—the woman who’d sent pictures of her and Wade to the press—off the premises and to the police station since she’d violated the restraining order.
It was Sam’s job to shield the players where she could, and she did a good job, but she’d had to remind herself this time that it wasn’t her job to want to punch a stalker for trying to get close to Wade.
It’d gotten personal, waaay too personal, but she had no idea what to do about it.
Wade had people in front of him but he was watching Sam with a little knowing look that heated her from the inside out. Could he read her inappropriate jealousy?
Halfway through the signing, three women tried to climb the table to get to him. With a sigh, she moved through the crowd and around the table, beating security there by two seconds, but not quite fast enough to stop one of the women from writing her phone number on Wade’s hand. Sam leaned over Wade and put her face between his and the women’s. “You ladies need to back up.”
“Aw, we just want to give him a kiss,” one of them said with a pout.
“No,” Sam said.
“Why not?”
“Sorry.” This from a grinning Wade. “She’s not much on sharing.” He turned his head, which was now only a few inches from Sam’s, and gave her a warm, just-for-her smile that for a moment cut off the oxygen to her brain.
The women obligingly backed off.
Mouth curved, eyes warm, Wade tugged on a strand of her hair. “Makes me hot seeing you get all possessive like that.”
Yeah, he read her. Like a well-thumbed book. She rolled her eyes and he caught her wrist, tugging her in so their mouths were close.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered, half panicked and yet half hopeful at the same time.
“Only if you say please.”
She tugged free and moved back to her real duties, which absolutely did not include falling for his effortless charm.
Afterwards, at the team meeting, Wade came up to her. “Thanks for protecting me out there.”
She just gave him a long look, which crumpled completely when he slung an arm around her neck and pulled her in, pressing a lingering but friendly kiss on her temple. Her heart fluttered. “What are you doing?”
“Being your boyfriend.”
“The signing’s over, Wade. There’s no need to pretend back here.”
“Huh. Guess you’re right.” But it took him an extra long beat to remove his hands from her.
And another even longer beat for her to step back from him.
When the meeting was over, the team scattered, everyone off to celebrate. Sam turned to get the hell out of there before she did something stupid. Like offer to be Wade’s celebration.
“Sam.”
Dammit. She quickened her pace, escaping him and making her way through the facility. She got to her office, grabbed her purse, flicked off the lights, and turned to leave . . .
And slammed into the warm, hard wall of Wade’s chest.
His hands came up to her arms to steady her. “In a hurry?” he asked in that same voice that had urged her to orgasm only yesterday.
God. “Yes, actually. A big hurry.”
Not releasing her, he nodded, nothing more than a shadow in the doorway. “Avoiding anyone in particular?”
“You.”
He laughed softly, his breath ruffling the hair at her temple, which meant he was entirely too close. She stepped back into her dark office, but he merely followed her in.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m not getting into another room alone with you.”
He hit the light switch. He was fresh from the shower he’d grabbed before the meeting, his hair wet and wavy, falling over his forehead and curling around his ears, hitting the collar of his black polo shirt, which was untucked over a pair of cargoes. She had no idea how he looked so damn fine all the time but he did, and she met his gaze, knowing hers was filled with frustration to his amusement. “My clothes are staying on,” she said firmly.
“You trying to convince me, or yourself?”
She refused to answer on the grounds she might incriminate herself. He smelled good, all warm and sexy, and that frustrated her because she wanted to go up on her tiptoes and press her face into his throat and just breathe him in. She wanted to have him inside her again, but she also wanted more. She wanted to be with him, just be . . . and that terrified her because she was alone in that. “No one’s here. We’re offline.”
“Sam—”
“I mean it, Wade.” She put her hand to her heart but she couldn’t rub the ache away. “You can’t just waltz in here with that low, husky voice and those bedroom eyes, okay? We don’t have to play until the next public outing, and as I’ve already told you, we’re not going to play like we did this weekend.”
“Sam—”
“No. Listen, Wade, please? We had our fun, andit was fun,” she told him, softening, unable to keep the wistfulness out of her voice. “But now I need to be far, far away from you.” Before I rip off your clothes.
His eyes were dark, and had gone serious. “I understand.”
His easy acceptance derailed her. “You do?”
“Yeah. Actually, I just wanted to give you something.” He held out his hand, fisted. Slowly he turned it over and opened his fingers, revealing what he held on his palm.