In It to Win It

by Morgan Kearns

  Praises for MORGAN KEARNS:

  “Her writing is absolutely engrossing.” ~Kari Thomas,

  Paranormal Romance Author

  “Morgan is a great story teller.” ~skyla11377 book reviews

  Praises for FADE TO BLACK:

  “…a rollercoaster ride full of sensations.” ~Coffee Time Romance

  “…an amazingly powerful love story, one I will not soon forget.” ~Book Crazy

  “…a ‘couldn’t put the book down’ read.” ~To Read or Not to Read

  Praises for IN IT TO WIN IT:

  “…a great and intriguing love story.” ~Kari Thomas

  Paranormal Romance Author

  “…a sweet romance about love, pain and forgiveness.” ~Good Choice Reading

  In It To Win It is a work of fiction. The characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any similarities to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Published in the United States through:

  Goodnight Publishing

  www.GoodnightPublishing.com

  Copyright © 2011 Morgan Kearns

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover art by Tricia Schmitt aka Pickyme

  www.wix.com/pickyme/port

  www.morgankearns.com

  ISBN: 1-4609-2711-7

  EAN13: 9781460927113

  Visit www.MorganKearns.com to order additional copies.

  His baseball cap was pulled down so low that his eyes barely showed from under the brim. His jeans should have been illegal, they were so tight, every muscle was visible as it flexed. And the Under Armour t-shirt fit him like a glove.

  She swallowed. She would not drool.

  Pathetic.

  He tugged her to him and the towel pooled around her feet. He grinned, his dark eyes sparkling, and with large, muscular hands, he eased her against him, holding her close against his rock hard body. He smelled good; clean and male and … mouth-watering.

  The corners of his mouth lifted and tiny lines appeared around his eyes. As if he needed any more help being sexy.

  Being so close to Grayson brought back every insecurity she’d ever felt. And she’d never been so aroused.

  To Grayson: When you first came and asked for your story to be told, I said I was too busy. I’m so glad you were persistent. Jane is a lucky girl!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thanks to everyone who loved Fade to Black and asked when the next book would be in your hands. This is for you!

  To Kathryn, Kim and Wanda, thank you!

  To Tricia, thank you for a fantastic cover, girlfriend! I love it!

  To Kari, I value your opinion. Thank you for being willing to offer it.

  To Marva, thanks for telling me the truth, even if it’s hard to hear! The novel is better because of it.

  To Terri, I appreciate your friendship and your willingness to read anything I write—and your completely honest opinion of it!

  To Trish, I couldn’t ask for a better sister. Thanks for your two-cents, it’s worth so much more!

  To my four children, thanks for letting Mommy write and for telling everyone you know that your mom writes books. I love you!

  Finally, thank you to my husband. You are my cheerleader, my lover, my best friend. I appreciate all you do to let me live my dream! My heart belongs to you, forever and always.

  In It

  To

  Win It

  Morgan Kearns

  1

  GRAYSON PIERCE WAS LARGER THAN LIFE—and annoying as hell.

  The man had been a thorn in Jane’s side for nearly twenty years—if she counted elementary school, she guessed it was even longer than that—and he’d never been a bigger pain in her ass than in this very moment.

  “Can you do that, Jane?” Dale asked from behind his desk.

  Dale was the News Director for KHB—and her boss. His blue eyes were no nonsense and as he ran a hand over his thinning blond hair, Jane knew that his question wasn’t up for debate.

  Sweat coated her palms and she bit her lip. Jane wanted to say no. She wanted to say that there was no way she was going on the road to follow Pierce’s team around the freakin’ country while they played their way to the World Series. It was bad enough she had to report on how successful he was, but now, she was going to have to follow the jackass just to shove a microphone in his face so he could tell her how awesome he was.

  She wasn’t bitter though.

  “Sure thing, Dale,” she said through clenched teeth. “When do I leave?”

  “You and Nate will head out tomorrow afternoon. First stop, Vegas.”

  “Okay, I’ll go pack.” She turned on her heel but was stopped when Dale cleared his throat. She paused in the doorway of his office and her already sucky situation got worse.

  “Get an exclusive if you can. Anything nobody else has. There’s a raise in it for ya.”

  

  “PIERCE IS HOT TONIGHT,” THE COMMEN-tator said from overhead. “Swing and a miss.”

  Jane could clearly see Grayson from her vantage point just inside the tunnel that led to the locker room. He backed out of the batter’s box and tapped the bat against his cleats. A quick roll of his head on thick shoulders and he stepped back into the box, hefting the bat into position. The tip circled for a moment before stilling. The navy batter’s helmet with the large white R in the center was pulled down to his brows and his eyes were focused on the wind-up.

  One more out—or one more run—and the team would be heading her way. Nate, her photographer and good friend, had the camera perched on his shoulder, waiting for the explosion of commotion that was only minutes away. He was all calm, cool and collected. Jane, however, had butterflies in her stomach.

  Closing her eyes and sucking in a deep breath, she reminded herself that Grayson Pierce and his opinions no longer mattered. That hell called high school had been fifteen years ago. But she’d be damned if those scars didn’t take eons to heal.

  “…and a home run by Pierce brings in three! Rockets win by two.”

  Cheers and applause erupted, nearly shaking the walls of the stadium. “Pierce. Pierce. Pierce!”

  The enthusiasm was enough to make Jane want to vomit. She swallowed hard and rolled her eyes.

  In seconds large men flooded the space around her, making it suddenly seem like the walls were closing in around her. The smell of dirt, sweat and testosterone pushed her deeper into the tunnel until she was finally swept into the locker room. Nate was a big guy, easily as tall as any of the athletes with shoulders just as wide, and he captured b-roll to send back to the station.

  Grayson, surrounded by his cheering teammates, entered and her heart nearly stopped. It had been years since she’d been so close to him and the effect he had on her was the same. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked. This was not the appropriate time to get emotional.

  Come to think of it; never was the appropriate time to get emotional over Grayson Pierce. He didn’t deserve her tears.

  The one she recognized as Xavier stopped in front of her. His brows rose. “Hey, sweet thing. You lookin’ for an interview?”

  Instead of slapping him—which is what she really wanted to do—she stuck the mic in his face. “Great game.”

  “Thanks. Standing at the plate with men on the corners puts a lot of pressure on a guy, ya know?”

  She bit down hard, grinding her molars to keep from rolling her eyes. “I can imagine,” she said through gritted teeth, urging him to continue.

  He did. “But doing it with a full count is enough to make yo
u sweat.” He chuckled and lifted his hat to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s a good thing I don’t buckle under pressure. I thrive on it.”

  “You’ve had a decent rookie season—”

  “Decent?” He laughed, looked over his shoulder and hollered, “Yo, Pierce, this chick says I’ve had a decent season.”

  In that moment Jane wanted to drop to the floor and dig herself a hole to hide in. The situation only got worse as Grayson lifted his chin and laughed. The sound was low and deep and—damn her straight to hell—sensual. He waded through the crowd straight toward them. Jane gulped and ignored the fact that he’d taken off his jersey. His navy uniform pants were so low on his hips she wondered if his cheeks would show if he turned around. His abs were damp with sweat and Jane felt the sudden urge to trace them with her tongue.

  Which was absurd … because she hated him.

  Grayson’s eyes met hers and he lifted a brow. Damn! Surely, he didn’t know what she was thinking.

  “Thanks for the interview,” she mumbled, trying to get away without having to talk with Grayson.

  Surely there was another ballplayer that wouldn’t thrive on trying to humiliate her. No doubt when Grayson showed up that’s what would happen. And she didn’t need those kinds of problems.

  The news industry was highly competitive and challenging, but being a female sportscaster made it all the more grueling. Most athletes were respectful. A high percentage flirted relentlessly. She’d been given more than one hotel room key—all of which were placed where they belonged … in the trash.

  Molly, her best friend since her college days at USC—Go Trojans!—insisted she wallpaper her bedroom with them. Or better yet, just hand ‘em over to her. She’d be happy to use a pompous, egotistical man.

  “Hey! Where you goin’, darlin’?” A hand the size of a ham bit into her arm and roughly urged her to turn back around. She slapped Xavier’s hand away.

  “I am not darlin’. The name’s Jane Alexander. If you’d like to stuff your testosterone where the sun don’t shine, I’d be happy to put your ugly mug on TV. If not … we’re both just wasting our time.”

  Nate snorted, but didn’t react further, professionally keeping the camera on the arrogant face that seemed momentarily stunned. But only momentarily.

  “Listen, honey—” Xavier raised his hands in mock surrender. “—I didn’t mean no disrespect.”

  “Listen, honey, if you can’t call me Jane, then don’t call me at all.”

  Xavier laughed and jerked his thumb in her direction—but the red tint to his cheeks revealed that he was embarrassed. “This one’s a livewire. For real! Pierce, I think I’m in love.”

  Grayson finally made his way to stand before her. Those shoulders of his were even broader than she remembered—his body more toned with a wider chest, a narrower waist and more powerful thighs. The boy she’d known had become a delicious man. His dark hair was in a sweaty disarray, his cap having been removed, a dark curl rested against the tanned skin of his forehead.

  He was sporting a goatee these days, trimmed close to his face, probably to hide the thin scar that she’d given him junior year. It was only fair; heaven knew that she wore enough scars from him. Hers were emotional—and still raw.

  His heated gaze slowly roamed from her pink-painted toes, pausing at her hips and breasts, before coming to a stop on her face. Those perfect lips of his formed a smirk and her knees nearly gave out.

  He stuck out his hand. “Hi. Grayson Pierce.”

  Wow!

  Of all the reactions he could have had to seeing her after so many years that was by far the last one Jane would have expected. It hurt—an honest to goodness dagger to the heart—that there was no recognition in his dark brown eyes.

  She glanced down at his hand, but didn’t take it. She forced herself to make eye contact as she said, “Jane Alexander, KHB, can I get a comment on the win?”

  His grin widened and he shouted, jabbing his fists into the air, “Rockets—all the way to the Series!” He winked at her. “And you can quote me on that.”

  “Pierce!” a male voice yelled. “I need you over here.”

  “Duty calls. I’ll catch you later, Jane Alexander.” He held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary before turning to stride off through the crowd.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she told Nate, refusing to accept that her heart had been bruised yet again. Would she never learn?

  MAN, IT’D BEEN GOOD TO SEE JANE.

  She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Her shiny brown hair had highlights he didn’t remember and was longer, sleeker than it used to be. It now hung just below her shoulders with just a bit of a curl at the ends.

  Her eyes though, they hadn’t changed a bit. They were the most intoxicating green he’d ever seen. Even after all these years, and all of his travels all over the world, Grayson had still never found a shade that could compare. The closest he’d found was the deep green of freshly cut grass, but that didn’t have enough variations to be exactly right.

  Grayson couldn’t get over how sexy she was. That was new. Her body had matured into that of a woman. He’d not dared touch her because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to let go once he had her wrapped in his arms. And groping her in the locker room, in front of God and all his teammates would have just embarrassed them both.

  Besides, it had been a long time since they’d crossed paths. He had a feeling that that was exactly the way she meant for it to be.

  Yeah, how dense was he? She wouldn’t even shake his hand. He’d felt like an idiot with his hand stretched out to her, hanging in midair. He guessed he deserved it.

  Acting like he hadn’t known her had been a pretty chicken-shit tactic, he had to admit. But standing there in front of her, he couldn’t—just couldn’t allow their reunion to happen in a crowded locker room.

  Striding toward the elevators he shook his head, trying to clear it of the stricken expression on her face. He would make it up to her.

  It had been ridiculously easy to get her room number. He felt like a letch, flashing a smile at the star-struck girl working the front desk. But that had been a means to an end and he’d learned a long time ago that Grayson Pierce could get just about anything he wanted. And a few things he didn’t—like phone numbers and ladies underwear.

  The elevator ride to Jane’s floor happened in a blink, yet took a lifetime. He wanted to see her again. But then … wasn’t sure he did. He wanted her to smile at him the way she used to. The odds of that were pretty slim, he feared. The last few weeks of high school had been hell—and he wasn’t even sure why.

  When the ding! signaled he’d reached his destination, his heart jumped into his throat and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He swiped a hand over his face from chin to eyebrows and continued the sweep through his hair. Sucking in a breath did nothing to calm his nerves.

  The elevator doors started to close and Grayson was surprised when his arm flashed out to stop them. The doors retreated back into their pockets and he stepped out into the corridor. He took two steps forward, one back. Practically ran down the hall, only to turn and stalk away. The back and forth continued until he found himself standing in front of her door. It was now his arm’s turn to be indecisive, rising and falling. Fist poised at the door, only to be brutally shoved into his pocket.

  Oh good hell! Was he a man or a mouse?

  He lifted his arm again.

  JANE SAT IN HER HOTEL ROOM, SURFING THE internet for stats on the Rockets and the team they would be playing in two days. She took a bite of her room service hamburger and tried to concentrate on the graphs and stats that filled the screen of her laptop. The colors and numbers blurred as her mind kept returning to the exchange in the locker room.

  She’d changed since the days when Grayson knew her. She knew that. She was no longer the insecure little girl with braces and glasses, which hid her uni-brow, and brown hair that was in a constant state of frizz. The ninety’s had no
t been kind to her. But the twenty-first century came and with it went ‘Plain Jane’, bringing straight teeth and contacts, a monthly appointment with the salon for perfectly arched brows and John Frieda’s anti-frizz formula—and the boob job, not that she ever told anyone about that.

  Even her mother thought that college had magically made her breasts two sizes larger—and that was the way Jane was going to keep it.

  Jane’s parents had moved from the tiny town in Central Utah where Jane was born and raised and she had never gone back. Why bother? It was better to leave the past where it belonged—in the past.

  Except now that painful past had come flooding back with a really sick sense of vengeance. She couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done that made karma hate her so badly? She tried to be a good person. She’d never killed anyone or tortured any small, helpless animals. Surely, the spider in her room yesterday morning didn’t count.

  She moved her cursor and put KHB’s web address into the browser, calling up tonight’s newscast. She watched as her face appeared on the screen. She scrutinized every movement and was satisfied with her work today. Not bad. No notes to work on—except to keep her heart from pounding every time Grayson Pierce showed up.

  Well, what do you know? It seemed that she was still the heartsick little girl whenever he looked at her.