The Sweet Spot

by Stephanie Evanovich

  “Funny how you used the word slump there,” she said, tuning right into his superstition.

  His voice took on more of an edge. “It’s a baseball term, for times when a player isn’t hitting the ball.”

  “Yes, I know. Ever have one before?”

  “Not that I can remember,” he grumbled irritably.

  “Didn’t you once tell me that slumps often occur with major changes?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that you have a girlfriend. That’s pretty major. I think I heard someone call me Jessica Simpson the other day. That just won’t do, I’d have to stop wearing her line. Maybe we should cut back on some of the time we spend together?”

  She didn’t really want to be without him. The thought alone was a depressing one. But maybe he was ready for a change and didn’t know how to tell her. She could test him with the opportunity and see if he made any move toward it; then all she’d have to make was a heartbreaking decision. She had no intention of being his hometown stadium girl as he coasted from city to city. And if all he needed was some alone time to get him back on his game, she was willing to make the sacrifice. Anything would be better than the cloud of surly that now followed them around.

  “Out of the question,” he instantly rebuffed, more like a bark, as if she were daft for making the suggestion.

  “Thanks for giving it consideration,” she replied with a touch of sarcasm.

  “I don’t need to consider it,” Chase continued heatedly. “It’s not going to make things better. If you were really concerned about helping me out, you’d start packing your bags.”

  He wasn’t talking about breaking up with her. And she really was flattered that he wanted her so close. “I worked really hard to build up the Cold Creek,” she said, trying to let him down easy and keep him from getting further agitated. It was the first time he’d mentioned it since he brought it up the first time.

  “I know you did,” he admitted, trying not to convey the built-up resentment. “I’m not insisting on it, am I? You asked me what’s wrong, I’m telling you.”

  “Insisting?” Amanda blinked indignantly. “When did I give you that sort of license?”

  “You didn’t,” he quickly clarified angrily. “I just couldn’t think of a better word. Don’t read into it.”

  “So the alternative is I get to deal with your bad mood till you spank one out of the park?”

  Spank. One out of the park. When one of the guys on SportsCenter said it, it didn’t have the same effect. But she had introduced it into conversation and so casually. The one word he’d been thinking all night. The word he imagined he heard coming from her lips on a daily basis. But she was being rational and capable. She wasn’t saying it to turn him on. She wasn’t trying to antagonize him, either. He knew he was acting off. Why didn’t he just come out and tell her? Because he needed to believe he was bigger than his secret. He couldn’t bear the thought of her reaction if she wasn’t into it. The look of distaste or, worse yet, revulsion as her opinion of him diminished right before his eyes. Or the capper being she indulged him and then cut him loose after labeling him a pervert. For the first time in his adult life, he questioned his ability to make the right decision.

  “It’s probably best if I take you home,” he said abruptly, rising from the couch where they’d been sitting to retrieve his keys. “I don’t think either of us is having a good time.”

  “Chase, I don’t work for you. You’re not allowed to dismiss me when you don’t like what I have to say.”

  “I’m not dismissing you I’m trying to spare us the aggravation of a useless argument, and give us both a chance to cool off.”

  “But I’m not mad,” Amanda said slowly and deliberately, feeling as though she had pieced together a puzzle. “This is about me not willing to follow you around, isn’t it? You’re mad because you’re not getting what you want. What would you have me do, Chase? Show up at the Cold Creek tomorrow and tell thirty people they’re out of work because their boss decided to close the place and follow around her favorite baseball player? I realize that they’re not as important as you, but their families think they’re pretty special and are depending on them. And while I’m not an important cog in the world dynamic either, if I don’t show up, the place can’t stay open.”

  She was completely right and he knew it, and it only irritated him further. His alternate excuse for being distracted wasn’t sounding much better than his real one.

  “I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he growled. “But I’m warning you, if you push this, you’re going to find yourself someplace you don’t want to be.”

  “I’m already someplace I don’t want to be. You know that place where you always want me around only to shut me out, all with your cool courteousness? This certainly makes me want to give up my career and be at your beck and call, although I don’t know what Jack will do with all the free time now that he won’t be spying on me anymore.”

  Chase had positioned his most trusted security at the restaurant in response to some threatening jeers from the stands referencing why his head wasn’t in the game. He knew Jack wasn’t exactly inconspicuous or personable, but the last thing he needed was her questioning him on it, given she inadvertently was the cause.

  “He’s not spying on you.” Chase could feel his teeth starting to grind. “He’s there to protect you when I can’t be there.”

  “I never knew I needed protecting until I met you.”

  “Don’t be childish, Amanda. There are people out there who are truly crazy, take it all too seriously, and know exactly where to find you. Why do you think I have them?”

  Childish? Amanda thought, enraged. If anyone was acting like a spoiled child it was him, only he was hiding behind all his gallantry and nebulous attempts to scare her. “I have an idea,” Amanda said with overzealous sarcasm as she rose in agreement to call it a night. “Why don’t you blame your slump on me? Looks like you’re doing it anyway. Tell your coach you’re not getting enough rest because I’m not there to suck your dick when you’re on the road, and it’s throwing your timing off.”

  Amanda knew she struck a nerve when his face immediately fell in response to the shock of her crudeness. “What did you just say to me?”

  Sparked by her own gumption and charged by his reaction, Amanda switched course. Spitting out the obscenity felt good; so did watching the drastic and sudden change in his disposition. It was one moment where he looked dark and primal and about to lose control, then successfully reeled it back in. Clearly he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that, probably by anybody. There was an exhilaration that came with seeing him go from considerate and polite to as frustrated as she was. If they were going to have their first fight, they might as well have it. Finally, she was getting a glimpse of what in all probability was his flaw and could begin to view their relationship from a level playing field. And that flaw was he expected her to agree and go along with whatever he thought was important. Apparently, he also expected her to saddle the blame when his rose-colored glasses got fogged up. How he acted when he didn’t get his way and she called him on it spoke volumes. If he thought he was going to manipulate her with great sex and an abundance of cash, she was going to set him straight here and now. Closing the distance between them, Amanda stood confrontationally in front of him. With her hands planted on her hips, she recklessly continued. “You heard me. You can tell everyone at your next press conference that you’re not making your numbers because your latest fling is fucking all the power out of you with her voodoo pussy.”

  And just like that, she triggered him. Her vulgarity was not only deplorable but completely unexpected and he instinctively reacted to it. With well-honed reflexes, Chase grabbed her upper arm and spun her halfway around. Seconds later, she felt the stinging slap of his free hand connecting smartly with the right side of her behind.

  “OH!” Amanda squealed with surprise and indignation, trying to pull herself out of his grip.r />
  His hand swung again and her left side received the same stinging treatment. Then, with her arm still solidly in his grasp, Chase began to march her in the direction of his bedroom. She planted her heels into the hardwood floor in protest, her bare feet sticking on the thick shine and acting as a momentary stopper against his momentum. Further determined, he effortlessly hoisted her over his shoulder, applying another well-placed swat. He bore her the rest of the way down the hall, with Amanda pounding his broad back and swearing at him with every step. He slammed the bedroom door shut with a backward kick. When in his room, he set her down briefly.

  “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

  Before she could decide how best to answer him, Chase took a seat on the corner of the bed, hauling her with him. He unceremoniously tossed her facedown across his knees.

  He flipped up her flowered sundress in one hand and pulled her panties down to her thighs with the other as she demanded an explanation. His arm clamped firmly around her waist and his other hand rested ominously on her now bare bottom. With her only view that of the floor, he said in a voice she’d never heard before, “Amanda, in ten seconds, I’m going to full-on spank you. If you really don’t already know why, we’ll discuss it later. You can fight me, accept it, or call the cops when it’s over, but make no mistake, little girl, it’s about to happen.”

  Without another word, Chase Walker raised his hand and changed the game again.

  CHAPTER 8

  AMANDA WOKE UP the next morning in Chase’s ginormous bed alone. All snuggled within his zillion-thread-count cotton sheets and his downy comforters.

  She knew she wasn’t free of him. He was located somewhere inside the penthouse apartment. She sat up, pulling the bedding with her, unconsciously reclaiming her modesty and remembered the night before.

  Last night was hot and steamy and wild, she thought.

  And kinky.

  Amanda Cole was not kinky. She was gracious and refined. She wasn’t a prude, but she shied away from the fethishy stuff. Last night was all evidence to the contrary, however. And this wasn’t about toe-sucking or him wanting to drink something out of her shoe. What he did to her actually hurt, enough to make her cry. And that almost seemed like the least of her worries.

  The whole episode only lasted about two minutes. A tiny span of time that opened up a floodgate of more feelings than she thought a person could have. She fought him as hard as she could for that first minute, so incensed by what he was doing, but there was no way to match his strength. Chase said nothing as she struggled, simply kept to his word and saw to his task. With uncanny expert precision, he maneuvered around her squirming and kicking to connect with his target every time, using just enough force to remind her of exactly where she was. But as soon as she stopped trying to escape, worn out from all the thrashing, his as well as her own, he began to scold her, something about soap and her mouth. The words were all jumbled in her mind. But she couldn’t forget the same crisp, authoritative tone that continued since he informed her of his intention. It was curt, resolved, and disappointed, definitely disappointed. It demanded her attention, and she found herself getting caught up in it. The more he scolded, the worse she felt. The absence of his generous loving affection cut into her like a knife.

  Then they seemed to combine, the pain of his voice with the sting of his hand, and she gave over to it all. It was like she had risen out of her body and was watching it all take place from the ceiling. And whether it was from the ceiling or nothing more than a picture in her mind, she was able to see his handsome face, a mask of determination and control. It was strangely comforting. It matched the look he got when he kissed her, and when he made love to her. Which meant it was a look that was erotic as hell.

  It was too many feelings all at once, vying for space in her brain. Pain, shock, frustration, disappointment, love, trust, eroticism, control. Control. She crashed back down to the floor, and once again it was the only thing she could see.

  It was then that Amanda really started to cry.

  As soon as he recognized her tears for what they were, Chase stopped. He waited a moment, caught his own breath. Then he helped her to stand and stood up next to her. All traces of fury in him had vanished. He almost appeared serene. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to hurt her any further or force himself on her in any way. He took a few steps back to give her some space, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched, waiting to see what she would do next.

  Although her dress fell back down, her panties pooled at her feet. She could feel them around her ankles. She wanted to reach back and try to rub at the burn, but refused to give him the satisfaction of letting him know just how well he’d done the job, as if there were any question. Embarrassment tried to cram its way into her skull. There was just no room for anger. And she didn’t want to be angry with him anyway, she wanted his laughing, loving voice back. If she didn’t hear it, and soon, the absence of it would be more than she could bear. The longer it continued, his silence created an expanding void that grew bigger and she didn’t have the strength to climb out of. She didn’t know how she would be able to stand one more second of it. She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand and choked on a sob the only word she could think of, part question, part exclamation, and all distress signal. “Chase.”

  And then he was there, scooping her up and holding her close against his chest. He went back to the corner of his bed, only this time to sit her on his lap. She bit back the wince while he held back a smirk and he settled her more comfortably against him. He held her quietly as she cried incoherent, random words, trying to make sense of it all.

  When her last tear was shed and the last word babbled, he kissed her. It was tender, conciliatory, but by no means remorseful. With each kiss, she wanted to coax the words out of him, words to explain, words to forgive. Only he wouldn’t say them. He adoringly hummed and hushed but his mouth was far too busy doing other things. Instead, he tumbled her backward onto the bed and helped her work through each of the feelings that were bottled up inside her, one by one. As each feeling exploded out of her body with the force of a line drive coming off a fastball, he caught it, made it his own, and joined her in it. He matched her emotion for emotion, and it was manic and chaotic and euphoric. . . .

  Amanda vigorously shook her head. She could never be accused of being a delicate flower, but last night went beyond aggressive sex. And her feminist school of thought was, if you let a guy hit you once, it’s like giving him permission to make you his punching bag. This felt different and only added to the confusion.

  Where had this man come from? This was not the completely gallant gentleman who politely pulled out her chairs, opened all her doors, and held her hand. Who took chivalry to a whole new level. The Chase from last night was forceful, intent on overpowering her and refusing to stop.

  Had she even said stop?

  No, she hadn’t. She fought and she swore and called him every name she could think of. She even made up a few. It had become an accelerating battle of words and wills until it was clear who was going to come out the victor. But at no time did she tell him to stop. At one point early on, she actually sank her teeth into his side, a decision she could probably thank any lingering soreness for. The resulting volley of sharper swats was a stark reminder of just how much restraint and control he wielded over her. How helpless and completely at his mercy she was. The mind-blowing sex afterward was born of the adrenaline created from the whole experience. It was wrong for him to take that sort of advantage of her. It was even more wrong that she let him. And there was no way to rationalize how, through it all, there was this out-of-body element that she had never felt before. It was feral, hedonistic, and uninhibited.

  One of his bathrobes was lying across a corner of the bed. Was he being thoughtful, presumptuous, or just plain lazy? Amanda pondered, standing up. She slipped on the heavy terry cloth. It was completely dry; he hadn’t used it. She settled on thoughtful while tying it at the waist
and pulling up the extra material to ensure she wouldn’t step on it when she walked. She tiptoed down the hallway, the same hallway that only hours ago he’d tried to drag her down, peeking into open doors for any sign of him. She encountered his cleaning lady in his memorabilia room, an entire room full of trophies and other dedications to his greatness. Lena was a stout Latino grandmother with a ready smile whom security picked up every morning at five A.M. and drove home at the end of each day since she was hired three years ago. She politely directed Amanda to the kitchen at the opposite end of the hall. Chase’s magnetism started creeping up on her as she got closer and hit her full force before she made it to the entranceway. She drew in her breath and held it. She thought she was ready to face him. She was wrong.

  Chase was sitting on a stool at the kitchen’s long center island, which also served as a breakfast bar. He was freshly showered and fully dressed in Kings workout garb, sans his hat and spikes. His blond hair shone under the bright lights overhead in the windowless kitchen, making him look more angelic than mortal. He held on to a coffee cup. The heavy ceramic mug looked normal in his large hand, and probably held a quart of coffee. The remnants of his Paul Bunyan–sized bowl of Cheerios sat beside a stack of newspapers, one opened directly in front of him. Chase always had his morning papers delivered by six and tried to be done reading them all by seven. When he caught sight of her in the entranceway he smiled brightly.

  “Morning, angel,” he greeted her, pointing to the opposite end of the long counter near where she was standing. “Coffee’s ready, over there in the corner.” He went back to reading.