Kiss Me

by Tory Richards

  “Nice to meet you,” he returned, his gaze running over Emma as though looking for the reasons of her unusual nickname. Impersonal as his inspection was, it still affected her strongly and to her dismay she felt her body responding.

  “This isn’t the first time,” Emma breathed in a silky voice, noticing his eyes were sexy even when they were sharp and assessing. She ignored the sudden, erratic jump of her pulse.

  “No, ma’am,” he agreed in a deep voice, leaving it at that, for which Emma was thankful.

  She was vaguely aware Amanda remained in the background, looking on with too much interest, but she was unable to break eye contact with Mike. Something about him excited her, pulling her in like a magnet. When it occurred to Emma they were still holding hands, she slowly slipped hers from his warm grasp. She was surprised to realize she was attracted to him. The bright blue of his eyes held her captivated, reminding her of the crystal blue waters off the Bahamas. She could eagerly dive in and discover the secrets behind those intriguing orbs.

  The silence between them made Emma uncomfortable and she glanced out at the ball field. “That was a quick inning; it looks like your team is up,” she said softly, watching the other team returning to the dugout opposite them.

  “Do you play baseball?” he asked matter-of-factly, a faint twinkle in the depths of his eyes.

  “No, I’m too…” She caught herself before saying what was on the tip of her tongue. It occurred to her she was far from the oldest kid on the block. She gauged Mike’s age to be somewhere around forty. The grin that broke out on his face took her breath away, leaving her flustered inside.

  “Too old?” he supplied, revealing he’d guessed where her thoughts were heading. Again his eyes swept Emma from head to toe and back again, this time with more boldness. “From where I stand, ma’am, I’d say you’re on the right side of perfect.”

  Her jaw dropping with surprise, Emma’s belly did a flip-flop. And Mike was gone before she could utter another word. It’d been so long since she’d received a compliment that she didn’t know how to react. Amanda broke her concentration by stepping directly in front of her, blocking her view of Mike as he was leaving the dugout.

  “You can close your mouth now,” Amanda teased in a tone that revealed she was as pleased as punch about something.

  Emma slowly focused her eyes on her, struggling to pull herself together. “What?” She didn’t know what Amanda was talking about. “Aren’t you supposed to go out on the field with the others?”

  “I’m going; are you going to wait for me here?”

  Emma wondered if that was a good idea. She looked at the field, her gaze landing immediately on Mike. Suddenly she felt flushed, and she met Amanda’s eyes with a feeling of guilt. She didn’t like the smile on her sister’s face; it suddenly reminded her of the look on Troy’s face earlier.

  “What are you up to?” she asked suspiciously.

  The pink tinge in Amanda’s cheeks was a sure sign she was guilty as sin about something. “Nothing, I swear.”

  Emma stared at her for a long moment before saying, “Go play ball, trouble maker.”

  Chapter 3

  Mike tried not to notice Emma on the sidelines but she was damn attractive and more than once he found his concentration on her and not the game. Every time he pitched, he looked at her, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the mid-morning sun to make her out in the shadowy confines of the dugout without being too obvious. He was still having a devil of a time believing she was the mother of a full-grown daughter.

  Babs Neely stepped up to the batter’s plate, taking a few practice swings with a bat almost as long as she was tall. An easy strike out, he thought, grinning. He couldn’t recall a time she’d so much as made it to first base. The first two strikes went as predicted, but once again Mike found himself distracted when a movement from the dugout showed Emma going to the water cooler. Therefore, it didn’t come as a complete surprise when he finally got nailed, and by Babs of all people.

  He raised his glove but it wasn’t in time to stop the ball, which was coming directly at him, from hitting him squarely in the eye. The force of it almost knocked him out and for a minute Mike literally saw stars. He swayed on his feet, shaking his head to clear it, vaguely aware the ball game had stopped and everyone was running toward him.

  “I’m sorry, Mike!” Babs was the first one to reach him.

  “Mike, man, you all right?” Pete asked with concern, reaching him after Babs.

  “You took a hard hit in the eye, buddy,” a second player commented.

  “You better go sit down and put some ice on it,” said another worried friend.

  “Enough!” He held up his hand, motioning them all to stop, still shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, which had started to throb immediately. Another minute and they’d have him in an ambulance and on the way to the hospital. “I’ve been hit in the eye before,” he reminded them in a brisk tone. “Relax.”

  “You should still go put some ice on it,” Amanda encouraged. “It’ll keep the swelling down and…”

  “Since when did you become a nurse?” He grinned, shooting her a look out of the corner of his eye.

  “Mom…”

  “Your mom’s a nurse?”

  “She’s not…”

  Only Mike wasn’t listening. Darting a glance at the dugout, he saw Emma standing at the fence watching the whole episode. Was that concern on her pretty face? It was hard to tell with the sun in his one good eye. It was her fault he was going to have a black eye so it was only right she doctor him up. All of a sudden he felt dizzy, and he decided he’d better do as everyone suggested. “Maybe I’d better,” he agreed with pretended reluctance, the prospect of spending a little time alone with the lovely Emma Stuart too tempting to pass up.

  These days Mike wasn’t in the market for feminine companionship but there was something very appealing about Emma. Furthermore, there was nothing in his decision to remain woman-free for the next five years that said he couldn’t enjoy an occasional flirtation. He gently shrugged off the helping hands. “Go back to the game, guys.” No way was he going to allow them to walk him back to the dugout like he was an old cripple.

  * * * *

  Emma watched Mike slowly approach the dugout and immediately began looking around for something to use on his eye. Spying a cooler, she opened it and grabbed a handful of crushed ice before it dawned on her she didn’t have anything to put it in. She looked around for Amanda’s bag, realizing she’d probably have something in there she could use. Finding it beneath the bench, she sat down and opened it with one hand, digging through the contents for the first item of clothing she saw. However, when she held it up, her mouth dropped.

  Oh my!

  She glanced up just as Mike stepped into the dugout and held her breath with embarrassment on discovering it was definitely not Amanda’s bag she was rifling through. Their eyes locked, well, his one good eye to hers, and a flush spread across Emma’s face that produced a full-fledged grin on his. His gaze lowered to take in what she was holding in her hand. Her confidence to handle the situation lagged considerably by the amusement swimming in his eyes.

  “I, ah, usually know a woman a little longer before letting her, ah, handle my underwear,” he had the nerve to say, crossing his arms. He was thoroughly enjoying her dilemma.

  Emma was speechless, drowning in the deep water of Mike’s eyes. Not only had she been caught going through someone’s bag, but it turned out to be his. She glanced at the underwear in question, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when a foiled condom packet fell out, landing on her lap. She dropped the boxers as if she’d grabbed a snake, ignoring the condom, too mortified to move. She knew she should say something but the words stuck in her throat. The ice melting in her hand reminded her of what she’d been doing, enabling her to finally act with some amount of normalcy.

  Trying for a smile, she was barely able to lift her voice above a whisper. “I, ah, thought this
was Amanda’s bag; she has one that’s very similar. I saw you get hit in the eye and was looking for something to put this ice in.”

  Mike surprised her by reaching forward. The closer he got the further she shrank back. But he only snatched the condom off her lap and tossed it back in his bag, his jaw tight as though trying to hold back a laugh.

  “Is that for me?”

  Emma nodded, thankful he wasn’t going to mention the condom. “Your eye’s already turning color…” Her voice trailed off into nothingness when he moved to his bag, which was on her lap. For a second his face was so close that she couldn’t breathe. Mike glanced up from his search in time to see her wetting her lips. His gaze lingered there and Emma was sure her heart stopped beating. She was certain she saw a flare of interest flash across his face.

  “Will this do?” He pulled out a thin tank top, waiting patiently for her to respond.

  Nodding, she held out her hand with the ice in it. It had almost melted completely. She’d have to get more. “It’s hot,” she explained with an innocent smile, jumping off the bench to go back to the cooler.

  Mike jumped back to avoid being hit in the face but he wasn’t quick enough. Emma’s head caught him just beneath the chin, causing him to bite down on his tongue when his jaw snapped closed. He just barely managed to keep from swearing. Now he was really dizzy, and he swayed slightly on his feet.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry,” Emma rushed out, reaching up to grab him by the shirt.

  The sound of material ripping seemed as loud as a clap of thunder, and was no less devastating for Mike. After ten years of wearing his lucky weekend tee shirt through numerous baseball games and fishing trips without anything more than a beer stain marring it, she’d managed to ruin it in the space of a few seconds. He opened his mouth in an effort to tell her it was okay, but the lie wouldn’t come.

  “Oh my gosh.” She stood back with her hand over her mouth, peering at him with rounded eyes. “I think you were safer out on the field.”

  Was she trying to be cute? Mike peered at her with his good eye, the other one half closed by the swelling. His hand examined the damage to his shirt, fingering the torn edges of material, watching her eyes widen as she continued to stare at him over the palm of her hand. Her gaze dropped, her eyes widening even more if that were possible, prompting him to take a closer look. One side of his chest was exposed and running across it in three neat little lines were the obvious marks of a woman’s nails. His crooked smile wasn’t meant to put Emma at ease. She was damn cute when she was flustered and he was enjoying every minute of it.

  “I’m not usually this inept,” she finally said, watching the scratches bead up with blood. “Goodness, you look like you’ve been in a fight.” She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his chest, giving Mike the unexpected urge to rip the rest of his shirt off.

  He didn’t want to spoil the moment by putting in his own two cents worth. The scratches brought forth a memory when he and his high school girlfriend were getting hot and heavy in the bed of his father’s pickup truck one night. Damned if he could recall her name, but she’d scratched him too, though for different reasons. All at once he felt hot, only he wasn’t thinking of some nameless teenager from the past. It was the lady in front of him causing the wild urge surging through him.

  “Are you all right? Your color doesn’t look so good. There’s a funny glaze in your, ah, good eye.” There was no denying the concern in her voice as she began to run her eyes over him like a mother hen looking over her brood. When he didn’t answer right away, she continued, “Officer Denton?”

  Hell, maybe he had a concussion. His pulse was racing, that was for sure. At the very least his blood pressure was rising at an alarming rate. He struggled for control. “I think we’re past the formality stage, don’t you?” He indicated his torn shirt.

  “I’m so sorry about your shirt,” she said again, her face turning a becoming shade of pink. “I’ll buy you another one.”

  Once again her gaze ran over his exposed chest, which wasn’t doing anything to cool him off. “I don’t know if I should put this ice on your eye or your scratches.” She could barely look him in the eye.

  Mike took a deep breath, knowing what he’d like to say. The hell with his eye; no amount of ice was going to help it anyway. However, ice on his chest might help cool down the sudden heat boiling in his blood. Damn, he hoped he wasn’t obvious. But his body was having a very obvious reaction to Emma. His gaze shot out to the field, trying to gauge where the game was and when his team would be heading back in. The last thing he wanted was for them to return and see the state he was in.

  “Maybe you’d better sit down,” Emma suggested as the silence stretched between them. Gently taking him by the arm, she guided him to the bench, pushing him down when he didn’t resist. “I hope you don’t have a concussion.” She moved in close, raising her hand to put the compress she’d made over his eye.

  Hell, Mike thought, a concussion was the least of what he had. He took a long, deep breath, hoping it was enough to calm down his racing heart and his very male reaction over her closeness. Her subtle fragrance reached him on a sensual level. “Me too,” he said between clenched teeth.

  Didn’t she realize she’d moved between his thighs? There was nowhere for him to retreat. He assumed Emma finally realized her mistake when she suddenly reared back, peering at him with dawning knowledge in her eyes. She took a breath that sounded like a gasp of pleasure and he watched her pupils dilate, knowing then and there she was as affected by his nearness, as he was hers. She forced a smile, attempting to step back. Just when Mike figured things couldn’t get any worse, her sneaker got caught on a rough edge of uneven ground and she stumbled backwards, her arms flailing wildly as she lost her balance.

  It happened so fast there was no time for thought. He moved rapidly, clamping his thighs together and entrapping her between his legs. His actions had dire consequences though, causing her to bump against a spot most women aimed for when they were being attacked.

  “Oh!” she gasped.

  Mike sucked in his breath, but it wasn’t because he was in any pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back a groan as unexpected desire surged through him like a rocket blasting off for the moon. The feel of Emma’s soft body brushing against his groin produced the kind of rush he hadn’t experienced since high school. Hell, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d experienced it. If things continued on the course they were heading he was going to embarrass himself and not just in front of her but the whole damn team. He was shaking by the time he released her.

  She quickly stepped back. “Oh dear, I don’t know what’s got into me today. If I’ve hurt you…” Her movements were more careful the next time she moved.

  Mike didn’t know if he liked the way she was gazing at him. Much too motherly. With a diminishing smile, she replaced the ice over his eye, going out of her way to keep her distance. Her cheeks were bright red, making him wonder if they’d be hot to the touch. Maybe she’d felt something too, when their bodies collided. She was lucky though; a woman had one advantage over a man and that was she could hide the signs of arousal. Yet something told Mike her arousal was there, just beneath the surface.

  As though his silence unnerved her, she chuckled saying, “If you were a child, I’d kiss it and make it better.”

  Mike’s eyebrows shot up at her outrageous comment. The thought of her kissing “it” to make it better nearly did him in, and he doubted she’d appreciate where his mind had wandered. She seemed too innocent for that, in spite of her years. And that made her very appealing. He took a deep breath, wondering how it was she could cause a man to get a raging hard on and not be aware of it. He fought against the impulse to clench his thighs together to disguise his condition.

  With his luck he’d just bring attention to it and have Emma blushing like a schoolgirl, or worse, run screaming from the dugout. Since his baseball mitt was on the seat next to him he reached for it, casually draping it over
his lap and praying he wasn’t too obvious. Emma began to hum softly beneath her breath, a nervous habit he was willing to bet. She didn’t seem to be aware she was doing it. Until now she’d avoided looking directly at him, but his unexpected movement with the glove drew her attention to his quiet gaze.

  Their eyes locked and for a moment she seemed lost.

  Awkwardly clearing her throat, she asked, “Is it feeling any better?”

  Mike wasn’t sure if she meant his eye, the scratches on his chest, or his slowly diminishing hard on. In spite of all that, a crooked grin spread across his face. “Yes.” His voice came out sounding like a dry croak and he quickly cleared his throat, trying again. “Much better. How does it look?”

  She removed the dripping cloth. “Well, the swelling’s gone down; it’s not completely shut so you should be able to see out of it. And,” she hesitated before adding with a reluctant smile, “it’s a beautiful shade of plum.”

  “Great,” he mumbled beneath his breath. “I’ll be sure to tell my date for the policemen’s dance to wear something in lilac.”

  A soft laugh escaped Emma, her eyes gleaming with child-like amusement. A noise pulled their attention to the ball field to see Mike’s teammates running toward the dugout. “The inning is over,” she stated, turning to meet his eyes.

  “The game,” he corrected, holding her gaze.

  After a long moment and just as everyone began piling into the dugout, Emma held out her hand. “It was nice meeting you again, Mike.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.” His large hand swallowed hers up. Her voice was so soft, he lowered his gaze, watching her lips form the words with interest. It was a mistake and only showed him how much he wanted to kiss her at that moment. Though before he knew it, her hand slipped from his as she turned to meet Amanda.

  He watched the gentle sway of her hips, wondering if he’d see her again. His hand went up to finger the torn edges of his favorite shirt before continuing up, gently probing at his swollen eye. She was dangerous. Just as his eyes settled on the enticing curve of her backside, his vocal thirteen-year-old daughter, Melissa, entered the dugout, calling out for him as she rushed past Emma with a smile on her face that stretched from ear to ear. “Dad, guess what? The old theater downtown is…”