Double Play

by Joanne Rock

  She closed her eyes to shut out the inviting sight of Heath’s V-shaped back tapering into narrow hips. But that only made the scent of his skin beneath his shirt more tempting. Amazing how as soon as you deprived one of your senses, the others all became more acute.

  What am I doing?

  It was quite possibly the last rational plea of her reasonable mind, so accustomed to being in total control. She didn’t want to be the half-witted woman whose body was washed up on the beach the next morning because she went home with a stranger.

  But Heath wasn’t a stranger. He was a well-known public figure who would be risking his million-dollar contract if he got into trouble with the law. Plus, Rochelle knew Heath and knew Amber was with him. Amber had texted her friend while Heath was starting up the bike before she left.

  Besides, he’d never once flaunted his star status to impress her. He could have used that to try to woo her in some smarmy pickup, but he hadn’t even mentioned it. He seemed like a regular guy. A really hot regular guy.

  Bottom line, Amber had come to the beach for just this kind of thing—to prove she could have a passionate, hot encounter without overthinking the whole thing. She wasn’t a cold fish. She didn’t have to plan every second of her life, which had been another one of Brent’s accusations before he left.

  It would be okay to let go of reason for a few hours. Maybe even all night. Heath was charming. Forthright. Sexy. Best of all, he was only interested in the here and now. She didn’t have to worry about confusing, emotionally draining entanglements.

  He might even be gone before she woke up in the morning.

  What could one night with him possibly hurt?

  She’d thought so long about it that she didn’t realize they were home until Heath rolled the bike to a stop and flicked off the engine.

  Suddenly, she sat in the dark chill of the cooling night air, clinging to his back for dear life for no other reason than that he felt so good.

  So warm. So fiercely masculine.

  “Amber?”

  His voice scratched over her senses, satisfying an itch and somehow heightening them at the same time.

  “Mmm?” She told herself to let go of him, but her hands wouldn’t obey.

  The only response she got from her fingers was a slight flex against his abs, raking gently along the hard muscle there.

  “We’re home.” He placed a warm palm against the outside of her bare thigh where her dress had hiked up to straddle the bike.

  Ooh.

  The broad splay of his fingers awakened her senses to even more sensual possibilities. What might those hands accomplish if given free rein over her body tonight?

  She felt her nipples bead even harder against his back. The impulse to rub herself against him like a cat gripped her so forcefully she could barely resist it.

  “I’m aware of that.” With an effort, she unlinked her hands from his waist and reached up to unfasten her helmet. “Guess I got a little too comfortable.”

  Hooking the helmet on the back of the bike, she stood. Her body protested the loss of his and she wondered if her reaction to him was so fierce because she’d denied herself this kind of outlet her whole life.

  Wasn’t she the woman who chose her dates intellectually? Based on common interests? That had always seemed so smart and so much safer than dating random guys just because they looked good. But maybe she really had missed some important dating knowledge by denying herself the occasional—er—booty call?

  “Comfortable?” Heath was off the bike and standing inches in front of her before she could catch her breath. “Is that what we were feeling the whole way home?”

  She wondered how he knew what she felt. His dark, intent stare sure looked as if he had full knowledge of her riotous impulses. Could he honestly be feeling all those same things?

  Her legs wobbled unsteadily beneath her. She hadn’t felt so boy-crazy since her first high-school dance.

  “Maybe comfortable wasn’t quite the word I was looking for. Thank you for the ride.”

  She had no idea how to go about inviting him inside, probably because she’d never tried to make a move on a guy so early in a relationship. But damn it, she didn’t want a relationship. She wanted mindless forgetting.

  She wanted to feel hot and sexy and passionate. And her every tingling feminine instinct told her she could feel that way with Heath.

  “You sound so formal,” he teased, smiling. “I thought we got past that stage on the ride home.”

  Amen. But she didn’t say that. Clearing her throat, Amber called up all her courage.

  “Would you like to come in?” At some point during the asking she realized she was shaking inside—and a little on the outside, too.

  Damn Brent for stealing her confidence and making her doubt herself.

  Heath peered over one shoulder toward Rochelle’s beach house.

  “Actually, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands off you once I cross that threshold.” He made it a friendly warning, but the tense set to his shoulders told her he might not be kidding. “I’d rather not go in unless I’m sure I’ll be staying all night.”

  In the old days—her pre-Brent days—she would have thought Heath’s statement was coming on too strong. Right now, she liked the idea that he wanted her.

  “I’m not sure—” she started, licking her lips since the words had dried up in her throat.

  The breeze off the water blew her skirt lightly against her legs; the scent of the sea and Heath’s aftershave wove around her.

  “That’s where the conversation comes in, remember?” He slipped a hand around her elbow and guided her toward the balcony where she’d stood a few hours earlier and ogled him shamelessly.

  Back then, she’d been content to simply let the sight of a handsome man rev her snoozing libido. She’d never thought she would actually be returning here with him tonight.

  “You’re really going to try to sell me on spending the night with you?” She couldn’t imagine he did that very often. Major League Baseball players had their pick of women at all times, right?

  Her small kitten heels sank in the sand with each step as she followed him across the driveway and up the steps to the balcony. Once there, he wasted no time backing her onto the fat green cushions of the porch glider. He dropped down to the seat beside her, close but no longer touching.

  He seemed respectful like that, despite his frank way of speaking. Amber thought Rochelle had said he was a young player, but Heath had a definite maturity about him. He obviously knew not to crowd her.

  Now, he studied her in the moonlight, the soft white glow surrounding them in a bubble of privacy while the ocean waves rolled a relentless rhythm nearby. Cool sea spray carried on the breeze, coating her skin in a mist that made her shiver.

  “Amber, I’m going to be honest with you.” He angled his body between hers and the sea, effectively sheltering her from both the wind and the mist.

  “I would hope so.” She smoothed her skirt over her legs, the hem just barely reaching her knee. “I’m contemplating a fun fling, not a smarmy affair based on lies.” Even as she said it, a horrible thought formed. “You’re not married, are you?”

  She figured Rochelle would have known, but what if her friend hadn’t been aware of all the facts?

  “Divorced for three years, actually,” Heath clarified. “I’m not marriage material by a long stretch. In fact, I’m not even good dating material.”

  “I’m not looking for dating,” she said. “God, that sounds tawdry, doesn’t it? I’m sure this is supposed to be a lot less awkward. But I’ve never considered sleeping with someone just for—you know—fun.”

  Heath shook his head, a slow grin stealing over his mouth. What would it feel like to have those lips on hers?

  “You’re too much, Amber.” He brushed his fingers along the side of her cheek, his thumb straying beneath her lower lip. “It’s a good thing I got you out of The Lighthouse before you tried out your Mating Seaso
n techniques on the unsuspecting male population.”

  “You think I would have been a colossal failure, don’t you?” She marveled at the way his light stroke could elicit a swirl of pleasure deep inside her, far from the point of contact.

  How did he do that?

  “I’m glad you weren’t wasted on someone who wouldn’t have appreciated you as much as I will.” He lifted his thumb a millimeter or two, just enough to land on the plump center of her lower lip.

  Somehow, he’d turned the most gentle of touches into something wildly erotic. Or had she built it into something carnal with her wayward imaginings?

  “It’s nice to be appreciated,” she admitted, straining to maintain eye contact when her lids wanted to fall closed.

  What would happen if she just gave in to what she wanted?

  “I can do a lot better than this,” he promised, his voice soft next to her ear, making her realize her eyes must have closed long enough that she hadn’t seen him lean near.

  His whisper made the back of her neck tingle.

  “I’d like to see you try.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what pleasurable havoc he might wreak if she committed herself to this night with him.

  “Then what’s stopping you from saying yes?” His hand strayed lower, his fingers dipping beneath her hair while his thumb tipped her chin up.

  Their eyes met for a long moment and she wondered which of her many fears to list. That things would be awkward between them in the morning? That her relationship instincts would kick in tomorrow and she’d mess up the fling by falling for him? She knew he was a wildly inappropriate choice for her heart.

  But she didn’t say any of that. Without thinking, she voiced her biggest worry.

  “I’m afraid of being a sexual disappointment.”

  3

  OF ALL THE THINGS Heath thought he might hear regarding Amber’s reservation, a fear of disappointing him never would have crossed his radar.

  He had to stop himself from saying “What?” emphasized with a raised voice and a few audible exclamation marks, even though that was his internal reaction. From the tentative note in her tone the first time, he guessed she wouldn’t want to repeat the declaration.

  So, smothering the urge to express disbelief and a healthy amount of outrage at whoever had put that kind of notion in her head, he managed to keep his tone neutral.

  “Any man who claims to be disappointed in you is an idiot who’s too scared to admit he only disappoints himself.” He knew he might be condemning someone she’d once cared for, but how could he let her worry about something like that? He had a quick image of the kind of guy who would take advantage of a relatively inexperienced woman by making her think crap sex was her fault. The mental picture forced him to take his hands off her since his fingers flexed into automatic fists.

  “You think so?” She wrapped her arms around herself, her expression dubious.

  “I know so with a thousand percent certainty.” The urge to gather her up in his arms and take her inside pulled at him with new ferocity.

  Before, he’d wanted her because she made him feel like a regular guy, as if his wealth and fame didn’t matter one bit. They’d just been two people attracted at the most basic level.

  Now, he also wanted to prove to her beyond all doubt that she had the power to turn a man inside out with wanting her.

  “There’s no such thing as thousand percent certainty.” The worry had faded from her voice as she flicked at the hem of her dress.

  “There is in this case.” He unclenched his fists now, determined that the best way to take revenge on the jerk who’d hurt her was to provide her with the most excellent sex of her life. Laying his palm over her hand where it sat on her knee, he let his touch speak for him. “Why don’t you let me prove it to you?”

  Her big, dark eyes, guarded but curious, met his in the moonlight. They definitely had a connection and he was more than happy to exploit it for their mutual benefit. She might not know how good it could be between them, but he did.

  So, operating on instinct, he allowed two fingers to stray off the fabric of her skirt to brush her bare knee.

  Higher.

  He remembered how responsive she’d been on the back of his bike. How she’d pressed herself against him once she’d given in and put her arms around him. He used that knowledge now to shamelessly coax the answer he wanted to hear.

  “You’re very persuasive,” she admitted, her voice catching on a breathy note that teased his senses like a caress.

  “Is that a yes?” Taking no chances, he pressed his advantage by lowering his mouth to hers.

  Gently, he kissed her. Carefully, he kept the contact light so that he could walk away if she chose not to move forward.

  He hadn’t counted on her reaction.

  She didn’t sit still for the kiss. The tender meeting of mouths intended to seal the deal didn’t remain chaste for long. Later, he would think to himself that the kiss had been like a spark in a dry forest. Instantly, everything took flame.

  Amber’s arms were around his neck, her soft skin and faint fragrance surrounding him. Her hips twisted toward his, her thigh pressed against his leg.

  And her breasts…the sudden feel of her high, firm curves thrust to his chest brought on a blood rush that left him dizzy.

  “That’s a yes,” he growled against her lips, breaking the kiss long enough to speak. “Where’s the key to the house?”

  “In my purse.” She had sidled into his lap as if she belonged there, her fingers twining through his hair. “Hurry.”

  He was still reeling from the sensual onslaught. “We have all night,” he assured her, needing to catch his breath before he untied the halter top of her dress while they were still outdoors. “There’s no need to rush.”

  She wriggled and resituated herself on his lap, her hip nudging him at a crucial juncture that damn near undid him.

  “I didn’t feel in a rush either until you started talking about thousand percent certainty and put your hand on my thigh.” She let go of his neck to pick up the purse he hadn’t been able to find in the dark. Emerging with a key, she dropped it in his hand. “Now I’m all kinds of curious and more than a little excited about how this is going to turn out.”

  Apparently satisfied she’d done her part to get them inside the house, she returned her attention to his mouth. Nipping his lip, she smoothed the spot with a quick dart of her tongue.

  A groan ripped through him, the sound vibrating in his ears and humming along his skin as he rose to stand with her in his arms. Fumbling with the key and trying like hell to avoid the temptation of sliding a hand up her skirt, Heath plowed through the door of the beach house.

  He dropped the key on a counter of some kind and toed the door shut with his boot. He walked slowly since he’d never been in the house before and he didn’t want to ram into a piece of furniture with Amber in his arms.

  “Which way?” he asked, arching away from her kiss long enough to obtain that vital piece of information.

  “My room is at the top of the stairs. Through the living room on the right.” She whispered even though they were alone in the darkened house. Moonlight poured in through a few windows where the shades hadn’t been drawn, allowing him to make out the polished banister of a staircase. “But the living room is okay with me.”

  “Not a chance.” He hastened his pace, hoping to hit the steps before she kissed him again and his brainpower diminished. “I’m not going to let you get distracted by a sofa spring in your back or rug burn on the knees. I made you a promise that we’re going to have the time of our lives tonight, and that damn well means a mattress.”

  “Rug burn?”

  He took the steps faster than most of his rookie players could have, even with Amber in his arms. Then again, it was having Amber in his arms that drove him to find the bedroom so fast.

  “Nothing you need to worry about now,” he assured her, maneuvering her through the doorframe with care so he didn’t
bump into anything.

  The room faced the ocean. Moonlight spilled in through the open French doors while the vast blackness stretched out on the other side. A white spread on an old iron four-poster bed, one of the few pieces of furniture on the sprawl of gently worn hardwood, welcomed them.

  He hesitated before reaching the mattress.

  “There.” She pointed, as if he couldn’t see the bed for himself.

  “Not yet.” He figured he was the one carrying her, so he could choose where they landed. Positioning her just in front of the French doors, he set her on her feet. “I’ve been remembering all night the way your legs looked with the setting sun shining through that skirt earlier.

  I’m thinking I can re-create the visual if the moon is bright enough.”

  He stepped back to admire the view, the moonlight giving her a back glow like an angel in her white dress. And how damn poetic was that?

  “You’re crazy,” she admonished, fidgeting her way out of her shoes, clearly uncomfortable in the spotlight.

  “Maybe.” He reached for the long rope of hair snaking down one shoulder and caught the end. “Can I unfasten this?”

  He pulled at the elastic.

  “Um, sure. But this isn’t some kind of Cinderella deal where I let my hair down and suddenly I’m gorgeous.”

  Pulling the hair tie free, he slipped a finger into one loop after another, methodically untwining the hair as silky waves slithered over his palms.

  “No ‘suddenly’ about it.” She was naturally beautiful either way.

  The process was deliciously slow, and he took his time, enjoying the feel of her hair as it cloaked her shoulders.

  She stepped closer, her eyes heavy-lidded.

  “Only one knot left to unfasten,” she whispered, pulling the long mane to one side of her neck and revealing the tie of her halter top.

  His pulse stuttered and sped up. How had he gotten so fortunate as to run into this woman tonight? A woman who didn’t know about his career and didn’t care what he did for a living. She hadn’t even asked.

  Unable to keep his distance any longer, he hauled her up against him. Easing the knot in her dress, he undid the soft cotton until the triangles of fabric covering her breasts loosened and fell free.