Perfect Game

by Collette West

  "Bite your tongue, McKenzie. Harper just drove in the first run of the game," Andy says, taking his earphones off and picking up the pencil I threw across the broadcast booth.

  "I guess I'm going to have to take one for the team, then," I groan, and Andy quirks an eyebrow at me questioningly.

  Shit! Me and my big mouth. I can't spill to the on-air voice of the Kings that I want to fuck the brains out of the first baseman after I promised his teammates that I wouldn't go near him if he started the season playing well.

  So instead, I say, "I told Harper that, if he got a hit tonight, I'd kiss his bat again tomorrow."

  "His bat?"

  "Long story."

  "Care to elaborate?"

  "Not really."

  "Carrie, that interview you did with Harper was first rate, but I wouldn't go getting too chummy with him if I were you," Andy warns, throwing a sidelong glance my way. "He likes the ladies a little too much for his own good."

  "Yes, Dad," I tease.

  Our conversation is interrupted when the commercial break comes to an end. Not missing a beat, Andy slides his earphones back on and speaks into the mic, "New York Kings baseball is brought to you by—"

  "He's right, you know. Lately, any girl who gets involved with one of the Kings gets put through the wringer, usually through no fault of her own."

  I swivel my chair around to face Andy's wife, Gayle. She's the owner of the Queen of Diamonds website and a woman I know a whole lot better than I led Grey Whitfield to believe. So much for keeping this kissing-Scott's-bat thing under wraps. It's not going to happen now—not after Gayle overheard what I just told her husband.

  That's the Kings for you. We're all up in each other's business twenty-four-seven—the players, the coaches, the traveling members of the press corps. There aren't many secrets that stay hidden, considering that we're around each other day in and day out for one hundred and sixty-two games a year, not counting spring training and the postseason. Gossip flows pretty freely around here, which is why everyone usually knows everything about everybody. Well, almost everything.

  I get up and follow her to the back of the booth so as not to disturb Andy. "But, Gayle, you and I both know I'm not just any girl."

  "Even so, make no mistake. The hacking of his phone was intentional." Gayle gives me a stare full of meaning, and goose bumps start to rise on the back of my arms.

  Gayle's comment suggests some kind of stalker, revenge-getter. There's something going on that's a whole lot deeper than humiliating Scott for being a ladies' man.

  "But who's after him? Do you know?" I watch her face closely. "If you do, tell me, and I'll inform my—"

  "I'm working on it." She holds up a hand to slow me down. "I'm afraid it's an inside job, one of the higher-ups in the front office. I know who the culprit is. Now, I just need irrefutable proof to nail him to the wall. Something he won't be able to worm his way out of."

  "So, it's a he?" I ask, racking my brain for possible suspects.

  "Do you really think a woman would do these sorts of things to other women?" Gayle asks, tilting her head to the side.

  "I hope not. Besides, what could this person possibly have to gain by embarrassing Scott?"

  "Money, leverage, control. Things you luckily don't have to worry about while living with your parents on Park Avenue."

  Okay, now, I feel stupid, but I'm too upset to care. I'm too worried about Scott.

  I run my hands through my hair, raising my voice as I start to panic. "And no one on the Kings has looked into this? Only you?"

  "As far as I'm aware," she answers in a more subdued tone, giving me a look to pull myself together.

  I cringe when some of the other personnel in the booth turn to glance our way, starting to take note of our conversation thanks to me. "That seems so hard to believe," I whisper back. "The Heimlich family name lives and dies by the reputation of its players."

  "That it does." Gayle nods, in no way disagreeing with me.

  "And you haven't spoken to Arnold about it directly? I'm sure he'd want to hear your concerns." I look into her eyes, not understanding why she's holding back on something as serious as this.

  "Carrie, please don't mention anything to him," she says, staring me down. "Not yet."

  "I know you must have your reasons," I sigh. "But, Gayle, I need your word that you'll come to me as soon as you have whatever it is you think you need. I want this asshole to fry just as much as you do."

  She gives me the same grin Grey gave me back in Panama. "Sounds like someone's getting attached to Scotty-Boy."

  I shake my head vigorously. "C'mon, Gayle. I wouldn't want to see this happen to any of the guys on the team, not only Scott." I shrug, trying to play it off. "It's not easy playing in New York. I know how hard the media scrutiny in this city can be. They have enough to deal with as it is."

  "If only all of management thought the way you do," Gayle responds, placing her hand on my arm and guiding us back to our seats.

  "Well, maybe it's time to shake things up a little," I reply.

  Gayle holds out her fist, and I bump it with mine.

  "Four-six-three double play," Andy continues, talking excitedly into the mic, his eyes locked on the field. "And the top half of the inning comes to an end with a spectacular full-extension scoop in the dirt by first baseman, Scott Harper. Let's look at it again in slo-mo. I don't know how he was able to keep his foot on the bag."

  "I do," Gayle chuckles next to me.

  "Stop it. He's just having a good game. That's all," I reply even though I'd like nothing more than to run downstairs and lay one on him. God, when he plays well, it's so damn sexy.

  "Nah. I think it's because he knows you're watching," Gayle teases, not letting it drop. "I heard you talking to Andy. You made some kind of bet with him, didn't you? You're crazy, Carrie. You know how competitive these guys can be."

  She's right. If Scott goes on a tear, hell will probably freeze over before we have sex again. I told the guys I wouldn't sleep with him so that Scott can regain his focus and play well this season. If he keeps getting hits, then I'm going to have to abide by my promise because the rest of the Kings are going to be watching me like hawks now.

  "Jesus, what did I get myself into?" I mutter.

  "Pucker up, McKenzie, because nothing's gonna keep Scotty in the zone like you doling out free kisses." Andy playfully smacks me with his scorecard.

  "What a great idea for a Queen of Diamonds feature! It's the perfect tie-in to introduce you as the newest personality on K-TV!" Gayle exclaims, her eyes lighting up. "Our female readership will go crazy over a daily photo of you kissing his bat."

  "Can you imagine if he comes close to Joe DiMaggio's fifty-six-game hitting streak?" Andy asks, exchanging a glance with his wife.

  "Andy, c'mon. That record's unbreakable and you know it," I argue back.

  "Stranger things have happened," he responds, grinning from ear to ear.

  Ugh, why do people keep saying that? First, Jake; now, Andy. What gives?

  I throw up my hands. "Fine. Maybe I'll kiss him on the lips just to get it over with."

  "And deny us all the suspense? No way in hell!" Gayle proclaims, pointing her finger at me. "You'll kiss his bat and you'll like it."

  "Says the advocate of female fans everywhere," I mutter.

  "It's all about bringing the drama. Carrie, you're new to the team. This is a great way to make a name for yourself by doing something sensational like this," she encourages, trying to warm me up to the idea.

  "I'd rather make a name for myself by being a competent journalist, thank you very much," I state, frowning at her.

  "That's all well and good, but no one's gonna be interested in you unless you get them to pay attention to you first. Let me help you with that, Carrie." She leans into me when I stubbornly shake my head at her. "C'mon. It could be fun. I know Scott'll love it."

  "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," I groan because Gayle doesn't know the full magnitude
of what she's suggesting.

  I never thought that I'd be able to keep my promise to Chase and the guys, since Scott and I can't keep our hands off each other. But maybe telling Scott that I don't want to sleep with him in order to better his game was really a good idea, especially if he keeps hitting the way he is tonight. I want him to play well, and from a professional standpoint, the two of us really shouldn't be sleeping together on the job—no matter how hot and exciting it feels to sneak around.

  It's quite possible that Gayle's ruse might work, and these photos of me kissing his bat will link us together in a "they're only doing it for the job" sort of way. No one can openly accuse us of seeing each other, and we can fly under the radar for a while. It'll be the perfect chance to get to know each other better and find out if what we have between us is more than just great sex.

  An imposed period of abstinence could be just the thing I need to keep Scott interested. Yeah, I want to trust him and believe that he's really serious about me, but what if, somewhere down the road, he gets bored and changes his mind? For now, it wouldn't hurt to dangle a little incentive in front of him to keep him wanting more.

  Fine. Everybody wants me to be a sports bimbo? Then I'm going to be the biggest, most famous sports bimbo out there. I'll be on K-TV every damn night, and now, Gayle's going to splash me all over the Internet. I can't stand that I'm expected to be a bimbo all the time, but I want to be a sports reporter and this is the job I've got. And if Gayle's right, it might just shoot my career into the stratosphere.

  Besides, it already has an upside. My dad, my grandpa—hell, all the men in my family—are going to have an absolute fit when they see these photos of me kissing Scott's bat.

  Okay, I'll be Scott's new selfie girl, even if a steamy evening of hot, passionate sex is no longer required.

  Chapter Nine

  Scott

  "Can you believe I'm in the tenth game of this hitting streak already? It's insane. What a way to close out the first home stand of the year!"

  "I thought you guys were superstitious about talking about stuff like that?"

  I'm pumped, but Carrie's not, and I intend to find out why. She's as much a part of this as I am. She's doing me a huge favor, serving as a distraction from my sex scandal, and I want her to know how grateful I am to her. No girl has ever gone out of her way for me like this before. She's someone special, someone with a big heart.

  I throw an arm around her shoulders, bringing her in for a hug. "Not when it involves you. You bring me nothing but good luck."

  "But all streaks end eventually. This one won't last forever." She slides out of my embrace, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  "Way to bolster my confidence right before I have to go out and play a game," I tease her even though my buzz is quickly evaporating. Man, is she in a bad mood today.

  "All right. Let's do this already. Hold out your phone." She moves to stand in front of me, her mango scent the only thing I can think about when she's this close.

  "What shade of lipstick are you wearing today?" I ask seductively in her ear, trying again.

  "Red."

  "You're gonna have to do a lot better than that. The Queen of Diamonds wants details. Red what?"

  "Ravish Me Red." She takes a skittish step back and her backside nudges up against my cup. "Oops! Sorry!" she cries out, jumping away from me.

  "There are things around here that are about to get a whole lot harder than my bat if you're not careful, Care Bear."

  I reach down and adjust myself so she can watch. A satisfied grin crosses my face when she can't conceal her gasp. I know how hot she thinks it is when I touch myself in front of her. The first night we were together, she couldn't get her clothes off fast enough, so I had to take matters into my own hands, trying to hold on until she was ready. I'll never forget the lust-filled look she gave me, spread out beneath me, her eyes following my fingers up and down my shaft as I primed it to pound into her.

  She stares at me like she wants to rip my uniform from my body, but instead, she keeps the "I'm cranky 'cause I really need to get laid" act going. "I can't believe a pitcher hasn't broken that bat on you yet."

  "Don't go jinxing me. I happen to have a fondness for this one. See Pink Guilt at the end of the barrel? Rose Crush is near the handle. But I think Drive Me Nude is my favorite. Man, I fuckin' love this bat."

  Her eyes widen in surprise, clearly impressed that I remembered all the names. "Oh yeah? Because I heard the Baltimore dugout giving you some serious flack for it last night." She gazes at me, her hazel eyes full of concern.

  "Let 'em say whatever they want. They only wish they had someone as hot as you laying one on their lumber every night."

  "But it wasn't exactly fun when I had to do my pre-game rundown with Andy and they were all making kissy faces behind me," she groans.

  "They're just trying to break your composure, make you laugh."

  "Yeah, but, 'Why don't you blow me instead of Harper's bat?' doesn't exactly qualify as joking around in my book."

  "Who the fuck said that to you?" I demand, my anger rising.

  "Like it matters? I don't know how to walk this tightrope anymore. How do I be sexy enough to get noticed but not too sexy that I fall into the bimbo category? But these photos clearly decided my fate. Thanks to you, no one on the Kings takes me seriously now. So why should I expect any of the opposing teams to treat me any differently?" Carrie sighs, massaging her temples.

  "That's not true, Care Bear. The guys around here all think you're one cool chick. If anyone's the butt of the joke, it's me." I place my hands on her shoulders, turning her to face me.

  "But you're not the one kissing my microphone every night, are you?" she asks, staring up at me, clearly not buying that we're anywhere close to being on the same level when it comes to society's double standards.

  "So, you want me to end the streak? Is that what you're saying?"

  This is what it all comes down to. She's horny. I'm horny. I'm sick of stealing kisses wherever I can get them. I want all of her. Not just the sex. I want the dates, the getting-to-know-you stuff, the whole shebang. Forget about my goddamn career.

  "Don't be stupid. I'd never do anything to throw off your game," she says, placing her hand on my chest.

  "Then get over here and stand next to me and let's do this so I can send a photo to Gayle." I take my phone out of my pocket and hold it up, waiting for her.

  Carrie's hair brushes my chin as she positions herself in front of me, but instead of inhaling her scent, I clench my jaw when she says, "I can't believe that I'm your new selfie girl now."

  "Hold on." I lower my phone. "That's not how I see it."

  "But it's how everybody else does," she argues, moving away from me again. "I'm being objectified like all those other women in those photos. It seems like, lately, my whole existence revolves around validating your manhood. It's not what I signed up for when I took this job," she sighs. "None of it is."

  I mean, we haven't had sex in almost two weeks. I'm not exactly the king stud right now.

  "C'mon, Carrie. That's not what this is about," I plead with her, trying to get her to see reason. "It's just something fun for the fans. Don't let the naysayers turn it into something it's not."

  But that's not how she sees it. "Yeah, I might have my clothes on, but, Scott, these shots are still extremely sexual. I might as well have my lips wrapped around your dick because it's what everybody's thinking about when they look at these photos."

  I shake my head, rubbing the back of my neck. "You're reading way too much into it."

  "Am I? Everything's about sex when it comes to you, Harper!" she exclaims, resting a hand on her forehead as she starts to pace in front of me. "These aren't some cute, innocent shots. They're provocative as hell simply because you're in them. And my body type doesn't exactly help matters. I'd come off all hoochie even if I were wearing a rain poncho."

  "You're hot as sin, mama. Why not flaunt it?" I reach for her hand, but
she pulls it away.

  "Because it's not appropriate, even if I'm trying to help you redeem yourself with this nightly ritual of ours. Gayle's smart, flipping the script on what happened to you, turning it on its head and focusing instead on my sexuality instead of yours. She's sending the subliminal message that, if the Kings are okay with letting their clubhouse reporter do something so over the top, maybe those nudie Scott Harper photos really aren't that bad after all." She pinches the space between her eyes. "I never imagined how big this would get. It seems like the whole city's waiting for its daily porno shot of Scott and Carrie."

  "C'mon. It's not all my fault. Did you ever consider wearing clothes that aren't so tight and low cut?"

  I like pushing her buttons, because now, she looks really pissed. Yeah, it's a lot easier for the guys on the Kings' network. I didn't mean to imply that it's not, but does she have to dress so provocatively all the time? I don't like other dudes checking her out, especially when I can't have her because of this stupid no-sex clause she added on to my hitting streak thanks to my jackass teammates. Yeah, I'm as superstitious as the next guy, but I'd much rather get laid. All I know is that my balls are gonna be bluer than Smurfette's tits if we keep this up.

  "C'mon, Scott." She gives me an exasperated look, exhaling loudly. "That's what my producer, John, expects. In spring training, I tried to wear tailored jackets and power suits, but he pulled me aside and told me that I needed to vamp it up. Show off my curves. Expose more cleavage. He even reprimanded me about my hair, telling me that it needed to be bigger and blonder. So I hit the salon and invested in a set of hot rollers."

  "You've got to be kidding me." Shit. I didn't know it was that bad.

  "He said wearing my hair up was prohibited and to forget about going on the air with my glasses."

  "But I like those dorky glasses I saw you wearing on the plane. You were rockin' that naughty librarian look big time, mama." I smile at her, but it doesn't do any good because all I did was put my foot in my mouth again.

  "See? That's what I mean," she says, slapping her hand against her leg. "I'm always going to appear voluptuous, like some temptress of the night, because of my body even when I don't mean to be. That's why these pictures of us are a bad idea. It's like you're posing with some trampy Hooters waitress whose section you sit in every night."