Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  “Wait ’til the weekend.” She gave him a teasing glance over her shoulder.

  The change in her was miraculous. Even more than she’d been in Maui, she seemed her old self. Confident. Flirty. This was the woman he’d loved so long ago. He vowed to do whatever he could to keep her feeling that way.

  Jen flipped on the lamp, took off her slip and tossed it into a chair. She turned to face Matt, keeping her gaze on him as she unhooked her bra and slid her pantyhose and panties down her legs. She stepped out of them, pushed her hair back from her face with a saucy toss, and moved toward him. “Now who’s overdressed?”

  “That’s easy enough to fix.” He stripped quickly, easing his briefs over his hardened shaft. It throbbed as if he hadn’t had sex in years. “Any other requests?”

  As much as he wanted to let her lead, he couldn’t wait. The relief of knowing she was giving them a chance at a future overwhelmed his control. With one arm behind her back and the other under her legs, he lifted her, dropping her onto the fluffy comforter. “I need you too badly to go slow,” he warned.

  The smile she gave him, slow, sultry, her eyelids dropping halfway, went straight to his balls. This was his woman.

  She opened her legs to him and reached out an arm to draw him closer. The swell of her pale breasts called to him. Normally he could spend half the night playing with them, listening to the catch of her breath when he worked them just right.

  But tonight he needed to be inside her. Part of her. He reached lower, running fingertips over the pooch of her belly.

  Jen flexed beneath him the closer his hand got to her thighs.

  His breath released in a hiss. “You need this as badly as I do.”

  “God, Matt. Make love to me, please. Now.”

  His groan vibrated through him. It took all his willpower to move slowly enough to let her catch up with him. Jen’s head tipped back, baring the pale skin of her throat. He licked the sensitive spot on the base of her neck. At her moan, he nipped her earlobe.

  Her mouth opened with a cry that drove him on with increasing urgency. “Oh baby, you feel so damn good.”

  “I’m so close.”

  Rocking to meet him, her hips kept up the pace, as did her cries. Then her muscles contracted around him and she arched and froze.

  He let go and filled her, deep grunts escaping him as he pumped harder. The ecstasy of release rippled through him and at last, he stopped.

  Resting on his elbows, he hovered above her trying to catch his breath. He feared he was dripping sweat on her but he couldn’t move. She lay still, also panting. A good sign.

  He rolled to lie beside her. “I’m so glad you are willing to give me a chance to show you we can make it work. I love you, Jen. I know I said we could wait to give a name to what we’ve got, but I need you to know how I feel. I love how you still get shy at moments, and can be so bold other times. I love your laughter, especially when you can’t keep it controlled.”

  “You mean when I cackle like a flock of chickens?”

  “Any way you laugh works for me.”

  “I think what I love most about you, Matt, is your patience with me. I’m a work in progress. I can’t promise I won’t backslide. But I love you enough to keep pushing through my issues.”

  “I’m sure there will be days, too, when you wish you’d never met me. I still get intense with a new project now and then. But I try to leave that at work.”

  She kissed his arm where it was propped by her head. “I trust you to do so. You are one of the best people I know. Toward everyone, not just me. You’re a good man, Matt.”

  “And not only are you a good woman, my love, you deserve a good man.”

  He couldn’t be happier than in this moment. Life was never easy, but it was good. Sharing his with Jen would make it beyond perfection. He was the luckiest guy on the planet.

  Putting the entire depth of his emotion for her into his kiss, he proceeding to give her the first of what he hoped would be countless demonstrations of his love.

  A Note from the Author

  Thank you for reading the second installment of Second Chances novella series. The first book is Love Me Now.

  Would you like to know when my next book is coming out? Follow me on Twitter at @AriThatcher or like my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/AileenFishAuthor. You can also sign up for my newsletter on my website http://aileenfish.com.

  Reviews help readers find books. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.

  If you like sexy romance, look for my Destination Weddings series, featuring His Wedding Date and The Rock Star’s Wedding. I also have re-released several erotic romance novellas I’ve received the rights back on from Ellora’s Cave, now titled Honey, I’m Home and Theirs.

  I write sweet contemporary and Regency historical romance as Aileen Fish. My primary sweet series are Small Town Sweethearts and The Bridgethorpe Brides. If you enjoy kisses-only romance, check them out!

  Playing the Rookie

  Rachelle Ayala

  Copyright © 2014 by:

  Rachelle Ayala

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Amiga Books

  Cover Creation: Rachelle Ayala Publishing, LLC

  This book was built at IndieWrites.com. Visit us on Facebook.

  Acknowledgments

  First of all, I’d like to thank Mina Esguerra and Flirt Publishing for inspiring me to write this novella. Mina organized a class along with NYT and USAT bestselling authors, Marian Tee and Liliana Rhodes with the goal of writing a twenty-thousand word sports themed novella.

  I enjoyed all the encouraging tweets and the inspiring NSFW emails. Thanks Mina, Marian, and Liliana for working with me.

  I’m grateful for all the authors in my writing group, Romance In A Month, for their daily encouragement and support. What fun to write along and discuss our characters on a daily basis.

  Thanks especially to Lyssa Layne who helped me with baseball details, as well as Chantel Rhondeau for encouraging me to go with my own heart on my characters and their identities. Her acceptance of me and my characters is golden.

  Most of all, I love my fabulous beta readers who gave me great feedback. Your comments are invaluable and helped me get Jessica and Jay’s story exactly right.

  Chantel Rhondeau

  Jessica Cassidy (jessicacassidy.com)

  Debbie (domesticvixen.com)

  Melisa Hamling

  Lyssa Layne

  Vera Neves (sinfoniadoslivros.blogspot.pt)

  Dedication

  Chantel Rhondeau

  Chapter 1

  ~Jessica~

  “I had no idea baseball players are so huge.”

  A snarky male voice behind me says, “They’re major leaguers, what did you expect?”

  Oops, I whip my head around and catch Todd Martin, my friend and intern coordinator, smirking at me. His bright teeth flash knowingly, and he shakes his head, causing his afro curl hair to bounce and jiggle.

  “Something a little bigger than peewees, but these guys are hulks. Sure this isn’t football?”

  “Jessica Song.” He wags his index finger and peers over his natty horn-rimmed Johnny Depp style glasses. “Kindly refrain from referring to any athlete as peewee, or I’ll revoke your internship.”

  “Point taken, boss.” I straighten the sign-in sheets on my clipboard and stand behind my station ‘A through C.’ “I’ve only ever seen them on TV, and well, wow, in real life, they’re gorgeous.”

  “Get your jaw off the floor and let’s sign them in.” Todd cocks his hand next to his mouth and whispers, “If you see one you like, note your room number on the back of his badge.”

  “Uh, that’s not what I’m here for. Besides, I’m kinda still hung up on someone.”

  “That’s exactly why you need to be here, girlie. You’re supposed to be getti
ng over him. As for ballplayers, three’s never a crowd.” Todd’s eyebrows do the conga line, and he hooks his thumb. “Play ball! Here they come.”

  A fluster of heat tackles me as the first group of major leaguers swagger toward my table. Am I really here to snag one of these guys for my bed? I’ve never had casual sex, I mean, I’m not exactly the groupie type.

  So they all say, my snarky inner voice flips me the bird.

  Whatever. Here they come. Come? I didn’t mean to have such a dirty mind.

  Did you now? Inner goddess rolls her eyes, as if she has any. Humpf, I’ll make her as blind as Lady Justice or whoever it is who wears those scales. No time to fight her now with those ballplayers looming.

  Large hunks of handsome stop in front of my table. My face tilts up, and up, and my voice catches in my throat.

  “W-welcome t-to spring training. Please sign in and pick up a name badge. Oh, and your folder, Mr., Mr.? Uh, I don’t know your name, because you’re not wearing a badge.”

  Get a grip, Jessie, You’re such a dork. Somewhere in the confines of my stuttering, goddess has to have her say. Why is she always articulate?

  Because I’m a goddess and you’re a dork.

  Three men with the build of lumberjacks form a dense wall of manhood in front of my table, blocking all light from my eyes and sucking the oxygen out of the room.

  I swallow, unable to stop gawking at their strong chiseled jaws, tanned faces, and solid muscles, evident even under their suit jackets.

  One of the players chuckles. “You must be new if you don’t know who I am.”

  Or blind, inner me jabs my ribs.

  His friend punches him on the bicep. “Better be glad she doesn’t recognize your ugly mug.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me look you up.” I flip to the team roster, barely able to keep the drool in my mouth. Why didn’t I study this last night instead of playing video games with the other interns?

  Video games, puh-please. You should have been looking them up. Told you, you’re a dork.

  “A. J. Callahan.” A man with a wide mustache points to his name. “I have a suite. Wife and kids visit on the weekend.”

  Shut up, goddess. He’s married, okay?

  “Thank you, Mr. Callahan.” I check off his name and grab a goodie bag filled by our sponsors. “How many children?”

  “Three.” He grins, puffing his chest. “Two boys and a girl.”

  Digging under the table, I find the children’s camp backpacks. He loops all three over his wrist and winks. “If you want to earn some cash, call me.”

  “Excuse me?” My heart drops and my jaw slackens. A wife and three kids and me?

  Sounds like fun, the snark goddess starts again.

  Didn’t I tell you to shut up? I’m sitting on you. That’s right, and I’ll fart in your nose. Now stay inside and shut up, witch. She winces. She hates it when I snuff her out. Ha, ha.

  “They’re four, seven, and nine. Girl’s the oldest.” He glances at my name badge and scribbles on his card. “Name’s Jessica too. Tell her what to do and she’ll make the little guys obey.”

  The little guys, sounds kinky, Inner G-spot sputters despite me blocking her air passages.

  “Oh! Sure. Thanks, Mr. Callahan.” I pocket the card and move on to the next player. Whew. That went real well. This sluttify Jessica project is not going to happen. I’m not a homebreaker, neither am I a heartbreaker.

  Yeah, right, we only have our hearts broken and smashed, we never get to channel Aphrodite, goddess of love.

  And who’s fault is that? You’re the goddess, you’re supposed to help me.

  The men pile up in front of my table.

  Woohoo, pile up, now we’re getting somewhere.

  Yeah, and I better be processing them before I get fired. No time to check them out. Sorry, G.

  Hands, most of them huge, faces, chiseled and handsome, torsos, damn fine, but because I’m too busy to look up, my eyes are stuck at groin level. A symphony of sexy voices in a multitude of accents scramble in my vicinity. Forget about flirting and being star struck, I’m barely able to keep up with the flow, handing out goodie bags, passes, backpacks, badges, pens, notepads, and folders while answering questions.

  I glance over at my fellow interns, but no one has time to chat. Smiles pasted on their faces, they work the lines, sorting players by teams and amenities. Fifteen professional teams descend on the greater Phoenix metropolitan area for spring training, keeping the resort and hospitality businesses hopping. Camps for children of all ages, spas for the wives, and of course, the players, trainers, and coaches all have to be accommodated.

  There’s a lull in the check-ins. I’m surprised G hasn’t chimed in. Maybe she’s on hot guy overload, or my farting in her nose threat has her cowed.

  Anyway, I wipe my hair from my forehead, take a cleansing breath and slump back into the folding chair.

  Boss man Todd ambles over, grinning. “How many baseball cards you collect?”

  “One and it’s for babysitting.” I flip it over to show him.

  “Ah, too bad, pobrecita. Your champ’s still coming in the door.”

  “Hey, I’m not looking. Besides, they all have women already, and I’m not getting in line.”

  Maybe we should, a conga line sounds fun, G remarks. She’s sharpening her fingernails, not sure what for.

  No we’re not. Especially if there’s a wife or a committed relationship. I have principles, unlike you. I’m not a home wrecker or a boyfriend thief. What’s wrong with wanting a man to myself?

  Mathematics, sister. The odds are against us if we don’t share.

  Shush. Todd’s speaking to me.

  “That’s the problem with women, you want exclusives too soon. Free yourself from that mentality. You don’t have just one best friend, don’t you? Why limit yourself?” Todd perches on the table and flicks the last remaining name tag.

  What I said, Inner bobble-head nods.

  “Besides the sleaze factor? No thank you. There’s only one guy left who hasn’t checked in.” I take the name tag and read it. “A. H. N. Never heard of him.”

  “Probably a rookie, now’s your chance to make the first grab.”

  I throw the tag at Todd. “How do I know he’s not gay? Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  He primps his afro curls and waggles his shoulders. “Jay Pak Ahn, bet he’s Korean. You ever watch K-Pop videos?”

  “You mean Gangnam style? The girls are hot, but I’m not sure about that guy in the dark glasses.” I prop my legs on the table, now that the rush is over. “Do I have to wait for this last guy?”

  Inner G pops her head up like a prairie dog. This I gotta see, a Korean ballplayer? I thought all Asians were short and spazzy.

  I play Whac-A-Mole with her and slam her face back into the dirt. You’re staying celibate, might as well get the gin rummy cards out.

  Shouldn’t you say, old maid? G always has to get the last word.

  “Holy papa,” Todd exclaims. “Here he comes, Mr. Universe. Yow!”

  A tall, Asian man with broad shoulders and messy spiky hair rushes into the lobby. His suit jacket hangs halfway off one shoulder and his shirt’s untucked. His head swivels back and forth with a bewildered gawk on his poster perfect face—smooth-shaven, angular jaw, a straight nose and long, narrow eyes under bushy eyebrows.

  “Quick, give me his badge.” I scramble to put together a welcome package.

  Todd leans over my table and fans himself. “Gimme some of that spicy kim chee, umm, umm, ummm.”

  The baseball player, the presumed Jay Pak Ahn, runs his long, sturdy fingers through his hair and stops in front of the arrows.

  “A to C,” he says. “or J, K, L?”

  “A to C, over here.” Todd steps forward and grabs the guy’s elbow.

  Jay jerks away and gives Todd a puzzled look. “Is this a magic show?”

  I almost fall off my chair laughing. The meaning of the colorful bandanas hanging out of Todd’s back po
cket is entirely lost on Mr. Jay Pak Ahn.

  G must be shocked too, not a peep out of her. Does she like Jay or not?

  I’m suffocating here, more air, more air, she finally squeaks as I let her out of her hole.

  Unperturbed, Todd waves an orange paisley in the ballplayer’s face and pulls the man’s badge from under his sleeve. He hands him the badge and points him my direction. Thank you, Todd.

  A gleaming smile brightens the gorgeous man’s face. “I’m Jay Pak Ahn, pitcher. Sorry, I’m late.”

  “Oh, not a problem.” I hold out my hand, figuring he’ll shake it, not knowing the customs around here.

  “Call me Jay.” He takes my hand and dips his head, bringing his lips to my knuckles and kisses. Swoon. Do men still do this in the twenty-first century? Apparently Jay’s been watching too many BBC dramas.

  Behind him, Todd rolls his eyes, sticking out his tongue and making a gagging motion.

  An electrifying tingle runs up my arm. Really? That fast? I stifle a giggle as the handsome rookie releases my hand. “First spring training?”

  “Yes.” He consults his smartphone. “Did I miss the team?”

  I run my finger down the printout. “You’re a Rattler. Looks like they don’t meet until two. Here are your conference materials, room assignment, and gift pack. Wife and children?”

  “Not yet, unless they’re in these bags.” He peeks into one of the tote bags and winks.

  Zing. Is he flirting with me? My elevated heart rate stirs the butterflies in my belly and I clear my throat, striving to remain professional. “You’re free to go to lunch now.”

  “Sure, yes, thanks for asking. Shall we?” And there’s that charming, irresistible twinkle in his eye.