He squeezed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rid himself of the image of Su-Bin naked in the shower with his former best friend.
What hurt worse was his mother’s disappointment at losing Su-Bin as her ideal daughter-in-law. Not that he’d told his family the real reason he cancelled the wedding. The official story was that he was drafted by the Rattlers and leaving the country.
Jay rubbed the knuckles he’d bruised breaking his ex-friend’s jaw and flexed his fingers as he laced up his cleats. He was never going to fight over a woman again. Plain not worth it.
It wasn’t that he was broken up about Su-Bin, not at all. He hadn’t really known her enough to care. But that honor thing. That got him every time.
The locker room door thumped and one of his teammates entered. A hint of a scowl crossed the man’s face before he pressed his lips into a smile and held his hand to shake.
“Ryan Hudson.” The man’s grip was firm, almost bone crushing.
“Jay Ahn,” Jay said, squeezing hard. Ryan ought to have known how strong a pitcher’s hand would be, and how an injury would cut him from the team.
“Just got in today?” Ryan tossed his duffle bag on the bench. “You the hot shot pitcher from Korea?”
“That’s my position.” A squirrely feeling warned Jay from saying more. Competition for the starting lineup was stiff, and being invited to spring training, even with a signed contract, didn’t guarantee a spot on the roster come April. If he didn’t perform, he could be sent to the minor leagues, a definite embarrassment to him and a blow to his entire country.
Ryan flipped off his street shoes and tossed them into the locker. “Have you thought about playing elsewhere? It’s not like Phoenix is your hometown.”
“I didn’t think we’d get much of a choice, sir.” Jay tucked his shirt in and smoothed his hair back.
Ryan’s lips thinned into a harsh line. “No one’s taking my spot this year. I worked long and hard to get back to Phoenix.”
“You a pitcher?”
By the lines on his face, Ryan looked to be over thirty, possibly headed for relief.
“Darn right I am. Looks like you didn’t do your homework checking out the competition, did you?” He shrugged off his shirt and stretched his shoulders. “How good are you at bat?”
“Decent enough.” Jay didn’t want to brag, but back home, he wasn’t an easy out like the other pitchers. In fact, he sported a respectable RBI and his coach had even put him up to bat at position six or seven to throw off the opposition.
“My advice to you? Don’t show up the others with your bat. This is the big leagues, and no room for glory hogs. Nothing worse than getting beaned on the knuckles and breaking your hand.” Ryan threw the rest of his uniform on. “Wanna warm up? Do some buddy stretches?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jay couldn’t afford to alienate anyone, least of all a grouchy veteran called up from the minors. Ryan probably had war stories that could be instructional.
“We get out around dusk, no game today.” Ryan closed his locker. “You have a girl back home, or you’re free to check out the local flavors?”
“I’m free.” Even as he said it, Jay’s tongue tingled from the memory of kissing a tigress, a rather under aged one. “Let’s go to a bar that checks IDs.”
“Good idea. There are a lot of teenyboppers hanging out asking for autographs, but with the new hologram driver’s license it’s getting harder for them to slip into a bar. I know a good one with a strict policy.”
Jay fished his glove from his gym bag and followed Ryan through the tunnel onto the infield. Sure enough, a group of teenage girls stood with their arms hanging over the short fence waving tank tops and underwear. Jay didn’t think any of them would recognize him, but when a guy with a megaphone shouted, “There’s Jay Pak Ahn,” in Korean, an entire busload of fans streamed down the bleachers.
The first girl to lift her visor off her forehead was none other than Tigress Song. She unbuttoned the top of her blouse and handed him a Sharpie marker.
“Write your name in Korean, vertically.” She pointed to the line running between her ample breasts.
Sweat popped over Jay’s forehead. She was so damn pretty, and the way her bosom heaved in that skimpy tank top, he had half a mind to bury his face in between those luscious mounds. Her tan skin was several shades darker than his, and long, lustrous black hair flowed over her shoulders, curling enticingly around her breasts.
He snapped himself out of the fog. This was neither the time, nor place, especially with her age. He gave the marker back to her and stepped away from the fence. In clear Korean, he addressed the crowd, “I must warm up and do a good job in practice. Meet me afterwards for autographs. Thank you.”
~Jessica~
“Dork.”
All around me girls chatter in Korean, disappointed at Jay’s rudeness. He should be happy he has fans. No one’s swarming around that ginger-headed older guy he walked out of the locker room with.
“You owe me an apology, jackass!” I scream at him. I was still miffed that he’d so casually leave me after that hot kiss. “And my name’s not Tigress!”
Around me, the polite Korean girls suck in quiet breaths, shocked.
Jay appears not to hear me, so I wrest a baseball from a girl wearing pigtails and throw it at him, hitting him in the back.
“I’ll be in my room after practice.”
A collective ‘ohhh’ choruses from the tour group and several older women fan themselves with programs while others point at the spectacle.
I’m obviously causing Jay to lose face. To show his dominance and retain his honor he has no choice but to confront me. His face red and steaming, nostrils flaring, he strides slowly toward me.
“You must obey your father and brother.” His face is tense and stern, but he can’t hide the glint in his eye that tells me he’d rather lay me across his knees and give me a sound whack. “I will speak to your brother about this.”
Without waiting for me to reply, he walks away, drawing exclamations of respect from the Korean tour group. A real alpha male, that Jay, he put me in my place without raising his voice.
Humiliated by the finger pointing tour groupies, I stomp to the top of the bleachers and sit under the shadow of the press box. Why am I so fixated on this one ballplayer when there are literally hundreds spread out across the Valley of the Sun?
Fifteen teams and ten stadiums.
And one Jay Pak Ahn. Mine.
You’re on your own on this one, Inner G yawns. After this, we’re booking a cruise for the Greek isles. I never did like kim-chee.
Shut it, you’re just jealous because Jay kissed me—and honey, he definitely isn’t an icky Greek frog.
Chapter 4
~Jessica~
The Hot Corner Bar & Grill’s where all the players and their hotties hang. The booths and tables are divided into sections, infield, outfield, with white cushion signs for first base, second, and third. Home plate is a corner booth festooned with players’ jerseys and an umpire-shaped dartboard. There’s even a miniature indoor gazebo in between the bases. Cheesy, if you ask me, but apparently the ballplayers love the setup.
So here I am with Todd and Preston, hanging in the press box, otherwise known as the bar under the large screen TV. Even though Jay’s off my playlist, I’m not about to sit out the season and spend my nights with Mr. Showerhead.
It’s Happy Hour and the bartender looks anything but happy. She keeps glaring at a lone player parked in the coach’s corner with his baseball cap partially covering his eyes, secret agent style.
Wonder what’s going down there? Maybe I can sic Preston on her, have him practice some of that charm he’s been working on.
“Psst.” I tap his elbow. “Think you can cheer up the bartender chick?”
Todd glances at the big guy, the object of the bar chick’s evil eye and whistles. “Now that’s a hunka hunka man. She don’t want him, I’ll take him.”
“N
ow, now, behave.” I bend to his ear and whisper, “Can’t you get rid of Preston? He’s insisting he’s my brother, chaperone, or fiancé.”
“I heard that,” Preston says, raising his beer mug. “You get loud after a few drinks, sissy.”
“Yeah and eff you too.” I bump his mug with mine. “I had a real ballplayer in my hotel room, an honest to goodness rookie, star pitcher of the Haitai Tigers, but thanks to you, I’m out of the game.”
While hanging out on the bleachers watching the former Tiger pitcher practice, I googled everything I could about J. P. Ahn. Gossip sites have him aligned with several actresses and models, but no fiancée or girlfriend. Although a hot stud like him could have picked up any number of groupies by now.
“There’s plenty of fish in the ocean.” Preston flexes his arms and puffs out his chest. “Besides, someone has to watch out for your virtue.”
A blonde in hot pants sashays by. She’s wearing a string of pearly beads around her exposed waist, and a spray of glitter decorates her belly. A thorny tattooed rose rises from her butt cheeks and her boobs bounce like oversized medicine balls.
I thump Preston on the head as he swivels all the way around, two hundred seventy degrees to check her out. “Can you be any less obvious?”
“I think he should try his luck,” Todd drawls and winks at me.
Preston blows on his hands and slicks his hair back. Todd and I snigger as he swaggers after the blonde. He props himself around her while she tries to order a drink, and throws his wallet on the counter. Okay … not a bad tactic. Playing on the stereotype of the rich Asian male never hurts.
My jaw drops. The blonde picks up Preston’s wallet and slips it between her balloon-like breasts. She winks and draws her tongue sluttily across her lower lip, daring him to pluck it out.
Guess no one’s watching out for his virtue.
“Miss?” A cocktail waitress stops in front of me, blocking my assessment of my protégé’s mating dance. “May I check your ID?”
“Me?” I gawk at her and remove my driver’s license from my purse, wondering if I’m about to be escorted out of the bar. I glance at Todd to see if he set me up, but there’s no telltale smirk.
“You should take it as a compliment,” he says. “With your baby face they’ll probably card you into your forties.”
“Okay, looks good,” the waitress says, handing my ID back. She sets a champagne flute filled with a light orange colored cocktail on the table. “A peachy keen from the gentleman on the mound.”
“The mound?”
“Pitcher’s Mound.” She points her chin at the privacy latticed gazebo. “He asks you to join him.”
“What you bet Mr. Jay sent that blond bombshell toward Preston. Incoming blonde at five o’clock, target diverted, move in for the tigress.” Todd grins crookedly. “Don’t forget. I want measurements. Circumference, length, torque, rigidity.”
I tip the waitress and tap Todd on the back of his hand. “Why would you think it’s Jay?”
“I have my ways.” He winks and pushes from his chair. “Now that you and Preston are taken care of, I’m heading out to The Nine Incher.”
“That a name for a bar?”
Todd wiggles his eyebrows. “Yep, but it’s not your kind of place.”
“At least escort me to that darn gazebo. With my luck it’s a geriatric guy with an oxygen tank.”
“Or a billionaire on his last legs. Sure, no prob.” Todd picks up my drink and saunters casually toward the Pitcher’s Mound.
I follow him, my legs wobbly and my insides melting like the sun kissed ball of taffy I am after an afternoon watching Jay practice pitching. Talk about a stretch and delivery, fluid yet powerful. His fastballs were so fast I could never see them coming. Pity the batters who have to face him. It’s no wonder he holds the Korean overall strikeout record. Sigh, I’m becoming a baseball stats freak myself.
Jay steps out of the gazebo and takes my hand, kissing it. “Tigress, you must do me the honor of a drink and dinner. I have a lot to apologize to you for.”
Swoon. Up close, he’s even taller and dreamier. And the way his lips move, I can’t wait for the apologies to begin.
Warmth invades my cheeks, and I bend and step into the gazebo. Jay’s pointed gaze roves over my tight, and way too short dress. The neckline dips low across my breasts, and the flared skirt leaves little to the imagination.
Todd sets my drink on the table, grabs Jay’s hand and pumps it. “You treat her well or you’ll have me to answer to.”
He looks like a bantam fighting cock next to Jay, but believe me, if anyone crosses Todd they better be scared.
I slide into the booth, but keep my distance. “Have you gotten permission from my father or brother to buy me a drink?”
Jay pops a cocktail peanut into his mouth and smacks his lips. “According to your brother, you’re seventeen, still a virgin, and engaged to a Japanese prince.”
“All lies.”
He crunches the peanut and raises one eyebrow. “All of it?”
“I got in this bar, didn’t I?” I sweep the subject of my non-virginity aside. “And there’s no Japanese prince hanging around either here or in the tabloids.”
“I knew that. The royal family has only daughters. Now that we have that cleared up, what are you doing here?” He takes my hand and rolls his thumb around my palm. “A man like me could be dangerous. Tell me, Tigress, what do you want with me?”
“Friendship, a little conversation, the usual.” I attempt to extract my hand but he grips it tighter.
“Is that all?” He holds my hand to his mouth and kisses it wetly, dragging his lower lip across the tops of my fingers. “Then what were you doing dancing in my lap naked and sucking on my tongue?”
“I was testing you.” I improvise with such ease. “Trying to see if you’re a player or not.”
“Player? I play ball.”
“Yes, but do you play women? Or are you the hearts and flowers kind?”
He presses my hand to his chest. “I’m like a fastball. Straight down the middle. I like you and I want you in my bed, but only if you’re free. No secret engagements with princes, or boyfriends posing as brothers …”
My heart starts doing all kinds of cartwheels, backflips and gymnastics while my brain’s still trying to process what he said. He wants me in his bed? Isn’t this lightning fast? What happened to the respectful man who was so concerned about my so-called brother’s warnings?
Wait, backtrack.
“What do you mean boyfriend posing as brother?”
He taps his smartphone and wakes it. “You’re not the only one who stalks social media. Don’t deny it. You’ve already searched me through every gossip site, did the image search, even typed in ‘Jay Pak Ahn, girlfriend, fiancée.’”
Well, duh, even though I’m a college dropout, or, rather a student taking a gap year, I have to be careful too.
“Does it bother you that my boyfriend’s so protective of me he pretends to be my brother?” I say this in jest as sort of a pick-up I.Q. test.
Jay smirks and shakes his head. “Not when he’s twisting tongues with the blonde with the balloon boobs. Listen, I don’t play games. Are you free to come to my room and give me a massage? I had a rather strenuous workout.”
“I could set you up at the spa.” My hands shake as I sip my peachy drink, wondering if I’m going to get laid tonight. I’m not sure I like his directness, as if I’m not worth wooing or even pretending he has feelings for.
“I’d rather have you now that we’ve established you’re of age and available.” He pops another peanut in his mouth. “While you think about my proposal, let’s order.”
The words on the menu jump meaningless because my body’s all sorts of hot and cold. Jay’s scent and warmth wraps around the entire gazebo, menacing and stimulating, daring me to grab him around the neck and bite or escape screaming with my self-respect intact.
The waitress stops by, and I let Jay order for me
, a cabernet filet mignon with asparagus reggiano. I’m speechless and can hardly believe it when they light candles in the middle of the noisy sports bar.
A waiter sets a bouquet of orange tiger lilies as a centerpiece and lowers the rolled up bamboo shades of the gazebo, giving us an island of privacy.
Jay pours me a glass of wine and moves closer until his thigh rests against me. “A toast to you, Tigress. Let’s start over fresh. My name is Jay Pak Ahn, and you’re Just A Sick Song.”
Buzzzz kill. So he’s been messing with me, pretending he’s not fluent in English. Well, two can play at this name mangling.
I cup my hand and speak into his ear. “What was your name again? Jerk Hard On?”
“As you wish, Tigress.” He grabs me around the waist and moves me deftly onto his lap.
Ooph! I’m definitely sitting on a rather large and hard object. A beehive of tingles swarm my senses and moisture seeps between my legs.
Admit it. I’m turned on and no better than Jay. We live in the twenty-first century. We’re consenting adults. Unattached. Free to play. Only problem. I’m a rookie at this game, definitely outclassed.
The waiter knocks on the gazebo frame before parting the curtains and serving our food. I’m in a state of suspended swoon as Jay cuts my steak and feeds it to me, his arms wrapped around me, his mouth close to my ear. I can’t help but wiggle against his erection and rub my bare back against his strong, solid chest as he alternates between eating and fondling my breasts, belly and hips.
By the time the waiter serves dessert, a jalapeño chocolate cake served with flaming rum, I’m aroused to the point of ripping my clothes off and screaming in ecstasy.
“Patience, little tigress,” Jay mutters as he spins a dessert spoon into the spicy chocolate and dots the tip of my tongue. It burns bittersweet before he kisses it off me, his tongue wrapping around mine.
We exchange tastes, chocolate, Kahlua cream, burnt rum, and jalapeño bits with each mouthful. I have never, ever been wined and dined with foreplay, my every sense assaulted with floods of pleasure. Well, except for one sense—hearing. The raucous sounds of the bar outside grate my ear, but Jay’s smooth touch, the way he nips and nibbles my skin, and his manly musky scent, infuse my blood with pulses of romance and passion.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 107