Catching Heat

by Alison Packard

  The sound of Angie’s light footsteps on the hardwood stairs pulled him from his thoughts. “I thought you went to bed,” he called out before she made it to the bottom floor.

  “I thought I’d see if it was okay if I used the whirlpool tub in your bathroom,” she said as she paused at the base of the staircase and gave him a tentative smile. Her hair was pulled up in a tousled knot and she wore a short silky robe that didn’t do a damn thing to disguise her amazing body. J.T.’s pulse kicked at the erotic sight of her nipples pressing insistently against the satiny blue fabric.

  “Sure. My room is kind of messy, but the bathroom is clean.” J.T. closed the laptop, grateful it covered his junk. There were times when he had no control over his cock when he was looking at Angie and this was one of those times. “Don’t make the water too hot. You don’t want your body to get overheated.” The way his was right now from just looking at her.

  “I won’t.” She took two steps, stopped, then turned her head to meet his gaze. “Thank you, J.T.”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  “For caring about the baby.” She gave him a soft warm smile. “You’re going to be a wonderful father.” And with that she headed upstairs.

  J.T. opened the laptop and clicked the button to restart the video he’d been trying to watch ever since he sat down. As the one of the most feared batters in the league walked up to the plate, he tried to pay attention to the progression of the at-bat, but soon the image on the screen blurred and studying hitters didn’t seem quite so important.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angie let out a blissful sigh as she eased herself into the warm bubbling water. After a long day of painting, a late lunch and then the clean-up, her sore muscles were in dire need of relaxation—and since she didn’t have a personal masseuse at her beck and call, a nice calming bath would have to do.

  J.T. was right. His bedroom was a mess. Such a mess she’d been a little leery of stepping foot in his bathroom. But she needn’t have worried. The tornado that had struck his room and left clothes, books and sports magazines over every available surface hadn’t made it any farther. His large bathroom—which looked like it had been recently remodeled and boasted a separate shower, as well as the spacious whirlpool tub—was almost as clean as hers.

  Buoyed by the frothy water, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the built-in headrest. Her tired muscles welcomed the gentle pressure from the water jets and she couldn’t help but wonder why J.T. chose to use the hot tub in the backyard when he had this wonderful tub right in his bathroom.

  Perhaps he preferred to be outside where he could gaze up at the blue sky during the day or the stars and the moon at night. Or maybe he just enjoyed torturing her. On second thought, that couldn’t be it. J.T. had no clue that she’d recently taken to observing him from her bedroom window whenever he used the hot tub. Angie had never considered herself a voyeur. Watching someone when they weren’t aware of it seemed like an invasion of privacy, and since she wouldn’t like it if someone was spying on her, she’d never considered doing it to anyone else.

  She was ashamed to say that all that had changed a few days ago when she’d noticed J.T. in the hot tub after he’d returned from a workout at Jake’s gym. It was innocent, really. She’d only intended to measure the window seat in her bedroom but when she caught a glimpse of him, she couldn’t look away. And seriously, what red-blooded woman who enjoyed looking at hot guys wouldn’t have sat down on that window seat and fantasized about running her hands over his sinfully delicious shoulders and sculpted pecs? And what woman wouldn’t have wanted to twine their fingers through his tousled hair? And what woman wouldn’t have returned to that very same spot the next time he was in the hot tub?

  Well, obviously not her. She’d done all three.

  You’re such a perv, DeMarco. Smiling at the inner voice that sounded a lot like Kelly, Angie opened her eyes, gasped and then let out a high-pierced scream at the sight of a black spider crawling on the ceiling directly above her.

  With her heart thundering at full-tilt, she bolted upright, screamed again and then using her hands, she pushed herself into a standing position—all the while keeping her eyes trained on the spider. “Don’t you dare move,” she yelled at the hideous thing and then whirled around in the tub as J.T. barreled into the bathroom wielding a baseball bat.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded in a taut voice, then stopped short and glanced quickly around the bathroom, before pinning her with a puzzled gaze. “I thought someone was attacking you.”

  “Kill it.” She pointed to the ceiling, unable to stop her entire body from shaking. She wasn’t afraid of many things but for some unknown reason, spiders terrified her. “Please. I can’t be in the same room with that thing.”

  “Calm down,” he said in a soothing voice and moved to the vanity. He leaned the bat against the cabinet and grabbed a towel from the top of the marble countertop. “I’ll take care of it.” He crossed the room and unfolded the large bath towel. Still shaking, Angie let him wrap the towel around her body and didn’t protest when he put his hands to her waist and easily lifted her out of the bathtub. “Are you okay?” He smoothed several tendrils of hair from forehead and searched her face with concerned eyes.

  Angie glanced at the ceiling and shook her head. “No.” Her voice was unsteady. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Go to the bedroom. I’ll get rid of the spider.”

  With a nod, she stepped around him and fled the bathroom.

  A few minutes later, she was still shaking. Ever since she was a kid she’d been afraid of spiders. Which was odd. She had no fear of any other type of insect. Heck, she wasn’t even afraid of mice. But spiders were her kryptonite and as such she’d always kept a can of bug spray at both home and wherever she worked.

  At the sound of the toilet flushing, Angie hugged the towel to her still damp body and waited for J.T. to emerge from the bathroom. “Did you kill it?” she asked as he entered the bedroom.

  “Yes.” He moved toward her. “Do you want to get back in the tub?”

  Biting her lower lip, she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why don’t you sit down for a minute and think about it?” He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the side of his bed where he tugged at the rumpled sheet and blanket in a half-hearted attempt to tidy it. “I don’t get many spiders inside the house. I doubt you’ll see another one tonight.”

  She wouldn’t see another one tonight? What about tomorrow and the next day? She didn’t want to see any spiders ever again. Especially not big black ones. Could it have been a Black Widow? She’d read about them but had never seen one. It wasn’t a tarantula. She’d seen one of those on a school field trip to Yosemite during eighth grade. A tarantula was much bigger than that thing in the bathroom though, and the one she’d seen wasn’t black. It was a sort of brownish color. Angie shivered and sank to the bed. “You must think I’m a baby.”

  “No. As much as I hate to admit this, I’d probably scream like that if I saw a snake,” he said and sat beside her. His close proximity jumpstarted her heart; it began to pound anew. “I hate those things.” He paused. “You’re still shaking. Are you cold? I like fresh air so I usually keep the window open. I can close it if you want.”

  “I’m not cold. I’m just deathly afraid of spiders. I need to think about something else. Can we just talk for a little bit? That’ll help.”

  “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Do you like how the living room looks with the new paint?” She angled her head toward him. “I think it’s made a world of difference. It feels so cozy and warm.”

  “It isn’t the paint,” J.T. said softly.

  Angie frowned. “What do you mean it isn’t the paint?”

  “It’s you. In less than a month you’ve made this house more of a home than I have in two years.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” she said with a dismissive
wave of her hand.

  “Really?” He cocked his head. “Who buys flowers at the grocery store and puts them around the house? Who found the place mats and fancy napkins I got as housewarming gifts and sets the table with them when we eat? And who suggested we paint the walls in the first place?”

  She gave him a sheepish smile. “I didn’t think you noticed the flowers or the place mats. As for the paint, I’m glad you let me change the wall color.”

  “You can change anything you want. This is your home and I want you to be comfortable here.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We can make this work, Angie. I honestly believe that.”

  For several long seconds neither of them spoke, and in those seconds the air around them shifted. Her breath hitched when he began to make slow lazy circles over the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “Were you studying hitters again?” Angie asked, trying to sound nonchalant. She wasn’t sure it was working. The spider was no longer the cause of her trembling. It was the fact that she was nearly naked and sitting next to the only man who’d ever made her lower her inhibitions and give into her most basic desires. How did she ever think she could live with him and not want to jump his bones?

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m curious. What do you look for?”

  “Patterns mostly. I look to see if a guy is overanxious at the plate, if he’s patient and able to draw walks or if there’s a certain pitch he can’t lay off of. That kind of thing.”

  “Did you always want play ball?” she asked, shifting toward him. For weeks she’d been so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t bothered to ask J.T. about his career, or anything else for that matter. But now the little she did know about him wasn’t enough. She hungered to know more.

  “I’ve lived and breathed baseball ever since I can remember. All through high school I idolized Pudge Rodriguez and wanted to be just like him. I used to dream of winning an MVP award just like he did.”

  “Is it everything you thought it would be? Being in the majors?”

  “Yes and no. I love getting paid for a game I’d play for free, but I’m not satisfied with being back-up.”

  Angie couldn’t help but stare at his lips. The urge to lean forward and kiss him was so powerful she had to force herself not to move. “Is that why you’re training so hard?” she asked, lifting her gaze to his. In the dim light of the room, his eyes appeared dark and sultry and just like the first time she’d looked into them, her hormones sizzled like oil on a red hot skillet.

  “That was my plan. My contract is up at the end of next season. And since it looks like Matt’s not going anywhere, I thought I might have the opportunity to get picked up somewhere else and be a starter.”

  “What do you mean that was your plan?” Angie frowned. “Don’t you still want that?”

  “I want it more than anything, but things have changed.”

  Of course they had. The second she and J.T. hadn’t used a condom.

  “Because of the baby?”

  J.T. nodded. “It’s not just about me anymore. From now on you and the baby factor into any decision I make.”

  Mutely, she stared down at their clasped hands—not surprised that he’d completely disproved another one of her assumptions about him. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “My father never consulted with my mother about his career decisions. According to her, he’d come home and tell her to pack their bags because they were hitting the road.”

  “Angie, you’ve been around baseball long enough to know that trades happen, contracts aren’t picked up and players move from team to team like chess pieces. That’s part of the life of a ballplayer and with my contract expiring after the coming season it might be something we have to deal with.”

  She wasn’t aware J.T. moved until she felt his fingertips on her chin as he urged her to look at him. “As long as we’re married I promise I’ll never make a major decision without you.” The intensity in his eyes almost sucked the air out of her lungs. “You’re my wife.”

  “In name only,” she said softly, suddenly overcome with emotion.

  J.T. leaned forward, his beautifully shaped lips just inches from hers. Sensual energy so strong it shook her to her core passed between them. “It could more than that.” His husky words excited her; she was transfixed by the raw desire that burned in his eyes. “All you have to do is say the word.”

  As Angie drowned in the smoldering depths of J.T.’s eyes, every single reason why she shouldn’t let this go any further soared through her brain and left her breathless. But all those perfectly valid reasons were trumped by one undeniable fact—she’d wanted J.T. Sawyer the moment she’d seen him step out of the elevator in the Blaze front office and—God help her—she wanted him still.

  “The word,” she whispered and saw a flare of heat in J.T.’s eyes as she pressed her mouth to his. With a low growl, he exerted a more provocative pressure and parted her lips. In a heartbeat the kiss turned ravenous. Their tongues met and tangled in a sensuous wet dance and as J.T. slid his hand around her waist and pulled her to him, Angie thought she might explode. Never in her life could she remember wanting a man this much. She didn’t resist when he spanned her waist with both hands and pulled her effortlessly onto his lap so she was straddling him.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she widened her mouth and sank deeper into the kiss. Between the juncture of her thighs, she felt his erection straining against the most intimate part of her. Flaming hot desire shot through her body and driven by primal need, she gyrated against him mimicking what she wanted so badly—his cock inside her, hot and hard. J.T. groaned, slid his hands up her back and with deft fingers, pulled the towel from her body.

  “God, Angie. I want you so damn much,” he murmured, trailing his mouth to her jaw and then to the curve of her neck. Breathless, Angie tilted her head and looked to the ceiling. As cool air whispered across the heated flush of her body, she whimpered in pleasure at the touch of J.T.’s lips at the hollow of her throat. Tonight no warning bells went off in her head. They wouldn’t dare. On this night, she planned to give into her desire and damn the consequences.

  Eagerly, she slid her hands to J.T.’s shoulders and leaned back. His eyes sought hers and she saw a mixture of disappointment and frustration in their depths. No doubt he was expecting a repeat of their wedding night. She couldn’t blame him. To quickly dispel the notion, she whispered, “Kiss my breasts.” J.T. didn’t hesitate; he leaned forward to lave his tongue over one taut nipple. Despite the hot blood coursing through her veins, she shivered with need.

  Angie bit back a moan as she watched J.T. draw her entire nipple into his mouth. The pregnancy had made her breasts ultra-sensitive; the feel of J.T.’s warm moist mouth suckling her was exquisite agony. Each stroke of his tongue sent a current of heat straight to her core. Shamelessly, she rubbed herself against the hard ridge of his erection, seeking relief.

  Releasing her nipple, he looked up and a wicked smile curved his lips. “I should have thanked that spider before I flushed it.”

  She laughed and then the blood in her veins turned molten at the sudden intense heat in J.T’s eyes.

  “Take down your hair.” The low gravelly cadence of his voice sent a thrill up her spine. Obeying his command, she reached up with one hand and pulled the butterfly clip from her hair. It tumbled around her shoulders in wild disarray. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

  “So are you,” she said, then smiled at the grimace that twisted his mouth. “Men can be beautiful too, you know,” she added and tossed her hair clip behind him on the bed. “Did you know you were voted the professional athlete most women wanted to have sex with in a Cosmo survey a few months ago?”

  J.T. cocked his head. “Cosmo?”

  Angie laughed at his puzzled expression. “It’s a magazine. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it. It’s been around since before we were born.”r />
  “The only magazines I read are Sports Illustrated and Baseball Weekly.” J.T. grinned. “Is it an old lady magazine?”

  “Hardly.” Angie slid her hands over his shoulders and then lower until she found the hem of his T-shirt and tugged at it. He lifted his arms and let her pull his shirt off. She flung it on the bed and then smoothed her hands over the smooth hard contours of his chest. “Their target market is women in their twenties and thirties. Like a certain men’s magazine it has some insightful articles but the majority of the content is sexual.”

  J.T.’s brows knitted. “Like what? Naked guys?”

  “More like what men like in bed, how to turn a guy on, and what sexual positions are the most pleasurable. Stuff like that.”

  J.T. slipped his hands underneath her ass and held her securely as he stood up. After he turned and deposited her gently on the bed, she shifted to her side as he stretched out beside her.

  “Sounds like interesting reading,” he said as he brushed her hair over her shoulder and then trailed his fingers to her breasts.

  “Oh, it is,” she said, then let out a soft gasp of pleasure when he leisurely brushed his thumb over one nipple. In response she reached between them and massaged the hard ridge that strained against his sweats. She smiled with satisfaction as he sucked in a swift breath.

  “If you keep doing that I won’t last another minute.” When she didn’t stop he lowered his hand to hers and stilled her movements. “I’m serious. It’s been a while. It won’t take much to make me come.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “Since August.” As his eyes roamed over her face, the implication of his words registered.

  “Are you…do you mean?” she stammered, stunned at his revelation.