by Kathy Lyons
I looked past Gia to the wall. “I thought it was just a sibling thing. That she had it in for Cassie.”
“And now she’s focused on me. Because she knows about us.”
“No!” But then I forced myself to admit the truth. “She saw us kiss.”
“New Year’s Eve.” And I saw the same wistfully happy expression on her face that I always got when I thought of that night. “She was the one who interrupted us.”
“Yeah.” And she’d told me that Gia wasn’t for me, that I had to focus on baseball. I touched Gia’s face. “You need to stay away from her. At least until I talk with her.”
Gia shrugged as if to let me know she could handle Sophia, but that wasn’t her job. It was mine. Meanwhile, Gia shifted her legs. The feel of her there against me—solid and womanly—made my dick throb. But more than that, she soothed the ragged edges inside me.
“Gia, I’m going to talk to Joe. He’ll know the ideas were yours. I’ll make sure—”
“Why are you letting Sophia do this to you? Why would you have her represent you?” Suddenly her eyes widened. “You hated doing that calendar, didn’t you? But you let her take those pictures. You let her sell them. You’ve let her—”
I slapped my hand over her mouth. It wasn’t a hard movement, but it was quick, and it startled her enough that she stopped talking. More importantly, she stopped figuring things out.
“You need to hear me, Gia. You need to listen, okay?”
She nodded, and I pulled my hand back. There were so many other things I wanted to do to her mouth that covering it like that had felt like sacrilege. But she needed to hear me, and so I stressed every word to make my position very clear.
“Sophia is my publicist. She makes a lot of money off of me. Her entire firm trades off my fame.”
“So she’s using you.”
I winced, but it was the truth. “And I’m letting her so that I can control her. If she pisses me off, she’ll lose everything, and she knows it.”
“And so, while she destroys your career…”
I arched a brow. Sophia wasn’t a nice person, but she definitely had skill in publicity. She might lie and manipulate, but that was marketing and she did it for my benefit. Sure, I hated the way she did things. I was definitely going to have words with her about taking credit for things she hadn’t done. But no one could say she was destroying my career. In fact, she’d done quite a bit to boost it.
And even Gia knew it. She grimaced.
“She’s damaging your reputation. Every time she’s a bitch, it reflects badly on you.”
“She isn’t usually a bitch.” Just around Gia.
“It still isn’t worth it.” I didn’t answer, but damn it, Gia was smart. I didn’t have to explain because she got it in one logical step. “You’re keeping her away from Cassie.”
I nodded. That was the tightrope I walked every day. “As long as Sophia’s company makes money off of me, she’ll stay away from Cassie. No visits, no calls or texts, not even third party communication passed on through an agent. I’ve got it in writing.”
“You’re kidding.”
I shook my head. “My agent set me up with a lawyer who has written up weirder things.”
“What if she violates the contract?”
I grinned. “Then she owes me two million dollars. Cash. That’s more than enough to keep her in line.”
“Unless the money stops. How much does she have to make?”
Trust Gia to see the flaw in my system. “A hundred thousand a year, which I can cover from my salary alone. I don’t mind paying if it keeps Cassie safe.”
“You know this can’t last, right?” Gia said. “Eventually she’s going to want more. Hell, eventually you’ll retire and—”
“And every day, Cassie gets stronger. Every day, things get a little brighter.” Did she understand the waiting game? That life took careful planning and patience?
“You’re her brother. She’s going to try to keep you in her life, however she can.”
Who did crazy shit like that? Who screwed with a sister or a brother, just to keep control of them? God, I was furious. Which was totally fucked up, because a part of me still loved her for how she’d made sure I did my homework back when I was fifteen, how she’d gotten me to baseball practice every day. That she’d been the first to cheer when I made it into the minors.
And while I was still twisted up inside over that, Gia was stroking my jaw and soothing my tight muscles.
“I’d say Cassie is pretty damned strong already,” she said. “And I bet that’s all thanks to you.” Then she sighed. “Does Cassie know? Does she have a clue what you’re doing for her?”
“No. And you—”
“I won’t tell her. I swear. But you know you ought to, right? At some point, this whole arrangement is going to crumble around your ears, and Sophia will come at her hard.”
I shook my head. “Not today, it won’t. And not tomorrow.” I stroked my fingers along the curve of Gia’s jaw and rolled my thumb over her lips. “I can protect my sister,” I said firmly. “But you have to keep out of Sophia’s way. At least until I find out what she’s doing. If she’s really that messed up.”
Gia snorted. “She can’t hurt me unless Joe’s an idiot. And if he believes her over me, I need a different job anyway.”
That wasn’t what I meant, but I didn’t take the time to explain. Especially since I’d just realized that all my previous girlfriends had been exposed as cheaters. By Sophia. I had no trouble believing my sister, since I’d had rotten taste in women back then. But after Sophia had shown me proof that my last girlfriend had messed around on me four years ago, I’d taken her advice and focused completely on baseball. And then on Cassie. Since then, no other woman had gotten close to me. Not until Gia.
Could Sophia have been manipulating me all along? I didn’t think she was capable of lying to me like that. She’d been so supportive after the breakups. But now, I wasn’t sure what had actually happened. And I certainly didn’t want to take the chance with Gia.
“Stay away from Sophia,” I repeated. “At least until I talk to her. Please.”
Gia held up her hands in surrender. “I won’t interfere with her. I’m just going to do my job.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t leave it at that. “And you can’t let her think we’re in a relationship.”
Her expression shuttered, and her lips pressed closed. Her gaze skittered away, but my hand was on her chin. I didn’t let her move her head.
“Gia—”
“Are we in a relationship?” She gestured to her desk. “What did this mean?”
Hell, if I knew. That I couldn’t stay away from her? That I dreamed about her all the time? That my boners were interfering with batting practice? But I didn’t say that. Instead, I told her what I wanted, and I said it so quietly that even I wasn’t sure I’d spoken it aloud.
“Come over tonight. Late. We’ll decide then.”
Hope sparked in her eyes, and damn if I didn’t want to grab hold of that light and keep it safe forever.
“How late? Nine? Ten?”
I shook my head. That was when Cassie was coming over. “Eleven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter Twelve
Gia
Connor played like shit.
Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. We’d released a lot of emotion right before the game—hot sex, traitorous older sister, relationship limbo. That stuff had to be knocking around his head all through the game. It sure as hell had been banging around mine, and I wasn’t trying to score a home run against the Indians.
He didn’t hit one out of the park, but he did get a couple of base hits, thank God. It would have put a serious crimp in our publicity plans if his batting average dropped.
He didn’t look at me the entire game. I usually stood in the back of the press box, ready to answer questions or just overhear what the media was saying. Connor couldn’t see me in there, but he usually looke
d up at the box every now and then. I hadn’t realized how much I lived for those moments until he didn’t do them. When had baseball games become long stretches of work interrupted by a few glorious seconds when his face was lit by the sun as he looked my way? Just how far gone was I?
I knew the rules. Romances between coworkers were stupid. And hell, who wanted to date a sports star, anyway? Sure, it was a great fantasy, but the practicalities would make me crazy. I’d be terrified every day that he would get hurt. One twisted ankle and his career would be over. Worse, I’d hate the amount of time he’d have to spend on the road. If we had kids, I would be the sole parent while he traveled. And when he wasn’t traveling, he would be…what?
The greatest father ever. I had only to remember the way he treated Cassie to know that. I’d always planned on having my own career. I never wanted to be dependent on someone else’s income. But how wonderful would it be to have him in my bed every night? To watch him hold our baby or read a bedtime story to our kids?
So when he didn’t look up at the press box, I felt as if my entire imaginary future was crumbling before my eyes. I knew it was a fantasy, but the longer I went without seeing his face, the more impossible that future seemed.
I knew I was being ridiculous. Connor hadn’t said or done anything that would indicate that he wanted to spend a lifetime with me. Every one of our encounters had been couched as “one-time” or “just tonight.”
It was a relief when the game was finally over, even though we lost by five runs. Ouch. And then a flurry of press stuff, last minute scheduling, and after-game interviews kept me running, but not so much that I didn’t turn every corner looking for Connor, or watch every door, thinking he might step through it.
Stupid, stupid me. And when everything was over, I was left alone to stew until eleven. What the hell had happened to me? I could not be this far gone over Connor. Not after one New Year’s Eve kiss, a bliss-filled night, and two hot office encounters. Okay, if you put it in a list like that, we had been having quite the sex-fest, but we’d also gone for ages without anything more than a furtive glance across the baseball field. And the New Year’s Eve kiss had been over a year ago.
And why the hell wasn’t my sister home so I could talk this out with her?
Because Bailey was waitressing tonight. There was nothing like Friday night tips, she always said. But it left me to wander about our apartment while doing long overdue beauty routines while I watched the clock for eleven.
At 10:14, my phone rang. Connor. I tried to answer in a normal voice, but it came out breathless. “Yes?”
“Cassie’s gone. Can you come over early?”
“Be there in ten.” And I was, my face still stinging from the mask I’d washed off too early before throwing on makeup too soon.
I didn’t even have a chance to knock. He had the door open before I made it halfway down the hallway. As soon as he could reach me, he grabbed my wrist and hauled me inside. Seconds later, he had me against the wall, his mouth to mine.
I didn’t want to kiss him so hard. We had things to talk about. But the noise in my head had grown steadily louder all day, and this was the only thing that quieted it. His mouth on mine. His hands on my breasts, and his thigh pushing between my legs to rub against the throbbing there.
“We have to talk,” I said between gasps as he hauled up my T-shirt. I’d dressed with casual care, making sure everything I had could be stripped off in seconds.
“I know,” he said against my bare breast, but then he took my nipple into his mouth, and my mind went blank.
I pushed his sweats down his hips. Commando—thank God—because it allowed me to quickly get my hands on his thick cock, squeezing it as I rolled my thumb through the moisture at the tip.
The hard ripple of his quads sent delicious pressure through my leggings, and I fumbled to get to my purse and the string of condoms inside. I couldn’t do it, not with him shoving my leggings down so he could get his fingers between my folds. So I gasped the word out loud as his thick, calloused index finger rolled across my clit.
“Condom!”
He shoved a larger finger inside me, and I clenched around it. His other hand abandoned my breast to reach behind me. I saw a foil packet, but he didn’t have the dexterity to open it. Thankfully, I did. And while he thrust a second finger inside me, I ripped open the packet.
It was awkward rolling it on him, but the urgency was building. I was about to come all over his hand, but what I wanted was to do it around his dick. I wanted him inside me when I lost all control. And so I haphazardly shoved the condom onto him. It wasn’t pretty, but it did the job. We were both frantic.
Then suddenly, I felt his hands on the back of my thighs. I was braced against the wall, so when he lifted me up, I was completely untethered. The only things holding me up were the wall at my back and his hands on my thighs. I gripped his shoulders as he drove inside, then wrapped myself around him as if he was my everything.
He grunted as he thrust, a deep animal sound that perfectly matched my own. We were two beasts in season, all physical need without thought, mating in a frenzy of hormones. Except there would be no children from this, and for that, I was profoundly saddened.
Or I would have been, if I’d had space to breathe, to think, or even to feel emotional. Everything was consumed by the physical rush. His body inside mine, moving together while I clenched around him.
Orgasm hit with a scream. My nerve endings burst in a flash fire of intensity. He gripped me tighter as I writhed. He must have come, too, from the sounds of it. But all I knew was that he was still inside me. And every moment that he moved—however he moved—my body burst in overwhelming pulses of energy, not so much a release as much as need compressed into tiny physical beats. It was as if my orgasm was a steady explosion of one word.
Want. Want. Want.
Then he slowed. It felt like he was buried so deep inside me that he might not be able to get out. Oh, I wish.…
His head fell forward onto my shoulder. My legs, locked around his hips, began to tire. And the heat of his breath down and across my breast set my nipple to tingling.
Want.
I felt him pulsing inside me. It was as if our bodies were still talking, though our minds were completely robbed of words.
Want.
You.
And then it stopped.
My legs released, and he gently set me back on the floor, sliding out of me. His breath puffed hot down my breast, and I felt the weight of his forehead heavy on my shoulder.
“I wanted you so bad,” he said, the words a low kind of moan.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About everything.”
“Me, too.”
“I played like shit.”
I didn’t have an echo there. I’d been crappy at my job, too, but the stakes were so much lower for me. I’d taken a reporter to the wrong place for an interview. I’d confused the CBS and the NBC reporters. And I’d tweeted at the wrong @name. He’d goofed on a couple of plays and allowed two unnecessary runs to score.
“It wasn’t a very important game,” I suggested. “The first of the series—”
“Every game’s important. Especially now.”
He was right. In a pennant race, there was no room for error. Connor needed to be able to catch, hit…and think.
“I want you,” he repeated.
“We were supposed to talk.”
“Do you really want to?”
“Yes.”
He sighed, and his head felt heavier. “But maybe not right away.” He pressed his lips to my neck. The scrape of his teeth against my skin had me shivering. “I always like to taste you after we make love. You know that.”
I smiled. “I know. I like that, too.”
“And there are still positions we haven’t tried.”
“I’m not flexible enough.” I stroked my hand up his bare ass. “Neither are you.”
“We could
call it dynamic stretching.”
I chuckled. “Or we could name it what it is—a way to avoid talking.”
He nibbled up under my jaw. “Afterward. Okay?”
What could I say? It wasn’t like I wanted to confess that I was yearning to have his babies. That I’d fantasied about our entire life together while he was blowing the game against the Indians. Why not dive into the physical? At least for now.
“Okay.”
He carried me into the bedroom. I lay back, closed my eyes, and gave myself over to him, whatever he wanted, however he wanted, flexibility be damned.
But by morning, we’d run out of excuses. He was eating sliced strawberries off my stomach and talking about ambrosia, whatever the hell that was. We’d just made love for the fourth time, but the desperate energy had gone out of us both. It was time to talk, and part of me was glad to do it naked.
If I was going to blow us apart, at least I could watch his glorious physique while I destroyed my own fantasy future. So I scooted backward on the bed, admired the breadth of his shoulders, and teased a toe along his washboard abs.
He quirked an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. No words were needed. He understood. So he sat back with a sigh and absently began rubbing the arch of my foot.
“I’m not sure I have the answers you want,” he said.
“I’m not sure I know what answers I want.”
He smiled at that and looked past me to the mirror. His expression softened and grew a little lustful. I had no idea how my reflection could look sexier than me, sitting right in front of him, but I’d take it. I lifted my chin and toyed with the idea of seducing him one more time. It sure was a fun way to avoid things. But then he started to speak.
“Whenever my pitchers don’t know what to do, I start them off with what they do know.”
I quirked a brow. “You asking me to pitch to you?”
He smiled. “Whatever it is, I’ll catch it.”
“Okay. So what do we know?” I gestured to what he was doing to my foot. “I know I love that.”
“I know I love touching you. In all ways.”