Hot Target

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Don’t you think threatening letters are pretty extreme?” she asked.

  “And taking steroids that might damage your body and get you kicked out of the game isn’t?”

  She inclined her head. “Point taken.”

  “And since we’re breaking this down. That salt-in-the-water incident—that would have been laughed off as a team prank under different circumstances, but one of the letters made it to the management office.”

  “Ron didn’t mention that,” Katie said.

  “Well, good thing I did, then,” he said, “considering it’s a fairly important detail. In other words, someone wanted them breathing down my throat.”

  “Even if this person is trying to rattle you, Luke,” Katie warned, “you have to see this is unstable behavior.” Sooner or later, the guilty party would step up their game, do more than letters and salt in the water.

  “Maybe,” he conceded. “But whoever this is, they aren’t bringing me down. I won’t let them. I have a zone I enter when I walk onto that mound, and nothing but the game exists there. And I had a damn good preseason to prove it.”

  Understanding filled Katie. “I remember that zone,” she said softly, drawing his surprised look. “When I was dancing, before I blew out my knee, everything else disappeared inside the music and the routine.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You loved dancing. That was your real dream. Not this security biz.”

  She gave a terse nod. “Yes. My dancing was your baseball. I was injured and I knew it, but I landed a choreographer spot on a top musician’s tour. The top spot.” She remembered the call all too well. “I’d been a nobody so long. It was my big break.”

  “And you blew out your knee again,” he murmured.

  “Right. Messed it up for good.” She tilted her head acceptingly. “But that’s old news. I’ve adjusted and moved on. What else can I do? What can any of us do in such a situation?”

  Katie settled her leg on the seat and turned to face him. “The point in my story, Luke, isn’t about me. It’s about you. I want you to know I understand where you’re coming from. I don’t want you to feel I’m working against your career. I know the first game of the season is less than a week away. I can see why it’s important you don’t let this mess with your head, and I’ll do everything in my power to make the security fade into the background. To let you play. In fact, if you’re right and someone is trying to mess with your head, it will be my great pleasure to watch you pitch the best season of your career.”

  A slow smile slid onto his lips. “I am going to pitch the best season of my career.”

  “And I’ll be here covering your back while you do,” she promised, returning his smile.

  His gaze lowered to her lips, lingered, then lifted. “What would you do if I grabbed you and kissed you right now?”

  “You don’t want to know,” she warned, trying to keep the playful out of her tone, but it was hard. So hard.

  His eyes lit with desire. “What if I do?”

  What if she did, too? “Drive the truck.”

  She’d barely finished issuing the order when he pulled her close, that big, hard body touching her in all the right places. His tongue thrusting deep into her mouth in a long, drugging kiss. She tried to seem unaffected, but he tasted so good, felt too perfect. She could feel the moan rising in her throat; she willed it back. But it was there, escaping her lips and declaring the blissful state of arousal overtaking her body.

  Luke smiled against her mouth. “I had a feeling that’s what you’d do.”

  She shook herself inwardly and shoved out of his arms. “That’s not what I should have done. I should have punished you in some horrible, painful way involving my knee.”

  “You and that knee.” He chuckled and put the truck in gear. “I’m sure you can think of a way to punish me that doesn’t include horrible and painful in the description.”

  Erotic images about how she might punish him—tie him up, kiss every one of his delicious abdominals and elsewhere while he begged for more. Oh, boy. Katie shook herself, but judging from Luke’s renewed rumble of deep, sexy laughter, not before he guessed she was in naughty land.

  Katie glared at him and snatched her seat belt, doing the only safe thing the truck allowed. She secured herself as far from Luke as possible for as long as possible—until tonight, when she was destined to be on his arm, as his date. Protecting him. Now, who the heck was going to protect her from him? That was the real question. And did she really want to be?

  THE PHOTO CALL CAME in the blink of an eye, a large banquet-type hotel room set up as a studio. He’d barely arrived before he’d been whisked into the center of attention. After what felt like hours of pictures, Luke escaped the photographers and headed for the sidelines where Katie stood patiently waiting.

  Crazy as it seemed, he was hot and hard, just thinking of touching her, of inhaling her sweet floral scent. Damn. The woman had him all shaken and stirred in a big way. She was a challenge. It was the only logical explanation. She wasn’t falling at his feet. She didn’t want him for his game. She didn’t even want to want him.

  Yeah, it was the challenge getting to him, he confirmed in his mind. It was the only damn explanation he was willing to accept. Because there was no way in hell he was falling for this woman, or any other, having had his heart twisted in knots only months before. Not that he’d ever really loved his ex. A detail made clear when he’d missed his manager more than he’d missed Rebecca. The man had been with him since the day he’d been drafted out of college, almost ten years ago now. Rebecca had been with him a year, but nevertheless, she’d been a stable comfort in his life, one that didn’t come easily with a decade of traveling under his belt.

  Katie smiled as he approached—a genuine smile that seemed to say she was glad he was headed in her direction—and it lit him up like the sun beaming down on the pitcher’s mound on a hot summer afternoon. She’d been around high society and public figures before, and it showed in how smoothly she managed interaction with several people far more famous than he’d ever dreamed of being. She wasn’t all starry-eyed and infatuated. Damn if she wasn’t a breath of fresh air. He liked it. And he definitely liked how she looked in the slim-cut black dress she’d chosen. It hugged her slender, athletic body exactly the way he would want it to—tastefully close—at least for now. Later, if he was lucky, he’d explore her long, slender legs in delicious, intimate detail.

  He stopped in front of her, slid a hand to her waist. “How are you hanging in there?”

  “Displeased with the event’s security,” she replied. “If this wasn’t for a good cause, I would have you out of here in a snap.”

  His other hand settled on her waist. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been with a woman so hell-bent on control.” He wiggled an eyebrow. “I think I like it.”

  “You’re not with me,” she reminded him, hushing her voice. “I’m protecting you.”

  He leaned close, inhaled. “You smell like spring flowers.” The scent zipped through his system with a rush of heat. “Remind me to thank Ron for manipulating me into not being with you.”

  She slid her fingers down his lapel, her breath warm on his neck as she leaned in and whispered, “Not unless you tell me it’s because you feel safer now, because that’s why I’m here. To keep you safe.”

  “You talk so tough,” he accused. “But I think you’re all soft and warm underneath all that toughness.”

  She gave him a disbelieving look and shook her head. “Soft and warm?” Her voice quavered ever so slightly, not quite as controlled as normal. “I told you I don’t like baseball—actually, I told you I don’t like you. What part of either of those things sounds soft and warm?”

  “Both,” he assured her. “Because you didn’t mean either one of them. And for the record, safe isn’t the word that comes to mind where you’re concerned.” He threw her the zinger on purpose, looking forward to her swatting it back at him. This woman was definitely somethi
ng. “On a separate subject. I’ve had a burning question on my mind the entire time I was taking pictures.”

  “Burning?” she said. “Do I dare ask?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to decide. “Where exactly,” he whispered, leaning down, his mouth near her ear, “do you keep your gun in this dress?”

  “Luke.” Her hand flattened on his chest. “Will you please behave?”

  His hand closed over hers, pinning it against his body, where he wanted it, where he wanted her. Soon. Not soon enough. “Answer my question, and I promise to be good. For a while. If you really want me to.”

  She tried to glare at him but erupted in a smile instead. “Like I said, you’re impossible. And no, I won’t tell you. A girl has her secrets.”

  “And a man, his fantasies,” he countered, wondering if it was strapped beneath a garter. Was she wearing thigh-highs? “I’m going to be thinking about where to find that gun all night, you know?”

  “Oh, good,” came a female voice. “There you are.”

  Luke cringed at the sound of the voice behind him and turned.

  “Olivia,” he said, acknowledging the PR rep whom the team owner had hired after Luke’s embezzlement scandal had rocked the headlines. “I didn’t expect you tonight. I thought a charity event would have been good enough press without your help.” His hand stayed possessively at Katie’s back. Olivia was a money-grubbing fame mogul, like so many women he’d encountered in the past ten years. “Katie. This is Olivia Cantu. She’s—”

  “The Rainmaker,” Olivia supplied, her normal, big ego in play. An ego that matched her ample cleavage, exposed within a millimeter of being unprofessional. “I’m the one who spins all the stories into jewels rather than media-shattering craters.” She cast Katie a look down her nose. “Would you be my latest crater?”

  “I’d be Katie Lyons,” Katie said, taking the impolite comment impressively in stride. “Luke’s date…and I’d prefer to be neither a jewel nor a crater, thus why I rarely attend these events.”

  Olivia frowned. “You make that sound like you’ve been around awhile.” Her gaze shifted suspiciously toward Luke.

  “She’s been my jewel in hiding for some time now, Olivia. I didn’t want her exposed to the nightmare of my bad press.”

  Olivia gave Katie a judgmental up-and-down inspection that oozed jealousy before fixing her attention on Luke again, speaking as if Katie were not present.

  “The press’ll be talking about this new date of yours,” she said, flipping a long lock of blond hair out of her heavily made-up eye. “After that disaster with your last girlfriend, I need something to work with here.” She glanced at Katie. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. “But we don’t need another catastrophe. I need to know who I’m dealing with.”

  Instantly, Luke felt the subtle stiffening of Katie’s back. Olivia was supposed to stop problems from occurring, not create them. And damn it, he reveled in the competitiveness of his sport on the field, but off the field, he was sick of the jealousy and competition. The game wasn’t about the fancy team jet, or who had the most groupies, or who drove what car, yet plenty of people made it about all those things and more.

  In that moment, Luke respected and appreciated how untouched Katie was by all of the bullshit around him, despite having rubbed elbows with plenty of celebrities in her past.

  Protectiveness for Katie rose inside him, and yes, a selfish need to keep her untouched that he didn’t deny. “There is absolutely nothing about Katie to worry about, Olivia,” he said through clenched teeth. “For once, try simply answering with ‘no comment,’ or how about this? Tell them I’m crazy hot for Katie. Take that to the press and let them roll with it. Or I’ll do it myself.” He grabbed Katie’s hand and started walking.

  Olivia and Katie both gasped. Olivia stepped in front of them. “Luke—don’t go saying crazy things to the press just to spite me,” Olivia said. “Wilcox won’t be happy about that.” Wilcox being the team owner.

  He arched a brow. “Why would I have any reason to spite you, Olivia?”

  She opened her mouth and shut it. Then, “Just watch what you say.”

  He glanced at Katie. “Let’s go find a table.” They headed down a narrow, carpeted hallway, and Luke cast Katie a furtive glance. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve dealt with my share of Olivias,” she assured him, keeping pace with him. “And for the record, I thought of a good five or ten biting remarks for that woman and said not a one of them, but you might have gone a bit far with the crazy hot thing.”

  He stopped, turned to her. “It was the truth.”

  Surprise washed over her face and she visibly paled. “Luke. No. Stop. Don’t you understand? I can’t protect you when you’re making me…”

  “Crazy hot?”

  “Crazy,” she corrected quickly. “You’re making me crazy.”

  His lips tilted upward. “Then I’ll get to work on the wild-and-hot part.”

  A flash of light suddenly flickered around them, the sound of voices as reporters swarmed them. Katie quipped, “I’d say the ‘hot’ is safely on ice considering there’s an audience.”

  He winked. “Don’t count on it, sweetheart.”

  AN HOUR LATER, Luke had finished a heart-wrenching speech that told Katie there was so much more to him than she’d imagined possible. And while he was signing autographs, she worked the crowd, looking for suspects.

  At present she danced with Chris Allen, a thirty-something, money-grubbing sports agent whom she’d known for years. Listening to him rattle his own chain and tell her how much Luke Winter and Joey Martin needed him—no matter how many times she assured him she had no influence over either—was pure torture. Good grief, she was ready to leave. The party and this world.

  She’d forgotten how easily every breath she drew had been about Joey when she’d been with him. And how much Joey had eaten that up, too. He’d loved being the center of the universe. And she’d done nothing but feed his ego, and his desires. She’d come to hate Joey, though she hadn’t realized it until months after their separation, when she’d finally rediscovered herself.

  She’d like to think she’d grown since then, that she was older, more capable of retaining her own identity with a man like Luke than she had been before. That—if Luke wasn’t a client and off-limits—she could be with him without losing her identity. Part of her was tempted to find out. Another wanted to leave the past in the past.

  “Can I cut in?”

  The male voice that lifted above the jazz tune came with both relief and trepidation, as Chris turned his attention on Luke. Immediately, Chris’s eyes lit up, and he reached in his pocket, withdrew a card. “We should talk.” He beamed. “Katie and I go way back.”

  Luke ignored the card. “Tonight is for the kids, man,” Luke said, disapproval on his face. “No business.” He slid his arms around Katie, turned her in to the mix of the dancing couples.

  “Thank you,” Katie said, her gaze flickering to those sparkling gray eyes and quickly away. It would be so easy to get lost in his stare. “I can’t stand that man.”

  “Good,” Luke said, his legs brushing hers, his body warm and inviting. “Because neither can I. He can’t seem to get the idea that I’m not interested.”

  “Wait,” Katie said, her fingers digging into his jacket. “How long has he been pursuing you? Since before the letters started?”

  He paused a minute and then spun her around. “You think Chris is writing the letters?” he asked in disbelief.

  The soft, gentle rhythm of their bodies moving together fogged Katie’s brain for a second, the sway of his hips against hers making it hard to think. “Maybe,” she said, gently clearing her throat. “What if he wants to destroy your career so he can recreate it? We both know he’s willing to do whatever’s necessary to get ahead. He’s that type. It has to be considered.” Just as Olivia was possibly looking to create juicy gossip that made her, and her job, necessary, as well. Or Olivia might simply wan
t Luke period. Katie could see her as an obsessive stalker, but she didn’t say that for fear Luke would accuse her of sounding jealous. She wasn’t jealous, because really, truthfully, there was something not right about that girl that reached beyond her silicone double-D breasts and too-perfect body. Both Chris and Olivia were going on the list of people Katie had begun compiling for Donna to investigate.

  A flash of a camera, and Katie and Luke were once again being photographed. Luke grimaced at the camera holder. “I know that guy,” he said. “He’s with some low-life gossip magazine.” He maneuvered her farther onto the crowded dance floor. “No matter how grand the cause, the wolves and cameras are out in full force. It can’t just be about the kids.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind the cameras and the spotlight earlier,” she said skeptically. “You worked the room like you owned it up on that stage.”

  “Every minute I’m in front of the cameras is like tying a string to a tooth and slamming a door,” he said. “Painful.”

  “Yet you play pro ball. In front of thousands. On national television…you’re always in the spotlight.”

  “I love baseball,” he said. “And the spotlight is a part of competing on a professional level. But I’m a country boy at heart. I like quiet. I like privacy. Until all that crap with my manager, you never saw me in the papers. I spend my time off away from the limelight. The cameras, the fancy parties—I don’t want anything to do with them unless I have to.” His hand slid more intimately around her back, her stomach fluttering with reaction. He tilted his head, studied her. “You seem surprised.”

  Maybe she was. She didn’t know what to expect from Luke. Ron had said Luke was a good ol’ boy. A private, nice, down-to-earth guy. Then, Ron had introduced her to a big, egomaniac jerk. Which one was accurate? Which was a show?

  “You’re emcee tonight,” she said, trying to find an answer to that question. “That hardly seems like avoiding the limelight.”

  His expression darkened, the flutter of overhead lights casting his face in shadows. “For one reason and one reason only,” he said. “And that reason is Elvin Rogers. A kid that had one last wish—to meet me.”