Slow Heat

After the game, Wade walked to the stands. His “girlfriend” was sitting there in her elegant and sophisticated suit, revealing those knock-’em dead legs that went on for days, looking for all the world like a princess on a Nordstrom’s budget.

God, she was something. And if he wasn’t careful, she’d make him lose his head. Good thing he was careful.

Very careful. “Hey, woman,” he called up to her. “Where’s my victory kiss?”

Tess laughed and cleared the stands to give him room as he made his way to her. Sam narrowed her eyes, giving him the don’t-you-dare death-glare. Ignoring the look, he pulled her to her feet and leaned in, enjoying the scent of her, the feel of her, letting his eyes drift closed as he headed for her mouth-

She slapped a hand to his chest, and with a sigh, he opened his eyes. “Can I call management and get an exchange on the girlfriend thing? Cuz this one’s uncooperative.”

“Our turn, Sam,” Tess told her, climbing down, waving at her to hurry and follow. “We’re up first.”

“We’re up first?” Sam repeated, turning to Wade. “What does she mean?”

“Powder-puff time.”

“Powder puff? What’s a powder puff?”

“They’re doing an extra inning so the women get a chance to play, too. You’re catcher.”

She just stared at him, mouth open.

He smiled, gently tapped his finger beneath her chin until her mouth closed, and sank to the seat she’d just vacated. “Don’t worry, I’ll cheer you on.”

“But I’m in heels.”

Tess came running up the stands and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling her down toward the field. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“B-but I’m not dressed for this,” she protested as Tess left her no choice but to run alongside her, which she did like a pro in spite of the four-inch heels. “I don’t know how to play…”

Wade watched her go, grinning from ear to ear. Oh, hell, yeah.This was exactly what he’d needed, a weekend of entertainment. And it was greatly entertaining, watching Sam get handed over the catcher’s gear. Watching her stare at the equipment in her hands, making him realize that she truly had no idea what she was doing. He took in the sheer panic on her face and sighed as he rose to his feet, then made his way down to her.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Yes.” She fisted his shirt and held on, eyes wide. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And she hated that, he knew. His Sam thrived on knowing exactly what she was doing, at all times. “It’s called winging it, Princess. In the name of fun.”

She tugged harder, bringing him nose to nose with her. “You have no idea how much I hate to admit this, but I need your help.”

He let out a slow smile. “It’s going to cost you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh, Sam.” His hands went to her hips and squeezed gently. “You’re going to care.”

She let out a breath. “You’re getting a kick out of this.”

“Seeing you out of your element?” His full grin escaped. “You can bet your sweet ass on it.”

Chapter 5

It’s a funny kind of month, October. For the really keen baseball fan it’s when you discover that your wife left you in May.

– Denis Norden

“Hold the mitt up a little higher,” Wade instructed Sam, and then stepped behind her, putting one hand on her hip, the other guiding her arm a little higher.

If she hadn’t been so terrified, so aware of the full stands and everyone around her readying for the powder- puff inning, she might have enjoyed the feeling of his big, hard, warm body behind hers.

“Open the mitt more,” he told her. “It’ll align with the ball.”

“It will?” she asked doubtfully. “Even if you’re not a natural athlete?”

“You’re a natural.”

Her tummy quivered. “How do you know?”

“I know.”

She wanted to believe that.

“Once the ball’s in your glove, throw it quickly and as straight as possible.”

“Straight,” she said faintly. “Sure thing.” It was a cool day, with a lovely breeze coming in off the ocean and yet she was sweating. She yanked off her jacket and tossed it aside.

Wade abruptly stopped talking. When she turned her head to look at him, he was staring at her white silky knit tank. “It’s a top, Wade.”

“It’s a sexy little top that just made me forget what the hell I was telling you.”

“You were telling me how to be a catcher.”

“Right.” He gave himself a visible shake. “Be sure not to hit the pitcher. They hate that.”

She closed her eyes and tried not to panic.

He laughed softly and ran a finger over the narrow strap on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, a good pitcher will get out of your way when he sees you get ready to throw down.”

“Is Tess a good pitcher?”

“We’ll find out.”

She swallowed hard.

“And don’t get yourself hit either.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry. Probably Tess can’t get a ball over home plate to save her life. Which means you’re going to be running after it, not catching it. But if you do catch it, keep your chin down.”

“Why?”

“Keeps the ball from bouncing up and hitting you in the throat.”

Okay. So she’d keep her chin down.

He turned her to face him and tightened her face mask, then bent his knees a little to look into her eyes. “Ready?”

“Sure thing.”

He smiled again. “Go get ’em, Tiger.”

Then he was gone before she could kill him.

But he’d been right about her spending far more time running after the pitches than catching them. She’d ditched her heels, kicking them to the grass a few feet away, dirt clinging to the soles. But that wasn’t her biggest problem. Somehow her team managed to get three outs, which was a miracle considering the pitching and catching efforts. But then came the real terror.

She was up at bat.

She looked into the eyes of the pretty brunette who was pitching. It was Meg, the bride-to-be, and Sam watched Mark walk out to the mound to coach his future wife, ending with a sweet kiss that turned into a very long, sloppy wet one that might have never ended except that Tess ran out and shoved Mark off the mound.

Now Meg was grinning dreamily as she pitched to Sam, giving her a sweet slow ball-

Sam hit it.

Even with her eyes closed and a startled little squeak coming out of her as she swung, she hit it right up the center of the field.