Slow Heat

with me.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. Yeah, so she was worried that with her luck, a slow song would come on and then she’d have to be all pressed up against that body that already knew how to take her to heaven and back, and they were at a wedding, in a very romantic setting, and well… bad idea all around.

“This was all your idea,” he reminded her, tauntingly. “Your game.”

“Well, it was a bad idea. A stupid game.”

“Granted. But you have to see it through now.” He glanced beyond her, to where the wedding photographers were snapping pictures, and beyond that, to the waist-high white fence blocking the garden area off from the gawkers, which included paparazzi.

And their cameras.

With a grim sigh, she rose to her feet, took his hand, ignored his smirk, and followed him to the dance floor. “This is such a mistake,” she said.

“Since when has that ever stopped us?”

For Wade, dancing with Sam was more like a forbidden treat. She felt good against him, too good, making him forget certain basics-that he’d purposely lived his adult life fun and carefree, without worry and anxiety, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, go back there. Not for anything, or anyone.

Sam included.

Life was meant to be fun and light. Period. Preferably with lots of sex and little depth. And that’s what this weekend should have been. Hell, the music was nice, the beat fast, and when she moved to it and smiled at him, he smiled back. And yet at the same time, he felt something tighten in his chest. Which wasn’t good.

Not one little bit.

Neither was the way he automatically held out a hand for her when the song slowed, when everyone around them stepped into their partner.

Sam stared at his hand for a long moment, and he honestly expected that she’d turn away and walk back to the table. Maybe even leave the reception.

It would have been the smart thing to do, after all he was exactly what she’d labeled him-a player. But here was the problem. For two incredibly smart people when they were on their own, they’d never seemed to be able to fully access their IQs when it came to each other.

“I can do this,” she finally said, as if she needed to believe it, and she stepped into him.

He pulled her in closer, and could tell that she tried to lose herself in the music, but he’d seen her slow dance before and she’d been a whole lot less stiff. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“You can move,” she said so begrudgingly that she made him laugh.

“Yeah?”

She let out a small smile. “Yeah.”

“How’s that a problem?”

She didn’t answer, and he returned her smile and pressed his mouth to her ear. “You want me bad. One of these days you’re going to admit it.”

“Just because you look damn fine on the dance floor doesn’t mean I want you.”

“But you do.”

She had no response to that. Nor did she protest when he drew her in even closer so that she was flush against him.

“Smooth,” she managed. “For a jock.”

He laughed softly against her temple, because cool as she sounded, her body trembled. “How about this?”

“What?”

He pulled her in even closer, still moving to the beat, a different one now, one that matched the same beat of his pulse and the blood pounding through his veins as he slid a hand nice and slow up her slim spine.

“Oh, boy,” she whispered, telling him she was in as much trouble as he.

“Tell the truth, Sam. This feels good.”

She paused. “It’s okay.”

“You are such a liar. A gorgeous one though, I’ll give you that.” His hand skimmed down again, just beneath the hem of her short, fitted jacket, low on her back, against the silk of her blouse. He slid a finger just beneath the waistband of her skirt and got bare skin.

In his arms, she shivered.

God, he wanted to be alone with her. He wanted that more than anything. “Maybe the elevator will get stuck again-”

“Wade.” She shook her head. “I…”

“I know.” Beneath her jacket, low on her spine, his fingers continued to play with her warm, and getting warmer, skin. “Bad idea, right?”

“The worst.”

“The paps are watching.”

“I think we’ve given them plenty,” she said, and when the song ended, she pulled free, met his gaze, her own hooded. “I’m sorry, Wade. I’m maxed out on the pretending. Excuse me a minute, okay?” And with a shaky smile, she walked off the floor. She passed by their table, grabbed her purse, then headed toward the building.

Don’t do it, he told himself. Don’t follow her. The food is coming…

Shit.

He followed Sam through the back door, into the huge, upscale kitchen area where the servers were quickly and efficiently-and frantically-working to get the food out to the guests. Wade looked at all the delicious steak, then to Sam’s quickly retreating back. Dammit. “Sam-”

She didn’t slow, leaving him with a life-altering decision. Steak or the woman?

With a grim sigh, he went after her, through a maze of kitchen areas and stopped, momentarily stymied by a restroom door clearly labeled Women as it swung shut in his face. Well, hell. He shoved his hands in his pockets, thought forlornly of the steak probably heading to his table right this second and sighed. “Sam.”

He got the big nothing, and put a hand on the door. “Is there anyone in there with you?”

A server ducked past him, then skidded to a stop, clearly recognizing him. “Wow,” she said breathless. She wiped her hands on her apron and grinned. “Wade O’Riley.”

“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

She watched him take his hand off the door. “It’s a single stall,” she told him. “You don’t have to knock to go in, if it’s unlocked, it’s unoccupied. Help yourself, though the men’s restroom is just around the corner. Hey, did you know you’re even cuter in person?”

He was never quite sure what to say to stuff like that, but she didn’t seem to need a response.

“I got to see game two of the playoffs last year,” she said. “You guys were robbed, but my boyfriend says you’ll take it this year. I think so, too. Your position is my favorite. Catchers are tough, real badass.” She grinned. “You fit that bill, don’t you?”

Again, no idea what to say to that.

“Will you sign an autograph for me?”

Finally, something he had an answer for. “Sure.” He patted down his pockets but he didn’t have a pen.

“Here.” She pulled a ballpoint from her apron, and then turned her back, exposing the clean white cotton back of her server uniform. “Be sure to write ‘Love, Wade’ real big cuz it’ll drive my boyfriend bonkers.”

He’d had far odder requests, so he dutifully signed the back of her shirt, and with a happy wave at him, she was off.

Alone, he eyed the restroom door. Fuck it, he thought, and let himself in.

The server had been right, it was indeed a single stall, which was open and empty because Sam stood in front of the sink staring at herself in the mirror.

The restroom was as luxurious and elegant as the rest of the hotel, the walls painted in muted beachy colors,