Throwing Heat

Just then Sonny strode back into the room looking gorgeous and bohemian in black leggings and an oversized off-the-shoulder knitted sweater the color of plums in spring. “You have great decorating taste, Leslie.”

“Thanks.” She motioned to the empty chair next to her. “Have a seat.”

“I just need to grab my bag quickly.” She was back in no time with a picnic basket full of yarn and needles. “I’m so glad we’re doing this. Life has been so crazy that I’ve stalled out on this sweater I was making. This gives me the motivation to start again.”

Lorelei inquired, “Where’s the boy tonight?”

“On a date with JP. They went out to see the new big sci-fi flick at the theater.” Sonny tucked her feet under her and settled a ball of yarn on her lap.

Leslie did the same, tucking her bare feet under her and snuggling down inside her own baggy sweater. She was wearing her oldest, most favorite worn-in pair of jeans. The knees were about to blow, but that was okay. She was a loyal girl. She’d wear them until the ass ripped out.

She gestured to the tea tray in front of her. “In honor of the pregnant lady we’re doing decaf tea. There’s a variety of flavors to choose from, so help yourself.”

Lorelei was already pouring a cup. “So, have you heard anything from Peter?”

She shook her head and pulled out her knitting basket from its cubby tucked under the end table. “I haven’t, actually. And it’s been a week since he left.” One very long, very worrisome week.

“No doubt he’s fine, sweetie. He’s probably just taking some time for himself.” Sonny added a slice of fresh lemon to her tea.

“I’m sure he’ll get a hold of Mark when he’s back.” Leslie said casually, like it didn’t matter to her at all that she’d had mind-shattering sex with the man and then he’d taken off before she’d even gotten fully dressed. Or that it didn’t matter that she’d wasted so much time and energy planning for an event that was never going to happen in any reality because she didn’t know how to keep her hands to herself. Peter had come along wanting up in her skirt and she’d tossed every functioning brain cell out her ears, only keeping the warped ones to make decisions for her.

And now she was back to square one. Back to being lonely, independent Leslie who worked at her brother’s nightclub and didn’t have anything of her own. Sounded terrific, didn’t it?

A slap on her knee jolted her. “Hey, so you need to fill us in on this bet that you had going with Peter. Give us the details.” Lorelei leaned back in her chair and sipped at her peach tea.

Her first instinct was to keep her mouth shut. It was probably the right one. So of course she chose the opposite. “Y’all know how I’ve been trying to get him to play at the club, right?” They nodded. “Well, he bet that he could get me in the sack by the end of the World Series, or he’d play at Hotbox and let me promote the hell out of it to help the business—which I’d be buying with the down payment he’d also give me.”

Sonny’s eyes went round and she stopped knitting. “So he’s playing at the club, and you’re buying it? That’s great! I’ll definitely come see him.”

Ugh. This was the awkward part. She should have kept her mouth shut. “Um, well, not exactly.”

Lorelei gasped and slapped her knee again. “Is that what you two were doing on Halloween when you both disappeared?”

Sonny dropped her knitting needles. “Wait. You slept with Peter?”

Damn it. Stupid mouth. Leslie cringed. “Sort of, yes.”

Both women just stared at her, their mouths open. Neither spoke for a good minute. It was making her self-conscious.

Finally Lorelei blurted, “Was it good?”

Leslie’s gaze flew to her. When she saw the mischievous glint in her eyes she relaxed, smiling playfully. “Everything you think it would be, plus some.”

Sonny murmured, “He does have big hands.”

It was Leslie’s turn to gasp. “Sonny!”

The woman shrugged delicately, her eyes sparkling. “Just sayin’.”

“Seriously,” said Lorelei. “How do you feel about him?”

Did she have to answer that? It was all so confusing.

Just then her sister-in-law shot out of her chair. “Be right back.” Then she bolted across the great room and down the hall to the bathroom.

“Poor thing.” Sonny’s voice was full of sympathy.

“Yeah. It’s a shame men can’t be the pregnant ones.”

She snorted. “Good thing. It’d be the end of our species if they were.”

Leslie laughed. So true. Women were the real warriors. Every single one who gave birth to another human being. “Yeah. Take Mark, for instance. He can’t even handle a hangnail.”

Lorelei came back into the room several minutes later looking pale and picked up the conversation thread. “Hey now. He can too. It’s paper cuts that make him whine like a sissy.”

Her brother, the hero.

Sonny spoke up then. “What are you holding, Lorelei?”

The brunette glanced down. “Oh. Here, Leslie. I found this behind the toilet.” She pulled a face. “Don’t ask what I was doing when I found it.”

Holding out a hand, Leslie took the piece of paper and frowned. It looked like a shipping confirmation tag. Quickly scanning it, she saw that it was indeed a receipt. For a plumbing fixture. From overseas.

Dated three weeks ago.

Her blood ran cold as all the possible ramifications hit her. Jerry had told her they were still waiting on the overseas part and she was positive it was the only one. She remembered him saying so. But if that was true then it could only mean one thing: She had been played by a pitcher. For weeks.

And that made her very, very angry.

“THANKS FOR THE wonderful night, John. It was great to catch up.” Leslie rummaged around in her clutch for her keys, eager to get inside and kick off her shoes. It had been a long evening.

Perfectly pleasant, John Crispin had been a fine date. Intelligent, well read, courteous. He was everything that she normally went for in a man. But for some reason her appreciation for Armani just wasn’t the same lately.

That reason was Peter.

She was still fuming over his little stunt. After Lorelei and Sonny had left she’d marched down to the superintendent’s office and pounded on the door until he’d opened up. Then she’d waved the incriminating evidence and rained all kinds of hellfire down on him until he’d come clean and admitted the truth.

Her apartment had been finished two weeks ago, but Peter had inspired him to hold her off until the first of November.

Ugh! It still galled her because she knew he’d set her up hard. By keeping her at his place it had given him the opportunity and time to seduce her into bed, to stack the deck against her.

It was signature Kowalskin. Dirty pool all the way. And because she was just so mad at him, she’d decided that she wasn’t in love with him anymore. Done. The end. Completely over it.

Over him.

As proof of her new liberating decision she’d called John up and asked him for that date after she’d found out he was still in town visiting friends. Seemed appropriate and like a fine way to forget about her brief foray into emotional stupidity. “Well, thanks again.” She put her key in the lock and felt the tumblers click.

“Do you mind if I come inside for a minute? There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” the big, masculine ballplayer said softly from right behind her. She could feel his broad chest brushing her back slightly as he reached around her and pushed the door open.

Actually she did mind—she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to change into her pajamas and flop onto the couch for an hour with Missy and a book. But that wasn’t the polite thing to do. Her Southern manners chose the oddest times to kick in and start dictating.

Leslie stepped through the door and forced a smile. “Not at all. Come on inside.”

Dropping the keys on her kitchen counter, she spotted her kitten waddling toward her, meowing with her