Throwing Heat

tiny voice, and Leslie set her purse down and scooped her up. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”

A deep male voice said behind her quietly, “I did, Leslie.”

Uh-oh.

Turning with the kitten in her arms, she took in John’s serious expression and heard warning bells go off in her head, spiking her anxiety. She played it cool. “That’s a sweet thing to say.” Hopefully if she didn’t encourage him he’d ask his question and leave.

Maybe going on a date with him hadn’t been the best idea.

“Leslie,” the ballplayer started, “I know that we went our separate ways when I got traded to Boston, and I get it. I don’t blame you for breaking it off.”

Crap. She could tell where this was heading, and her stomach sank. “John—”

He held up a hand and cut her off. “Let me finish.” She clamped her mouth shut and he continued, “It was a lot for me to ask you to uproot and move with me when there was no firm commitment between us—no future plans.”

Oh no.

Leslie’s heart began pounding and she looked over her shoulder, held the kitten to her and began petting her furiously. “It’s okay, John. Really. We just weren’t meant to be.” She flashed him a wide smile, hoping that he’d just shut up and stop talking. No, no, no. Don’t do this.

He took a step toward her and she took one in retreat. “I can see that you’re nervous. And I think I know why.” He took another step toward her and she stepped back, coming flat up against the refrigerator. Damn it.

Another step and he was directly in front of her, taking Missy out of her clenched, clinging fingers and setting her on the floor. Her breath went shallow and her brain scrambled for a way out of this. But she was so frazzled that she couldn’t think of anything.

Large, hard hands cupped hers and brought them to his chest; his brown eyes went warm with invitation. “You’re nervous because of the chemistry. It’s still there, Les.”

That wasn’t why she was practically shaking.

“John,” she said a little helplessly. It had definitely been a bad decision to call him up for that date.

A thick finger covered her lips and she gave a tiny squeak. “Shh, let me speak. I’ve been thinking on this ever since my trade and there’s something I need to ask you.”

Please don’t!

The ballplayer dropped to his knee. “You’re an incredible woman. Strong, feisty, intelligent.”

“John—” she croaked weakly. God, don’t do this to me.

Brown eyes filled with hopeful expectation looked up at her as he shifted both her hands to one of his and reached into the front pocket of his slacks. “I love you, Leslie Ann Cutter.”

“Great!” she squeaked, not thinking.

John opened the box in his hand and right there in the middle of it was a huge diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”

Her mouth dropped open and she blanked, couldn’t say anything. Went numb with shock.

The front door slapped against the wall, making a loud thump. Leslie jerked, and her eyes went round and panicked when Peter sauntered in.

He took one look at the scene and stopped dead, scowling hotly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

PETER COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes.

John Crispin on his knees proposing to Leslie. It was wrong. Just all around wrong. “What the hell do you think you two are doing?”

The ballplayer looked from Leslie to Peter, clearly confused. “I was trying to ask her to marry me before you busted in without knocking.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you knock?”

Peter clamped his mouth shut and stared at Leslie. She had a whole lot of explaining to do, and she’d better start quick. Because it looked a whole lot like she’d screwed him senseless last week and declared her love, only to turn right back around a minute later and give her heart to someone else. Christ. He’d known it—known it the moment he’d spotted Crispin at the club during the Series that it was only going to bring trouble.

Damn her hot, fickle ass.

A growl started to rumble low in his chest as she stared at him blankly while another man crouched on his knee before her with a giant goddamn ring.

It looked like he wasn’t immune to the good ol’ Kowalskin family curse. He couldn’t keep his woman either. Terrific.

“Now, Peter,” Crispin started, putting the ring back in the box. “If I’m in your territory, brother, I didn’t know it. But I’m not sorry. I care for Leslie.”

“I can’t. John, I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Her voice was soft and resigned.

So the mouse finally found her voice, did she? “You can’t what? Marry another man after you’ve been screwing me?” His anger had gained momentum and was currently churning in his gut like a storm. He didn’t know why it hit him so suddenly, so violently. All he knew was that the minute he’d spotted Leslie all dolled up in a slinky dress with another man, he’d wanted to hit something.

He couldn’t stand the thought of her being with anyone else.

“It’s not like that.” Her eyes were round with sincerity.

But he didn’t buy it. Why wouldn’t she want a guy like Crispin rather than him? The guy came from healthy stock, a solid upbringing. He wasn’t damaged goods like Peter.

“Oh really? Then why don’t you tell me what it’s like, Leslie.” He spat. Under the anger was a whole lot of hurt, a lot of stinging betrayal. And he didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to understand it.

She was supposed to love him.

John hastened to his feet and held out his hands to Peter in a show of peace. “I can see that I made a mistake here, so I’m just going to leave.”

Peter barely flicked him a glance. “Yeah, I think you better.” His attention was only on the heartache in the black dress in front of him.

The big ballplayer left as the tension stretched almost to the breaking point. Then the two of them were left alone, staring at each other, chests heaving. Silence stretched and Peter’s nerves frayed.

He couldn’t stand it. “What were you doing on a date with John? God, you didn’t even wait, did you? You just went right to him the minute my back was turned.” He knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t help it. He hurt. In a way like he’d never experienced before. It was tearing him up inside. And he didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know where to put it.

“Now you hold on there,” said his unfaithful princess, fire lighting in the dark-forest depths of her eyes and her back snapping straight. “You don’t get to accuse me, Peter Kowalskin. Not after what you’ve done.”

What he’d done? “I’ve done nothing, you pretty little liar.”

She reared back, her hand flying to her barely contained tits in her low cut dress. “Excuse me?” she gasped incredulously. “You’re the lair.”

He raked both hands through his hair. “What the hell are you talking about? You lied to me.” Pain lashed him and he couldn’t quite hide it when he looked at her and said, “You told me you loved me.”

Leslie crossed her arms. “I changed my mind.” Her voice dripped with challenge as she stared him down, practically begging him to call her out.

“You did, did you?” His voice was deadly soft.

“Absolutely.” She snapped her fingers. “Just that easy.”

Peter opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Like you should really give a shit anyway, you lying jerk.”