Текст книги "Game On"

Автор книги: Katie McCoy

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Sixteen

Nathan eyed me with caution. “I’m not playing skee-ball with you again,” he said. “You’re a hustler.”

“Now you’re just being a sore loser,” I told him, not sure yet if my idea was going to work.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the bet, Rose?” he asked, once again invoking The Titanic. That’s when I knew for sure I had his interest.

I pointed at the batting cages. “Each time I hit a ball, I get one off-the-record question back on the record.”

“No way!” he said. “For all I know, you spend your weekend at places like this, hoping one day you’ll be able to trick some poor innocent guy into giving up his innermost secrets.”

“Poor innocent guy?” I asked, shaking my head at him. “You’re hardly either of those.”

Definitely not innocent, I thought, remembering the eat-you-up smiles he had been giving me all night paired with the occasional suggestive comment and casual touch. Well, two people could play at that game.

“It’s not a fair bet,” he told me. “What chance do I have to defend myself?”

“Well, we can hardly go one-on-one,” I said, sensing I was going to lose my opportunity. “How about I have to get three in a row?” I wasn’t even sure I could get one, let alone three in a row, but I had to try something. At least he was still here, his car keys still in his pocket, the look on his face betraying his interest.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked. “Seems like you’re the only one who’s going to benefit from this little dare. What do I get?”

“Amusement,” I told him, but he shook his head.

“Naw,” he said, thinking for a moment. Then a huge grin spread across his face. “OK, I’ve got it. You get something if you get three in a row, I get something if I hit five in a row.”

“That’s not fair!” I objected. “You’re a professional.”

“So are you,” he said.

“I’m a professional journalist,” I reminded him. “It’s not a fair bet.”

“Hey,” he shrugged. “How much do you want those on-the-record questions?”

I frowned, realizing the bet had just backfired in my face.

He held out his hand. “Deal?”

I needed those questions. I just had to get three hits in a row. I could do that, right? I shook. “Deal.” But as he turned away, I remembered that we hadn’t finalized all aspects of this new bet.”

“Hey!” I asked. “What do you get if you make five in a row?”

“You’ll find out when it happens,” he said, turning away.

“Wait a minute, that’s not fair,” I argued, but he was already heading over to the booth where a bored-looking kid was handing out equipment. He perked up the minute he saw Nathan, though.

“Hey! You’re Nathan Ryder.”

“Sure am,” Nathan said, leaning on the counter. “Need to get a bat and helmet for two.” He pointed a thumb at me. “She just made a foolish bet.”

“We’re about to close,” the kid said regretfully.

“We don’t need it for very long.” Nathan gave him a hopeful smile.

“Would you sign a ball for me?” the kid asked, hero worship blooming in his eyes.

“Of course,” Nathan said, but I could see the tips of his ears turn pink as he bent over the ball the kid handed him, scrawling his name across the side. He hadn’t been lying about hating the attention, but I couldn’t deny how cute he acted when he got it.

“We won’t be long,” I told the kid, but he was completely focused on the newly signed memorabilia in his hand. I just needed to get one good, personal question off the record. And distract him from collecting any of his currently undetermined debts.

“Come on, hustler,” Nathan said, picking up the equipment and making sure to give the kid a big smile, which clearly made his day. “We’ll be back.”

He led me over to the cage furthest away from everything, practically tucked away in a corner, and went to fiddle with the settings on the machine as I put on my helmet, hoping I wasn’t going to ruin my hair too much. But by the smile Nathan gave me as he came back, I clearly hadn’t deterred his interest. Somehow I had to use this to my advantage.

I stared down at the aluminum bat, not exactly sure the best spacing for my hands. Should I put them close together or spread out? I tried to remember what I saw other players do, but all I could picture was Nathan’s butt in his tight, white uniform. I shook my head. This was the exact opposite of what I was hoping for.

“Have you ever done this before?” Nathan asked, coming over next to me. By the look on his face, having my hands that close together was clearly not the best position to take.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, sensing an opportunity. I glanced down at the bat, biting my lips and furrowing my brow. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” I made sure to infuse just the slightest touch of nervousness into my voice.

“You’re hopeless,” he said, giving me an assessing glance. “And you’re going to get yourself hurt if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll be fine,” I waved him off, trying to make myself look as clueless as possible.

Nathan sighed. “Let me show you,” he said, coming around behind me. I did my best to hide my smile as he slid his arms down mine, his fingers wrapping around my own. “Keep your hands firm and apart. You need to have complete control of the bat.” I could hear the smile in his voice. Clearly he thought he was going to do what he had done during our skee-ball game. Distract me. Well, two could play at that.

“Complete control,” I murmured and slowly, carefully, leaned forward, arching my back.

Nathan’s lesson seemed to cut off in his throat as I pressed my ass against his hips. He froze, his body rigid behind me.

“How’s my stance now?” I asked innocently.

“Uh,” he managed, before peeling his body back from mine. “Good.” He sounded hoarse.

“Maybe you want to go first,” I suggested. “Show me how it’s done?” I looked over at him and bit my lip, batting my eyes furiously.

He looked dazed. Perfect, I thought, shoving the bat into his hands. He didn’t seem to come out of that fog until I was on the other side of the fence, the gate shut between us. He gave his head a shake, looking for a moment like a big, adorable puppy dog. I tried to keep my own lustful thoughts to a minimum, but it was hard when he glanced over at me with a dangerous smirk on his lips.

“You’re playing dirty, Hall,” he said, wrapping his fingers around the bat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded innocently. “I thought all things were fair with bets and balls.”

He just shook his head at me. “You’d better be careful,” he warned.

“I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Turned out that I was the one who should be worried. My suggestive distraction was only temporary, as the moment the pitching machine whirled on, Nathan was focused and sharp, easily hitting the high-velocity balls that were coming his way. One. Two. Three. Four. I began to sweat. I didn’t know what he was going to claim if he won, but the way he kept glancing back at me between swings, that heat in his eyes, I was worried that I wasn’t going to want to object. Luckily, after he hit the fourth ball, when he turned to look at me, I was ready.

My button-up shirt had been sticking to my skin all night, a victim of the humidity and the heat. But now I was going to use it to my advantage. I unbuttoned two more buttons than was professionally appropriate and tucked the hem into my jeans, making the shirt tighter around my torso and pulling the gaping neckline wide. Let’s just say my baseballs were more than ready for his bat. When he glanced over to check my reaction to his progress, he got a whole eyeful of what I had been covering up. I thanked my lucky stars that I had decided to put my black lace bra on because that’s what he was getting a good glimpse at. Black lace and tons of cleavage.

The next ball from the machine spun out at its usual speed, whizzing past a dumbfounded Nathan and thwacking into the padding at the back of the cage. The sound jarred him out of his trance and his face scrunched into a frown as the ball rolled across the dusty ground and hit him in the foot.

“You’re a cheater.” He shook a finger at me.

I just shrugged as I came into the cage, picking up my bat from the ground, making sure he was getting a really good view of my ass. As I passed him, he plopped the baseball helmet on my head and leaned in so his voice tickled my ear.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to winning so I can claim my reward.”

I shivered, knowing that there was no way I could lose this bet. Whatever Nathan was hoping to win was something I knew would change everything. And it was getting harder and harder to resist him.

I had good reason to be scared of the batting cages when I was younger. Standing there now, I told myself that I just had to swing at the ball when it came my way. Because when the ball was flung in the direction of my head, my first instinct was to scream and duck. But I stood my ground, closed my eyes, and swung.

There was a crack and my eyes popped open to reveal the ball, just barely clipped by the bat, jump up a few feet and then land directly in front of me.

“I got it!” I cried, doing a little victory dance.

“Watch out,” Nathan warned behind me, and I barely managed to get back into position before another ball headed my way. This time I kept my eyes open and the bat met with the ball in a much more satisfying manner, sending the baseball neatly to the center of the range.

I heard a surprised but impressed whistle behind me and it took all my energy not to turn around and gloat at him. Instead, I gave my butt a little wiggle, satisfied when the whistle trailed off into a choked cough.

One more, Hall, I told myself. You can do this.

And I did. The ball flew across the range, hitting the other end.

“Woo-hoo!” I shouted, dropping the bat and raising my fists in a victory salute. I had won and I was going to get my on-the-record question answered.

I turned around to see Nathan standing on the other side of the chain-link wall with his arms crossed.

“Double or nothing,” he said.

The idea that I could get two questions answered for the article was more than I could resist. After all, I had hit three balls, surely I could hit another three.

“Fine,” I said. “But I’m going first this time.”

“Fine,” he said. “But you’re buttoning your shirt when it’s my turn.

I shrugged and turned back to the machine.

“Wait,” he said, and heard the gate open.

“It’s still my turn,” I argued as he came over to me.

“I just thought you could use some tips on your form,” but his grin revealed that while he was clearly interested in my form, it had nothing to do with baseball.

“Get back to the other side of the fence,” I told him, but he was not to be deterred.

“Are you sure?” he asked, facing me and wrapping his fingers around mine. “I’m a very patient instructor.”

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs lessons.” I tried to pull the bat away, but he had a firm grip on it. “I’m winning, remember?”

“You’re cheating,” he said.

“You cheated before!”

“Did I?” He took a step forward and I automatically took one back. “I don’t remember that.”

“You kept touching me during skee-ball,” I reminded him as he took another step forward, forcing me to keep moving back. He was already so close. The smell of him, grass and beer, filled my senses. Every part of my body seemed to throb with need.

“Did I?” Nathan asked, one of his hands dragging up my arm. I shuddered and he smiled.

“Stop it,” I said.

“I will if you want me to,” he responded, but I didn’t want him to. “Do you know what I’m playing for?” He leaned down, his breath hot on my cheek. “For a kiss.”

“A kiss?” I could barely get the words out of my throat.

“And you know it’s not really fair,” he said. “Four in row should count as winning.”

“Those weren’t the rules.” But I was starting to rethink those as well.

“I’m going to win anyways.”

“You might not,” I argued, but my voice had gone husky.

“I will,” he countered, and I knew he was right.

If I were smart, I would have pushed him away. I would have told him that this was unprofessional, that I was interviewing him and he was my subject and we absolutely could not in any way get involved. But then I felt the fence against my back and realized I was too far gone to stop now. And I didn’t want to anymore.

He laced his fingers in the chain fence on either side of my head, effectively pinning me to the wall. I could feel the heat of his body as he leaned forward, his eyes hot and intense. I knew I should stop him, I knew this was a bad idea, but instead I just met his gaze and licked my lips. He groaned deep in his throat and I knew we were both goners.

“Four in a row counts,” I said. He smiled and lowered his lips to mine.

Chapter Seventeen

The tension between us exploded as his mouth met mine, hot and wet and perfect. I had been waiting for this kiss my entire life, I realized. Now that we were alone, it was even better. Every nerve in my body was short-circuiting, and my mind screamed: YES, YES, YES! His hand cupped my chin, lifting my lips to fit more perfectly against his. I groaned, and his tongue plunged into my mouth. He tasted of beer and salt and something intrinsically male. Intrinsically Nathan.

The fence pressed hard against my back and I pressed hard against him. I couldn’t get close enough, my body crying out for his, craving nothing but the solid push of his hips against mine. This time he was the one who groaned, and I felt the sound vibrate through my entire body. His hand left my cheek and slid down, deliciously down, brushing against the side of my breast, but not stopping until it reached the slope of my hip. I thought I would faint, the clothes between us too much to bear. I needed to feel him against me, nothing but skin against skin.

My own hands were buried in his hair, that thick mess of hair, wonderfully twisted in my fingers as his tongue tangled with mine, each kiss hot, deep, and intoxicating. Just as I felt my knees go weak, his hand curved around my hip, his long fingers cupping my ass. Fuck! He knew exactly what he was doing and I could only kiss him back, clutching him like a lifeline. His other hand quickly joined the fun and I found myself hauled up flush against his body. Oh god, my body screamed. Give me more. I wanted him to fuck me against this chain-link fence, to rip off my clothes and plunge himself inside of me. I wanted to feel every inch of him, each muscle, inch of skin. It wasn’t enough. My breasts cried out for his tongue, my hips begging for his grip. The feel of him, hard and throbbing against my stomach, made me gasp, my fingers clutching fistfuls of his hair as his mouth and hands did their best to make me forget my own name.

Tension began to build inside me, that delicious itch that begged to be scratched, and I was half ready to wrap my legs around his waist and beg him to show me if his last name was any indication of his sexual prowess, when I heard a throat clear behind his.

The poor kid in charge of the equipment was standing outside the cage, his face red and eyes looking everywhere but at us. I could only imagine the sight he had uncovered, the two of us desperately pawing at each other against a chain-link fence.

Nathan’s hands dropped away from my ass as I withdrew my own from his hair, both of us careful not to make eye contact with each other.

The kid cleared his throat again. “I gotta close up,” he said, clearly apologetic, clearly embarrassed beyond belief.

I felt heat rise in my cheeks. He wasn’t the only one. What had I been thinking? I was supposed to be writing an article on Nathan, not thinking of climbing him like a mountain.

My lips felt tender and tingly. It took all my control not to touch my fingers to them. Goddamn, he was a good kisser.

Still keeping my eyes away from his, I helped gather the equipment, handing the bats and helmets to the kid as we came out of the batting cage. He took them gratefully and scurried back to the desk, walking as fast as he could without outright running. I understood exactly how he felt. I needed to get back to my hotel room, with me on one side, Nathan on the other, and a locked door in between us.

Next to me Nathan cleared his throat. I was afraid of what he was going to say, so I immediately blurted out, “I’m going to call a taxi.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, but I was already halfway across the parking lot, my phone out.

“Sophie!” he called, running after me. I tried to ignore him, but before I could dial the cab company, he had taken my arm and swung me around. “At least let me give you a ride back to the hotel,” he said.

I still couldn’t look at him. I was afraid to see his mussed hair and clearly-kissed mouth.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I responded.

“It’s just a ride,” he said, and my mind immediately imagined the two of us naked, horizontal, and participating in a different kind of riding-based activity. My face flared hot. How could I have let this happen?

“OK.” I finally lifted my eyes to look at him, regretting it immediately. He looked so concerned, his hair falling across his forehead, dangerously charming. When I climbed into the car, I did my best to position my body as close to the passenger side door as possible.

The spacious interior of the car seemed to shrink with each mile, the tension filling the space between us. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I glanced over at him. Luckily his eyes were on the road, but mine fell to his capable hands wrapped around the steering wheel, then moved down to his strong forearms dusted with hair, his pitcher’s muscles flexing as he turned onto my hotel’s block. His shirt was snug against his arms, those fucking gorgeous arms, the muscles looking like they had been carved out of marble. And goddamn, that chest. Shirts that tight should be outlawed for the sanity of the nation. For a moment, I thought about saying “screw it” and climbing over the gears and ripping that thin cotton away so I could have full, necessary access to his glorious body.

But that would be a bad idea.

We pulled up to my hotel and I was preparing to jump out before I did something totally stupid when Nathan reached over and grabbed my hand, his green eyes burning with need. Fuck. How could I resist him?

“Sophie,” was all he said, and then he was leaning towards me and I was leaning towards him and then my phone rang.

It was my editor’s ring tone.

I pulled back so fast that I hit my head on the car window.

“Are you OK?” Nathan leaned towards me, concern all over his face, but I jerked back again and thwacked my head a second time.

“I’m fine!” My voice was way too loud and I scrambled for my phone which was still ringing. “I just have to get this.” Without looking at Nathan, I answered the phone. “Mike! Hi!”

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“I’ve been working on the article,” I told him, not liking the concern I heard in his voice. I grabbed for the car door, forgetting for a moment that my seatbelt was still buckled. I slammed back into the seat, wincing.

“What’s going on over there?” Mike asked, as Nathan’s fingers gently curved over my searching ones and unhooked my seatbelt for me.

I still couldn’t look at him. “Look, I’m just about to walk into my hotel, so can I—”

“Tim’s joining you,” Mike interrupted.

“What?” I froze, not sure I had heard correctly. “Why?”

“This story is about blow up,” Mike told me. “And we’ve gotten nothing from you so far. I’m afraid you don’t have an angle.”

“Just give me more time—” I pleaded, hating that I was doing this in front of Nathan.

“Tim is just going to help you out,” Mike told me. “He’s got experience with guys like Nathan. He’ll be able to find the dirt.”

“But I—”

“You’re running out of time, Sophie.” Mike sounded regretful. “They’ll be announcing the draft soon. We want to get ahead of this. Get everything we need on this guy before the news comes. Tim is good at that.”

Tim was a vulture and the worst possible person to send to deal with Nathan. I looked over at the person in question and he glanced back at me with a smile. I tried to smile back, but I knew that things were about to change. For the worst.

“What wrong?” Nathan asked as I dropped my phone into my purse. The pleasant tingle of desire and need had faded and now I was just filled with frustration and anxiety. Tim. Of all the people they could have sent, they decided to send Tim. He was literally the worst. The fucking worst.

“They’re sending another journalist,” I told Nathan, burying my head in my hands. Perhaps I should just pack and leave, obviously no one at the Register had any faith in what I was doing and my own confidence had taken a serious blow with the news.

“Another journalist?” he asked.

“Tim Malis.” My voice was muffled through my hands, so I lowered them but kept my head down. “He has a lot of experiences with articles like this.”

“Does that mean you’re going back to Houston?” The disappointment I heard reflected my own.

But I shook my head. “They want me to stay, to work with Tim, get him up to speed. But he’ll probably take over.” And take credit, I thought. Not that I was going to want my name on anything that he wrote. I lifted my head. “He’s not a nice guy,” I told Nathan.

He nodded but said nothing.

“He’s going to dig. He’s going to look for dirt. Is there anything he’s going to find?”

I was attempting to be helpful, but I could see Nathan’s face go dark.

“Hoping to get the scoop before this other guy arrives?” he asked, the nasty tone in his voice surprising me.

“It’s not like that,” I tried to tell him, but the look indicated that he had already shut down. We sat there for a moment, the tension in the car now one that was deeply unpleasant.

“I think you should go.” Nathan’s voice was flat.

I held my chin high as I untangled myself from the seatbelt and climbed out of the car. I didn’t look back as I walked away, telling myself not to cry.