Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance (7 page)

J
eanine tried
to keep the tears from leaking. She swallowed hard and deprived herself of air, not wanting Kirk to feel her gasp. The turbulence was bumping the plane up and down to the point where the flight attendants were called back to their jump seats.

She’d never been afraid of flying before, but as the plane swayed and jolted, and people exclaimed after a particularly large dip, she, too, experienced that life flashing before her eyes thing. Hers hadn’t been worth much at all. Sure, she’d accomplished a lot all by herself, but what did she have? A bank account, a nice car, a little black book of conquests, a few friends, a black belt, and emptiness inside her heart.

If the plane disintegrated, who would mourn her? Who would really, truly miss her? Would she have made a real difference in anyone’s life?

Kirk held her tightly. His shoulders and arms were so solid and comforting—which was a surprise, since she’d never taken comfort in anyone’s arms, least of all a big, strong man.

She wasn’t used to anyone being tender or caring, or even pretending. Because that was what it had to be. She was a challenge for Kirk to break through. It was a male ego thing. Or his teammates had put him up to it.

You’re the new guy. Figure out this Jeanine Jewell and report back to us. You say you’re a master player. Get Jeanine to turn obsessive and needy. Then we’ll believe you’re a legend when it comes to women.

Jeanine was about to push away when the plane hit an air pocket, and the overhead compartment across from them burst open. Everyone near them gasped and stared at the bin. A carry-on was dangling on the curved portion of the lid.

Kirk unbuckled his seatbelt and lunged toward the bin, catching the carryon. The plane swayed, and more pieces of luggage tumbled. He shoved his shoulder against another falling carry-on, shielding the lady across the aisle.

The plane lurched to the side, and a hard shell briefcase fell, hitting Kirk on the head. Jeanine unsnapped her seatbelt and rushed to help. Together, they struggled, holding onto the seatbacks and other passengers to shove the luggage back into the bin.

When Kirk finally slammed the bin shut, the surrounding passengers cheered and clapped as they staggered back to their seats.

“Kirk, you’re bleeding.” Jeanine wiped his hair from his forehead.

“It’s probably nothing. Just a scratch.”

Jeanine pulled her purse out from under the seat and found a packet of tissues. “Still, let’s get you cleaned up.”

It wasn’t easy with the turbulence, but she dabbed his forehead and applied pressure with the tissue. Her eyes locked with his, and something passed between them.

Despite his cockiness and charm, he, too, had a story. She could tell, having grown up with other foster kids who all had their tales of woe. Some became angry and belligerent, always looking for a fight. Others withdrew into a shell, but there was always the clown, the guy who acted as if nothing bothered him, who craved attention and seemed to live a charmed life.

Kirk was that confident kid. She was sure, because right at that moment, when she cleaned his wound, doing something basic that anyone would do, his gaze had softened, and he was like that injured dog lying at the side of the road she’d helped when she was thirteen.

She lowered the tissue and folded it where the blood had seeped through. “We should ask for a Band-Aid.”

“It’s okay. Thanks for wiping it off for me.” His voice was husky, but it wasn’t from lust or desire. He seemed to glow under her tender ministrations, as if he were a hurt kid craving his mommy’s attention.

“Do you want me to kiss your owie?” Jeanine heard herself murmur, her voice too throaty.

“Not my owie, but I have something else I’d like you to kiss.” His grin deepened with a dimple on one side.

The moment was broken, and they were back to flirting. She was both relieved and disappointed. She’d glimpsed something, and now it made her wonder.

She’d always assumed people who grew up on the social registry with wealthy parents had it easy. She’d easily found Kirk’s life story on the internet. His father was a high profile attorney and his mother was a socialite. They were old money, at least from colonial times. But maybe it hadn’t been easy for him either, and he, too, was missing something, and running aimlessly through a life without meaning.

“You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you?” she teased, her heart lighter now that they were through the turbulence.

“I aim to please.” He let his eyebrows wag. “Do I get another kiss for saving the luggage?”

Whether he was charming her for his ego, or as a challenge from his teammates, suddenly, it no longer mattered. For whatever reason, he made her feel light-hearted, fun, and happy-go-lucky.

She should stop taking herself so seriously. She should let her hair down and relax. It was tiring to be on guard all the time. In half an hour or so, they’d be landing in Vegas, the fun capital of America.

“Go for it, big boy.” She leaned toward him, throwing away her misgivings, at least for now, and smothered him with a hot, wet kiss.

K
irk held
Jeanine’s hand as they deplaned and walked through the Jetway. Once the turbulence had settled down, the flight attendants came through the aisle and offered them free drinks. Everyone hailed him and Jeanine as heroes, even though all they’d done was keep anyone from being hurt by flying luggage.

He sported a SpongeBob Band-Aid on his forehead, but it was worth it. Jeanine had kissed him off and on during the entire rest of the flight.

“So, where are we going to hang out?” Kirk asked Jeanine.

“I got reservations at the Palacio. I booked us a two-bedroom suite. I figured we could compare notes after our adventure.”

“Our afterglow party. Shall I order out for hot tamales and cigars?” He swung her arm as they power-walked through the terminal to ground transportation.

“Definitely, but I get the tub first, and I don’t share.”

“Then I’ll shower while you’re in the tub, but don’t worry, I won’t stare.”

“Sure you won’t.” She gave him a sidelong look, gratified that his face was twisted in a tortured way as if he couldn’t imagine not staring. “After we watch the sunrise, we’re back on the plane in time for you to get back to spring training.”

“Sounds like a grand plan.” Kirk tugged her toward the curb and hailed a cab. “I can’t wait to be your wingman.”

She nudged him after she climbed into the backseat of the cab. “Remember, as your wingwoman, I have to approve of your pickup.”

“Actually, I’ll do you one better. I, as your wingman, will choose your partner for the evening. Do you trust me?”

She rolled her eyes and bobbed her perky head. “Just stay out of my way when I spot my prey. Okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring them to you for your approval. After all, that’s what a good wingman does.” He dotted a kiss on her lips, feeling her smile.

He gave the cabdriver their destination and settled back in the seat. The night was still young and they both had plenty of possibilities. He’d let Jeanine loose at one of the many bars and lounges available and watch her in action.

Jeanine snuggled close to him and said, “I bet all the party girls will swarm all over you. How are you going to narrow it down to just one?”

“That’s why I’ll need your help, wingwoman.”

“Do you have a type? Blonde or brunette? Party girl or hipster? Tall, thin, and elegant, or feisty and flirty?”

“How about you? Athlete or businessman? Sophisticated and rich, or bulky and bad?”

“I take them all.” She licked her lips suggestively and winked.

“Then you’re in luck, because I’m all of the above, and my type is you.” And even though he’d kissed her so many times on the flight, he couldn’t help but dip his face toward hers and embrace her with another deep and passionate kiss.

Yep. He’d watch her flirt and flitter from man to man, but if she thought he’d let any of them lay a paw on her, she’d soon regret having him come along on her adventure.

J
eanine stood
in front of the mirror at her hotel suite and adjusted her designer cocktail dress. It was a tight little black sequined number with a plunging neckline and a side slit so high she had to wear a thong instead of panties.

She smoothed lotion over her long, tanned legs, and slipped her manicured feet into a pair of glittery black stilettos.

Tonight, she was going big. She’d been stressed out all week, especially after Tina had moved in with her news about Simpson getting out of jail. Thinking and worrying about him did her no good, and she deserved some fun, make that lots of fun. She’d select the man most likely to give her the release she sought—to brighten the darkness, and send her into a pleasurable and climatic oblivion.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the man just outside the door. Kirk had been melting her with kisses so expert it left her head spinning. Her lower belly was warm and glowing, and pressure thrummed in the region between her thighs. Her hormones were definitely working overtime. Kirk would be a great warmup to whoever she chose for the main event. Nothing else. She couldn’t give into his magnetism and end up in bed with him, especially since she’d see him in the morning. No escape.

She’d also have to deal with him after Vegas. He was a regular at her bar and a teammate of her friends. It was too bad and a waste of a good, hot man. She had no choice but to keep him in the friend-zone. Besides, she wasn’t going to fall for his bait-and-switch fingers or lips again.

“You ready in there?” Kirk knocked on the door. “Let’s get rolling.”

“I’m freshening up my makeup.” Jeanine jolted herself out of her daydreams and grabbed her makeup bag. “I’m ready to hit the Bordeaux.”

“I take it you want to go to a high-end wine bar.”

“Reserve collection.” She brushed on mascara and powdered her face. “Nothing but the best in wine and men.”

After lining her lips and smoothing on red, glossy lipstick, she was ready.

“Wow,” Kirk exclaimed when she opened the door. His face beamed with pure delight, and he acted as if she were a present reserved for him.

Fat chance. Even though she couldn’t help but twirl around, giving him the full effect of the high side slit and deep cleavage, she had to lay down the rules.

She took his arm and leaned against him. “We’re friends, right?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You mean I get benefits?”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head and jutted her lower lip to make a point. “We’re kissing friends and nothing more.”

She wasn’t going to let on how much his kisses had affected her. That was plainly because she hadn’t had satisfying sex for a very long time—having struck out with a string of losers in bed.

“I’m fine with the lip service.” He flickered his tongue suggestively. “Anything else?”

She resisted gulping and swallowing, but the drool collected under her tongue. Why was she flashing images of Kirk’s handsome face planted between her thighs, those majestic eyes closed and that tantalizing tongue busily melting her icy core? She swallowed anyway and coughed to knock the vision away.

“When we return to Phoenix, if anyone asks, you’re to say we’re only friends and we slept with other people—you and I went out partying as buddies.”

“I agree one hundred percent.” Kirk nodded decisively. “I can’t see you as anything other than a good friend and a wingwoman. What are we waiting for? Our good time awaits us out there.”

Jeanine shaped her lips into a smile. Somehow, his acceptance of the friends-only deal had been too quick. Was he up to something? Or, he truly wasn’t interested in her as anything but a challenge and brag. The glow that had surrounded her dampened, but she still had the night to look forward to. Who knew what goodies roamed out there?

“I have your word as a gentleman and a friend, that you will not mislead anyone into thinking we slept together?” she reiterated. After all, she was an astute businesswoman and she had a reputation to maintain, especially back at The Hot Corner.

“Of course you do. I wouldn’t want anyone to think such a horrid thought. What will it do to my reputation?” His eyes opened wide, as if in shock. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Your virtue is absolutely safe with me. Let’s go out there and get you that bucking bronco you’ve been waiting to ride.”

Somehow, his words dowsed her earlier enthusiasm. Not that she was disappointed. Not at all. She’d come to Vegas to get that prize booty-call, and she was going to enjoy it to the fullest, because only with a man she’d never see again could she loosen herself enough to truly embrace and enjoy sex. There would be no pressure and no expectations. Each encounter new and fresh, full of discovery and promise. A challenge to her to let go and allow herself to climax, to seek that fleeting nirvana, no matter how transient and soon it was over.

Taking his hand, she swung him toward the door. “I can’t wait to get naked.”

“Me either.” He grinned. “Promise me you won’t come before me.”

With that, they exited their suite and wound their way down the elevator and into the plaza, looking for the reserve collection wine bar full of prospects and promise.

K
irk checked
out the posh bar as he pressed his hand to the small of Jeanine’s back. Leather, dark woods, and soft jazz gave it a classier ambience than the typical loud bars filled with electronic gaming machines and raucous music. A tablet computer graced each table, but was propped on one side so it wouldn’t be a distraction to the clink of wine and whiskey glasses and the conversation around the grand pianist.

“We’d like the Reserve collection,” Kirk said to the attendant, who waved them through the main section of the bar to a private lounge.

“Decadent,” Jeanine said, turning her eyes to the Baccarat chandeliers hanging from the lush brocaded ceiling. Ornate, gilded mirrors lined the room full of blood red velvet and dark woods. The antique French style tables and chairs featured the curved legs shaped like those of four-footed beasts. Every surface was covered with either gilt, lacquer, mirrors, or crystals.

Kirk leaned to whisper in Jeanine’s ear. “The gentlemen at the pool table are eyeing you. Shall I leave your side?”

“Not unless one of them orders a drink for me,” Jeanine said. “Let’s slide over to the bar.”

The bar was a heavily lacquered monstrosity of black wood inlayed with precious metals, wrinkled silver, brass, marble, and precious stones. In contrast to all the visual overstimulation, Jeanine and her black dress drew every eye as she slid onto the burgundy red leather bar chair.

“I’d buy you a drink, but I don’t want to ruin your action,” Kirk said.

“No, you shouldn’t. But here’s the deal, if I introduce you as my brother, it means I’m interested in the man I’m talking to. Then you should make yourself scarce.”

“Sure.” Kirk glanced at the women sitting on the far side from them. They eyed him speculatively, waiting for him to make a move.

Before he had a chance to study the wine list, a bartender approached Jeanine. “Gentleman at the pool table sends you your choice of our reserve list.”

Kirk couldn’t help looking over. “Which one?”

The bartender regarded him steadily. “Man with the red tie. Are you ready to order?”

“Actually, I’ll wait a bit.” He had the feeling one of the cougars would talk him up as soon as Jeanine was out of the way.

“Tell the gentleman, I’ll buy my own drink,” Jeanine said. “But he’s welcome to join us.”

Interesting. She didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. Smart move. Kirk looked over his shoulder as the bartender went to deliver the message.

He returned and said, “The gentlemen challenge you two to a round of pool and drinks are on them.”

“If we win,” Jeanine answered swiftly. She took Kirk’s arm. “How good of a pool shark are you?”

“The best.” He flexed his hands. “I’m a catcher. Quick hands.”

“But this is shooting, not catching.” She gave him a sidelong smirk.

“I’m a pro at that, too.” He puffed out his chest and ambled to the red velvet pool table, making sure to place his hand possessively at the base of Jeanine’s spine.

There were four men, all dressed to the nines in Italian suits, Ferragamo shoes, and all the accoutrements of the super rich.

The man with the red tie spoke first, “I’m Thaddeus, and these are my cronies, Palmer, Ethan, and Royce.”

“Kirk and Jeanine,” Kirk answered for them.

The men said they were in the creative and talent field, implying they were in the movie industry, and Kirk said he was in the sports industry. It was a blessing those wusses had no clue who he was, which meant they didn’t know anything about baseball. Jeanine, of course, said nothing about what she did for a living.

Instead, she confidently swept her hair to the side and asked, “What are we playing for?”

“A round of drinks,” Thaddeus said. “But to be fair, Palmer and Royce will sit this one out.”

“I’m on it.” Jeanine’s eyes sparkled while her mouth remained sedate without a smile.

“You’re our guest, you can have the break shot,” Thaddeus intoned in a faux British accent.

“I insist we flip.” Jeanine turned to Kirk. “Coin?”

“I don’t carry any,” Kirk said, reaching into his pocket. He couldn’t tell if she was interested in any of the men or not. She was so cool about her actions.

“Got one,” one of the guys who was sitting out the game said. He pressed a quarter into Jeanine’s hand, making sure to let his grip linger.

Again, Jeanine didn’t appear fazed. She took the coin and waited for Thaddeus to call it.

Kirk and Jeanine won the toss, so he decided to let her set up for the break shot. How could he concentrate on the shot when every eye in the lounge would be either glued to Jeanine’s dazzling cleavage sporting a single black gem surrounded by a sunburst of diamonds, or glancing up the hip-high slit on her right side?

Jeanine chalked her stick, her nose in the air, calm as a tigress sniffing out her prey. Without taking a practice stroke, she leaned over the table.

Holy mama! Kirk’s temperature rose, and his dick pumped to life. Her tight ass was barely contained by the skimpy skirt, and if her long, blond hair hadn’t been cascading over the table, he might have gotten a view in between her breasts.

Whack! The balls scattered across the table, with two of them dropping into opposite corner pockets. She took stock of the table and called the low balls.

She dropped an easy shot, and at the same time placed the cue ball down the rail to close in on the other side of the table. Three more balls went in, and from what Kirk could tell, she had carefully set up her cue for an across the table shot. Thwap, that ball neatly hit the pocket, and Jeanine strode around the table, taking her time. She chalked the stick, then bent and angled it, sighting her shot.

None of the men were watching the billiard balls. Kirk’s heart hammered and he swallowed as his arousal became uncomfortable. He put his hands in his pockets and thought about his mother and how shocked he’d been as an eleven-year-old boy to walk in on her and the handyman humping on the kitchen table.

That calmed him enough to not be embarrassed, but it also left a sickening dullness in his stomach. He returned his attention to Jeanine.

She banked the shot and bounced it at another ball, it slapped into a second ball before dropping into the pocket. The last ball rolled to a stop in perfect position for the final shot.

Jeanine licked her lips, long and slow, and oh, gosh, Kirk was sweating it now. Not even the thought of dear old mom and the plumber, the carpenter, the painter, and the tree trimmer could derail him from admiring Jeanine’s luscious body.

She drew the stick back and set up the shot. Whack, she landed it and won the game, all without a shot from him.

The men clapped and hooted.

“Impressive,” Thaddeus said in that flaccid voice of the wealthy and bored. “Now, will you step to the bar and have a drink with me?”

“But of course.” She allowed him to take her hand. “You owe one to my brother, too.”

Brother? Gurg. How the hell could she find that fishface attractive? The other men turned and smirked knowingly as Thaddeus, with the butler’s name, guided Jeanine to the bar with his hand lowered over her possessively.

Kirk wasn’t about to follow them to the bar. Heck no. He wasn’t her bodyguard or servant, and if she wanted to party with those entertainment poseurs then he wasn’t going to be a third wheel.

As soon as he slipped away from Jeanine, a hand tapped his arm and one of the women he’d noticed earlier gave him a flirty smile. “My name is Susan. Care to share a bottle of wine with me?”

She was decked out in a slinky red cocktail dress that was supposed to be high fashion if it weren’t for the overabundance of ruffles making her look like she was headed for a Texas hoe-down.

“Delighted. I’m Kirk.” He nodded and gave her his trademarked seductive grin, then allowed her to steer him toward her friends. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeanine give him a thumbs up, as if encouraging him to spend time with the women.

“Hey girls,” Susan said. “This is Kirk and I have first dibs since I’m a doctor. Kirk, these are my friends, Anne, Jill, and Clare.”

Each of the women shook his hand and told him her profession. They had been suitemates in college and were in town for a reunion.

Susan was dressed hot and sexy, but Anne, the banker, and Jill, the lawyer were more conservative: wearing a navy sheath dress and a stiff gray power suit, respectively. Clare, the writer, was obviously the creative one. She had a brightly decorated paisley scarf dress full of contrasting colors.

The bartender brought out a bottle of vintage Bordeaux. After toasting each other around the table, the women asked about his life. Kirk skimmed the surface, talking about playing baseball in college and living in New York City, but he kept one eye out for Jeanine, who was flirting heavily with not one, but all four of the men.

Was she really going to hookup with one of them? He couldn’t tell which of the four she favored. His heart squeezed inside his chest as he assessed them. The guys were smooth, well dressed, and spoke in that lilting sing-song way he considered weak. Two of them wore horrid looking man buns, tufts of hair gathered in back and pinned like an old grandmother would wear, and the other two had thinning hair.