Strike Zone (8 page)
Intimate and dangerous.
His gaze lingered on her lips, and she licked them self-consciously. The man made her nervous.
With a light tug on her braid, he stated, “I’ve always wanted to do sisters.”
“Taylor and I don’t share men.” A split second of vulnerability and he’d played her. She slapped his hand away.
Sloan McCaffrey knew that if he smiled, Eve Hannah would rip him a new one. The lady was a ballbuster. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to tick her off, but from the onset, she’d been cool and sarcastic. He hadn’t been able to warm her up.
Teasing her had seemed fun, for him anyway. Yet she hadn’t cracked a smile. Not even a twitch of her lips.
He figured Eve needed sex. Most women this uptight could use a quick slam-bam, just to relieve the tension. She was pretty enough, but her attitude sucked. As she stood before the computer, her posture was protective, as if she were defending herself against the world.
A man dedicated to foreplay and follow-through, he’d like nothing more than to unwind that tight-ass braid and watch the dark blond strands tickle low on her spine. He’d like to bite her lip, suck her sharp tongue into his mouth, tangle with her until she went soft and pliant.
She’d fight him.
And he’d win.
One dusk-to-dawn with her, and—
“I thought you’d be closed by now.” Taylor Hannah’s appearance took Sloan by surprise. “It’s dark in here.”
“We’re supposed to be closed.” Eve looked pointedly at Sloan. “Last-minute customer.”
Sloan ignored Eve’s jab. Taylor took his breath away in her red tank dress and turquoise-jeweled sandals. He loved tanned, toned women with the strength to crack a walnut with their thighs. Taylor was a nutcracker—of that he was certain.
Eve looked up and smiled at her sister.
Metal flashed, and Sloan blinked. Eve had braces. He wouldn’t have known she even had teeth had Taylor not shown up. Eve didn’t smile nearly enough. She had a soft, single dimple and a sweet curve to her mouth, surprisingly nice.
“I’ve signed Sloan McCaffrey for La Grave,” he heard Eve say. “He’s willing to risk life and limb to challenge the mountain.”
“My kind of guy.” Taylor’s approval came with a wink and a handshake. “There’s no better place to play with the elements than the Alps. You’re so high on the mountain you almost brush against the clouds and can nearly kiss the sky.”
“Thin air and altitude can make you both tired and drunk, if you’re not careful.” This from Eve.
Damn, Eve was a downer. Taylor, a wet dream. Shaking Taylor’s hand, he waited for the static zing he’d felt with Eve, yet got nothing beyond her soft, dry palm.
Shit fire.
Cutting his gaze to Eve, he caught her once again watching him with her snippy disapproval. The woman needed a man to back her against a brick wall, lift her flowing white skirt, and rock her hips into tomorrow.
Turning back toward the friendly sister, he asked, “Any chance we could hook up before La Grave?”
Taylor slowly shook her head. “Sorry, no time. I’m bound for Africa on Monday. Desert hiking in the Sahara. I have weekly trips scheduled for the rest of the year. I won’t be returning to Richmond until Thanksgiving.”
That news sucked. “How’s your knee?”
Taylor hesitated. “I’m holding my own.”
Barely
holding her own. Sloan caught the ACE bandage that wrapped her knee as she stepped around the counter. She walked with her weight on the outer edge of her foot. Short, precise steps kept her balanced. Given the clench of her jaw as well as the white lines that bracketed her mouth, she was in pain. No way would Taylor be trekking the Sahara in four days.
“I came to check on Addie’s party,” Taylor announced, addressing Eve. She crossed to a filing cabinet set against the brick wall, opened the top drawer, and plucked out a manila folder. Flipping it open, she ran her finger down the typewritten page and nodded her approval. “The caterer, decorations, RSVPs, everything’s come together. Addie’s birthday is good to go.”
A birthday party? Sloan didn’t care who Addie was; he wanted an invitation.
“I’ve added Jacy and Risk Kincaid to the guest list,” Taylor told Eve as she closed the file and returned it to the cabinet. “Addie adores them both.”
“Mayor Talbott invited himself,” Eve informed her sister. “Addie’s involvement in senior citizen reform caught his attention. I think Talbott’s more interested in a photo op than allocating funds for community transportation.”
Taylor sighed. “Seniors could use those buses. Many no longer have their driver’s licenses, and they can’t get around town. Maybe if we all jump Talbott at the party, he’ll make a commitment.”
Seniors in need of transportation—Sloan stored the information.
“We’ll definitely work toward that goal,” Eve agreed as she collected the printed receipt on Sloan’s itinerary and slid it across the counter to him. He noticed she avoided any contact this time around. “Jingle bells.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “May you live to put out milk and cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve.”
The woman didn’t believe he’d return in one piece. He had every intention of enjoying the holiday. Maybe even enjoying it with Taylor. Surely she’d be home for Christmas.
“Stop back anytime,” Taylor invited as he strolled toward the door. “Eve’s here every day to show videos on the various locales and to answer questions. Even the most hard-core thrill seekers get the jitters before a trip. Eve’s good at soothing nerves.”
Soothing?
Eve had the personality of a porcupine. “No jitters,” he assured Taylor. “I’ve nerves of steel.”
“Easy to say now.” Eve’s words hit him square between the shoulder blades. “Wait until you face an uninterrupted vertical drop of five thousand meters. You’ll be quaking in your snow boots.”
“I don’t quake,” he tossed back. “The only time I shudder is in orgasm.”
He caught Eve’s reflection as he shoved open the glass door and walked into the night. Her jaw had dropped and her eyes had gone wide. Her braid had worked its way over her shoulder, the tight-ass tip tweaking her right breast.
Satisfied he’d shaken her up, he left her to imagine his shudder.
Anger shook Eve Hannah when she faced Sloan McCaffrey four days later at the front door of Addie’s town house. “You’re crashing my eighty-year-old grandmother’s birthday party?” Her tone was disbelieving. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I like older people,” he said defensively. “I had no plans for the evening, so I thought I’d drop by.”
Eve stared at the broad-shouldered man in the gray T-shirt, black leather vest, and distressed jeans. His hair was still damp from a recent shower. He hadn’t bothered to shave for what appeared to be days.
A motorcycle helmet hung from his left hand. She looked down her nose at the big, bad bike parked on the lawn. “Is that your ride on the new sod?”
“It’s a 1951 Vincent Black Shadow,” he said proudly. “Hand-assembled. There are only eighteen hundred in existence.”
“Shouldn’t it be showcased? Preserved in a garage?”
“I’d rather show it off.”
“You could have left it on the street.”
“Parked between the golf carts and three-wheel bicycles?” He was all shock and indignation. “No way in hell. It stays on the grass. I don’t want it scratched.”
Unmovable, disagreeable man. Sloan remained before her, one booted foot on the brick stoop, the other between the door and jamb, trying to weasel his way inside. On either side of the door, flowering peach-and-fuchsia-colored impatiens in giant white ceramic planters scented the air in welcome. The late-afternoon sun hit Sloan’s back, casting him in dark shadows.
“Who gave you my grandmother’s address?” asked Eve.
“I overheard Risk Kincaid discussing the party in the clubhouse,” he admitted. “Briarwood Village is a maze of streets. The house numbers are painted on the curb and hard to see. I drove by Addie’s town house twice.”
“You should have kept on driving.”
The man had brass balls, showing up uninvited. His desperation to see Taylor irritated Eve. She was about to shut the door on him when he thrust a box into her hands. Gold metallic paper and a red silk bow suggested he’d had it professionally gift wrapped.
“I came prepared. I brought Addie a present,” he said. “I’m a considerate, caring guy.”
Eve shook the box. “Does it have a plug?”
“It’s not an appliance.”
“What is it?” She didn’t want any surprises.
Sloan shrugged. “I grabbed it from my girlfriend closet—”
“Girlfriend closet?”
“I stockpile gifts. That way when I break up with a woman, I can give her a present when she leaves. Makes her happy, and I come off as the good guy.”
Eve imagined the worst. “This gift could be a black teddy or a red thong?”
“Or a vibrator.”
“Go home.” She shoved the box into his chest.
He made a face, rubbing his left pec. “What’s your hang-up, Eve?”
“My granddaughter has no hang-ups,” asserted Addie Hannah as she came up behind Eve. “She’s smart and pretty and a very good judge of character. Who, young man, are you?”
Eve watched Sloan study Addie. The two-story residence appeared overly large for the small woman who looked back at him questioningly. Even at her advanced age, Addie remained active. Tanned to a berry brown, she looked amazing with her braided white-blond hair, pale blue eyes, and “toned bones,” as she called them. Attired in tennis whites, she clutched a Yonex racket in her right hand; in top-of-the-line Nikes she looked ready to receive a serve.
“I’m Sloan McCaffrey, ma’am,” he stated. “Happy birthday.”
“You’re a guest I’ve yet to meet.” Addie looked him over. “A friend of Taylor’s or Eve’s?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Eve’s.”
Eve caught the wicked gleam in his eye as his slow grin spread.
“I guess your granddaughter hasn’t mentioned me, as we’ve just started dating.”
Dating?
Eve’s mouth puckered as if she’d sucked a sour candy. Her throat closed; no words rose to refute his claim.
Addie tilted her head. “She hasn’t mentioned you, son.”
“Give her time,” he said, straight-faced. “Once she starts talking about me, she won’t be able to stop.”
Addie slapped her tennis racket against her thigh. “You look athletic. Ever play football?”
“I played both football and baseball in college,” he replied. “I’ve just come up from six years with Triple-A ball. This is my first year with the Rogues.”
Addie looked thoughtful. “My granddaughters and their Rogues.”
“Ma’am?” Sloan didn’t understand.
Eve wasn’t about to explain Taylor’s past relationship with Brek Stryker. Let Sloan find out for himself.
Addie wasn’t finished studying him. “McCaffrey.” She paused, squinting hard. “You’re the new reliever who allowed two home runs in the fifth inning against the Minnesota Twins during your major-league debut. Made the record books, I believe.”
Sloan dipped his head and admitted, “That was me, ma’am. My life flashed back to the minors while I was standing on the mound watching two Twinkies pound my best heat. Had Brek Stryker not spoken on my behalf to the general manager, I’d be back in Triple-A. Stryke carries a lot of weight.”
Addie patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve got the worst out of the way.”
“Season’s still young,” muttered Eve.
Sloan
tsk
-
tsk
ed. “Not nice, sweetheart.”
He then handed Addie the gift Eve had rammed into his chest. “Eve’s spoken so highly of you,” he said, his voice smooth and sincere. “Even though we’ve never met, I feel I know you, Addie. I wanted to drop off a gift.”
“He has no plans to stay,” Eve said so fast her words ran together.
“How very thoughtful.” Addie accepted the gift. “Any man who bears a gift is welcome to join the fun. Steaks are being barbecued out back, and the bar’s set up on the patio.”
Addie stepped back to let Sloan enter. It took Eve a moment longer to allow him entrance. When Addie moved ahead of them down the hallway, Eve elbowed Sloan in the ribs, her voice tight. “
Dating?
You lied to my grandmother.”
“Tonight’s our first date. The lie got me into the party.” Sloan slid his arm about her waist and drew her to him. “I think we need to keep up appearances. People will expect us to be into each other.”
“You’re not into me; you’re into Taylor.” She tried to pry his hand off her hip. He had big hands and a tight grip. “I won’t be the placeholder between your last lover and my sister. I refuse to play along.”
“Party pooper.” He pulled her even closer. “Loosen up, Eve.”
“You think I’m uptight?”
“You’ve got a broomstick up your ass.”
She dug in her heels.
He sighed and stopped as well. “Now what?”
She turned toward him in the narrow hallway, and their hip bones collided.
She wiggled.
And he widened his stance.
Her apple green cotton skirt twisted and teased between his blue-jeaned thighs. He held her so tight, the pearl buttons on her yellow silk blouse dimpled the soft leather of his black vest.
Her nipples puckered.
Something other than his keys poked her belly.
Heat migrated south. “You . . . you’re not—”
“Thinking with my dick? Damn sure am.” He gripped her bottom. “Stop brushing unless you want me.”
Want him? A man who no doubt called out his own name during sex? She stilled, clenching her teeth until her jaw ached. “I don’t want you at this party.”
“I’m not going to ruin anyone’s fun.”
Her fun was already ruined. “Just leave. I’ll tell Addie you remembered a previous engagement.”
“My only commitment’s to you, sweetheart. My entire evening’s free.”
She flattened her palms against his chest, pushing him back. “Are you for real?”
“I can be real, given the right incentive.”
She thumped his shoulder. “If you twitch one more time—”
“Sorry, twitching’s beyond my control.”
His hands stroked up and over her butt before he set her away from him. A room opened left off the hallway, and he ducked across the threshold. Afraid he’d steal the family silver, Eve followed. She caught him adjusting himself.