Double Play
Page 79
“Pace!” This time it was River. “Ask Holly if she wants ice cream!”
Pace closed his eyes, then opened them to look into Holly’s laughing ones.
“I’m good,” she called back to them. “But thank you.”
Pace leaned past her to open the door, gently nudging her inside, then followed her in and pressed her back against the wall to kiss her.
She melted into him, and the next thing he knew their arms were wrapped around each other and he was oblivious to anything else except her sweet tongue tangling with his, lost to everything.
But her.
What seemed like hours later, she pulled back and opened her eyes. “Interesting that that’s still there.”
He’d known it would be.
“You have to go,” she whispered. “The boys.”
He stroked a strand of hair from her face. “They can wait another minute.”
At that, she bit her full lower lip, a naughty light coming into her eyes. “We’ve accomplished quite a bit in a minute before.”
He was already hard, he’d been in that condition since . . . since he’d first seen her in that dress, the one that was now slipping off one shoulder. And those black heels with the ankle strap . . . “You have no idea how much I want that minute,” he said reverently.
She pressed her br**sts into his chest. “Tick tock . . .”
“No.” He gulped in air and put his hands on her waist, holding her away from him. “We’re not rushing again.”
“Again?”
“We were in a hurry last time. Good things come to those who wait, Holly.” And he planned on getting good things. Very good things.
She arched a brow, amused. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”
“Yeah. And your fortune says the wait will be worth it.”
“I’m not much of a waiter.”
“I’ve noticed.” He dropped his forehead to hers. From his vantage point, he could see down her dress, and he didn’t think she was wearing a bra. “Got to go.” He was talking to himself, reminding himself. “And in three hours, I fly to Arizona to watch us get our asses kicked by the Dia mondbacks. But when I get back, we’re both going to . . .”
“Get good things?”
“Yeah. Really good.”
Her breath caught.
“You onboard with that?” he asked.
She could only nod, and he smiled grimly. It was going to be a long road trip.
Chapter 26
Baseball’s designed to break your heart. The game begins in spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.
—A. Bartlett Giamatti
Holly woke up the next morning to find a note on the bedroom door.
I’m off, taking the boys with me to drop them at home. Your car’s out front. You left the lights on and the battery needed a charge. See you when I get back. Pace
She peeked out the window. There was her car. Pace had promised to be there for her, and he’d come through. It was a first for her with a guy, and it did something to her heart, something she wanted to attribute to lust but had to admit, was more.
The Heat broke even in the Arizona series. Better than losing, but still, not a record to be proud of. Not for them.
The Bad News Bears, the news reports mocked. Holly read them all, and by the time the team came home, they had to win their next game or be knocked out of the wild card position for the run at the National League pennant.
She couldn’t imagine the pressure.
But she had her own pressure. Pressure to make a living. While trying to find her next series, she went over the pictures she’d taken all summer, and as she played with the shots, she realized her own next series was right here in front of her—a slice of American life.
While she played with that, Tommy called. “Doll, I’ve got an idea. How about you extend the baseball series, figure out what’s going on with all that bad press the Heat is getting?”
“The series is over.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, seeing as you’ve turned this new leaf and gone all conscientious on me, I might have something interesting for you.”
“What?”
“The bad press isn’t generated by your article, or from the Heat’s play record. Sure, they’ve lost some games, but they’re still at a winning record, and in fact, if they win to day’s home game, they’re a cinch for the wild card position to go into the pennant for National League champions. Not too shabby. Plus, there’s one undeniable fact—other teams have far bigger losing streaks going on.”
“I know. Sam’s been going crazy trying to figure it out.”
“It’s an inside job.”
“No. No one would—”
“Would and did.”
“Who?”
“Buzz is that it’s coming from their own PR department.”
“Samantha? That’s ridiculous,” she said firmly.
“Her brother’s the publicist for the Charleston Bucks.”
“Yes, Jeremy. So?”
“So the Bucks have a bigger losing streak than the Heat’s. In fact, they’ve been big losers all season. They have a shallow bullpen and no solid hitters.”
“Are you suggesting that Sam’s creating bad press for the Heat to deflect from the Buck’s losing streak?”
Pace closed his eyes, then opened them to look into Holly’s laughing ones.
“I’m good,” she called back to them. “But thank you.”
Pace leaned past her to open the door, gently nudging her inside, then followed her in and pressed her back against the wall to kiss her.
She melted into him, and the next thing he knew their arms were wrapped around each other and he was oblivious to anything else except her sweet tongue tangling with his, lost to everything.
But her.
What seemed like hours later, she pulled back and opened her eyes. “Interesting that that’s still there.”
He’d known it would be.
“You have to go,” she whispered. “The boys.”
He stroked a strand of hair from her face. “They can wait another minute.”
At that, she bit her full lower lip, a naughty light coming into her eyes. “We’ve accomplished quite a bit in a minute before.”
He was already hard, he’d been in that condition since . . . since he’d first seen her in that dress, the one that was now slipping off one shoulder. And those black heels with the ankle strap . . . “You have no idea how much I want that minute,” he said reverently.
She pressed her br**sts into his chest. “Tick tock . . .”
“No.” He gulped in air and put his hands on her waist, holding her away from him. “We’re not rushing again.”
“Again?”
“We were in a hurry last time. Good things come to those who wait, Holly.” And he planned on getting good things. Very good things.
She arched a brow, amused. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”
“Yeah. And your fortune says the wait will be worth it.”
“I’m not much of a waiter.”
“I’ve noticed.” He dropped his forehead to hers. From his vantage point, he could see down her dress, and he didn’t think she was wearing a bra. “Got to go.” He was talking to himself, reminding himself. “And in three hours, I fly to Arizona to watch us get our asses kicked by the Dia mondbacks. But when I get back, we’re both going to . . .”
“Get good things?”
“Yeah. Really good.”
Her breath caught.
“You onboard with that?” he asked.
She could only nod, and he smiled grimly. It was going to be a long road trip.
Chapter 26
Baseball’s designed to break your heart. The game begins in spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.
—A. Bartlett Giamatti
Holly woke up the next morning to find a note on the bedroom door.
I’m off, taking the boys with me to drop them at home. Your car’s out front. You left the lights on and the battery needed a charge. See you when I get back. Pace
She peeked out the window. There was her car. Pace had promised to be there for her, and he’d come through. It was a first for her with a guy, and it did something to her heart, something she wanted to attribute to lust but had to admit, was more.
The Heat broke even in the Arizona series. Better than losing, but still, not a record to be proud of. Not for them.
The Bad News Bears, the news reports mocked. Holly read them all, and by the time the team came home, they had to win their next game or be knocked out of the wild card position for the run at the National League pennant.
She couldn’t imagine the pressure.
But she had her own pressure. Pressure to make a living. While trying to find her next series, she went over the pictures she’d taken all summer, and as she played with the shots, she realized her own next series was right here in front of her—a slice of American life.
While she played with that, Tommy called. “Doll, I’ve got an idea. How about you extend the baseball series, figure out what’s going on with all that bad press the Heat is getting?”
“The series is over.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, seeing as you’ve turned this new leaf and gone all conscientious on me, I might have something interesting for you.”
“What?”
“The bad press isn’t generated by your article, or from the Heat’s play record. Sure, they’ve lost some games, but they’re still at a winning record, and in fact, if they win to day’s home game, they’re a cinch for the wild card position to go into the pennant for National League champions. Not too shabby. Plus, there’s one undeniable fact—other teams have far bigger losing streaks going on.”
“I know. Sam’s been going crazy trying to figure it out.”
“It’s an inside job.”
“No. No one would—”
“Would and did.”
“Who?”
“Buzz is that it’s coming from their own PR department.”
“Samantha? That’s ridiculous,” she said firmly.
“Her brother’s the publicist for the Charleston Bucks.”
“Yes, Jeremy. So?”
“So the Bucks have a bigger losing streak than the Heat’s. In fact, they’ve been big losers all season. They have a shallow bullpen and no solid hitters.”
“Are you suggesting that Sam’s creating bad press for the Heat to deflect from the Buck’s losing streak?”
