She felt her cheeks warm. “Oh. Yes. The interview.” Not sex. The interview. The one she hadn’t asked for but he’d offered to give. The one she couldn’t begin to think about while she could still feel his nice, hard chest beneath her palms. “Give me a couple minutes to say hi to everyone and I’ll be…ready.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
LATER AMANDA SAT in a booth next to Laura, with Tony on the other side of the young groupie. Laura clung to him like a second skin, obviously smitten with the ballplayer. Tony, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the brunette fawning over the team catcher, Kurt Caverns.
Kurt, who could deliver a joke with a straight face and dry tone better than anyone she’d ever met, appeared more attached to his cowboy hat than the brunette.
Amanda listened to Laura praise Tony’s amazing bat and experienced a touch of empathy for the girl. Laura was headed toward heartache. Her adoration of Tony was obvious in her words and gestures. And in the way she seemed to overlook that he didn’t return her affection.
Kelli’s God complex rules came to Amanda. Athletes were players. Safe for a good time, but never ever safe for the involvement of the heart. Maybe she should share that little tidbit with Laura. Maybe she could give Laura perspective, help her realize there were other men who would appreciate and respect her.
Right. Amanda was in no position to be giving advice about perspective. She was having a hard enough time keeping Brad out of her thoughts right now.
With a sigh, Amanda reached for her margarita, and took a drink, trying to escape Brad’s presence. No, she couldn’t see him, but she could sense him, as sure as she could still smell the spicy cologne he wore. The scent lingered on her clothes from when he’d pulled her close. The heat of his body still surrounded her, warmed her. Even though logic told her he’d be trouble, her libido teased her with images of how good he’d be between the sheets. She was aching to remember what a good time felt like.
Lord, she was in deep trouble. Brad Rogers had gotten to her. The fact that she was a big ball of sexual need wasn’t helping one bit. Who knew avoiding the pleasures of male companionship would make her so vulnerable to lust?
And as much as she wanted that interview with Brad, Amanda knew she had to exercise caution. She was far from control when in his company and it seemed only a matter of time before logic abandoned her to lust.
At that moment, Jack disrupted her thoughts by sliding into the booth next to the brunette. His sports coat had been replaced by a western shirt. “Dug up any gossip yet?” he asked Amanda.
“She didn’t have to dig,” Kurt said, his manner friendly, as if he liked Jack and was teasing him. “I’ve been telling her all kinds of shit about you.”
“I hope you haven’t gotten to all the good stuff,” Jack said, contempt in his expression, despite his easy tone. “I might have something to add.”
Before Amanda could reply, Casey appeared at the table, his attention on her. Blond, blue-eyed and well-dressed, he was a catch. But he was a kid to Amanda. A cocky one at that.
“Would you like to dance, Amanda?” he asked, clearly broadcasting his interest.
Jack snorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Oh, please.”
“What’s wrong? Upset because he didn’t ask you?” Amanda taunted.
Tony let out a bark of laughter. “That would be a sight.”
“Shaking your ass won’t get you readers,” Jack snapped.
“But it will get her a story,” Laura chimed in.
Okay, Amanda didn’t need that comment. Nothing brilliant came to mind, so she went with what did. “You’re an ass, Jack.”
“And you, Amanda, are a wannabe who won’t. You are going nowhere fast.”
The words were a slap. More than once her ex had used the exact same words. She was not a wannabe and she was not going to fail. But that didn’t mean she wanted to deal with Jack’s animosity anymore. Though dealing with the rookie’s advances didn’t hold much more appeal, at least Casey represented a possible story.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “I’m going to the dance floor where I get an exclusive interview.” Pushing to her feet, she faced the rookie. “Let’s dance.”
A few minutes later, Amanda was being twirled and maneuvered in tune with a George Strait song. Not only was the movement murder on her toes, but it also rendered talking impossible. So much for that exclusive interview. At this rate, her night was headed for a total bust.
SHOVING CASH into the hands of the band’s manager, Brad ensured the next song would be a slow one. Adrenaline pulsed through him as he headed for the dance floor, prepared to take control of the situation, just as he did on the baseball field. Becker had had more than his share of Amanda while Brad had not had near enough.
Arriving at the edge of the dance floor, he scanned the couples and zeroed in on his target. Anticipating the change in music, he weaved his way to where Becker showed off his two-step skills. Brad stopped slightly behind Amanda, surprised at the rush of possessiveness the sight of Becker’s hand on her waist stirred in him. Surprised, too, at how much he wanted to pull Amanda close. How much he wanted Amanda, period. Bet or no bet, Amanda would be his and Becker would be gone.
Oh, yeah, Becker was about to get a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
7
“I BELIEVE THIS is my dance.”
Amanda glanced to her right to find Brad standing by her side, his gaze fixed on her.
“Forget it,” Becker said. “You can head back to your seat and wallow in your beer.”
Brad didn’t even look at Becker. He focused on her, sending a silent message that spoke volumes. He wanted a whole lot more than this dance. “I believe that’s up to Amanda,” he said.
The moment built as they all stood their ground. Around them, people danced, while the three of them remained still. Despite what she told herself, she knew Brad was asking for more than a dance or another feature in her column. This was a turning point. Whatever decision she made now would dictate whether logic or lust ruled. If she said no, she sensed that Brad might never again pursue her. If she said yes…
Who was she kidding? The decision had been made the second he’d adjusted his towel that first day. She turned to Casey. “Brad owes me an interview.”
Casey stared at her, disbelief and agitation on his face. He didn’t let go. In fact, his grip tightened, became possessive.
Amanda had the distinct feeling his desire to hold on had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Brad. The overload of testosterone flying between the two men had her thinking there would be trouble. She wanted no part of whatever pissing contest these two were engaged in, and was about to say so when Casey eased his hold, then stepped away.
“Don’t think this is over,” he said. But she wasn’t sure to whom he directed the warning.
The song ended, and without hesitation, Brad pulled her close. With a smooth step, he rotated, giving Casey his back.
Brad’s hand settled on her lower back as a slow melody by Garth Brooks began. Almost as if he knew it would. Something was up.
Even as distracted as she was by his sexy scent that was so much more enticing with proximity, she wasn’t letting him off the hook. “You knew the song was going to change.”
He didn’t even try to deny her claim. “Not only did I know it, I made sure of it.”
She studied him. “You like making him mad, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. His eyes darkened, warmed. “But that has nothing to do with why I wanted a slow song.”
“Brad—”
He touched his finger to her lips, shutting down her objection. “It’s just a dance.”
They could claim this was just a dance, but they both knew more than that was happening between them. Every second they spent together was fuel on a simmering flame.
Slowly, Brad eased his finger away from her mouth, caressing her cheek as he did. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, the heaviness of arou
sal building in her limbs. That heaviness grew as Brad took a subtle step forward, dissolving the distance between them. Their thighs brushed, not so close that they’d draw attention but close enough to inspire all kinds of sensual images in Amanda’s mind.
This couldn’t happen here for the team and Jack to see. She needed to delay this seduction until a more appropriate time. In a desperate attempt to regain her composure, Amanda started talking. “What’s the story with you and the rookie?”
“I could ask you the same thing. The kid seems to like you, Amanda.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
They’d danced their way to a corner away from the speakers and the music wasn’t as loud. He bent down, his face close to hers. “I couldn’t hear you.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that. But on the off chance he hadn’t heard her question, she stood on her tiptoes to repeat it near to his ear.
One of his hands splayed across her back, inching her closer, and suddenly Amanda couldn’t remember what she’d wanted to say. “Behave, Brad.”
As she started to ease away from him, he stopped her, his mouth lingering mere inches from hers. Their eyes locked in a stare that almost knocked the breath out of her. For several seconds, she lost herself in Brad. In what her body was feeling, desiring.
“Behaving is overrated,” he finally responded.
Was it ever.
Someone bumped into them and jolted Amanda to her senses. Could the others see them here in the shadows? Did it look as though they were doing something inappropriate? Her gaze slid around the room, and she was thankful to find they were hidden in this crowded corner.
She shoved away from Brad, forceful enough to send him a message this time, but not enough to draw attention. She didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know how to express the emotions colliding inside her, so she started walking.
Damn, how had she let the situation get so out of hand? She fumed. Yes, she’d been a willing participant. And while she may not have encouraged that little corner interlude, she hadn’t stopped it. What had Brad been thinking putting on that seduction display for all to see? A club filled with reporters and ball players was not the place for them to explore the thing going on between them.
A hand on her arm stopped her and she turned to face Brad. “Don’t go. Let me buy you a drink.” The music changed again and people began to two-step around them. “Please.”
The entreaty got to her. “Fine,” she said, tugging her arm free. “But I want a real interview. And don’t try any more cute moves.”
He nodded and waved her forward, obviously having no trouble hearing her now. She headed toward the bar, wishing she had skipped this night out.
There would be plenty of time to get to know the team, but no, she’d had to do it now. Her drive to over-achieve had spurred the competitive need to defeat Jack, so she’d pushed herself rather than letting the relationships evolve. Instead of playing flirtatious games with the team’s star pitcher, she could be at the hotel working on making her next feature better than the first ones.
Sure, she wanted another interview with Brad, and she wanted a bit more from Casey for her next piece. But she had tomorrow and Monday in the locker room with them. And if they didn’t deliver either of those days, she had outlined several other good story ideas that she could make great.
It was time to cut her losses tonight. She’d get out of here before she did any damage to her career. And once she’d calmed down, she would figure out a plan to deal with Brad and her hard-to-control desire for him.
“I need to leave,” she announced as she faced him. “I’m not ready to interview and this isn’t the place for it.”
He bent at the knees, bringing himself to eye level with her. “The back room is quieter.”
“I’m leaving,” she said firmly.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” Brad wasn’t giving up easily.
“No.” She needed to get away from Brad to clear her head. “I’m fine. I’m going to say good night to everyone.”
“I’ll meet you at the door.”
“No,” she said again, but it was too late. He was already headed to the bar, removing his wallet as if to pay a tab. Fine, she’d deal with him outside.
Ten minutes later, Amanda had said her goodbyes. She wasn’t surprised to see Tony dancing with the brunette he’d been flirting with, nor was she surprised to see Laura sitting at the table looking dejected. Jack hovered over her. Amanda suspected that any sympathy from Jack came with an agenda. She thought about intervening on Laura’s behalf, but she didn’t know the actual situation, so her efforts could worsen the circumstances. Besides, she had her own mess to worry about.
Somehow, she’d invited the very man she was trying to escape, the one who made her so hot he might as well have sex as a middle name, to join her in a dark parking lot.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
She’d have to get rid of him quickly so she could find peace in her hotel room. Simple. She’d wish him a quick adios and be on her way.
But her bravado disappeared in the parking lot when Brad was nowhere in sight. In fact, the relief she should have experienced knowing she’d avoided another encounter with Mr. Temptation was not to be found. Instead, a solid ball of disappointment settled deep in her gut, refusing to be dismissed.
With a sigh, she walked to her car. The exterior of the club was surprisingly deserted. The music from the band blasted noise into the night and then became muffled by the door shutting behind her.
“Amanda.”
Brad’s voice sounded from her left, startling her.
“Will you stop doing that!” she snapped.
“Stop what?”
Being so damn irresistible. Out loud, she said, “Stop sneaking up on me.”
He gave her a sexy, lopsided grin. “I’ll do my best.” He stepped forward, closing in on her.
Amanda angled her chin upward to see his face. “Aren’t you taller than most pitchers?”
“I am.”
“How tall?” she asked, going into her safe zone, her interview mode.
“Six-three.”
Interesting. “Is it hard to pitch to shorter players? I mean, how does height impact your play?”
“Uh-huh. We aren’t doing the interview in the parking lot,” he said. “Where’s your car?”
“At the side of the building.”
“Mine, too,” he said, pulling his keys from his pocket.
“You’re leaving?”
“Actually,” he said, “I thought we might conduct the interview at a coffee shop down the road.”
She wasn’t really surprised by his suggesting a more intimate setting. What did surprise her was his facade of innocence. As if they were really talking about an interview.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, shoving her purse up her shoulder and crossing her arms.
He held his hands out like an offering of sorts. His muscular forearms grabbed her gaze for some reason. They were strong. Sexy. She forced her attention to his face.
“It’s just coffee and the offer of a one-on-one interview,” he said.
When she didn’t immediately answer, he added, “The coffee shop is only two blocks away. It’s a busy place. As in lots of people besides you and me.”
“I want a real interview. No holding back.” If she was going to put herself in the line of more temptation, she wanted it to be for a justifiable reason.
“And you’ll get it,” he assured her quickly.
“Why should I believe that?” she asked, not sold yet. “You didn’t even answer my question a minute ago about pitching to shorter batters.”
“We’re in a parking lot.”
“Reporters corner you in all kinds of crazy places.”
A smile hinted on his lips. “You’re one tough cookie.” He rested his weight on his back foot and seemed to consider a minute. “I’ll give you a lead-in now.” He touched his necklace. “You were ri
ght. I hate taking it off. It does feel lucky.”
“Old news. I knew that, even if you didn’t admit it.”
“Okay, then. It was my father’s. He played for U.T. when he was in college, too, and he was my biggest fan, aside from my mom.”
“Was your biggest fan?” Amanda asked. “Where is he now?”
He hesitated, then his voice softened. “He died before I made it to U.T., let alone the pros.”
Stunned by his admission, Amanda blinked. “I’m sorry. I feel like a complete idiot for that last question.”
“It’s okay. I’d prefer you not print that.”
“I won’t print anything you tell me not to.” She did want him to trust her. She wanted all the players to trust her, but Brad more so than anyone.
“Fair enough,” he said. “So…yes to coffee?”
Torn, Amanda contemplated his offer. She wanted this interview, yet agreeing to it now went against her plan to put space between them until she had a strategy for dealing with him. It took her to a one-on-one setting with Brad when she wasn’t quite equipped for the potential intimacy.
Finally the lure of the interview and a great feature won the battle. “Fine. I’ll follow you.”
Satisfaction flared in Brad’s eyes, though his tone was unaffected. Monotone, even. “That works.”
Amanda pointed to her sad rental car. “This is me. The rental place didn’t take very good care of me.”
“I see that.” He eyed the car then indicated a black pickup. “That’s me.”
She couldn’t contain her surprise. “You drive that?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “You expected something else?”
“Ah, yeah. A Corvette. A Porsche. A typical jock kind of car. You left those at home tonight, I guess?”
“I outgrew the obsession with fancy cars several years ago,” he said, “About the time I outgrew groupies, by the way.”
“Point taken,” she said, recognizing the warning not to make assumptions about him.
“I do admit to owning a ’69 Mustang that is as sweet as they come.”
“Really?” she asked. “Funny. My dad does, too. Actually, he’s got a 1963 coupe and a 1967 turbo.”