Stephanie Evanovich - The Sweet Spot

“You realize that every situation you just described has nothing to do with the guy who’s trying to get your attention,” Eric pointed out. “For crying out loud, talk about an overreaction. He just wants to take you for dinner.”

“Guys like that don’t just want dinner,” Amanda said, thinking Chase was not just any guy. He was more of a stalker who just happened to win everybody over, a drop-dead sexy stalker with electric eyes, a teen-idol smile, and a butt worthy of an underwear model—and those were just the parts of him she could see. “I’m telling you, he’s only pushing because I had the nerve not to melt in his presence. And how do you know he isn’t a cheater? For all we know, he’s the biggest philanderer on the planet.”

“Oh sure,” Eric snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “ ’Cause all the best womanizers sit alone at a bar being shot down for nights on end.”

“Need I remind you, he just left with a contestant from America’s Next Top Model ?”

“Hard to forget; we’re all still looking at the flowers he didn’t need to send you,” Eric retorted.

“He’s like your own personal Norm from Cheers ,” Nicki said, giggling, “except he’s gorgeous.”

“And he has a job,” Eric added.

“And a million women want to have his baby,” Amanda concluded, not needing Eric and Nicki’s sudden bustling to tell her that Chase had reentered the bar. She could feel him.

Chase came in and sat down in the seat next to her after the failed attempt at sneaking up on her. Eric and Nicki said their hellos, and Eric handed him his usual Heineken before returning to continue closing up.

They spent a few moments in silence while Amanda tried to decide if she was still peeved or elated that he was back.

“Thanks for the flowers. Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere unhooking a bra and rounding second base?”

“Do I detect a hint of snark?” Chase smiled with relief. “ ’Cause if I do, it just made my night. I was starting to wonder if you really didn’t care.”

“You mean these aren’t your way of inviting me into a threesome?”

“I don’t share,” he told her seriously. “Thanks for being such a good sport. I know it was awkward.”

“But that didn’t stop you from doing it,” she said snippily. “The least you can do is give me your motive.”

“I told you, I’m going to keep coming back here until you let me take you out,” Chase said with single-minded determination. “Logan is my best friend, and I wanted him to meet you. He’d just gotten back from vacation, and when I sent the text that I wanted to have dinner, I couldn’t bring myself to type the part about the girl who was still giving me the brush.”

Amanda’s giggle bubbled up and overflowed. The most famous man she could think of went trolling for chicks with the handsomest. “Logan is your choice for a wingman? That’s got to be risky.”

Chase laughed along. “Not in this case. It was the other way around. Logan really wanted to impress his date. When he brought her to my game, she called her friend, and they saw to the details while I was warming up on the field.” He didn’t tell Amanda about the mad rush he sent Jack and the boys on to make the roses happen or that Logan was hopelessly stuck on blondes.

“So your solution to the problem was to bring everyone here to taunt me?”

Chase reacted unfavorably to her accusation and adopted a more weighty tone. “I didn’t do it to tease you. I’m on a mission. There was no way I wasn’t seeing you tonight, even if you are starting to make me look like a chump with your phony-baloney reluctance. But it’s the height of bad manners to make a lady feel uncomfortable. Like it or not, I was on a date and she deserved my full attention.”

Amanda pursed her lips together. She was the one who was supposed to be offended, yet it felt more like she’d just been given a lecture on etiquette.

“And none of this would’ve happened if you didn’t insist on stringing me along with this game you’re playing,” he continued, chiding her.

He wasn’t angry with her, but there was a definite switch in his approach. His easygoing, valiantly persistent persona was now overshadowed with a strength that hadn’t been there previously. It created a new, different sort of rush and she didn’t mind he was about to force her hand.

“Come on, angel,” he said, his eyes as deep as his voice. “Give me my shot.”

Amanda hesitated and debated the pros and cons one more time of the word that, once out there, she wouldn’t be able to take back and would probably end up regretting.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

Chase shook his head dramatically, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, then broke out into a full-blown grin.

“See?” he asked happily. “Was that so hard?”

AMANDA SAT ON her couch, wringing her hands and lecturing herself. It was just a date. There was no need to be so nervous. Then why did she feel like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs? Because while her date was known for playing first base, he could’ve been a pitcher, given the way he knew how to throw curveballs, starting with his departure from the Cold Creek as soon as she’d accepted his invitation.

She had thought she was so cunning, feigning ignorance to the prior knowledge of his schedule. After saying yes, she figured she had bought herself some more time and gave him one more chance to get permanently distracted. Chase already knew the Cold Creek was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, the only days she would consider accepting a date. She had had the foresight to agree to an invitation that fell when he had to leave for a road trip to Cleveland. She never expected him to phone both his coach and the Kings’ general manager immediately from the bar. He informed them that something important had come up and he would not be flying out with the team on the designated travel day, but flying out independently, and assured them he would arrive in plenty of time before Tuesday’s game. He apologized for deviating from the normal practice, but gave no excuses or explanations and none were asked for. Then he called his own pilot and told him to be ready Tuesday morning to take him to Cleveland. The moment he pushed the Off button on his phone after making his final call, Chase asked for her address and told her he would pick her up Monday at seven. Then, with what Eric described as a “shit-eating grin,” Chase abruptly left the Cold Creek and didn’t return in the interim. Four days of her watching the door, only for him to suddenly become a noticeable no-show.

She should’ve figured he had his own plane. She would’ve never guessed he was a master at how to create buildup and tension.

So now Amanda waited, glancing at the clock again. The five-minute countdown to seven was in motion. Maybe he would be late, and she could be righteously ticked off at his discourtesy. At five minutes after seven she would grab her keys and take a powder.

But she knew he wouldn’t be late; he ran like clockwork. For the past three weeks, whenever he had a home game, he arrived to occupy his barstool or table exactly an hour and twenty minutes after the last pitch was thrown, even if it was near midnight when he arrived, as had occurred when a night game went into extra innings. Of course, her entire staff was more than willing to stay past their usual closing time of one A.M. to accommodate him, and not just because he was such a generous tipper. He had won them all over after his third night there.

He probably owned a helicopter, too, although she hadn’t heard any reports of one landing on the street. He could be the speedboat type. Or maybe he just made use of a phone booth, Superman-style.