Jill Shalvis - Slow Heat

Sam looked at the diamond and saw Wade at right field. Mark was standing on the mound. The guy at third plate did look familiar, and then she realized he played a cop in one of her favorite TV shows.

“There’s my dream boyfriend,” Tess said, nodding to the batter. “Isn’t he hot? He snowboarded for gold at last year’s X Games… uh oh-”

He’d swung at Mark’s first pitch and connected.

“Yeah, baby!” Tess yelled.

The pop ball went straight to…

Right field.

Wade shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head and kept his eyes on the fly ball as it…

Landed right in his glove. She supposed he couldn’t help but play like the superstar he was, and it made her a little squirmy to watch him.

Squirmy as in turned-on.

The crowd booed as Wade threw the ball to second in time to get the snowboarder out. “They’re booing him?” Sam asked in shock.

“Just our little way of keeping his ego in check.” Tess laughed as out in the field Wade took a bow. The boos turned to cheers. “We all love him, and he knows it.”

Indeed, the guys playing second and center field ran up to Wade. One slapped his back and fist bumped him. The other grabbed him around the middle and swung him around. In the next inning, she watched him throw back his head and roar with laughter when the groom tripped over his own two feet running for home. And in the inning after that, he purposely struck out.

Sam had viewed countless baseball games in her life. She’d watched every single one of the Heat’s games over the past three years.

Every.

Single.

One.

But as she leaned back and soaked up the sun and the laughter and joy around her, she realized she’d never viewed one like this, where both teams were more interested in the beer and snacks on the sidelines, in taunting each other with private jokes and easy laughter, where the outcome wasn’t nearly as important as the game itself.

She watched Wade thoroughly enjoy himself, watched as he became unbearably human in her eyes, and when the game ended, as she stood up with everyone else to cheer, she told herself it was a damn good thing that this was pretend because she was feeling squirmy again.

And yeah, her body was definitely sending mayday signals to her brain. The oh-please-can-we-have-him signals.

Bad body.

Very bad body.

After the game, Wade walked to the stands. His “girlfriend” was sitting there in her elegant and sophisticated suit, revealing those knock-’em dead legs that went on for days, looking for all the world like a princess on a Nordstrom’s budget.

God, she was something. And if he wasn’t careful, she’d make him lose his head. Good thing he was careful.

Very careful. “Hey, woman,” he called up to her. “Where’s my victory kiss?”

Tess laughed and cleared the stands to give him room as he made his way to her. Sam narrowed her eyes, giving him the don’t-you-dare death-glare. Ignoring the look, he pulled her to her feet and leaned in, enjoying the scent of her, the feel of her, letting his eyes drift closed as he headed for her mouth-

She slapped a hand to his chest, and with a sigh, he opened his eyes. “Can I call management and get an exchange on the girlfriend thing? Cuz this one’s uncooperative.”

“Our turn, Sam,” Tess told her, climbing down, waving at her to hurry and follow. “We’re up first.”

“We’re up first?” Sam repeated, turning to Wade. “What does she mean?”

“Powder-puff time.”

“Powder puff? What’s a powder puff?”

“They’re doing an extra inning so the women get a chance to play, too. You’re catcher.”

She just stared at him, mouth open.

He smiled, gently tapped his finger beneath her chin until her mouth closed, and sank to the seat she’d just vacated. “Don’t worry, I’ll cheer you on.”

“But I’m in heels.”

Tess came running up the stands and grabbed Sam’s hand, pulling her down toward the field. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“B-but I’m not dressed for this,” she protested as Tess left her no choice but to run alongside her, which she did like a pro in spite of the four-inch heels. “I don’t know how to play…”

Wade watched her go, grinning from ear to ear. Oh, hell, yeah. This was exactly what he’d needed, a weekend of entertainment. And it was greatly entertaining, watching Sam get handed over the catcher’s gear. Watching her stare at the equipment in her hands, making him realize that she truly had no idea what she was doing. He took in the sheer panic on her face and sighed as he rose to his feet, then made his way down to her.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Yes.” She fisted his shirt and held on, eyes wide. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And she hated that, he knew. His Sam thrived on knowing exactly what she was doing, at all times. “It’s called winging it, Princess. In the name of fun.”

She tugged harder, bringing him nose to nose with her. “You have no idea how much I hate to admit this, but I need your help. ”

He let out a slow smile. “It’s going to cost you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh, Sam.” His hands went to her hips and squeezed gently. “You’re going to care.”

She let out a breath. “You’re getting a kick out of this.”

“Seeing you out of your element?” His full grin escaped. “You can bet your sweet ass on it.”

“Hold the mitt up a little higher,” Wade instructed Sam, and then stepped behind her, putting one hand on her hip, the other guiding her arm a little higher.

If she hadn’t been so terrified, so aware of the full stands and everyone around her readying for the powder-puff inning, she might have enjoyed the feeling of his big, hard, warm body behind hers.

“Open the mitt more,” he told her. “It’ll align with the ball.”

“It will?” she asked doubtfully. “Even if you’re not a natural athlete?”

“You’re a natural.”

Her tummy quivered. “How do you know?”

“I know.”

She wanted to believe that.

“Once the ball’s in your glove, throw it quickly and as straight as possible.”

“Straight,” she said faintly. “Sure thing.” It was a cool day, with a lovely breeze coming in off the ocean and yet she was sweating. She yanked off her jacket and tossed it aside.

Wade abruptly stopped talking. When she turned her head to look at him, he was staring at her white silky knit tank. “It’s a top, Wade.”

“It’s a sexy little top that just made me forget what the hell I was telling you.”

“You were telling me how to be a catcher.”

“Right.” He gave himself a visible shake. “Be sure not to hit the pitcher. They hate that.”

She closed her eyes and tried not to panic.

He laughed softly and ran a finger over the narrow strap on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, a good pitcher will get out of your way when he sees you get ready to throw down.”

“Is Tess a good pitcher?”

“We’ll find out.”

She swallowed hard.

“And don’t get yourself hit either.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry. Probably Tess can’t get a ball over home plate to save her life. Which means you’re going to be running after it, not catching it. But if you do catch it, keep your chin down.”

“Why?”

“Keeps the ball from bouncing up and hitting you in the throat.”

Okay . So she’d keep her chin down.