Leslie Kelly - Boys Of Summer - Sliding Home / Fever Pitch / The Sweet Spot

“So you’re little Janie.”

She stiffened. At five foot four, she’d heard her share of petite/little/diminutive comments. “I’m just Janie,” she snapped.

He rose slowly, his muscular body moving with innate grace. When standing, he was only a head taller than she, probably of average height. Not too tall for her. Perfect, in fact.

Forget about it, he’s perfectly out of the question!

He extended his hand. “Gramps has told me a lot about you, Just Janie.”

“Funny, he never mentioned your name at all.”

“Well, Riley likes to keep a low profile,” Mr. Smith said.

The low-profile sex god was still standing there with his hand out, so Janie lifted hers, forgetting the book.

If fate had been kind, the manual wouldn’t have fallen to the ground. If it had been at least decent, Sex For The Ages wouldn’t have landed faceup at Riley Kelleher’s feet. And if it had any heart at all, the man wouldn’t have been able to read.

But fate screwed her again. Because as Riley bent over to pick up the book she’d dropped, he began to chuckle.

Oh, God, just let me die now.

She didn’t know which was worse: him thinking she was the one reading the sex manual, or finding out her grandmother was.

“Uh, yours, I believe?” he said, his voice not disguising his laughter. He held the book out to her. “Interesting reading for a Sunday afternoon at the old folks’ home.”

Oh, great, now he’d done it. Before Janie could warn him of the fire he’d brought down on his head, Grandma Anne was on him. “Who’re you calling old folks?” she asked as she struggled to her feet and grabbed the book. She wobbled on her pale, skinny legs, revealed by a pair of pink shorts that hung to her knobby knees.

“You pushed one of her hot buttons,” Janie murmured, almost feeling sorry for the ballplayer, who suddenly looked sheepish.

“My apologies, ma’am. I mean, the retirement home.”

“Community for the enlightened years,” she snapped.

To give him credit, Riley didn’t laugh at Grandma’s haughty tone. Instead, he replied, “That’s a perfect description.”

Grandma Anne jerked her thumb toward her own frail chest and poked herself with it. “I came up with it myself.” The power of her own thrust almost knocked her off her feet. Fortunately, Mr. Smith had slowly followed her up and was there to support her.

Not that a strong breeze wouldn’t have blown him over, too.

Janie couldn’t help it. She started to giggle, lifting her hand to cover her mouth so Grandma Anne wouldn’t see.

“I think I’ll take Annie to her room now,” Mr. Smith said, frowning at his grandson. “She’s had enough of an upset.”

Saying goodbye to her grandmother and kissing her smooth, delicate cheek, Janie watched as Mr. Superstar suffered under his grandfather’s glare. When the older couple had gone, he said, “Has she got a problem with being old, or what?”

“Or what,” Janie said dryly. “She has no problem being old. She has a problem with anyone telling her she’s old.”

“Like it doesn’t exist if nobody says it aloud?”

“Kind of.”

“Sounds superstitious. Bet she’s a baseball fan.”

“Are they superstitious?”

“Not as much as the players,” he said with a lopsided grin.

His grandfather hadn’t introduced him as a famous baseball player, but Riley obviously expected her to recognize him. She didn’t try to pretend otherwise. “Including you, Mr. Kelleher?”

He nodded. “I’ve been known to wear the same socks for ten games when I’m on a streak.”

Janie wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

Laughing, he crossed his arms. “I have a washing machine.”

With a challenging lift of her brow, Janie retorted, “Even when you’re on the road?”

“There’s always somebody to wash the uniforms on the road.”

Her smile faded. Though she knew he almost certainly meant the Slammers had staff to care for the uniforms, she couldn’t help thinking of all the other people dying to help the players on the road. Help them into the nearest bed, most likely. That was supposedly what had caused his nasty divorce.

She fell silent, wondering why he was still standing here talking to her when she was so not his type. He said nothing, either, watching her watch him, so Janie took a moment to notice the little things. Like the tiny curls of gold-tipped hair at the nape of his neck. The small lines beside his mouth that said he smiled a lot. And, oh, the way he smelled.

She loved man smell. Not heavy cologne, but that strong, musky scent that seemed to emanate from a hard, masculine body. Especially when it was aroused. Wow, would she like to smell this man when he was aroused.

Keep your nose to yourself, girl. Swallowing hard, Janie took a step back. This guy was completely out of her league. He had groupies, actresses and beauties after him all the time and would most assuredly not appreciate a social worker who was not in the least seductive sniffing him up.

He suddenly chuckled, as if remembering something. “She took it with her…so the spunky old lady was reading the sex book?”

“To your grandfather,” she replied with a smirk.

Some of the color fell out of the handsome face. Janie almost felt sorry for him, knowing what was going on in his head.

“I could have gone my whole life without knowing that.”

“Me, too,” she said, watching the way his lips pursed a little when he winced. Great lips. Incredible mouth. Lord, it had been a long time since she’d kissed a man.

It had apparently been a long time since she’d learned how to hide her thoughts, too. Because suddenly Kelleher was pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head, looking at her closely as if he’d caught her staring. “So do you volunteer here often?”

Tearing her stupid fan-girl gaze off his mouth, she focused instead on his eyes. And was lost. Spring-green and heavily lashed, Riley’s eyes twinkled with humor and self-confidence. Not to mention knowledge. He knew how he was affecting her.

Her face grew hot. “Not as much as I’d like to.”

“That’s great of you. Not a lot of young people would give up their Sundays to make a bunch of strangers happy. I wasn’t kidding. My grandfather has mentioned you dozens of times.”

So, he didn’t know Janie was also visiting her own grandmother. She didn’t volunteer the information, not certain why she didn’t want him to know. “Your grandfather’s a nice man.”

“He’s a shark,” he said with a laugh, his admiring tone saying he meant it as a compliment. “Old school all the way.”

“Old school?”

“Tough, proud, honorable and honest.”

Qualities Janie liked in a man. Qualities she wondered if Edgar’s grandson shared. The tabloids hadn’t made him sound like he’d lived up to the honorable and honest parts during his marriage. But in recent years he’d supposedly put his wild reputation behind him, and now took his game very seriously. Since he was a Kentucky boy who lived in Louisville year-round—unlike some members of the team—the local papers were always singing the man’s praises.

“Anyway, sweetheart, I appreciate it. You’re an angel.”

Janie was a modern woman and a strange man calling her sweetheart and angel would normally have set her off. But Riley’s soft, lightly Southern accent and nod of genuine appreciation made the words seem like harmless endearments. Which was why she melted inside again, going soft and weak, wanting to giggle like a kid, scuff her toes on the ground and simper.

Who was this man and how was he turning her into a mutant?

Whoever he was, she needed to get away from him. So without another word, she tore her gaze off his handsome face and broad shoulders. Still shaken, Janie swung around and bent down to pick up her blanket. It was only after she’d doubled over that she realized she was practically wagging her butt at the guy. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed he’d noticed. He’d definitely noticed, and was staring. That sparkle was still in his eyes, and he made no effort to hide his amusement. And maybe…just maybe…a hint of appreciation.