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

One of her fine brows arched up over an eye. “Gruel? Reading Charles Dickens lately?”

“Sorry. I guess this is a bit upscale to be the workhouse.”

A wicked glint appeared in her eyes. “Nice to know you can read more than the sports page.”

He caught the insult and couldn’t help grinning. She did have a wicked streak. He liked it. A lot. “I think can even manage to count to a hundred.”

“Because that’s your batting average?”

Clutching his chest, he let out an exaggerated groan. “Now that hurt. My grandfather didn’t tell me that mouth of yours was a lethal weapon.”

“Locked and loaded.”

He’d like to see her mouth locked and loaded. Locked on his. Loaded with his tongue. Or other parts of his anatomy.

Her face grew pink, which was when Riley realized she’d had the same flash of mental imagery he’d had. She was blushing.

Damn it, that sweetly embarrassed look was such a turn-on when contrasted with the saucy, sexy comebacks this girl was capable of throwing around. It was also a double-edged sword. The color in her cheeks was attractive as hell, but also served as a reminder that this was no experienced groupie he was messing with. She was young and fresh, and Gramps’s second-favorite female. He needed to keep his horny thoughts—and hands—off her.

Which was why, as difficult as it was, he managed to say, “Well, it was nice to see you again. Thanks for everything.”

She opened her mouth, her lips quivering a bit, as if she had something to say. Something she wasn’t sure how to say.

Riley wasn’t ready to hear it. If she said one more even flirtatious thing, he was gonna be tempted to push her against the wall and taste that mouth, sample that sweet, sassy tongue.

“Bye, Just Janie,” he said, giving her the same friendly, flirtatious smile he gave every female fan from eight to eighty.

Then he strode out of the room. He only hoped she didn’t correctly interpret his quick footsteps down the corridor and realize he was practically running away.

Five weeks later, late May

“OKAY, MISSY, it was your idea to go after our fantasy men, so don’t you think it’s time to get down to business?”

Janie didn’t even turn around at the sound of Callie Andrews’s voice as her good friend invaded the stockroom of Round The Bases. Instead, she brushed the dust off a shoebox full of trading cards. An old woman had brought them in earlier, asking fifty dollars for the lot to get them out of her late husband’s closet. Judging by the dust, they’d been there a long time. Janie had no idea if she’d paid too much or too little, but she’d figured they had to be old and therefore worth something.

Besides, the woman had looked as if she needed the money, and, as her family always reminded her, Janie was a pushover. Hadn’t she been the one who’d taken every blanket in their house and given them to the needy during her junior year of high school? Her father had muttered under his breath all that winter about the cold he couldn’t shake, while also beaming over his daughter’s kindness.

And she’d never forget his expression the time she’d volunteered the whole family—and their turkey—to a homeless shelter the year before her parents had died. Somehow, the memory of their good-natured grumbles but secretly proud smiles made the memory of that last Thanksgiving even more special than all those that had preceded it.

“Did you hear me?” Callie asked, her smooth tone holding amusement, as if she knew Janie had been avoiding her.

“I heard you,” Janie said. She didn’t turn around, not wanting to see Callie’s disappointment that she hadn’t gone through with the plan to seduce someone connected with the Slammers.

Seduction—wild sex, heat and eroticism—had been filling her mind since the March day when Janie had first met Riley Kelleher. The man had filled her nighttime dreams and her daytime fantasies. She’d never been as instantly affected by a man, never. And his being a baseball star had absolutely nothing to do with it, Janie had no doubt of that. His smile, his laugh, his incredible eyes and amazing body—well, Riley could have worked selling peanuts at the stadium and she’d still have wanted him every bit as much.

“It’s been over two months since we sat in your stockroom and you came up with the idea to seduce our fantasy guys. To have one wild fling, even if we had to act like groupies to get it. You’ve done nothing about it,” Callie said, not giving up.

Janie hadn’t expected her to. Callie was nothing if not determined, probably one reason all their businesses—Callie’s four-star restaurant, this store and Babe Bannister’s ice-cream shop—were thriving. Callie was a great businesswoman and kept a steady stream of customers coming to this sports-themed complex, despite the lingering fears that the Slammers might leave town.

The team had been winning throughout the month of May, and the fans were standing by the Ross family, especially since opening day when team owner Donovan Ross had revealed the reason he’d used the Slammers as collateral on a risky loan. Still, there was that uncertainty, especially since the team had lost their last few games.

“Stop pretending you’re fascinated by that dusty old box of cards when I know you have no idea who any of the players on them are. Let’s make a plan for you to seduce your fantasy guy.”

Janie sighed. Seducing her fantasy guy had sounded all well and good back in March after that first time she’d met Riley Kelleher. When he’d flirted with her, admitted he was attracted to her. That he liked her eyes. Not to mention her backside.

She’d ridden that high—even while being annoyed that he’d pegged her as a college-age kid—for days. She’d thought about him almost nonstop, wondering what might have happened if she’d told him she wasn’t some coed, but a fully adult twenty-five-year-old. One who really enjoyed very adult activities.

She’d also been wishing she’d been wearing something sexier or even some makeup. On the day she’d met Riley, she probably hadn’t touched so much as a tube of lipstick in ages. So if he’d been interested when she was looking her worst, what might happen if she made a real effort to attract him?

That was what she’d been thinking the night her two best friends, Callie and Babe, had barreled in to talk about the possibility of the team leaving Louisville. That rumor had really gotten her emotions in a tangle. Between fretting over Tom losing his store, and her guilt over the flash of happiness she’d felt at maybe being free—plus the Riley incident—she’d been a mess.

The wine hadn’t helped. Instead, it had made her open her big dumb mouth to her two closest friends to admit what she’d been thinking: What would it be like to seduce a fantasy man from the team before the team left? To be, just once, the flavor of the month for a dreamy stud who probably wouldn’t even remember their affair, but who might give her a lifetime of hot memories?

She’d said the words without truly planning to, but she certainly hadn’t shocked them. She, Callie and Babe had shared many late-night bitching sessions about men, and had poured their hearts out to each other about all the anxieties in their lives. Callie’s long-buried, troubled past. Babe’s uncertainty of her place in the world given her father’s passion for baseball…and desperation for a son. And Janie’s worries about Tom and her never-far-away sadness over the loss of her parents. So admitting she’d been having lusty thoughts about an unnamed member of the Slammers organization hadn’t exactly been breaking news.

Her friends—obviously as romantically unlucky as Janie—had thought it was a great idea. Unlike Janie, however, they’d actually had the guts to do it. And look where it had gotten them. Both of them were blissfully happy, Callie back with Ross Donovan, her ex-husband, who owned the team. And Babe cozying up to the manager.