Double Play (2 page)

J.D.
remained silent for a few moments. He drew in a deep breath and ran one hand
through his short dark hair. The pain in his shoulder had deteriorated into a
deep burning throb that traveled down his right arm whenever he tried to raise
it. Doc had warned him about the future. One more tear and he’d be out of
chances. His mind drifted back to his last visit to the Double HL ranch in the
thick of a bleak Oklahoma winter. Faye had looked too tired the last time he’d
seen her. Her drawn face belonged to a woman twice her age.

“I’ll
think on it,” he said finally.

“You’ve
got about thirty minutes to decide, Superstar.”  Tony gave J.D. a nudge and
gestured toward Halee McCarthy making her way toward the bar. “Look alive,” he
said. “All you need is a woman and a ring. Think about what I said.”

“Halee,
Darling,” Tony exclaimed, intercepting the stunning strawberry blonde a few feet
away.

Halee
dodged his kiss and slid onto the stool next to J.D. She spent an uncomfortable
minute sliding her gaze up and down J.D.'s body. “Armani and cowboy boots,"
she said finally. "Nice."

J.D.
chuckled. "Thanks."

"You
look awful.”

J.D.
lifted a cool gaze over his half empty glass and stared into sparkling emerald
eyes. “You don’t.”

A
thin band of pearls bobbed at her throat as she finished the last drops of her
drink, drawing his gaze to the smooth skin his tongue had memorized. She looked
different this close, more polished than he’d remembered, less like plain Midwestern
girls and more like the girls he’d known back home. She’d pulled her hair off
her shoulders; reddish blonde curls spilled down her sleek neck. The same
little dimple at her left cheek teased him, daring him to lean over and brush
his lips across her sweet flesh.

 “I
thought I’d be polite and say hello,” she said into her half empty glass.

“It’s
your party.”

“It’s
the North Shore Literacy Foundation’s party, J.D. The one you never took any
interest in when we were together. Frankly, I’m surprised to see you here.”

Her
smile mocked him. One loose curl tickled her temple, another played with the
small pearl drop at her ear. He resisted the urge to reach up and touch it. “I’m
on Victoria Pryor’s list,” he said.

“So
it seems. Bring your checkbook?”

“What’s
the cause?”

“Oh,
I thought I’d bring together a room full of women for you to leer at. We could
call it the pathetic overrated jock foundation.”

J.D.
chewed on a piece of ice. “You never complained about my performance when we
were together.” He dropped his dark eyes to Halee’s pouty mouth. Her perfume played
havoc with his self-control. In a matter of ten seconds he was back in her bed,
loving her all over again. “Still beautiful as ever,” he murmured.

“So
glad you approve.”

“She
didn’t mean nothin’ to me, Halee.”

 “They
never do.”

“You
did.” He watched her eyes fill with pain. He resisted the urge to take her into
his arms.

“I
have to go.”

He
caught her by the elbow and gently pulled her back. His fingers lingered,
sliding tenderly down to her wrist, her palm, folding around her small hand.
She swallowed hard.

 “Say,
Halee,” Tony yelled above the fray, “did you hear about John’s contract with
the Federals?”

The
cameras flashed again, blinding them both for one moment. J.D. motioned them
away. He watched her, searching for the slightest reaction to Tony’s
announcement. She continued to stare into his eyes as if looking for someone
else. Her lush mouth drew into a sneer. “Think of all the new prospects in New
York,” she said.

J.D.
raised her hand to his lips and planted a tender kiss on the palm. “How about
another drink for old times’ sake?” he murmured into her soft flesh.

She
released her hand. “I think I’ll pass.” Her voice cracked. “Our time together isn’t
something I want to relive,” she said, looking away.

“Baby,
don’t…”

 “We
meet at last.” Victoria Pryor barged between them and held out a bony hand
studded with diamonds. Her cold blue eyes scanned her latest acquisition with
unabashed appreciation. “My husband is pleased you’ll be joining his organization,”
she said with a wicked curve of her red glossy lips. “He’s working out the
details with our attorneys in the back room,” she added, glancing over her
shoulder. “He’ll be looking for a celebration toast.”

J.D.
pushed off his stool and sized up the Federal owner’s wife, noting the way a
faint blush moved from her skin stretched cheekbones through her frail
shoulders at the touch of his handshake. Despite the money and talent she’d
obviously thrown toward her appearance tonight, she remained nondescript in a
room full of blondes in black dresses.

He
summoned his manners. “I appreciate the opportunity, Ma’am.”

“I
hear you’re engaged,” said Victoria.

Halee
coughed. J.D. slid a burning look toward Tony. “Is that right?”

“Deliriously
happy,” Tony confirmed with a wink. “Ready to settle down and keep his head in
the game.”

“Just
in time,” said Victoria, watching Halee with a curious smile. “And who is this
lucky woman?”

“We’ll
reveal her identity in a few days,” said Tony quickly. “The suspense will keep
the media at attention.”

“Are
you alright, Dear?” asked Victoria.

“Excuse
me,” said Halee. She slid off her stool before J.D. could catch her and joined
a small group at a nearby table. A medium built man twice her age approached
from behind, lacing his fingers through hers as he arrived at her side. His
peppered gray hair touched his collar; his creased khakis hung loose around the
middle. He wore a tweed jacket balanced like a scarecrow on wiry shoulders; his
short sleeves revealed skinny wrists. A runner, thought J.D. Type A. The kind
who needs exercise to keep himself from perpetrating violence.

Victoria
took J.D. by the arm. “I want you to meet someone,” she said, leading him
toward Halee and her date. “Dr. Mark Cottrell, meet Jonathan Dillon Shaw, our
latest acquisition. He’s closing the season for us.”  She glanced between J.D.
and Halee again. “Dr. Cottrell recently joined our Literacy Foundation Board.
He’s one of our longtime supporters, isn’t that right, Mark?”

The
smug look on Halee’s face burned to J.D.’s core. Cottrell was the only man in
the room minus a tuxedo. His wire framed glasses and worn tweed jacket reeked
academia. J.D. glanced down at Halee’s hand wrapped in Cottrell’s and set his
jaw. Victoria cleared her throat and motioned for a fresh drink.

Cottrell
extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you…”

J.D.
raised his right arm and winced. King quickly intervened.

“Tony
King,” he said, inserting his hand into Cottrell’s and squeezing until the man
grimaced. “Is that a doctor of medicine or a doctor of letters?”

“English
Literature, Columbia.”

“No
kidding,” said Tony with a pretentious laugh. “I nearly died of boredom in my
Shakespeare class. It’s all Greek to me.”

Cottrell’s
lip turned up in a sneer. He tried to yank his hand free but King held fast.

“So,
you’re on the Literacy Foundation Board. That’s terrific,” said King,
tightening his grip. He locked eyes with Cottrell. “Conflict of interest to be
sleeping with the Foundation Manager, though, don’t you think?”

“Stop
it, Tony,” Halee hissed.

“Really,
King,” Victoria scoffed with obvious delight. “Suppress your caveman
instincts.”

 “I
don’t suppose you’re a baseball fan, eh, Doc?” asked King, undeterred. “John
here holds every minor league record this side of the Mississippi.”

“I
don’t play, I work,” said Cottrell through clenched teeth.

J.D.
took a step forward. Victoria touched his arm. “Not here.”

 “Come
on, Doc. There’s someone I want you to meet,” said King, dragging Cottrell in
the opposite direction. “Don’t worry, Halee,” he said, “I’ll have him back
before they lock the doors.”

Victoria
sighed and turned back to J.D., dropping her gaze appreciatively over every
inch of his hard body. “Welcome to the club,” she said with the eyes of a
predator. “I think we’ll work very well together.” She leaned over toward Halee,
allowing J.D. a full view of her tight gluts. “Don’t be long, Dear,” she
murmured. “Your date might not make it through the King initiation.”

J.D.
watched Victoria Pryor drag her bony frame to the opposite side of the ballroom
floor and slid back onto his barstool. He reached for his glass and tried to
brush off his body’s reaction to Halee McCarthy.

“Shot
of tequila,” said Halee to Mitch, joining him at the bar. “And another for the Federal.”

J.D.
handed Mitch a twenty. “Let me guess. He’s your professor.”

“He
was. If it’s any of your business.”

“You
can’t tell me you find that guy attractive.”

Halee’s
pink lips curled into a satisfied sneer. “He can carry on a conversation, J.D.
His mind isn’t consumed with sex.”

J.D.
dropped his eyes to her low neckline and slugged back the tequila in a vain
attempt to quench the fire building between them. “Pity.”

He
watched the color rise through her neck.

“I
know this is news,” she said, “but women aren’t all attracted to the same type
of man.”

“Is
that right?”

She
nodded. “You, for instance. I’ll bet you think every woman is turned on by a
uniform.”

“And
here I thought it was my smooth southern drawl. You like southern boys, don’t
you Darlin’?” he asked with an exaggerated twang.

“Get
over yourself.”

“Self
confidence is attractive, Halee. You know that better than anyone.”

“And
why is that?”

“Why
else would you go out with a guy like me?”

She
shook her head. “We were a mistake, J.D.”

He
let a sliver of ice loll over his tongue while he held her emerald eyes with
his. “Maybe.”

“You’re
self centered.”

“MmmHmm.”

“Conceited.”

“No
more than Dr.
I work, I don’t play
.” J.D. slapped his glass down on the
bar and met Halee’s stare head on. “I think we should give it another go.”

The
edge of her lip formed a snarl, as if noting a tragic humor in his words. “And
what would your fiancé think about that?”

“Maybe
we’re a better match.” He leaned in closer and slid his left hand along her
hip. She felt soft, soothing, all woman. “We gave up too quick. There’s still
chemistry here, Halee. You can’t deny it.”

“You’re
drinking too much,” she said.

“Drunk
or sober, I know we ain’t done.”

Halee’s
gaze drifted over the crowd, then back to his face, dropping to the thickening
whiskers along the ridge of his jaw. “You were as miserable as I was.”

“Then
let’s change the rules.”

“You
don’t play by rules.”

“Exactly.
So leave your expectations behind and let’s see where it gets us.”

She
eyed him warily. “You want something.”

“I
want you in my bed.”

Halee
removed his hand. “Whatever game you’re playing,” she said coolly, “leave it on
the field.” She slipped off her barstool and headed into the crowd.

By
the time they reached Michigan Avenue, his hand reached halfway up her skirt,
waking up flesh that had been asleep since she’d walked into his penthouse
bedroom and found him tangling the sheets with the next girl on his list. It’s
not as though Halee hadn’t had plenty of offers since her breakup with J.D.
It’s just that she knew they would all be a huge disappointment. Sometimes a
girl just had to treat herself to the best, even if it came with a heavy price.
She’d kick herself in the morning. Tonight J.D. and the extraordinary pleasure
of his company were all hers.

She
hadn’t taken ten steps from the bar before he’d come up from behind, slipped
his arm around her waist and dragged her down a darkened hall, slid one big
warm hand  along her breast and covered her protests with his generous,
delicious mouth, that cavern of delight she couldn’t get enough of and was terrified
she never would. She wanted to breathe the breath he exhaled, wanted to taste
the whiskey on his tongue. Her hands were on his chest, poised to push him
away, but they gripped his shirt instead, pulling him closer, falling into his
kiss while her fingers hungrily searched for the hard muscle she knew lay just
below the fabric.

Five
minutes later, fully out of breath and dizzy with desire, she’d made her
excuses to Victoria Pryor and slipped out to the curb, sliding into the Porsche
under the brilliant flash of a dozen paparazzi’s cameras. After all, she was
traveling with major league star.

The
top was down on the midnight blue Porsche. Travis Tritt bellowed from the
stereo speakers, assuring every woman in Chicago he was strong enough to be her
man. Halee watched J.D in the glow of the glittering skyscrapers, his tawny whiskered
face awash in his signature confidence, passive and satisfied, as though his
hand brushing a woman’s thigh were commonplace. But not for her. Her breath
came in quick spasms; her blood spurted in jet streams through her groin,
driving her anticipation to an unbearable level. She released the clip from her
hair and shook out her shoulder length mane, letting the late summer wind blow the
thick strands wild and free. Safe again in the arms of a man who knew no
boundaries. What a rush! What a delicious, naughty indulgence.

 She
leaned over and brushed a light kiss along the edge of his white starched
collar. “Baby, what did you mean when you said we weren’t done?”

His
phone rang and he dragged his fingers down the inside of her bare leg, allowing
a cold rush of air to hit her damp thighs. She shivered. Wet for him already,
like the cheap slut she was. How would she face herself in the morning?

“Tell
‘em I’ll take seven fifty sign on,” he said in a firm, relaxed voice. “We get
too greedy, we’ll blow this deal. And the five years is firm. They pay the full
five even if I get benched. Later.”

He
disconnected and blew the Porsche around the corner and into the underground
garage of his penthouse. Halee had been here before, a younger, more naïve Halee.
Tonight she was falling into the same trap she had sworn she would never
repeat. Those fiery coal black eyes, the sleek tanned nape of his neck where
those dark curls rested, the hard body that would surely give her greater
pleasure than she had ever imagined- and yes, the Porsche and the paparazzi- it
was all part of the allure of Jonathan Dillon Shaw.

He
cut the engine and pulled her across his lap. “Right here, Baby.”

 She
shifted, seeking the way they fit together, that delicious union of unspeakable
pleasure. Her skirt went up, her panties came down. She was so close…“Mmmm,”
she murmured, breaking free of his lips. “The security cameras.”

He
hit the dashboard button. The Porsche soft top kicked up and over, shielding
them from view. Whatever voices telling her to retreat were silenced as he slid
his hot tongue into her waiting mouth. This was the taste she had craved since
the day she’d caught him with another woman.

The
other woman! She released the kiss and sat straight up, pushing her unruly hair
from her face. This was the man who had hurt her deeply. Where was her pride?

“I
can’t…” His warm hand covered her sweet spot and began to knead her sensitive
flesh in a smooth, sensuous rhythm. Within seconds she’d forgotten anything but
her impending climax. She fumbled for the buttons on his shirt. He unzipped her
dress and pushed it free from her shoulders, working his lips across her bare
breasts.

“You
want me, don’t you, Baby?”

“Oh,
yeh,” she purred. “Real bad.”

“Been
thinkin’ about me, have ya?” He grinned, holding her just above the tip of his
shaft, teasing her, taunting her soft flesh.

Halee
groaned. Her breath came hard and fast. “Just fuck me, would you?”

J.D.
choked out a laugh.  “Trash talk! What’s become of you, Halee?”

“That’s
the kind of girl you like, isn’t it, J.D.?” she murmured against his ear,
dragging her tongue along his salty neck.

J.D.
moaned. “I ain’t complaining, Darlin’, I’m just wondering if Tequila Halee
ain’t gonna love me in the mornin’.”

“Now
don’t you worry your pretty little head over nothing like that,” she mocked.

Bright
lights flashed. Halee screamed and dove for the floor. They flashed again. J.D.
bolted from the car and stalked toward the photographer, adjusting his pants
over his painful erection. “Hand ‘em over, Chris,” he bellowed.

The
photographer held up both hands. “You’re not going to punch me, are you J.D?”

J.D.
towered over the photographer and locked eyes. “Erase the pictures.”

Chris
sighed and handed the digital camera to J.D. “Can’t I just keep one for
myself?”  He gazed longingly at the Porsche. “She’s the hottest girl I’ve ever
seen.”

“No.”
J.D. flipped through the menus and erased all but one. “You can keep the one of
me at the bar,” he said, handing the camera back. “The one where I don’t look
too drunk. I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “I’ll give you an exclusive interview.
Tomorrow morning, 10 A.M., Titan practice field.”

“Thanks,
J.D.”

“Now
get along, before I change my mind. Don’t follow us, neither.”

Chris
angled his head for one more glimpse of Halee before he got into his truck and
drove away.

J.D.
slid back in beside Halee and fired up the Porsche. “He’s always the first to
arrive. The others can’t be far behind. Let’s take a little drive.”

“You
should probably just take me home, J.D.,” she said, zipping her dress. “This is
a bad idea.”

He
raised his brows and glanced over her flushed body. “What happened to Tequila Halee?”

“She
sobered up.”

 “I’d
have liked to keep those pictures myself,” he said with a curl of his lips. “Warm
me up on a cold night.”

Halee
blushed.

J.D.
fastened his seat belt. “Can I show you something first?”        

Halee
hesitated. “Okay.”

J.D.
pulled the Porsche out on Michigan Avenue and headed for the lakefront. The
moon hung full overhead, reflecting over the black water of Lake Michigan in
ripples of gold. Halee closed her eyes and drank in the luscious aroma of
leather and man. The fresh air cleared her head of tequila residue, allowing
her to piece the events of the night together. She hadn’t expected to see J.D.,
but she was glad she had. Seeing him provided needed closure to many months of
self-pity and confusion. They had been so good together, the epitome of passion
and desire. She’d spent a full year wondering what she’d done to drive him
away. His kiss had purged all the self-doubt from her brain. They were still,
without reservation, the perfect match.

J.D.
steered onto a poorly lit road leading to the pier and slowed at the security
entrance.

“Mr.
Shaw.”  The guard acknowledged him with a nod and a smile. He glanced at Halee
and winked. “I heard the good news.”

“I
got tickets waiting for you in New York, Kenny. You better come see me.”

“Now
you know I never leave Chicago, Mr. Shaw.”

“There’s
a first time for everything, my man. Sam at home?”

“On
tour. Left you a key.”

“No
reporters, okay?” J.D. passed a folded fifty dollar bill into Kenny’s palm.

“You
got it.”

They
followed the narrow road between docks to the end of the pier. J.D. backed the
Porsche under a dark overhang and cut the engine. “Come on,” he said sliding
out and coming around the passenger side. He took Halee’s hand and led her
toward the far slip where a small sailboat named Lucky Sam drifted over the
water. “You’re not going to believe the stars out here,” he said, leading her up
the stairs to the deck.

She
dropped her head back to stare at the pitch black sky dotted with millions of
bright pins of white light and gasped, losing her footing in her jade high
heels. J.D. caught her at the waist and chuckled. “Here,” he said, reaching
down and slipping her shoes off one by one. She leaned against his powerful
frame, his face pressed against her thighs, stirring her blood once again. He
looked up and met her glazed expression.

This
was the moment Halee should have turned back. They’d had their kiss. The wrongs
had been righted. She could walk away with her head held high, knowing that he wanted
her. Maybe it was the stars, or the intimate way he slid the shoes from her
feet as though she were Cinderella at the ball, but all her senses were intoxicated,
floating any remnants of reason past the logic of her left brain and steering
her course straight into J.D.’s bed. Soft music filtered over the water from a
distant slip. J.D. took her into his arms and moved her slowly across the deck.
She leaned into his warm chest, breathed in the comforting aroma of soap and
leather and man, and closed her eyes, moving to the rhythm of the piano keys.

“If
this were a book,” she whispered, “I would call it
Introduction to Heaven
.”

“Hard
work has its rewards.”

“Do
you come here often?”

“As
often as Sam lets me.” J.D. kissed her softly. “Come with me.”

He
led her down several steps and flipped a switch, lighting up a small galley and
a deep bunk piled high with textured pillows and snowy white down comforters. Oil
paintings of dramatic landscapes and portraits awash with color covered every
wall. Under their feet, thick Persian carpets caressed Halee’s bare toes.

“Sam’s
got great taste,” said Halee.

“Sam’s
an artist,” said J.D. “Sings, dances, paints, sculpts, the works.” He slid
behind a corner bar. “Sam has tequila,” he said with a wag of his brows.

“Why
not? It is a special evening, after all.”

“Special?”

“Yes,
I mean since you won’t be in town much longer. I think a going away toast is in
order.”

J.D.
handed her a glass. "To good times. May they never end." He kissed
her on the cheek. “Follow me.”

He
gathered several pillows and draped a couple comforters over his wide shoulders
on his way to the deck. Halee took a big gulp of margarita, then chased it with
another and felt the slow burn of courage rise from her throat to her head. She’d
begun the night angry and determined to make J.D. pay for the way he’d treated
her, for scorning her love and inviting another woman into his bed. But now he
was headed for New York, for a new life that did not include her. She needed
this night to set things straight between them. Tonight she would show him the
mistake he’d made. Tonight she would imprint Halee McCarthy into his memory for
all time.

Arriving
at the top of the stairs, she gasped. J.D. had fashioned a plush bed on the
deck lit by candles and moonlight. He’d removed his jacket and shirt, and pulled
off his boots. The faint light danced off the etched muscles of his bare chest.
She took another shot of margarita and inched forward.

“I’m
feeling a little guilty.”

“Sam’s
a good friend,” said J.D. “Won’t mind a bit.”

“I’m
talking about your fiancé.”

“That
really hasn’t been finalized.”

“I
see,” said Halee, more confused than ever, but somehow pleased. “The contract
hasn’t been signed?”

“You
might say that.”

“So
we’re not hurting anyone.”

“Exactly.”
He moved closer, drawing her into his arms. “Music’s still playing,” he
whispered against her ear. His hips glanced hers, encouraging her to follow.
“Shame to let it go to waste.”

“The
man can dance,” she giggled. “He’s a sharp dresser, and he has classy friends.”

“You’re
surprised.”

“Mmm.”

“I
like surprising you.” He picked up the pace, shifting into a salsa rhythm,
leaning his forehead against hers and locking eyes as their hips rocked to the
beat. She met him every step of the way, laughing when he broke away to spin
her and then pulled her back against his broad chest. “Stay with me,” he said
in a low, sexy voice, leading her to the edge of the bed he had prepared. “Stay
the night.”

She
knelt down on the soft blankets and extended one hand in invitation. All the
demons had fled, replaced by an inebriating rush of freedom and desire. She
felt his warm lips on the palm of her hand, and then the heat of his body next
to hers as his kisses shifted to her neck, then her shoulders, then her arms,
trailing her dress as it fell from her body. The cool night air kissed her naked
skin, drowning her in rich sensation as his hands moved over every inch of her
flesh, exploring all he’d tried to forget but never could. He tasted like rain,
smelled like cut pine and grass under a summer sun. His overworked muscles
strained under smooth skin. She lingered at the shoulder he’d been protecting
all night, her lips softly soothing the pain she knew remained there.

“Halee,”
he murmured with appreciation, drinking in the full picture of her naked body
under the pale moonlight. He picked up a soft curl, working his fingers along
the edges is a quiet reverence, then ran both hands along the length of her
hair, caressing her scalp and drawing her upturned mouth toward his. “Beautiful
Halee.”