Fielder's Choice (13 page)

They walked toward the piers jutting out from the waterfront park.

“There’s a bench—want to sit? You’ve been on your feet for the best part of three hours.”

“More like five,” he said as he eased onto the bench and set the bear between them. “It didn’t help that Donovan ran up a hundred-and-forty-pitch outing.”

“Or that you had two steals in four innings. Must be hard on the body.”

“Depends on the body.”

She was pretty sure his remark wasn’t meant to be provocative, but she couldn’t help but think about his body. No man she’d met had ever packed so much muscle and grace into such a tight, tall package.

An awkward silence settled, and her brain started running questions to break it.

Peel the onion
, she reminded herself, don’t stab it with a paring knife. Getting to know someone new was like peeling an onion, one thin layer at a time. She knew better than to go too far, too fast. Her straightforward manner, her ease in interviewing people, had served her well when she’d had a college radio show, but she’d since learned that it put even the most extroverted people off at first, especially men.

Besides, it would be foolish to cruise deeper waters if she didn’t really want to know what swam in them. A guy didn’t have his wife die on him and end up with a demanding job in the public eye
and
a motherless six-year-old without having a few mines just waiting to explode. She was pretty sure there were plenty of obstacles bobbing just under the surface.

But it wasn’t like she could ask him about his workday—she’d just watched him on the field— and questions about the rest of his day would seem like probing.

“He’ll need a name,” Matt said, nudging the bear.

“You pick one. I’m just awful at naming things. I once named a dog Sneezy.”

Matt gave the bear a mock-serious stare. “Then you, my young bear, are lucky to have me doing the honors.” He sat back against the bench and took a long, deep breath. “I’m thinking.”

The lights of the city reflected on the water in the bay, and the scent of seaweed and salty water mingled with the acrid smell of creosote on wood.

“Piers smell like times gone by,” Alana said. “The way the past might smell if it had a scent. Times before the Internet and cellphones and instant this and that.”

Head cocked, Matt studied her.

“I hadn’t thought much about scent and time. Never put the two together.” He looked out over the water. “I’ve never been to a carnival on a bay; it seems odd. Usually they’re on sites that sport hay bales and cornfields and grass.” He tapped the pier with his foot. “You could call the bear Piers. It’ll remind you of where you got him.”

She wasn’t going to need much reminding. She’d remember this first date with Matt for a long time.

Outlined against the skyline of the city, with the light from a nearby street lamp highlighting his rugged jawline and illuminating his eyes, Matt was just about the most gorgeous man Alana had met. Already her imagination was filling in the blanks with steamy images of them in her bed. She tried to rein in her thoughts, but the images streamed on in spite of her efforts. Keeping a lid on her heart wasn’t going to be easy either. What she felt when she thought of Matt was different from what she typically felt at the beginning of a new affair. She didn’t understand the difference, but she certainly recognized it in her body and in her mind.

Matt nodded toward the bay. “I’m learning to love this city.” He shifted to face her. “Where’s your favorite place?”

That was a loaded question right now, but he couldn’t know that.

“Do I have to be honest?”

“I find it helps.”

“Paris. Or maybe Rome,” she added. “It’s hard to choose. Sometimes Rome can be overwhelming with all the traffic and tourists, but I find it lovely in the off-season. But Paris has a way of sneaking into my heart. Maybe I just know Paris better.”

“I’ve only been there once. I took a mad two-week trip to Europe after my senior year in high school. My buddy and I were there for maybe ten hours before we hopped the next train and headed for Munich. I think it was the German beer trumping wine and art galleries. We were young and stupid and always looking for the next great thing, rarely seeing what was right in front of us.”

“You never wanted to go back?”

“Not much baseball played in Paris,” he said with a grin.

God, she loved that grin. It melted a path through her and made it hard to tell if she was horny or if Matt just pushed all the right buttons, some of which had never been pushed before. It struck her then—if she’d never been in love, how would she know when she felt it?

And then she wondered why she was pairing Matt and love in the same moment.

She might like the grin, but now was no time to be thinking about love. But sex? Thinking about sex was another matter entirely.

“My life’s been pretty focused around baseball,” Matt went on. “And Sophie.”

Sophie
. Right. He said the child’s name so casually that Alana knew without a doubt that the two of them came as a very tight package, just as it should be. In a perfect world parents would give attention to their children. Hers sure hadn’t.

“Do you have siblings?”

Matt’s question surprised her. But she was glad for the break in the tension. She poked the bear’s belly. “Have you been reading the top ten questions to ask on a date?”

As soon as she said the word date, she wished she hadn’t. Some words fenced moments in, made them feel like something they weren’t. But it was a date. And suddenly she felt as awkward as a teenager. The thumping of her pulse didn’t help.

“If I’d known there was such a thing to bone up on, I’d have a better question.” He sat the bear down on the pier and slid the tiniest bit closer to her. “Something like
what is your wildest dream
?”

Earnest. That was the quality she’d tried to nail down about Matt. He was earnest. Handsome, sexy and earnest. And funny. Killer combination.

“I have two brothers,” Alana answered, avoiding the wildest-dream prompt. “Pesky, fabulous brothers. Damien’s a wildlife biologist working in Patagonia. And much to my parents’ disdain, my other brother, Simon, has taken up farming.”

“I have little in common with my sister,” Matt said. “You’re lucky to share a passion with one of your brothers.”

It was certainly no time to tell him that the ranch wasn’t her passion. Matt caught her in his unwavering glance. If the sped-up throb of her pulse was any indication, her passion was transforming in that very moment. Damn him, he pushed buttons she hadn’t programmed. It was hard to be ready for something she hadn’t known was headed her way. He was the right sort of guy but in an exasperating and very wrong situation.

She slid her gaze to her watch; maybe he wouldn’t know she couldn’t see its face in the dim light. “We’d better get back. Jackie’s a fast eater.”

They stood and bumped arms as they both reached for the bear.

“Hey, toting Piers is
my
assigned job, remember?” Matt smirked. “I’m practicing for my postbaseball career.”

The gang was waiting for them back at the ring toss.

“You missed out,” Scotty said. “Gotta love food you can eat with your fingers.”

“He eats everything with his fingers,” Chloe said. “I drew the line at soup.”

“Time for the Ferris wheel,” Jackie said. She grabbed Alex’s hand and beelined for the festively lit ride.

“Outside seat,” Scotty said as he took Chloe’s arm. He looked back to where Matt stood with Alana. “You guys coming?”

“Not me,” Matt said. “I don’t go more than ten feet off the ground unless I’m belted in and there’s a pilot.” He turned to Alana. “I’ll wait for you.”

“I don’t like heights. I made it to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but I nearly passed out on the way up.
Twice
.”

She didn’t miss the sly smile Jackie shot at her. Or the steamy look in Matt’s eyes.

The Ferris wheel churned its gears and lifted their friends into the air. Jackie leaned over the rail of her seat. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she called out, gloating. “The city’s beautiful from up here.”

“I’m told she has absolutely no sense of danger,” Matt said as he stepped toward Alana.

He slipped his fingers down and took her hand. Her body sizzled with immediate want. She’d wanted him to touch her all night but had felt oddly shy about making the first move.

“There’s a peaceful spot a mere ten steps away,” Matt said, his lips brushing the tip of her ear. “No danger there.”

Alana wasn’t so sure. But she let him tug her into the shadows behind the nearby ticket kiosk. He dropped the bear to the ground and pulled her to him.

“The guy at the game booth said I could claim any prize I wanted,” he said with a velvety murmur.

Any thoughts she had about danger or kids or windmills evaporated in the heat of his plundering kiss.

This kiss was different from the first one under the olive tree.
That
one had been unplanned, she was pretty sure. This kiss had intention and hunger branded all over it. It was like one of those kisses you read about in fairy tales—but Alana had never imagined that such a kiss could cause bone-trembling shivers as well as bliss. She’d never considered the downside of the awakening kiss, of how the princess felt when the hero tore through the thorns or scaled the tower and speared heat and sex and life-changing energy into the princess’s world.

But it was her own response that astonished her. She dug her fingers into his back, as if holding onto him was all that pinned her to life. Her body throbbed, and her pulse pounded in her ears, keeping an odd, out-of-synch rhythm with the clanging of the Ferris wheel, the screams of the riders and the tinny music of the distant rides. But as she opened deeper to his probing kiss and his hands cupped her bottom, those sounds fell away. Her only awareness was of the pounding of Matt’s heart against hers and the sound of his breathing mingling with hers and a driving desire to have him inside her, to lose herself in the wave of ecstasy that he’d summoned.

He spread his palms along her bottom and pulled her up to straddle his thigh. Was it her imagination or could she feel the heat of his palms through her jeans and all the way into her core? His erection throbbed against her, and the pulse of him spiked a thrill of wild abandon through her body. Consequences be damned, she wanted this man, wanted to feel more of the intoxicating power he’d unleashed. She molded her body tightly to his and felt his breath hitch. She thrust her tongue to meet his and grabbed at his shoulders, her fingers gripping hard muscle so she could lever her leg and stroke the length of his erection, slowly, intentionally, mercilessly, with the inner part of her thigh. He groaned and pressed her back. The rippled metal wall of the kiosk pressed into her shoulder blades as he balanced her on his leg and freed one hand. The cold metal forced a delicious contrast to the heat of his hand as he slid it under her blouse and raked it along her ribs. His cupped her breast, and his fingers rolled her nipple through the thin lace of her bra. She moaned into his lips, and she was sure she felt him smile in his kiss. He pinched her nipple, deepening the probing of his tongue, and the teetering balance of pleasure and pain sent a shock of orgasm flying through her. She arched into him, barely able to control the force rippling in her body. He braced her with his forearm and mercilessly rolled her nipple again, swallowing her cry with his lips. She dragged her hand down and gripped his erection through his trousers, running her thumb across the fabric covering the hood of flesh topping his throbbing shaft.

He groaned and broke the kiss, pulling her hand away. “No, Alana.” He grasped her waist and lowered her to the ground. “Not here. Not like this.”

He had to be kidding. But his protest was enough to bring her back, to sharpen her awareness of the clanging sounds of the carnival and the rasping sound of her breath against his chest.

He leaned down and touched his lips to hers in a tender kiss. The surprising sweetness was nearly more than she could bear. She ran her hands into his hair and pulled him harder against her mouth. She felt him fighting for control, and the power of his response was like a drug injected directly into her core. Never had she wanted any man as she wanted this one.

Matt reached behind his neck and took hold of her hands, nipping another of his sweet, gentle kisses to her lips as he did. He pulled her hands down and held them as he kissed her on the nose and pulled away from her.

“I think a real date is in order,” he said as he let go of her hands.

Even in the dim light she could see he wasn’t smiling. She could tell from his labored breathing and the throbbing pulse in the veins of his neck that it was all he could do to control himself.

“You crying uncle?” she said, still nearly breathless.

“Beyond uncle.” He smiled then, and she reached for him. He circled her wrist with his fingers and pulled her arm down to her side. That he could control the movement of her entire arm with a thumb and two fingers was an erotic thrill. But he was right: this was a public carnival and he was a celebrity. What she had in mind to do with him had best be done behind closed doors.

“A real date it is then,” Alana conceded.

“The lady is merciful,” he said with a half smile.

“Don’t count on it,” she said as she straightened her blouse.

As he leaned down to pick up the bear, the sound of Beethoven’s seventh sounded from his back pocket. He balanced the bear on his hip and reached for his phone.

“Babysitter ringtone,” he said almost sheepishly. “Must be midnight.”

She watched as he tapped out a message.

Her would-be lover hadn’t turned into a pumpkin, but he had morphed back into a dad. Still, he’d rocked her and though she heard the bells of warning, she agreed to a date when he returned from his road trip.

The moon blazed a trail of silver light along the hillsides as Alana turned up the drive to the ranch. She pulled up next to the house and turned off her car. A breeze stirred and made the leaves of the olive trees dance in the moonlight like minnows flashing in a pond. She ran her finger over her lips, remembering the heart-stopping power of Matt’s kiss and the mind-blowing feel of his body against hers. He’d blazed through to a place she’d kept guarded for longer than she could remember. Maybe to a place she’d never known.