Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball) (13 page)

Doyle grinned and
nodded. “The Mustangs version of hazing. Trick the new guy into going to the
most boring dinner of the year.” He inclined his head toward the man of the
hour. “No offense intended, Jason.”

“None taken,” he
assured.

“I was happy to
help,” Tony said.
Even happier that you brought Clare.
“I just hope
Jeff’s baby is all right.”

“She’ll be fine,”
Carrie, Jason’s wife said to the table at large. “Megan said she thought Amy
was teething, but with the flu going around, she didn’t want to take any
chances.” She turned to the newcomers. “Clare, it’s so good to see you. You
look marvelous tonight.”

She accepted the
compliment with ease, and the conversation around the table turned to the
recent flu outbreak and plans for the upcoming holiday season.

Tony couldn’t take
his eyes off her. He’d spent the last week wrestling with memories and inappropriate
thoughts and dreams starring her. Images of her on the deck of the boat,
wearing nothing but the night sky haunted him, and here she was, sitting across
from him, draped in midnight blue velvet and stars. Soft lighting in the room
cast her in moonlight.

If he didn’t know
better, he would have thought she’d worn the dress with the express purpose of
driving him insane. He felt like the deck was shifting under him. But who was
he kidding? He hadn’t been on solid ground since the first time he saw her.
She’d walked into the ballroom a few weeks ago and he’d been drunk on lust and
love ever since.

The conversation
swirled around him. Her voice was the only one he heard. “Everyone knows
someone who has it.”

“I hope so, too.”

“I’d love to go
shopping. When?”

“No, I have a
class on Wednesday. Would Thursday work?”

“It’s a date.”

“Will you excuse
me?” She scooted her chair back.

Tony was halfway
out of his chair when Doyle’s voice cut through the fog in his brain.

“Tony, what are
you doing for Thanksgiving? Visiting relatives in New York?”

He lowered his
butt back to the seat. His gaze never wavered from Clare’s swaying backside
weaving through the ballroom.
Mine.
She disappeared through the door,
and he turned his attention back to the man who could make or break his career.
He couldn’t afford to alienate him.

“No, sir. I have
some business to take care of here, so I’m afraid there won’t be enough time to
make the trip.”

“We’re having a
big gathering, mostly family and a few friends. You should join us.”

“Thanks. I would
enjoy that.” He pushed his chair back again. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Making his way to
the exit, he ignored several shout outs to get him to stop and talk. Reaching
the door, he stepped out and saw her across the lobby. “Clare!”

She stopped in
front of the ladies room, turned, and waited for him to catch up. She glanced
around. “Where’s your walking stick?”

It took him a
second to figure out what she was talking about then it registered and he
laughed. “You mean What’s-her-name. She’s back at the table. I wanted to talk
to you.”

“You don’t know
her name?”

He shook his head.
“No. It’s something like Pia, Pea. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know who I am
either. I needed someone on short notice to occupy a seat. My publicist found
her.” The hurt in her eyes made his heart ache. He looked at his toes. “I
should have called you, but….”

“No.” Her voice
held a finality that broke his heart and confirmed his earlier thoughts. She
wouldn’t have picked up the phone, but at least she would know he had tried.
Shit. He’d swung and missed again.

“What did you want
to talk to me about?”

“How are you? I’ve
missed you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look more
than fine. You’re stunning tonight.” He caught a whiff of her perfume, floral
with a hint of something sensual that reminded him of moonlight on her skin and
made his fingers itch to touch her.

“Thank you. Now,
if you’ll excuse me.” She turned, flattened her palm on the ladies room door.

“Who was that
woman? The one you stopped to talk to on the way in tonight?”

Her shoulders
tensed for a second then, as if she made a conscious effort to relax them, they
dropped back into place.

“Is she the one
you told me about? The one with the charm?”

“There’s nothing
charming about her.” She pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

Tony waited,
staring at the door until she reappeared. She stopped when she saw him.
Stunning didn’t come close to describing the way she looked, but on closer
inspection, her eyes hinted at weariness.

“What do you want,
Antonio?” She folded her arms across her middle and glared at him as if he were
a pesky child.

“Are you okay? You
look tired.”

“Remind me to stay
out of ladies restrooms. Before I went in I was stunning.”

He smiled. At
least she still had a sense of humor. “You’re still stunning. I wasn’t
criticizing, just observing.”

“I have a
headache,” she admitted.

“Let me take you
home.”

“No. Doyle will
take me home as soon as the awards are over.”

“Then let me
escort you back in.”

“That isn’t
necessary. I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

He’d never had to
work so hard to get close to a woman in his life. Enough was enough. He took
her hand, wrapped her fingers over his forearm. “I never said you weren’t.”
Steering her toward the ballroom, he said, “Let me do this for you.”

Pausing inside the
door, he let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting before threading their way
through the tables. He made sure to follow the same route she’d taken when she
arrived. He slipped his arm down and around her waist, pulling her snug against
his hip. She squirmed, but he tightened his grip, and she had little choice but
to wrap her arm around his waist as well.

“Trust me,” he
whispered in her ear. “And whatever you do, don’t hit me.”

Before she could
ask what the hell he meant, he dipped his head and nipped her on the neck. She
gasped, and he swung her around so they were face to face. Her arms
automatically came up to drape around his neck.
Perfect.

Hands on her hips,
he walked her backward through the crowded room. “I could just eat you up.” He
made sure his voice carried at just the right moment.

“Antonio,” she
hissed.

“Shh,” he nuzzled
her neck. Damn, he could get drunk on her scent. “Babe, let’s go somewhere we
can be alone.”

He held her close,
gazed into her eyes, imploring her to go along.

“Clare. Darling.” The
woman’s voice held a hint of malice that set Tony’s teeth on edge.

Clare tensed from
head to toe. He held her gaze.

“Come with me,” he
begged, infusing the plea with as much sexual innuendo as he could muster.

She nodded. “I’d
like that, Tony. My place or yours?”

He grinned.
Tony
.
She never called him that. She understood the game he was playing.
Good
girl.

“Come on,” he
turned her, laced their fingers together, and tugged her toward their table.
“Let’s get your things and say our goodbye’s.”

Chapter
Fourteen

“Doyle.” She tapped her uncle on the shoulder to get
his attention. “I have a headache. Antonio is going to give me a ride home.”

Her uncle stood.
“I can take you.”

“No. Stay. We
can’t all abandon Jason on his special night.” She turned to the award winner.
“Forgive me. I really wish I could stay….”

“Think nothing of
it,” Jason said with a smile. “I’d be out of here, too, if I thought I could
get away with it.”

Clare made her
apologies around the table. While they’d been in the lobby, Antonio’s date had
abandoned him for a sit-com celebrity at another table. Antonio informed her he
was leaving, and she waved him away.

He returned,
wrapped his arm around Clare’s waist.

Doyle kissed her
on the cheek. “Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you feel better soon.”

“I will. Enjoy
your evening.”

“Tony, thanks for
taking Clare home. I’ll be in touch about Thanksgiving.”

She opened her
mouth to ask what he meant, but Antonio ushered her away before she uttered the
first word.

“Later,” he
whispered near her ear. “Smile.”

Clare plastered on
her best smile. Heads turned as they passed, and she sensed the scrutiny of
dozens of pairs of eyes watching them leave together. When they passed Jessica’
s table, Antonio tightened his hold on her and said loud enough for half the
ballroom to hear, “I can’t wait to get you home.”

Her face flushed
with heat.
Oh Lord.
What did he think he was doing?

“Clare, oh, Clare!” Jessica’s voice rose over the
background music, sounding like a crazed fan trying to get the attention of a
rock star.

“Ignore her,”
Antonio said. “And smile.” His hand on the small of her back dipped lower and
took liberties with her left cheek. Being eye-level with everyone they passed,
the move would have been hard to miss.

She smiled all the
way to the elevator and, once inside, loosened the lid on her temper.
“Thanksgiving? Are you kidding me?”

He punched the
button for the parking garage. “Doyle invited me to spend Thanksgiving at his
house.”

This could not be
happening. What had her uncle been thinking? “Aren’t you going to New York to
see your family?”

“Not for
Thanksgiving. I’ll make the trip closer to Christmas when I’ll have more time.”
The doors swooshed open, and he stuck his arm out to hold them open for her.

She stomped out of
the elevator and turned left, putting distance between them before she exploded
in tears. How was she ever going to forget about Antonio if he kept popping up
in her life? All week she’d battled memories of time spent with him. She
couldn’t set foot in her office without remembering the day he’d come to see
her. It had become impossible to work at her desk without memories rushing in,
taking over her thoughts. Midweek, she’d posted a note on the door, directing
students to find her in the library during office hours.

The move hadn’t
quite done the trick. Thoughts of Antonio decreased from constant to barely
every three minutes. She had hoped tonight would provide enough distraction to
take her mind off the insufferable man, but noooo. He had to show up at the
Press Association dinner, too. And now he would be at their family Thanksgiving
dinner? Not that he knew she was family. She went to great pains to keep her
relationship to team management quiet. The last thing she needed was reporters
hunting her up in hopes of getting inside information.

She stopped,
looked around at the expanse of vehicles, and realized she had no freakin’ idea
where she was going. “Where’s your car?”

Silence.

She turned.
Antonio stood in front of the elevators. He pointed in the opposite direction.

Well, shit.

She stalked back
to where she’d begun. He smirked and headed toward the back of the garage.
Clare closed her eyes and prayed for patience. He was driving her insane. She
took a deep breath, let it out, and followed him.

He slid behind the
wheel of a brand new SUV and waited until she’d buckled her seatbelt before he
started the engine.

“I’m not going to
New York for Thanksgiving,” he said, pulling out of the garage. “I have things
to do here, and with the short holiday and the probability of bad weather interfering
with travel plans, I thought I’d skip this one. Doyle was only being nice.”

It was nice, and
just like her uncle to open his home to a lonely single guy during the
holidays. She huffed out a noncommittal breath.

“I take it you
plan to be there, too?”

“I was thinking
about it.”

She saw him nod
out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll decline the invitation if you want me to.”

How small would
that make her seem? “No. It’s a big house.”

“You really want
to be like that woman?”

The change of
subject caught her off guard, and she snapped her head around to look at him.
“Huh?”

“The woman who
earned the charm. You really want to be like
her
?”

“Jessica. Do you
know her?”

He shook his head.
“Never saw her before in my life. Can’t say I want to see her again, either.”

She turned her
gaze back to the mostly empty downtown streets. For some reason, she was
ridiculously happy Antonio hadn’t been one of the Bases Loaded members who’d
bestowed the coveted charm on Jessica. She didn’t think she could bear it if he
had been. The idea of him being with that witch made her sick to her stomach.
Anyone but Jessica.

“You’re better
than her, Clare, and more beautiful.”

She had no
comeback, so the comment hung in the air between them until he stopped the SUV
in front of her apartment complex.

“Back to the
silent treatment?”

“We’ve got nothing
more to discuss,” she said, reaching for the door latch.

“Hold on a
minute.” He opened his door and came around to her side to help her out of the
car.

She headed up the
walk toward her apartment, and he fell in step beside her. She put the key in
the lock and turned the knob.

“Clare….”

“Go away.” She
stepped inside, turned to shut the door, and bumped into a wall of muscle.

Antonio had
followed her inside. He closed the door and leaned against it. “We need to
talk.”

“I wasn’t lying. I
do have a headache.” The convenient excuse was a reality, thanks to seeing
Jessica. The woman always played nice until she lured her prey close enough to
pounce. When would she learn to stay on her toes at the kind of functions the
witch attended? Jessica’s comment about the age of her date had seemed innocent
enough, but knowing the witch’s methods, she understood there would be more
sharp barbs later—when she got her alone.

She hated she
couldn’t respond the way she wanted to, but announcing she was doing her uncle
a favor in the middle of a ballroom full of sports reporters would have done
more damage to her peace of mind than enduring whatever Jessica had in mind for
her in the future. So, she’d accepted the thinly veiled insult with as much
dignity as possible and tried not to let it ruin her evening.

Then she’d come
face-to-face with Antonio.

She set her purse
on the small table behind the door and tossed her keys beside it. “I’m going to
take something for my headache and get out of this dress. When I come back, I
expect you to be gone.”

He wasn’t going to
leave, but that knowledge didn’t keep her from straining her ears listening for
the sound of her front door opening and closing. No such luck. She downed a
couple of painkillers and after carefully hanging her new dress in the closet,
donned her favorite sweatpants and an oversized Mustangs shirt, butter-soft
from thousands of washings. To complete her look, she put on fuzzy, bunny
rabbit slippers. A glance at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the
back of her closet door confirmed her intention. “Nothing sexy or inviting
about this look,” she murmured.

She peeked around
the corner. He had made himself at home on her sofa, and even though she hadn’t
exactly invited him in, it wasn’t every day a drop-dead gorgeous, tuxedo-clad
male graced her home. She took a moment to admire the view and wrestle her body
under control. Her head pounded in tandem with her heartbeat, and damned if her
heart wasn’t beating like a tribal drum. She was so hot for him it was a wonder
smoke signals weren’t coming from her ears.

A soda can sat on
the coffee table in front of him, and he had found the remote. Short snippets
of sound confirmed his channel surfing. Other than the tuxedo thing, and the
fact he had the appearance of a god, he was an ordinary guy. He lifted the soda
and brought it to his lips.

She stepped into
the room and time stood still. Antonio froze in the process of sipping his
drink. He gazed at her over the top of the drink. Her knees trembled under his
scrutiny, and suddenly the armor she’d donned seemed more like the fabled
emperor’s clothes. It was as if he could see right through them.

He set the can on
the table and unfolded from the sofa without taking his eyes off her. He
sidestepped around the coffee table and closed the distance between them in two
steps. Her bunny slippers were glued to the floor as if mesmerized by the
approach of the big bad wolf and helpless to get away.

He stopped in
front of her.

“Still have a
headache?”

She nodded,
unwilling to trust her voice.

He reached for her
hand. His touch was gentle and like tinder to the fire smoldering inside her.
He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand and sparks flew.

“Come here,” he
said. “Let me make it go away.” His voice was low, seductive, hypnotic. How
else had she ended up on the sofa with her bottom within the V of his thighs?
The thick ridge of his erection pressed against her hip, sending flames of
desire licking up her side like a forest fire climbing the trunk of a tree.

“Relax.” He
wrapped one arm around her shoulders and tucked her up against him.

The soft fabric of
his jacket was cool against her cheek. She inhaled deeply and felt drunk on his
scent.

“Did you think
this getup would send me running?” He held her close with one hand while the
other stroked along her leg from hip to bunny slipper.

“It isn’t working,
is it?”

“Nope.” He flicked
a bunny ear. “Those are the sexiest slippers I’ve ever seen. You know what they
say about rabbits, right?”

She’d made a
tactical error, obviously.

“And the way these
sweatpants mold to your curves.” He helped them along, tracing the outline of
her leg beneath the worn fabric. “And this shirt? You couldn’t have seduced me
better with lace and see-through fabric.”

His hand slid
beneath the hem of her shirt. “And I don’t need x-ray vision to know you aren’t
wearing anything under it.”

His hand found
bare skin then burned its way up to cover her breast. She melted into a puddle
of sensitized goo under his expert touch.

“So soft.” He
massaged the mass with the grace of a baker preparing a delicate pastry. His
gentle handling brought tears to her closed eyes. “Your breasts are beautiful.
Just touching them makes me feel like a man. It’s humbling.” He rested his
cheek against the top of her head. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

He didn’t know
what he did to
her
. Or perhaps he did because he certainly knew
what
to do to her. Every touch, every caress tugged on her heartstrings, tangling
her up in a knot of want and longing and need. Her assessment days ago that she
was nothing more than a passing fancy for him didn’t hold up against his
continued interest in being with her.

Maybe, if she
wished hard enough, her dreams would come true. Maybe he could love her the way
she loved him—with every fiber of her being, with everything she was and ever
would be.

He brushed a thumb
over one nipple until it grew hard and tight and made her ache for more. She
pressed her thighs together to ease the throbbing there.

“How’s your
headache?”

“Better.” Almost
gone, she realized.

“Do you trust me?”

He might be a rat
about other things, but he’d proven many times over she could trust him with
her body. She nodded her answer, praying he would fill all her empty places.

His hand abandoned
her breast and burrowed past the waistband of her sweats. “Let me take care of
you,” he crooned. His fingers crept lower, parted her cleft, and found the
secret button that made her thighs fall open. “That’s it, babe.”

His fingers
explored further, finding the embarrassing evidence of her need.

“You’re so wet for
me. I love the way your body does that.” He closed his palm over her sex. “Can
you tell? Your lips plump up and you get all juicy like a ripe peach. It drives
me insane wanting you, wanting to shove my cock inside you.”

She groaned and
clutched at his lapel, crumpling the expensive fabric in her grip. No wonder
he’d won four Golden Glove awards, the man had magic fingers. They stroked and
played and teased at her tender flesh while his words strummed every raw nerve
ending in her brain and the tangled strings of her heart.

Unable to remain
still, she writhed against his hand, demanding more. Her silent plea did not go
unheeded.

Antonio pressed
the heel of his hand against her mound, applying firm but gentle pressure that
helped alleviate some of her need but only increased it in other places.

“Please,” she
whispered into his collar. “Please, Antonio.”

Two digits rimmed
her vaginal opening. “Shh.” He spread her natural moisture over her aching
flesh. “I’ll always take care of you.”

One long, callused
finger entered her. She cried out, and her pussy clamped around the digit. Her
hips rose, taking all she could inside her.