Curveball (12 page)

“We’re talking baseball,” Chaser told his date. “Rogues fell to the Red Sox, 5-1.”

“Oh.” The game didn’t hold as much interest for her as someone dying. Amber patted her hair, fiddled with her headband. “Win some, lose some.”

“Some get rained out,” Chaser and Jen said simultaneously.

He held Jen’s gaze for a dozen seconds before she looked away. An odd response from someone who’d once beat him at staring contests when they were kids. He’d always blinked first.

Repositioning his sunglasses, he focused on driving. It took fifty minutes to reach the model homes. Time passed slowly with Amber’s onesided telling of her new position as spokesperson for Size-down, a weight loss program that promoted protein shakes and granola bars.

“The shakes taste like raw eggs and the bars like tree bark,” Amber confessed. “But put me in an infomercial and I’d chew nails.”

Jen coughed from the backseat. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Chaser spotted her hands covering her mouth as she contained her laughter. He suddenly wanted to park the car, climb over the seat, and join her in the back.

He wanted them to laugh and tease and enjoy each other. He didn’t want her to overthink their heat.

“Look at those houses,” Amber gasped as they passed an empty guardhouse and followed flapping orange flags to a nicely wooded cul-de-sac. Here, three-story traditional brick homes were displayed on double lots. “Impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

“Could make for a good investment,” Chaser agreed.

“Maybe it’s time for you to move?” Amber suggested. “Your neighborhood is so
Leave It to Beaver.
”

Chaser restrained himself from giving his reasons for staying. They all centered on his friend, Jen. With his bank accountant, he had money enough to buy an entire suburb. Yet he liked living next to the Reids.

When Jen had moved to New York, her parents were just a jump over the hollyhocks. They’d kept him informed of her ballet performances. When Jen moved home after Big John’s death, he liked the fact that only a driveway separated them.

It had taken an unexpected kiss at the ballpark for him to see her as more than a friend. He wasn’t about to turn back now. He wanted to see where a second kiss might lead.

Before him, people swarmed the sidewalks. Cars jammed both sides of the roadway. Chaser circled the model homes twice before he found a place to park. Beside him, Amber fluttered with excitement. She’d jerked the door handle and left the car before he’d cut the engine. She gave him her beauty queen wave. “I’ll follow the signs and catch you inside.” She was soon lost in the stream of visitors.

Apparently model homes excited her more than having Chaser as her escort. He let Amber go.

Glancing back at Jen, he found her gazing out the window, her hair shadowing her face. Only the arc of one brow, the tip of her nose, and the point of her chin were visible to him.

Even in profile, she looked soft, desirable. He
had the urge to reach across the seat, brush her hair off her cheek, skim his fingers—

She turned to him suddenly, caught him staring.

Her eyes went wide, her lips parted softly.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

She hesitated a moment before saying, “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you were. I caught you looking in the rearview mirror. At least twenty times.”

It was probably more like thirty. “I was checking traffic.”

“I felt your eyes.”

He turned sideways, draped his arm over the seat. One corner of his mouth curved. “You were watching me watching you?”

She sucked in a breath. “Just…stop.”

He didn’t want to stop. She was easy on the eyes. He’d watched her all his life. They’d shared rattles and playpens. At age five, his G.I. Joe had declared war on her Barbie Dream House. Barbie had kicked Joe’s ass. He’d sat through her ballet lessons and volleyball practices and had taught her to drive.

Right after she’d moved to New York, he’d traveled to the city on several occasions. Her performances in
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
and
Sleeping Beauty
would live always in his memory. Jen was liquid grace.

Following the applause and backstage congratulations, he and Jen had snuck off for a late-night dinner at 21, New York’s most famous speakeasy.
The beautiful ballerina had more requests for autographs than the Rogue at her side.

Chaser had watched and admired the time Jen took with each fan. The thought of watching her for the rest of his life made sense. He wasn’t, however, sure Jen was ready for him.

Last evening in her kitchen, he’d cringed, embarrassed at his physical response to her closeness. This was a first for both of them. It would not be the last time electricity sparked between them. They’d be thrown together often during these double dates.

He nodded toward the model home. “Ready to go inside and meet Josh Burke?”

“More than ready.” Her relief was evident.

They walked up the sidewalk together. Lifted on the breeze, her gauzy skirt fanned out and flirted with his thigh. Jen jerked her skirt down, flattening the material against her own long legs.

A man jarred her shoulder at the crush near the front door of the first model home. Jen swayed sideways, and Chaser caught her shoulder. He was slow to release her.

She looked up at him.

He looked down at her.

Suddenly, every person pushing to get inside faded away. “You’re always there to catch me,” she said.

“I’d never let you fall.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “I know.”

The ornate oak door with its arched beveled window stood ajar. Jen preceded him into the
foyer. Voices drew them into the living room. Stark white and mirrored, the richly furnished room invited people to stand, not sit. Visitors skirted the white leather couch, gave a wide berth to the ivory baby grand piano.

Chaser found Josh Burke quoting preconstruction prices to a young couple. Spotting Chaser, Josh waved, wrapped up his conversation, then crossed to where he and Jen stood.

“Great to see you, Chaser.” Josh slapped him on the shoulder. “This must be Jen.”

Chaser watched as the two shook hands. He tried to see Josh through Jen’s eyes. A man of almost six feet, with curly brown hair and a lot of business hustle.

“Can I show you around?” Josh asked Jen.

“Go with him.” Chaser nudged her forward. “I need to find Amber.”

“Amber…” Josh pursed his lips.

“Miss Virginia 2003,” Jen supplied.

Josh nodded. “The lady with the tiara?”

“It’s actually a headband,” Jen corrected.

“I saw her. She snatched a brochure, then shot through the house like her shoes were on fire,” Josh remembered. “I think she left for the Stratton model next door.”

Chaser blew out a breath. Tracking his date could take a while. When he noticed Josh pressing his palm to Jen’s back and steering her toward the kitchen, he held back, wanting to keep an eye on the two of them.

Touching was allowed only in moderation.
He’d catch up with Amber when she came full circle.

Chaser wandered the first model, then the second, falling back among the visitors so as not to appear more interested in Jen than in the Parade of Homes. She seemed to be enjoying herself. Smiling, conversing, showing interest in the designs and furnishings. She took a long time in each kitchen, studying the granite countertops, the raised panel cupboards and double ovens.

Chaser moved closer in the third model, eavesdropping as Josh exposed floor plans, price ranges, and the occasional comment on how attractive Jen was.

“Have dinner with me,” Josh requested.

As if sensing that Chaser was near, Jen scanned the game room. She found him by the billiard table. “Dinner?” she mouthed.

Chaser wound around the table and joined them. “Team meeting tonight. I’m tied up.”

“I’ll see you home,” Josh told Jen.

Jen looked at Chaser, then back at Josh. “I’d like that.”

Chaser wasn’t the least bit happy. Although he’d lined them up, he hadn’t expected them to go off alone. He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from insisting that Jen return with him. Josh was a decent guy. Chaser had promised Jen an opportunity to date. He backed off.

“Chaser, there you are!” Amber Parrish flew across the game room to his side. “I’ve seen all the homes and am ready to go.”

“Not before Chaser and I have time to talk business,” Josh said. “He needs to invest before the prices skyrocket.”

Chaser slid his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “Fax the specs to my financial adviser. We’ll meet with you in a week or two.”

Amber gave Jen and Josh a beauty queen wave, then took Chaser’s arm and tugged him to the car. Chaser turned up the radio a little higher on the drive home, but Amber only raised her voice to be heard over the music.

He dropped Amber off at her condo, without a promise to see her again. He then headed to James River Stadium for the team meeting.

The meeting ran late. Team captain Risk Kincaid had delivered a long and hard-hitting speech about sportsmanship and the need to pull together. The Bat Pack would soon be returning to the lineup, and he wanted everyone to get their heads out of their asses and play World Series ball.

Despite Risk’s speech tension filled the locker room. Shouting, name-calling, and clenched fists followed. Chaser had grabbed Psycho by the shoulder and blocked a second confrontation with Chris Collier.

Psycho’s backstreet attitude didn’t mix with Collier’s country club views. The men came from two different worlds.

In Chaser’s mind, it was time to play ball. Serious ball. He’d told Psycho to take his temper out
on the opposing team once they hit the field again.

Psycho had settled, for the moment. Chaser understood his friend’s restlessness and need for physical release. Every nerve-ending in Chaser’s body longed to be behind home plate.

After the meeting, he grabbed a beer with Psycho and Romeo, then headed home. He pulled into his driveway the exact moment Josh delivered Jen home.

Chaser took his time getting out of the GTO. Removing his sunglasses, he stared in the sideview mirror, trying to catch their good-night kiss.

In the yellow glow of the porch light, their heads came together and their lips locked. For longer than he liked. He took several deep breaths.

A good ten minutes passed before Jen exited Josh’s car. The man must be doing well to be driving a Bentley, Chaser thought. Jen waved Josh off, then walked straight to his GTO.

Poking her head inside the driver’s window, she raised a brow. “Spying on me?”

“I was listening to the end of a song on the radio.”

“Your radio’s off.”

“It was on a moment ago.”

Her expression showed she didn’t believe him. “How was the meeting?”

“Long, productive. How was Burke’s goodnight kiss?”

“Short. He banged his knee on the steering wheel. The romance was lost.”

“Plans for a second date?”

“Not enough chemistry.”

Chaser patted the seat beside him. “Sit with me, Legs.”

He caught her hesitation before she rounded the hood and climbed in beside him. She hugged the passenger door.

They both sat quietly, until Chaser snagged her wrist, tugging her across the front seat until their hips bumped. “You’ve never been afraid to sit by me before.”

“I’m not afraid now.”

She damn sure was. She’d crossed her legs so their thighs wouldn’t touch. He didn’t want her afraid of him, so he took her back in time. “How often have we sat in my car and shot the breeze?”

Her smile broke in memory. “Too many times to count. In high school, Big John used to tap on the car windshield. He wanted to make sure we weren’t fooling around.”

“Maybe he saw something we didn’t.”

“Dad caught our ‘practice kiss,’ when we were sixteen and inexperienced,” she reminded him. “We bumped heads, laughed it off, remember?”

He remembered, all right. He’d found humor in their fumbling until Big John slammed his palm against the car window and called Chaser out. He’d nearly wet his pants. Her father’s glare had sent him hurtling over the hollyhocks, scared shitless.

While his forehead had merely bruised, Jen had sported a bump just above her right eye for
an entire week. He’d felt she was off limits ever since.

“I’m better at kissing now,” he told her.

Her lashes swept down, hiding her eyes. “I bet you are.”

Silence, heavy and thick as foreplay, settled between them. Jen wet her lips, then slowly slid her hand from Chaser’s hold. He hadn’t realized his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist. Nor was he aware he was drawing small, smooth circles over her pulse-point with his thumb.

It had all felt natural. As if he’d done it a thousand times. A lover’s touch. Gentle, yet possessive.

Turning slightly, Chaser found his lips a mere half inch from her mouth. Her breath tickled his chin. The scent of her perfume wafted to him, fresh and floral, and utterly feminine.

Anticipation spiked.

And pleasure slammed his chest.

His body hummed, and his hands itched to touch her.

Yet he held back. Endless seconds passed as he debated kissing her. This was Jen, his very best friend.

She swallowed, her lashes lifted, and trust darkened her eyes. She trusted him, yet he didn’t trust himself. Their unexpected kiss at the ballpark had turned him inside out and he wanted to taste her again. Really taste her, when they had all the time in the world. He wanted more than steamed-up windows and fumbling with their clothes on the front seat of his GTO.

He fell back against the seat, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. Got his body under control. “I’ve planned a second double date,” he finally managed.

“Thanks for consulting me,” Jen muttered as she slid across the seat and pulled on the car door handle, ready to leave.

“Mike Sutton owns a Cadillac dealership,” Chaser said to her back. “I’ve got tickets for Saturday’s Jazz on the Green.”

“I love jazz.”

That was why he’d gotten the tickets.

She turned slightly. “Your date?”