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She swung.
There was a sharp crack that was so foreign in its loudness that she didn’t realize exactly what had happened until she heard someone yell run.
Probably Emma, judging by the manic intensity of the shout.
Riley sprinted toward first, and although she wasn’t sporty like Emma or a runner like Julie, her days as a high school midfielder kicked in and she made it to first base just seconds before the ball thumped into Jason Kendall’s mitt.
She barely heard Jason’s good-natured curse over the cheering coming from the Stiletto dugout, and then Riley knew that Julie and Emma had both scored.
The Stiletto team had won.
And indifferent to softball or not, that felt good.
Riley let out a whoop and entered a hopping, squealing girl-hug with Julie and Emma.
“That was clutch!” Emma yelled in her ear.
“Quit speaking sports nerd to me!” Riley hollered back, seconds before a shrieking Grace joined the hug, followed by the rest of the Stiletto staff.
When the mob finally broke apart, Riley started to go over to Jake to rub it in just a little but stopped short when she saw his scowl. Maybe she’d just let Grace soothe that one.
Riley heard a sharp smacking noise seconds before her ass started to burn. “Ouch!” she said, turning toward her gloating boss. “What was that for?”
“That’s what the coaches do on ESPN,” Camille said, lifting her hand for another smack. “It means good job.”
“Please. As if you’ve ever watched ESPN,” Riley said, dodging the second smack.
“I watch it for the eye candy,” Camille said, giving up on the ass patting and giving Riley a rare hug. “Don’t think I won’t remember this come Christmas bonus time. I only hope someone caught Cassidy’s face on camera the second you hit the ball. Pure shock.”
Camille moved toward the Oxford editor, crowing about how after-the-game drinks were going to be on Oxford’s budget, and Riley gingerly rubbed her still-smarting ass cheek.
“Nobody was more shocked than me,” she muttered.
“You know there are at least half a dozen men here who’d do that for you.”
Riley froze at the sound of Sam’s voice.
She’d almost forgotten he was here. Almost.
“Do what?” she asked, turning and meeting his light blue eyes.
He nodded his chin in the direction of her backside. “Ease that sting.”
Riley’s hand froze and her mouth went dry as her traitorous mind reminded her just whose hands she’d like to have on her.
And the usual retort was on the tip of her tongue: You offering?
But flirtatious banter was what he’d expect and was not part of the plan. She racked her brain for something platonic and sisterly to say, but damn it—she couldn’t look at this man without thinking sexy thoughts.
He gave her a wry look as though reading her thoughts exactly. “You did good, Ri.”
She grinned. “I know, right?”
Sam gave her a little half smile, and her throat ached with the urge to throw her arms around him the way she wanted to and celebrate the sheer thrill of the moment.
“You know, it’s weird,” she said, as though just struck by a sudden thought. “Everyone else on the Stiletto team came dashing out to congratulate me, but I didn’t see you. Did you get lost?”
“That your way of fishing for your congratulatory hug?”
