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“So,” she said slowly, drawing the syllable out, “surely your hitting coach saw the hole at third base and told you to bunt. You didn’t need me to tell you that.” She had been babbling nervously yesterday when she told him about the hole the Hawks’ third baseman was leaving in the infield. Any hitting coach would have picked up on that in an instant and told Rafe to capitalize with a bunt. No doubt, Rafe himself should have noticed it easily.
Rafe nodded. “Yeah, he picked up on that.”
“Okay, then I’m not following you. What do you need me for?”
“The kiss. I need you for the kiss,” he said, taking a step closer as she took two steps back. Her nipples—traitorous as they were—voted to dive forward into his arms. She was no idiot. She took another step back for good measure, hitting the back of the couch. Trapped.
He stepped forward again, leaving only inches between them as his eyes blazed through her, heating her from the inside out.Stupid, stupid body.
“I-I don’t understand,” Ashlyn said, but the words came out a whisper.
“I need you to kiss me before the next game.”
As she stared at him, understanding dawned. His routines. His superstitions. He thought she was part of his pregame ritual now.
And, there she was shaking her head again. As though she could shake it enough to make him understand this was silly. “I’m not ... I can’t. Good heavens, Rafe, I mean, I’m not like a lucky sock you wear every game and don't ever wash.”
Now he shook his head at her. “That’s not what it means, Ashlyn. I mean, that’s not how I’d think about you. You're just my good luck ...” He looked past her shoulder as though searching for the word in thin air.
“Kisser?” she finished for him.
“Well, yeah,” he said, as though that made all the sense in the world, but she could hear just a touch of uncertainty in his voice. Maybe he could hear how ridiculous it sounded as he said it out loud. Or maybe he realized how offensive the idea was, because it was—offensive, that is, and absurd.
“So, what? I’m supposed to show up before each game and let you paw at me the way you did at Elise and Kane’s?” Heck, even as she said it, her body warmed and thrummed at the idea.Foolish, foolish body. Have you no pride?Apparently not, because the thrumming only intensified.
His eyes flashed, hot and hard. “I think you did your fair share of pawing there, too, Ashlyn. Besides,” he said as he took her hands and led her around to the front of the couch, pulling her down to sit next to him, “it’s obvious you love the game, and Elise’s told me you’re a big fan of the team.”
Note to self: tell Elise to shut her mouth.
“And, I’ll pay for your time, all your expenses. A driver, flights to the away games.”
Oh, no he didn’t.
“You’ll pay me,” she said, and she knew her schoolteacher voice had just come out. She snapped out of her stunned, half aroused reverie and was in motion in a flash. She stood and pointed to the door. “Out! Out now.”
She herded him to the door, shoving him out even as he tried to backpedal to explain he hadn’t meant it that way. It would be a cold day in a place she didn't care to go before she ever became Rafe Wilson’s pregame-good-luck-kissing-booth thingy.
Slamming the door on him felt good, but adrenaline from the anger ran through her body as she paced the apartment, trying to process what on earth had just happened. Had he really just come here and offered to pay her for kissing him before each game? What was he thinking?
Ashlyn tried to settle herself as she finally climbed back in bed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. Energy whipped through her, fed partially by anger and partially by her body’s reaction to seeing Rafe on her doorstep, looking like he’d stepped straight out of her fantasies. His dark hair had been ruffled, his eyes blazing with intensity and focused only on her, and the slight bit of scruff on his chin had made her want to reach out and lick his jaw. What was that about?
The doorbell rang again. Three times.
With a groan, Ashlyn went to look through the peephole in the door again.
The look on his face was priceless. She realized with no small amount of shock, Rafe was repentant. And, he looked a little like he might be prepared to beg. Rafe Wilson.Begging.Intrigued, Ashlyn spoke to him through the door.
“What now, Rafe?”
“Can we start over?” he asked. “Please?”
She opened the door but left the chain in place, waiting for him to speak.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement. Maybe there’s something I can do for you? Tickets to the games? Insider strategizing for your fantasy baseball team?”
Ashlyn narrowed her eyes at him. How on earth did he know she was in a fantasy baseball league?
“Sorry,” he said, looking almost bashful. “I talked to Elise. She told me about your fantasy league at school.”
