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She stepped forward, her eyes locked on his. Her seductive side was emboldened by his obvious Freudian slip. He was clearly thinking of this as more than just a flirtation. More than just a date. She was glad. She liked knowing where she stood.
“There’s just one problem with that,” she said, her voice low and sultry. She let her fingertips just barely brush his arm as she spoke.
He cleared his throat. Still, there was a catch in his voice when he said, “What’s that?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never played softball. I’d need someone to show me the ropes.”
He smiled, the intensity of the playful heat behind them burning into her soul. “I think I know just the person.”
She tilted her head coyly. “Are you sure? They’d need to really know what they were doing. I make it a point only to learn from the very best.”
He leaned down toward her. She wondered if he was going to kiss her, right there in the middle of a sea of sawhorses and tools. Instead, he just whispered low in her ear, the heat of his breath skating across her neck and making her weak in the knees.
“I promise you, I’m the best you’ll ever have.”
Her head spun, her belly throbbed, and her fingers trembled. “Yes. Show me,” she whimpered. She wanted him so badly she would’ve done anything in that moment, even sleep with him on the unfinished floor where they stood. Hell, she wanted to do that.
Troy took a step back, a knowing look in his eyes. “Oh, I plan to,” he teased. “Meet me at the batting cages after work on Friday night.”
