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THE PHOTO CALL CAME in the blink of an eye, a large banquet-type hotel room set up as a studio. He’d barely arrived before he’d been whisked into the center of attention. After what felt like hours of pictures, Luke escaped the photographers and headed for the sidelines where Katie stood patiently waiting.
Crazy as it seemed, he was hot and hard, just thinking of touching her, of inhaling her sweet floral scent. Damn. The woman had him all shaken and stirred in a big way. She was a challenge. It was the only logical explanation. She wasn’t falling at his feet. She didn’t want him for his game. She didn’t even want to want him.
Yeah, it was the challenge getting to him, he confirmed in his mind. It was the only damn explanation he was willing to accept. Because there was no way in hell he was falling for this woman, or any other, having had his heart twisted in knots only months before. Not that he’d ever really loved his ex. A detail made clear when he’d missed his manager more than he’d missed Rebecca. The man had been with him since the day he’d been drafted out of college, almost ten years ago now. Rebecca had been with him a year, but nevertheless, she’d been a stable comfort in his life, one that didn’t come easily with a decade of traveling under his belt.
Katie smiled as he approached—a genuine smile that seemed to say she was glad he was headed in her direction—and it lit him up like the sun beaming down on the pitcher’s mound on a hot summer afternoon. She’d been around high society and public figures before, and it showed in how smoothly she managed interaction with several people far more famous than he’d ever dreamed of being. She wasn’t all starry-eyed and infatuated. Damn if she wasn’t a breath of fresh air. He liked it. And he definitely liked how she looked in the slim-cut black dress she’d chosen. It hugged her slender, athletic body exactly the way he would want it to—tastefully close—at least for now. Later, if he was lucky, he’d explore her long, slender legs in delicious, intimate detail.
He stopped in front of her, slid a hand to her waist. “How are you hanging in there?”
“Displeased with the event’s security,” she replied. “If this wasn’t for a good cause, I would have you out of here in a snap.”
His other hand settled on her waist. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been with a woman so hell-bent on control.” He wiggled an eyebrow. “I think I like it.”
“You’re not with me,” she reminded him, hushing her voice. “I’m protecting you.”
He leaned close, inhaled. “You smell like spring flowers.” The scent zipped through his system with a rush of heat. “Remind me to thank Ron for manipulating me into not being with you.”
She slid her fingers down his lapel, her breath warm on his neck as she leaned in and whispered, “Not unless you tell me it’s because you feel safer now, because that’s why I’m here. To keep you safe.”
“You talk so tough,” he accused. “But I think you’re all soft and warm underneath all that toughness.”
She gave him a disbelieving look and shook her head. “Soft and warm?” Her voice quavered ever so slightly, not quite as controlled as normal. “I told you I don’t like baseball—actually, I told you I don’t like you. What part of either of those things sounds soft and warm?”
“Both,” he assured her. “Because you didn’t mean either one of them. And for the record, safe isn’t the word that comes to mind where you’re concerned.” He threw her the zinger on purpose, looking forward to her swatting it back at him. This woman was definitely something. “On a separate subject. I’ve had a burning question on my mind the entire time I was taking pictures.”
“Burning?” she said. “Do I dare ask?”
He didn’t give her a chance to decide. “Where exactly,” he whispered, leaning down, his mouth near her ear, “do you keep your gun in this dress?”
“Luke.” Her hand flattened on his chest. “Will you please behave?”
His hand closed over hers, pinning it against his body, where he wanted it, where he wanted her. Soon. Not soon enough. “Answer my question, and I promise to be good. For a while. If you really want me to.”
She tried to glare at him but erupted in a smile instead. “Like I said, you’re impossible. And no, I won’t tell you. A girl has her secrets.”
“And a man, his fantasies,” he countered, wondering if it was strapped beneath a garter. Was she wearing thigh-highs? “I’m going to be thinking about where to find that gun all night, you know?”
“Oh, good,” came a female voice. “There you are.”
Luke cringed at the sound of the voice behind him and turned.
