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“Great game, guys,” Amanda said, smiling. “Who wants to be the headliner for my first story?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” The voice came from Amanda’s left. A thirty-something man, wearing a sports coat and jeans, stepped into view. His piercing black eyes gave her a rude sweep from head to toe. “Has Kevin lost his mind?”
“Kevin?” Amanda asked, her eyebrows dipping, thinking. She’d come into town only the day before and met the staff at the paper in a whirlwind that morning. But there was only one Kevin she remembered. “As in my boss, Kevin?”
He crossed his arms in front of his plaid-covered chest before she could locate a press badge. “I’m surprised he didn’t go for blond and big-breasted.”
Who was this jerk? Amanda didn’t know nor did she care. Everything that happened here and now set a tone for the future. She wasn’t about to be made a fool of her first day on the job.
Amanda gave the jerk a bored look. “And who might you be?”
“Jack Krass,” he said, a slight gloat to his tone that said she should know the name.
And she did, as did the rest of the city. Jack Krass’s face was plastered on billboards—lots of them—advertising his column with a competing paper. She should have recognized him. Amanda had replaced him at the Tribune, meaning he’d once worn the shoes she now had to prove she could walk in. Worse, they were shoes two other reporters before her had failed to fill. Even though his confidence could be justified, in Amanda’s mind there was no call for him to be snide and nasty.
“Your name sounds vaguely familiar,” she said, a finger to her chin in mock concentration. “Wait!” She pointed in the air. “I know how I know you. A bunch of the guys at the paper were playing pin the tail on the Jack Krass this morning.” Her eyes went wide. “Wow. That must mean they really don’t like you. Why is that?”
A roar of laughter drew Amanda’s attention to the handsome face of Brad Rogers, who shared her hometown in Texas. The blond, blue-eyed pitcher had a lightning-speed arm and a reputation as a bad boy.
He was also her father’s favorite player, so Amanda knew him well, as did most women. The man was a walking sex god. Amanda didn’t have to look too closely to decide he was even more of a hottie in person than on television.
Leaning all six feet of his rippling muscles against a locker, he fixed Amanda in a come-get-me stare. When he winked, she felt it all the way to her toes. The sizzle was instant. He made her burn. If she could pick any man to end her sexless existence, Brad would be the one. Too bad their jobs put him out of reach.
“Jack Ass fits him well most of the time,” Brad drawled. “But we let him hang out, anyway.”
“You can be a real ass yourself, Cowboy,” Jack said in a biting tone and then shrugged. “And you let me hang around because I get you damn good press.”
“Actually, it’s all that free beer you buy us.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Say what you will, but we all know I deliver the readers.” He looked at Amanda. “Unlike others.”
“Since Jack got his face on the side of a bunch of buses and signs, he thinks he’s important,” Brad offered. “We know better.”
Jack tuned Brad out, focusing on Amanda. “Do you know anything about baseball?”
Officially, Amanda was irritated. Jack had pushed far enough. Time to strike back. She laced her words with sticky sweet sarcasm. “You mean I need to understand baseball to do this job? Nobody told me that. Maybe you better start explaining it to me.”
Laughter echoed against the tiled floors, boosting her confidence.
Numerous offers to school her on the art of baseball filled the air. Jack’s expression soured until he looked as if he’d been sucking lemons. “Sweetheart, looking good will get you laid, but it ain’t gonna get you a story.”
She laughed, but inwardly the words stung, nestling amongst her insecurities that the only reason she had this job was because she looked good. She eyed Jack’s slightly protruding belly and her response held more bite.
“Right. I most definitely do not want to look good. That makes me a very, very bad reporter. I should drink more beer and get me a body like yours. Then I’ll get lots of stories.” Amanda reached for her pad of paper and pen inside her purse. “I should take notes. What else do you think I need to know?”
More laughter filled the air. Jack’s face reddened. “Funny. Real funny. We’ll see who is laughing when your readership comes up a big zero.”
She eyed her fingernails as if bored and then waved at Jack. “Bye-bye. Run along. I’m sure you have some major ego stroking to do.” She turned her attention to Brad, offering Jack her back. “Great pitching today, by the way.”
