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Two had already zipped by her when she heard the crack of the ball off the bat from the man beside her. Amazed, she watched him three more times, just as flawless and beautifully mesmerizing as he had been on the field.
“Swing the bat, Freckles.” He hadn’t even looked over at her. “Stop checking out my ass.”
“Ahh,” she said, getting into position again. “I understand now, this hearing thing. I heard you say you were an ass.” She swung and missed, frowned and adjusted her hold on the bat.
Linc laughed and that was the last that was said for a while. After what she was sure were more than a few homeruns, Linc abandoned his cage and entered hers. She still didn’t talk but let him position her a bit better, making adjustments to her feet and her hold on the bat. She got a brief moment of touching when he assisted her with her hip action.
When the time ran out, she was sweating and felt incredible. “Thank you for this. I had a great time. It was the perfect way to end the night, plus it worked off part of what I ate. Who knew getting sweaty like this would be such fun?”
There went his damn eyebrow again.
And true to form, she flushed. This man got her so tongue-tied and fried her circuits. Linc raked his gaze over her. Slowly. Like treacle dripping off a spoon.
The air between them crackled with passion. She worked hard to swallow and it took a few tries before she could claim success at that particular feat.
He strode into her space, maneuvering her until the chain-link fence prevented her retreat. Hands on the fencing over her head, he surrounded her with his scent and heat. His skin held a sheen of sweat from batting and his suitcoat was off. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, allowing her hungry gaze to lap up his visible tattoos, and his hair fell forward over his eyes.
And just like that I’m back in the front row of the arm porn addicts.
She skimmed her lips with her tongue, noting how his gaze followed the motion. God, her temperature was increasing, fluttering sensations were alive and well in her chest and stomach. Perhaps he could hear her pounding heartbeat over their combined breathing.
“Tell me something, Freckles. You have an adorable little girl. Surely you experienced sweating involved in creating her.” He bent his arms and got even closer.
She snorted. “Not even close. I mean, perhaps on his part, but for me it was more like a oh, that was it kind of response.”
What the fuck is wrong with me that I would admit this to him?
Those damn bow-shaped lips of his curved up. “Perfect.”
Yeah, his voice kind of was.
“What is?” She shifted her weight, spreading her legs a bit more, wishing they were touching his.
For a moment, there wasn’t any sound between them other than their breathing. His gaze roved over her face, dipped down then up to her eyes. “I need to get you home.”
That was a dousing of cold water. Disappointment didn’t even begin to explain her emotions.
“Right.” She dropped her gaze to the ground. “I’ll put this away.”
He didn’t move. “No, Freckles. The first time we learn just how sweaty we can get isn’t going to be on the ground of a batting cage. And we need to talk about San Antonio.”
If his “no” had been a cold douse, the mention of San Antonio was a freaking iceberg. She shuddered.
And I’d done such a spectacular job forgetting that had come up during dinner. And I not only agreed but led the damn charge on going.
Linc didn’t speak, just guided her out of the cage and slipped his coat over her shoulders. Warmer wearing his clothing, she sighed. He grabbed the two bats, and her shoes, then led the way into the building. After they returned the items, including the helmet on her head, he took them to the office and sat at his desk before pulling her onto his lap.
“I’m too hea—”
He held up a finger to cut her off seconds before he pulled her tighter to his chest. “Not hearing it, Emma.”
She could hear his irritation. But his touch was infinitely gentle. Linc had her so her feet couldn’t even touch the floor. She was completely in his lap, tucked against him so close—just like she’d been in her dreams.
Chapter Twelve
“Do either of you know who knocked up Emma?” Linc blurted out the question as he was finishing his packing for the trip to San Antonio. It had taken a little over a week for everything to be set for him and Emma to travel. Mitchell and Tully were in his room, making nuisances of themselves as opposed to helping.
His question stopped his friends and they both looked at him. It was more of a mix of “has he lost his marbles” and “who the fuck was he” for even inquiring. He paused, a T-shirt in his hand as he looked up at them instead of the dark, distressed leather bag he was packing.
