“I don’t blame you for being careful.” He respected it, in fact. “From what I read, your ex sounds like he went out of his way to make your life hell.”
Though Lance hadn’t recognized her at first, he recalled seeing the video of her fight sometime in the past year. It had been in an e-mail a friend sent him, and he’d watched it, the way most of the rest of the country had.
He felt bad about that now, blindly adding to the popularity of a video she surely wished would die.
She gave a tight nod. He was curious why things had turned so bitter in her marriage, but he wasn’t about to push her for inside details, the real scoop behind the tabloid scandals. Not when he needed to make her see the past had no business in this discussion.
“And while you might not have any reason to trust that I’m not like that,” he forged ahead, “I’ll tell you why I trust that we could have something really special together.”
She eyed him with wary interest from her position in front of the window. With the skyline spread out behind her, the lights of the city glowing brighter as the sky faded from purple twilight to full darkness, she made for the best view he’d ever had from that balcony.
“Why?” Her crossed arms fell, her body language opening to him for the first time since their exchange in the coffeehouse.
“I make my living on snap judgments, Jamie.” With tentative fingers, he brushed a lock of hair from the shoulder of her denim jacket, smoothing it down her back and stirring the clean, floral scent of her shampoo. “I’ve got fractions of a second to stare down a baseball when it leaves the pitcher’s hand to decide if it’s a fastball or a changeup or any of the other junk in a pitcher’s arsenal. Fractions of a second to apply everything I know about hitting a baseball to determine whether or not I’ll swing and where I’m going to try and connect with the ball.”
She frowned. “You’ve made a career out of reading pitches. I don’t think you can say the same about women.”
His hand lingered on her back, his fingers unwilling to part with the feel of her through the jacket.
She wasn’t just beautiful. She was gutsy. Mouthy. Clever. And he wanted her with a keenness he would have never anticipated.
“When I’ve got a good feeling about something, I trust my gut all the way.” He wasn’t backing down. “I made up my mind about you.”
She shook her head, bemused. “That’s how people get hurt. They trust too much, too fast.”
He regretted the dark shadow that crossed her expression, the hurt she’d experienced firsthand.
“So don’t make a commitment. All I’m asking is for is a night. Just one night together to give it a try.” He molded her shoulders in his hands, wanting to haul her close, but wanting even more for her to come willingly. Eagerly. “What have you got to lose?”
A DAMN GOOD QUESTION.
Jamie’s knees grew weaker with each passing moment. Lance’s touch worked a keen magic on her senses while his crazy approach to having an affair sounded better and better. No doubt it was just because she’d fallen under his spell.
But like he said, what did she have to lose? She was the media’s Bad Girl of the moment, the woman most likely to cause a commotion whether she was brawling half-naked or buying her groceries. The media dogged her in the hope of another juicy tidbit. How could it possibly hurt her any more to be with Lance Montero when she was already inextricably linked to him since the video of their meet was posted online?
“I don’t have anything to lose,” she acknowledged, her eyelids falling half-shut under the weight of long-ignored desire. “Not one flipping thing.”
And with that realization, a million inhibitions fell away, discarded like yesterday’s news. She couldn’t come up with any reason why she shouldn’t throw herself at the most gorgeous, sexy, sweetly compelling zillionaire she’d ever met.
“One night,” she agreed, feeling like the bargain gave her permission to be uninhibited without worrying what tomorrow held. “An outrageous girl like me will try anything once.”
Arching up on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered herself—hip to breast—against Lance. It was a bold contact to initiate without so much as a kiss for a prelude and oh, my. Was it ever a brilliant idea. Her body sang with sweet awareness at the feel of all that broad, masculine muscle. From the rugged plane of his taut abs to the sinewy strength of the arms banded around her, he was all about coiled power.
“You’re not as outrageous as you pretend.” He whispered the words against her ear right before he kissed her just below there.
Delicious chills ran up her spine and she tipped her head back to better enjoy them. Him. This.
“No?” She would go along with anything he said at this point. She just wanted to remain exactly where she was—pressed up against him and on the receiving end of his lips beneath her ear.
“I have a theory that you’ve got a sweet spot.” He cupped her hips and held them to his own, giving her the full, unadulterated preview of what being with him was going to be like.
The hard length of him touched off a fire inside her and she couldn’t hold back a gasp.
“See?” He levered back from her to look her into her eyes. “I might have found it already.”
Her heart ratcheted up the pace, thundering in her chest with the need for more. She couldn’t begin to articulate what she wanted from him. She simply wanted.
With frantic fingers, she set to work on the buttons down his shirt. He hadn’t worn a tie, but he’d thrown on a jacket with his jeans and dress shirt after the game. She needed them off now.
In her head, she thought about explaining that it had been a long time for her. That her ex had quit caring about sex even before the marriage was over, choosing instead to cheat on her. But her brain couldn’t spare enough power to fuel the words past her lips. She was too overwhelmed by the sudden realization that she could have this one night—this one amazing man—for herself. He didn’t care about the bad press her behavior had stirred.
That alone made her heart melt.
But the sizzling way he seemed to really, really want her…Well, that had unleashed something primitive inside her that demanded an answer.
“Let me,” he told her, stilling her awkward fingers as she battled the last shirt button.
Even her hands hummed with the same fiery anticipation that flickered over her breasts and thighs and everything in between. She felt like an electric current had been turned on, and the effect was both exciting and numbing.
He’d pinned her against the glass window at some point, her back to the view of Central Park and the city so that she could only see the lights reflected in his eyes. She liked her view better.
She watched avidly as he shrugged out of his shirt, revealing a white tank top underneath. She only glimpsed the undershirt for a moment since he gripped the hem and yanked it up and off. Leaving her mouth dry at the sight of his well-honed arms and chiseled chest. A tattoo with his jersey number had been etched on his shoulder. Her gaze sank down the line bisecting his pecs and his abs to end at his belt. She reached for the leather, wanting to see more.
“I can’t let you get that far ahead of me.” He manacled her wrists with a gentle touch and steered her away from his belt. “First I want to see more of you.”
Her inclination was to shimmy out of her jacket and dress in two seconds flat, but he tipped her jaw up to look into her eyes and kissed her.