Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams
Ten years ago, the passion was ignited…
And it’s only gotten hotter with time!
Join the editors in celebrating
a decade of wonderful authors,
irresistible stories…and great sex!
Look for all six
Special 10thAnniversary Collectors’ Editions
from The Original Sexy Six authors.
Check out:
THE BRADDOCK BOYS: TRAVIS
and THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE
by Kimberly Raye
HOTSHOT and GOING FOR IT
by Jo Leigh
UNDENIABLE PLEASURES and YOU SEXY THING!
by Tori Carrington
COWBOYS LIKE US and NOTORIOUS
by Vicki Lewis Thompson
TOO HOT TO TOUCH and EXPOSED by Julie Leto
EXTRA INNINGS and IN HIS WILDEST DREAMS
by Debbi Rawlins
Harlequin Blaze—
Celebrating 10 years of red-hot reads!
Dear Reader,
A decade seems like a long time, doesn’t it? It sure seemed that way to me—until I was reminded that we were coming up on Blaze’s tenth anniversary. Wow! I can remember so clearly when I was first told about the new line. Blaze was a sparkling new concept—kind of like Temptation, young and contemporary, only longer, much hotter and often edgier.
The idea of writing one was exciting, challenging and a bit scary. Although guidelines were in place, there were no books written yet. I couldn’t pick one up, read it and say, “Oh, yeah, I get what they’re looking for.” I can’t remember how long it took me to kick around a story idea, but I recall there was angst involved. A lot of angst.
But obviously, it was worth it. Thanks to all of you readers, Blaze is going strong.
You guys rock. I appreciate every one of you!
Lots of hugs,
Debbi Rawlins
Debbi Rawlins
EXTRA INNINGS
IN HIS WILDEST DREAMS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbi Rawlins lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until four years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity has never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college she spontaneously left her home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.
Books by Debbi Rawlins
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
13—IN HIS WILDEST DREAMS
36—EDUCATING GINA
60—HANDS ON
112—ANYTHING GOES…
143—HE’S ALL THAT*
159—GOOD TO BE BAD
183—A GLIMPSE OF FIRE
220—HOT SPOT**
250—THE HONEYMOON THAT WASN’T
312—SLOW HAND LUKE
351—IF HE ONLY KNEW…*
368—WHAT SHE REALLY WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS†
417—ALL OR NOTHING
455—ONCE AN OUTLAW††
467—ONCE A REBEL††
491—TEXAS HEAT
509—TEXAS BLAZE
528—LONE STAR LOVER††
603—SECOND TIME LUCKY‡
609—DELICIOUS DO-OVER‡
Contents
Extra Innings
Prologue
Playing the Field
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Bringing the Heat
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
His Lucky Charm
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
In His Wildes Dreams
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
EXTRA INNINGS
This book is for all the authors, editors,
marketing and salespeople
who’ve helped make Blaze a success.
Prologue
A Girlfriend’s Guide To Baseball…
Which Hotties Will Hit the Big-Time????
By #1 FanGirl
All right, ladies, it’s our second-favorite time of year. You know what I’m talking about. AA players are about to get THE CALL. You–– know, the expanded rosters, aka the 40-man…and jeez, while I love baseball more than my cell phone, the rules and regs for Major League organizations are the stuff of nightmares, while the men who play in those orgs are the stuff of our dreams.
So…a “September call-up” is a player who is chosen to step up to the expanded roster, which means he’s gonna be in the BIGS—on a trial basis. Which also means these lucky few are going to be strutting their stuff, sweating and steaming up the sports blogs, and we, the faithful Women Who Love Baseball (Players), get to drool as we watch and predict who will A) be called and B) rise to fame and fortune and a career that will go down in the record books.
Who do you see making the grade? There are so many to choose from, and I want to hear your picks in the comments! We only have till September 1, so make your selections soon!
Here are my top three picks.
Dylan Andrews, 27, currently a shortstop for the Carolina Crusaders, is ripe for the picking and hoping to be called up by the Milwaukee Mavericks. Back from playing in Japan’s Central League, he’s been burning up the field with his quick moves and awesome arm. It doesn’t hurt that he’s a mystery wrapped in an enigma (and a tight-fitting jersey)! Why didn’t Dylan sign with the Majors here in the States after college? Why Japan? Was it for money…or love? This opportunity is important for Dylan. He’s a little older than some and needs to show he’s got what it takes to play against the Big Boys. But I have faith that he’ll be as hot on the field as he is in my fantasies, so GO DYLAN!
You know I have to pick Rob Perry, right? Yes, he’s 33, but come on, he’s not only a fantastic pitcher, but the man has STAMINA. So what if he’s not the bad boy he once was—he’s now a seasoned player (and I mean that in as many ways as you can imagine). One dip in his 12-year career is nothing! We all miss Rob on the mound (Did I really say that?) as the awesome relief pitcher and terrific closer the team needs. Okay, Rob probably wouldn’t want to hear that…he was hard to beat in his career as a starter. But his arm still looks good and nothing wrong with being called to relieve or bringing in that strong close to win the game. Come on, ladies, are you with me? Don’t we all want to see Rob cross the finish line with the Texas Talons?
Finally, there’s the gorgeous hunk of a hitter Eric Lessing! The hot first baseman for the Beckerville Bulls has completely recovered from that nasty knee surgery, and is hitting his stride with swagger! Not only does he own first base, but with that kind of hitting, he could be looking at smashing the record books! My bet is that office pools everywhere have sprung up and are waiting to see how far Lessing can take this run. And my inside scoopers
tell me that he’s primed and pumped to get that Call from the Jackson Jaguars, and no one but no one takes the game more seriously.
Now, if I had to go with ONE PICK…
But I don’t! Let’s hear it—who are the next-gen Superstars????
Playing the Field
1
DYLAN ANDREWS skimmed the blog. Inhaling deeply, he turned off his laptop. He didn’t know why he bothered reading that crap. The last thing the Milwaukee Mavericks cared about was how “hot” he was. The only way he was going to get called up to the Major League franchise was by being the best shortstop playing today.
Listening to outside opinions—whether they were from baseball groupies or seasoned sports journalists—accomplished nothing except to make him more anxious.
He got up from the wobbly hotel desk to get more coffee, decided against it, and instead hit the floor and did another thirty push-ups. If they’d been playing at home he would’ve gone to the gym for a workout after his run, but the Carolina Crusaders, his Minor League team, had three more games here in Tulsa before they made the trek to Milwaukee.
Man, he did not want to spend another season playing Double-A ball. If he had to, he’d suck it up and bide his time, but he belonged in the Majors. Trouble was, so did four other shortstops in the Southeast League. And none of them had defected to Japan to play their first three years as pros. Of course at the end of the day it didn’t matter if the fans considered him a sellout, or whether his manager liked him. The only thing that did was how much he was worth to the franchise. It was always about money.
His cell rang and he sprang to his feet to grab his phone. It was Arnie, his agent. Dylan smiled. Talk about money being the bottom line. Arnie thought Dylan was nuts for leaving Japan. He’d been a star there and made a small fortune.
“What’s up?” Dylan anchored the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he got a bottle of water out of the motel’s mini fridge.
“You ever heard of the North Star News?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. It was a daily paper put out by a town next to where he’d grown up. He had a bad feeling about this conversation. “Why?”
“They want to do an interview with you. One of those small-town-boy-makes-good pieces.”
“No.”
Papers rustled and Arnie’s assistant was saying something in the background. “Tell him I’ll call him back,” Arnie murmured, his voice muffled and distant, before he said more clearly, “What do you mean, no?”
“Do an interview now? Before I know if I’m getting called up? Are you kidding?” He didn’t like doing interviews, period, and Arnie knew that. Giving a sound bite now and then, that was different. But answering personal questions? No way.
“Look, Dylan, you need to get the fans pulling for you, not pissed that Japan was your first choice. Show them you were just a kid who wanted to play ball—”
Dylan sighed. That’s exactly who he’d been…just a kid who wanted to play ball. Except fear and ego had gotten in the way and he’d refused to go from college baseball star to Double-A nobody for the American League. “The fans won’t determine whether I get called up. We both know that.”
“But it wouldn’t hurt if you were more likable.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t get thin-skinned on me now, kid. Wait.” Arnie held the phone away and yelled something at his assistant. “Hey, I gotta go, but I wanted you to expect the phone call.”
“What phone call?”
“From the North Star News.”
“Shit, Arnie. I didn’t agree to the interview.”
“Yeah, you did. Five minutes ago.”
“Dammit, Arnie—” The call had already been disconnected.
Muttering a curse, Dylan flipped the phone closed, tossed it on the bed and uncapped the bottle. He could be a jerk and not take the reporter’s call. Or go ahead with the interview and give the guy a string of two-syllable answers. Wasn’t it enough to play his damn heart out every single game? Evidently not.
Dylan took a big gulp of water. He’d have to think about this.
ELIZABETH SMITH doubted she was about to be fired. She’d kept her nose clean, her attitude in check, even though she’d detested every single ridiculous social function she’d had to cover for the North Star News in the past ten months. Not once had she so much as lifted a brow, or gagged at an assignment. At least not in public.
She checked her teeth in the mirror she kept in her desk. No pink lipstick, no remaining romaine lettuce from the chicken Caesar salad she’d just had for lunch. With her fingers, she combed back the spiky bangs that made her look too young. She’d started growing them out, but it seemed to take forever.
“Hey, Smith,” Kevin called out on his way into the break room. “The old man wants to see you.”
“Got the message already.” She waved an acknowledgment, wishing the nosy weather guy would mind his own business, and then ignored the group of heads that sprouted up from the other cubicles around her.
As soon as she left the boss’s office, everyone would want to know why Ed Singleton had wanted to see her. The owner rarely spoke directly to the peons, especially a newbie like her. No one cared that she had more experience and ambition than any of the local desk jockeys, or that half of the staff were only hanging around for their pension.
Elizabeth wasn’t complaining though. She was lucky to have a job with the daily paper. It might not be stimulating, but for now, it paid her rent, her car loan and kept her in enough take-out that she never had to cook—not a bad place to be while she licked her wounds and climbed her way back up the ladder.
At Singleton’s closed door, she paused, tugging at the cuffs of the jacket she insisted on wearing, even though no one else in the office wore suits besides her and the old man. Not that she was trying to prove anything. But she’d spent a small fortune on her wardrobe the first week she’d arrived in Chicago.
The move had been a disaster. The fabulous job as an investigative reporter at the Sun-Times had never materialized and the love of her life she’d followed to the city had vanished with a paralegal and Elizabeth’s pride. She’d come slinking back to Lester, Wisconsin, and temporarily moved in with her parents until she’d gotten back on her feet, but damned if she’d let her pricey new clothes go to waste. She knocked, heard him answer and then let herself in.
He sat behind his oversize gray metal desk, his bushy white eyebrows drawn in their usual frown. “Have a seat, Elizabeth.”
She glanced at the pair of ugly brown vinyl chairs facing him and chose the one without the tear in the corner. The man’s frugality was crazy. He was loaded, probably the richest guy in the county. But he seemed to hang on to his possessions until they fell apart.
Oh, God.
A horrible thought occurred to her.
Maybe he’d called her in to tell her to dial it down a notch with the designer suits. Or that she wasn’t a good fit here at the laid-back publication.
She swallowed, then gave him a smile. “What can I do for you, Mr. Singleton?”
“How do you like working here, Elizabeth?”
“I’m happy here, sir. I’m very grateful for the opportunity.”
“You’re overqualified.”
She blinked, surprised that he knew anything about her. When he wasn’t golfing, or attending sports events, he was here, but he generally left the daily operations to his slacker son-in-law. “Frankly, I’m not sure what to say to that. Except I hope I’m not getting fired.”
His mouth twitched in a thin smile. “You’re not getting fired. In fact, I wanted to offer you a more challenging assignment.”
“Really?” She straightened. “Great. I’m honored. What did you have in mind?”
Mr. Singleton leaned back, his worn leather chair creaking under his weight, and studied her for a moment. “Do you know Dylan Andrews?”
Dylan Andrews? The focal point of the biggest humiliation of her young life? The guy who’d starred in her dreams all thr
ough high school? The jock who hadn’t given her a second thought except as some random nerd? She managed to keep her expression blank, her voice calm. “Sure. I know who he is.”
“There’s a good chance the kid will be called up to the Majors in a couple of weeks.”
She nodded, only because it seemed the appropriate thing to do, and not because she knew a thing about baseball, or understood how this conversation related to her.
“I want you to interview him.”
Every muscle in her body tensed as she struggled to stay seated and not bolt for the door. “Me?” she asked, her voice an octave too high.
“I don’t want one of those generic sit-downs for an hour, either. I want you to shadow him for a couple of days, show us a day in the life, find out why he played for Japan first—”
“Wait.” She shook her head and ignored the disapproving frown that said Singleton didn’t like being interrupted. She couldn’t sit face-to-face with Dylan. She absolutely couldn’t. “I’m not a sports reporter. Stan is the person you want.”
“You think I don’t know my own staff?”
“What?” Her mind was still on Dylan and she had to steer her thoughts back to the conversation. “No, of course not. I mean, naturally you know everyone here. But Stan covers sports and is eminently more qualified than myself to interview—” She cut herself off when his bushy brows raised toward his receding hairline.
“Stan is leaving for vacation tomorrow,” Mr. Singleton said, his patience obviously wearing thin. “And I figured you might appreciate a chance to strut your stuff.”
By interviewing a baseball player? This particular base-ball player? Seriously? “Thank you for thinking of me.” She paused, wanting to say, “Please, no, not him, not now. Anything else, I swear I’ll do the obituaries for a year, ten…” but she didn’t want to commit career suicide before she even had a career. She forced a smile. “I’ll get right on it.”