Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams Page 11
“You’re right.” Her mouth curved in a small smile. “I haven’t done too badly.” The mischievous gleam he knew too well was back in her eyes. “Celebrate with me.” She coyly fingered a button on his shirt, then plucked it free.
He chuckled. “Here?”
She glanced at the table. “We could make it work.”
“Better than the Porsche, I suppose,” he murmured, pushing her hair back so he could reach the side of her neck.
“More private,” she whispered.
He bent his head and kissed the spot behind her ear, then smiled when she shivered. She wasn’t only sensitive there, he already knew, and caught her lobe between his teeth. He nibbled and sucked and then used the tip of his tongue.
She made that soft sexy sound that got to him in an insanely primal way. Hooking his fingers in the neckline that rode her shoulders, he slid the fabric down until he’d bared her right breast, then drew back to see her nipple. Rosy-pink and tight, begging for his mouth.
He touched her, lightly tracing his thumb over her beaded nipple, but it was the surrounding silkiness that taunted him, weakened any resistance he’d managed to cling to. He had to see more of her, hell, all of her. This wasn’t enough. But when he tried to pull down the other side of her neckline, the material wouldn’t give. Any more tugging and he’d rip the dress.
Instead he shoved the portfolios out of the way, gripped her by the waist and lifted her onto the table. She let out a small squeak of surprise, but her breathing quickened, and excitement danced in her darkened eyes. Her hands flew over his buttons, hastily unfastening them and then yanking the hem out of his jeans until his shirt hung open.
Her gaze roamed his chest and she flattened her palms over his pecs. “I’ve never seen you without a shirt,” she whispered, as if that was an odd thing. “You have an amazing chest.”
He didn’t know if he should laugh or thank her. “Tell my trainer that. He’s ruthless.”
“I think further inspection is necessary,” she said, dragging a hand down his belly, “before I commit myself.”
Rob smiled, and bent to take her nipple into his mouth. She gasped, arched her back and cupped his head, holding him prisoner. Not that he wanted to go anywhere. He rolled his tongue over the tight nub, and then suckled her, persisting when she whimpered and reared back.
“Look who’s skittish now,” he said, his voice muffled against her breast.
“Huh.” She tried to push his shirt off his shoulders, but it wouldn’t go past his bent arms. “A little help,” she said impatiently.
“First your dress comes off.”
She didn’t hesitate. It was off in seconds.
Rob’s gaze went first to her perfect breasts, not too big, firm and high, just the way he liked them. But then his attention caught on her panties. He’d glimpsed black lace earlier and he expected something skimpier, a thong maybe, not something that looked more like boxer briefs.
“What? Haven’t you ever seen boyshorts?” she asked.
“Yeah, in locker rooms.”
Tori laughed. “My dress is short, so I went with something more conservative.”
He guessed it didn’t matter. They were coming off. Now.
Then someone banged on the front door.
6
“THAT’S WEIRD.” Tori frowned and twisted around, looking for her dress. “I wonder if we should ignore it.”
He’d already started buttoning his shirt. “Not a good idea. As far as the other store owners know, this place is still vacant. Someone might have asked the police to check.”
She sighed. Of course he was right. She slid off the table and wiggled into her dress.
Another loud knock.
“Good Lord, hold on,” she muttered, tugging down her hem. “Am I presentable?”
Rob combed his fingers through her hair and briefly kissed her. “You look gorgeous.”
“Stop. No, don’t.” Grinning, she headed toward the entry door. Through the glass she saw a uniformed police officer trying to peer inside.
Behind him stood a second cop, lurking in the shadows, checking out the Porsche, and it occurred to her that six years ago she would’ve been nervous as all get-out, certain she’d done some dumb thing or another, and they were coming for her. Nice not to have those worries anymore.
She unlocked the door and opened it. “Hello, Officer. How can I help you?”
Not much older than Tori, he seemed startled to see her. For a second she feared she knew him from her college days and glanced at his nametag—Jones. “Evening, ma’am.” He quickly took in her dress, her legs, her heels, and although he was subtle, she was relieved that his interest seemed more male than cop. “Do you work here?”
“I’m the owner, but we aren’t open for business yet.”
“Is that your car?” He gestured to the Porsche.
“It’s a rental. What’s this about?”
“Your name, ma’am?”
“Tori Gallagher.” Annoyed that he’d ignored her question, she put a hand on her hip.
His gaze flicked to the sign in the window. “Mind if I see some ID?”
“If y’all don’t tell me what’s going on, you can—” She felt Rob’s hand on her back, and she took a calming a breath. Yes, sometimes she had a quick fuse. She was still working on that, but hell, Jones could’ve answered her.
The other officer stepped into the light. He was older, rounder, looking more friendly when he said, “We received a call that this place was supposed to be vacant so we have to check—” His gaze, narrowed in disbelief, shot past her. “You’re Rob Perry.”
Oh, no. He wasn’t going to like being recognized. She glanced at him, saw him nod. “Let me get my driver’s license. It’s in my purse.”
“Yeah, I saw you pitch tonight.” Grinning, Officer Jones ignored her. “I caught the game before I came on duty. You were awesome.”
“Thanks,” Rob said politely. He was always polite to fans, even when they were rude and pushy.
She liked that about him, but she wasn’t in the mood to share. “I wanted to show Rob my new studio, but it’s late and we were about to leave, officers. Rob has to play tomorrow. So if y’all still want to see my ID…”
“Nah, that’s all right.” The older cop waved her off, his grin on Rob. “I wouldn’t mind an autograph for my kids though.”
“No problem. Tori, you have something I could write on?” Rob seemed perfectly normal, congenial…to anyone who didn’t really know him. But there was tension around his mouth and eyes, in the way he forced himself to seem relaxed, and she hoped this interruption hadn’t ruined the rest of their evening.
“Sure.” She went to get the sample stationery for the studio that she’d proofed earlier while Rob asked the usual questions as to whom he should sign the autographs.
When she returned, Officer Jones’s attention was on her legs. She didn’t care, she wanted only to be rid of Chapel Hill’s finest. But when his speculative gaze moved up to her face and lingered, she got an awful feeling.
“Here you go.” She passed the stationery to Rob. “I’ll go get my purse.”
“Did you say Gallagher?” Jones asked.
It was her turn to tense. Rob Perry’s name had been synonymous with the Talons for years, and her father being the media whore that he was…not to mention her notorious juvenile public antics… Well, it wasn’t a stretch that a baseball fan would make the connection.
Tori glanced helplessly at Rob. His jaw had tightened. He kept his focus on the piece of paper he signed, and she wished with all her heart she could do something to make this whole unpleasantness go away. “Yes,” she said softly.
By nature she wasn’t a humble person, but she begged and pleaded for discretion with her eyes, not for her but for Rob’s sake. Both officers seemed to get the message, but it was the older one who said, “We won’t bother you folks any longer. I appreciate the autographs, Mr. Perry.” He took them from Rob, carefully folded the two sheets
of paper, then gave Tori a private look. “You two have a nice evening.”
“Thank you,” she said solemnly. “Come by once the place is open. We’ll be serving coffee or tea to everyone who comes in. Wine, too, when y’all are off duty,” she called after them. The older officer—she wished she’d thought to look at his name—had already opened the passenger door and gave her a smile and a nod.
“Aren’t you full of Southern hospitality,” Rob muttered.
“It can’t hurt.”
“If it’s your marketing ploy, those guys don’t make enough to afford your services.”
“I know that.” She flipped off the light switch. “Don’t be so cynical. I was just playing nice.”
He waited for her to precede him and then pulled the door firmly closed. “You don’t think that means they’ll keep their mouths shut about us.”
Naturally it had been foolish of her to harbor the tiniest hope that Rob hadn’t picked up on what happened. “Actually, I do.” She inserted the key, engaged the lock and jiggled the knob for good measure. “Anyway, even if they told someone, who cares? This isn’t Dallas.”
Rob stayed silent on their way to the car, giving her too much time to analyze the unintentionally insensitive remark. There were two interpretations—first, that someone from North Carolina wouldn’t give the incident too much thought, and second, Rob was no longer hot enough property for his relationship with her to be considered newsworthy.
Judging by his grim expression, she was pretty sure she knew which version he’d chosen. So did she open her big mouth again to clarify and risk making him feel worse?
As soon as they were both in the car, she said, “Rob, let’s not allow what happened to spoil our night, okay?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t ignore the wake-up call. You and me, especially now—” He exhaled loudly, laid his head back, eyes closed.
“I get the especially-now part, but what’s wrong with you and me?”
He didn’t respond, and she didn’t wait for his answer but started the engine. They were going to her hotel in Chapel Hill for privacy, more talking and hopefully, more. If he told her that he’d changed his mind about them spending more time together, then tough, he could take a damn taxi to his hotel.
He brought his head up. “Where are we going?”
“The Harrison. It’s a small boutique hotel where I’m staying in downtown Chapel Hill. You’ll like it…only sixty rooms, low-key, excellent staff. I have one of the two penthouse suites. No one will bother us.”
“We need to discuss this.”
She wordlessly pulled out of the parking lot and headed east. Too fast, probably because deep down she knew she was losing him. The resigned timbre of his voice and the space he’d left between them made her nervous.
“Tori?”
“What?”
“I know you understand how important it is for me to keep my nose clean this week. Your father was right to tell Buddy to kick me down to the Minors for a season. I was reckless and partying too much and lost my focus. That picture of me… I can’t take this kind of risk.”
“That picture, that whole incident with you and that crackpot wasn’t your fault.”
“It was. She was a fan, I didn’t know her worth spit, and I got drunk. That she splashed my naked ass all over the internet embarrassed me, but it also embarrassed the team.”
“You’re human. It happens.”
Rob touched her hand as it rested on the gear shift. “I was reckless, and I knew better. I know better now. If the press gets wind of you and me fooling around so close to the call-back date, how’s that gonna play out? You think they’re going to assume you’re here because we’re friends? Because you thought I needed a distraction from the distinct possibility I’m not ever going back to the Talons?”
Her heart thudded against her chest as she checked the rearview and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He knew why she was here. She thought she’d been so clever. Who was she trying to kid? Rob had always been able to read her like a book.
“For the record,” she said, “I believe you’re going back to the Talons. I’ve grown up in baseball, you know I know the game, and I’m not talking about what happens on the field. It makes sense to have you on the team. You’re a hell of a relief pitcher and you close like nobody’s business. Daddy would be a fool not to use your talents. When you don’t have your head up your behind, you’re a calming influence on the team. The others look up to you. You’re an asset. And, for the record, I am also here to distract the hell out of you. Levi Ralston is an ass, and you need to be focused on your pitching and not on what some hack writer has to say.”
Rob stared at her for a long moment. She was hardly aware of the traffic going by, of anything that existed outside the bubble of the front seat. “This hotel of yours have a back entrance?”
ROB FOLLOWED Tori into the penthouse suite at the Harrison, his reason for allowing her to convince him to come back to her hotel no less fuzzy than it had been half an hour ago. The next week was important for him. Every pitch, every decision he made could determine his future with the Talons. Yet here he was, risking it all to spend more time with this crazy girl. Woman. Friend. Lover?
She tossed her keys and purse, crowding the tall vase of fresh white roses sitting on the highly polished foyer table, and damned if that simple act didn’t seem sexy, too.
If his attraction was purely physical he’d be better off. But Tori was different now. She hadn’t just gotten older—she’d grown up. Not that she still wasn’t a nutcase, but underneath was a solid foundation, one she’d built on her own, brick by painful brick. He admired the hell out of the grit and determination he knew it had taken considering her upbringing.
He leaned back against the low desk and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her move around the room. He had a game tomorrow and he shouldn’t get comfortable, but damn. This was the best he’d felt all season. He’d been right about her wanting to cheer him up. She was doing a pretty good job of it, now that they were behind closed doors. Still didn’t mean it was a good idea to be with her. But screw it. He’d worry again in an hour or so.
Tori turned on her heel, settled on the posh white sofa and then crossed those amazing legs. Her smile, when he could drag his gaze up to see it, told him she totally had his number.
“All right, then,” she said in that lilting Southern drawl that always got to him. “As you so astutely observed, it’s my job to take your mind off your troubles. As a friend.”
“A friend,” he repeated, wondering where this was going, and how much it was going to cost him.
“So, what are you waiting for?” She gestured impatiently with one delicate hand. “Take off your clothes.”
“What?” He smiled. “You’re not even going to kiss me or buy me a drink first?”
“Oh, I plan on doing a lot more than kissing you, sugar.” She casually uncrossed her legs, and then slowly, deliberately recrossed them, and yep, just like she wanted, the little vixen got his full attention. “I’m going to hide your pants so you can’t change your mind and run off on me.”
Rob laughed, shook his head in mock astonishment. That was another thing she did for him. She made him laugh when he hadn’t had much humor in his life for a while. And she surprised him. Few people did.
“You think I’m kidding?” She arched a perfect brow, looking as if she were the queen of the damn manor. “Your pants. Now.”
“Come get them.” On his way to the bar, he gave her an I-dare-you sidelong glance. He found a bottle of water, uncapped it and took a long, cool drink.
“Don’t think I won’t.” She stretched both arms along the back of the couch, causing the hem of her dress to rise. Another inch and he’d see those odd panties. What had she called them—boyshorts? He lifted his gaze to her breasts. Her nipples were already tight and taunting him. Damn. Right then he decided she wouldn’t get her way this time, even if he had to hide in the bathroom and jerk off.
“It’s how you use white that counts,” she said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Really? You want to spend our time discussing design techniques?”
He shrugged. Unhurriedly took another sip of water.
“Okay.” Sighing, she slowly got to her feet, stretching as she rose, appearing bored as if she knew they were about to play a game she could win without even trying.
Rob controlled a smile as he watched her turn around to inspect the messed-up pillow on which she’d been reclining. When she bent over to fluff it, her dress rode up higher, giving him a resolve-shattering view of her firm curvy ass.
Muttering a curse, he reached for the top button on his jeans.
7
BY THE TIME SHE turned around, Rob’s jeans were undone and his shirt was half-off. The smug grin curving her mouth should have been enough to make him reverse course, make her work a little harder, but he was too far gone. He wanted her bad.
He wanted her now.
“Come here, Tori.”
A flicker of devilment gleamed in her eye. She bit her lower lip, probably considering her next move, trying to decide if she wanted to make him beg. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t.
Her gaze fell to his chest and she pulled up her dress while rounding the coffee table.
The slinky black fabric came over her head, and she flung it toward a sleek chaise in the corner. She shoved down the top of the boyshorts, far enough down that his pulse hammered his neck and heat pooled in his belly. The exposed expanse of smooth, silky hairless skin had him trying to swallow, but his mouth was too dry.
He wanted her to keep going, roll the material down to her thighs, but she left it right there, one provocative inch too high.
“Finish it,” he told her.
Slowly she shook her head from side to side. He resented that the movement caused him to look up. His gaze stayed on her face barely a second, not even long enough to register her expression, before he was drawn to her breasts, her nipples already flushed dark with arousal.