She moved to take a seat at her desk. He moved faster. Planting himself in the leather chair, he was already there when she ended up in his lap.

“Good.” He gathered her legs in his arm and spun her so she sat crosswise on his thighs. “We can finish what we started.”

The thrill of delicious possibility tickled her skin.

But she could not let it sweep her away again. She’d been so damn close to exactly what she’d wanted and instead she’d ended up with a publicity nightmare on her hands.

“No.” She had to close her eyes when she said it. She couldn’t have refused that hot look in his eyes otherwise. Not after she’d dreamed about Rick looking at her this way for so very long. “I need to salvage this before those photos show up somewhere and—”

“Why?” He ran one hand up her thigh, his touch impeded by such a thin layer of silk she could feel every nuance of his palm through the fabric. “The damage is done. We might as well wrest every ounce of pleasure out of this night if we’re going to pay the price for it tomorrow.”

His fingers began to bunch the sarong in his palm, lifting it higher on her thigh with each clench of his fist. She had to squeeze her thighs tight to stifle the stir of liquid heat between her legs.

“But the damage hasn’t been done.” Levering herself upright, her hip grazed the evidence of his desire straining the fly of his khakis. She could have cried with the frustration she felt at having to ignore it. “I can’t let you suffer the consequences of bad press and my father’s retribution if there’s any chance we can buy those pictures or halt the story.”

“I’m a grown man. I make my own choices and I take full responsibility for my actions.” His level look dared her to challenge him. He kept his arms around her hips, holding her there.

“I know.” Her heart beat faster at his declaration, further proof that he was an honorable man worthy of her trust. “And while I admire that about you tremendously, the truth is I caught you off guard by stripping down in the locker room and effectively instigated the whole thing because—”

She stopped herself just in time. Yet, judging by the narrowing of his gaze, her save hadn’t been timely at all.

“Because why?”

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lemon oil on the freshly polished office furniture and a hint of spicy aftershave.

“Because I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a long time.” It was true. It just wasn’t the whole truth. So she braved a little more. “Because I was afraid you’d leave at the end of the season without me ever getting to know you and I—didn’t want to wait for life to happen to me anymore.”

She watched him, hoping that would be enough for him to release her, to let her go to work on fixing the mess she’d made. Given a little time, she knew she could find that rogue photographer. The pool of sleazy journalists in Atlanta was small and the pool of folks who would cover baseball stars was even smaller.

“Why now?” Rick asked, as if he’d telepathically keyed in on that one kernel of information she’d hoped to keep quiet. “Why tonight?”

The temptation to fib came and went in about a nanosecond. She’d gone into contract law because she’d known she’d never be a litigator. It just wasn’t in her nature to lie, especially not to a man with the kind of upstanding values that made her notice him from day one. Rick Warren was the go-to player on the team when you needed a base hit or to advance a runner. An unselfish player, he did his job year in and year out whether or not he got the spotlight or the fattest contracts. And she admired the heck out of him.

Her tongue darted out to moisten lips gone suddenly dry. Bracing herself, she revealed the truth.

“I had a cancer scare.”

The clock ticking on the wall above her office desk reverberated through the room like it was counting down the seconds until doomsday.

“Are you okay?” He unlocked his hold on her hips to grip her shoulders, squaring her body to his as if to take the news head-on.

She nodded, her throat suddenly tight with the memory of all the fears and scenarios that had gone through her head two weeks earlier when she’d been terrified that a doctor might tell her she had a finite time left.

“I’m fine.” She released a shaky breath. “Wonderfully, gratefully fine. There was a lump—” she gestured toward her breast where a tiny stitch remained “—but it was benign. Just a scare that had me up at night thinking about what I’d do differently if—”

Her throat closed up again.

He rubbed her shoulder, a touch of comfort that turned sensual when he laid his palm on her neck and stroked her cheek with slow sweeps of his thumb.

“I like what you did differently.”

Her eyes locked on his, searching for clues that he was teasing her.

“Not just because you took off your clothes.” He shifted their weight in her leather office chair, tipping back so that she had no choice but to lean into him. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, her ear close enough to his heart to feel its steady beat. “Although that was great, too. But I’m glad you put yourself in my path tonight. I noticed you as soon as I was traded to the team, but I put you out of my mind because of who you are.”

“The owner’s daughter.” She recognized the conflict of interest there. “I didn’t think it was a good idea in theory, either. But on those sleepless nights when I had too much time to think…I didn’t care about that.”

Rick let her words flow over him as he held her, knowing there was a message in there for him, too.

She thought she’d been playing it safe on life’s sidelines for too long?

He’d walked around the Rebels’ clubhouse for two years with his headphones on and his focus on baseball, never resorting to the showboating crap the younger players used to make a name for themselves with the fans or the media. He wasn’t hitting the weights every day or chugging protein like water in an effort to hit one out every at bat. Most of the big sluggers would never think of a sac fly or batting around the bases.

And while Rick was proud of the kind of ball he’d played during his ten years in the majors, he sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t draw a little more attention to himself. Not because he wanted the glory. But what if the next generation of players in the game were only hearing about power hitters and home runs? If the strategists didn’t step up now and then to talk about the finer points of winning, the league might not attract the kind of guys it took to round out a team.

Yeah, Rick could very much appreciate the need to do things differently. To step out of the safe zone into the spotlight even if it wasn’t comfortable.

“I don’t care about the fallout from this.” He rejigged her weight on his lap, seized with a sense of purpose where both she and his career were concerned. The new position put them eye to eye again. “I don’t want to spend another second thinking about some sleazy photographer or what might happen tomorrow.”

“I can’t allow you to be traded because of me.”

“I want you to let me handle this.” He had a plan and he’d figure out how to implement it tomorrow. “For now, I’d just like to help you celebrate your good news. Your good health.”

She shook her head, ready to argue. He kissed her to press his point. He didn’t stop until she softened against him, her body boneless as she molded herself to him.

“I must be crazy,” she whispered, when he finally broke the kiss.

“No. You’re just living on your own terms, remember?” His heart slugged hard against his chest, his adrenaline cranked at the thought of being with her. Seeing her burst into the dark locker room in her bright colors tonight had been like someone turned on a light switch in his head. “Are you okay with this?”

He skimmed his fingers along the top of the sarong and tugged gently on one end of the knot.

She swayed toward him.

“You’re very convincing.” Her eyelids fluttered and closed by a fraction.

“So are you.” He pulled the end of the fabric and unfastened the knot, unveiling the lemon-yellow bra he’d glimpsed earlier and releasing a hint of her scent. “The sarong almost gave me a coronary when you strolled into the locker room in that thing.”

She placed a hand on his heart.

“How about now?”

“Do your worst.” He could feel his pulse spike at her attention, his blood rushing through his veins with the heat of knowing he’d have her soon. “I’m all yours.”

He wrapped her tight in his arms, fitting her curves to the aching heat of him. Any reservation he’d had about this in the locker room had incinerated, leaving only desire and possessiveness for this shy, sharp woman who could have any man she wanted and chose him.

Unbelievable.

Capturing her mouth with his, he kissed her hard. She tasted so sweet he couldn’t possibly get enough. Not in just one night. But that didn’t stop him from exploring the slick, smooth surface of her teeth or the velvet glide of her tongue at length.

The temperature in the office flared hotter than a sauna. His skin pricked with a primal need to clear her desk with the sweep of his arm and take her here. Now. Instead, he lifted her out of the chair, standing with her in his arms to cross the dimly lit room where a long, low couch awaited. Her computer and a small desk lamp cast a bluish glow around them as they fell onto the sofa, her back cradled in his arm when they dropped into the cushions.

He levered back enough to look at her. She made a mouth-watering picture, her eyes glazed with passion and her lips red and plump from his kisses. Her silky dark hair fanned out around her shoulders, an inky-black background for the brightly colored undergarments he couldn’t wait to take off.