Jennifer Seasons - Throwing Heat

To get to the only open seat, Leslie had to walk in front of him and when she did he changed up chords and slipped into G. Love’s “Booty Call,” gaining a chuckle from the crowd. Her leg froze mid-stride and she rounded on him slowly, like a player in slo-mo instant replay. Oh no he isn’t. In front of everyone no less.

“And neither one of us wants to give love a try,” he sang around a smartass grin and tossed her a wink, provoking her. “But then we got drunk and fooled around and had a booty call.”

Ugh!

Why did he keep referring to that night like that? It was so much more than that. And if he wasn’t such a stubborn jerk, he’d be able to admit it.

She took a step and her stride hitched, making her trip on the toe of her boot, almost going down flat on her face. Catching herself, she heard him chuckle under his breath and sing, the dirty rat, “Everybody wants a booty call!”

She shot daggers at him with her eyes and tugged her sweater down with a snap. His blue eyes danced with a naughty humor that ticked her off. Damn the man. Her mouth opened to say something snarky to him just as he changed up chords again and melted back into “Rainbow” like he was innocent as a lamb and had never done such a juvenile thing to begin with.

Whatever.

With a dismissive flip of her ponytail, Leslie was just about to take her seat when a bellow came from the kitchen and Mark came running, carrying Lorelei like she was a bride on her wedding night. Everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at them. His eyes were wide and dazed and he braced his legs apart, tossed his head back and shouted, “We’re having a baby!”

She knew it.

The house erupted in shouts, whistles, and applause, and Leslie’s heart tripped in her chest at the ecstatic look on her brother’s face. He was cradling his wife to him tightly and gave her a sound, smacking kiss. “I’m going to be a dad! Whoo!”

Then he was spinning Lorelei around, and they were both laughing and clinging to each other. Leslie’s heart filled up with love and happiness for them both, making her eyes all teary. Movement caught her attention and she saw Peter staring at her.

Riding on the celebratory vibe, she met his gaze and smiled wide. He raised that brow of his and gave her a small boyish smile, tipped his head at the two soon-to-be parents. His guard dropped and his eyes went warm and sensitive and sweet.

And she had no hope of stopping it when her heart took a nosedive and landed her right smack in a big ol’ pool of love.

It just sucked.

LESLIE BURIED HERSELF in work as Halloween approached and her boys made it into the World Series. The Denver Rush were hosting the Boston Red Sox at Coors Field, and the nightclub had been absolutely hopping once the Series got under way. It was exhausting.

The past two nights she hadn’t even made it back to Peter’s place after the place had emptied. Both times she’d crashed out hard on the couch, lured by the promise of a blissful night’s sleep cradled in its plush, velvety cushions. Leslie was a victim of the vortex.

If there was added inspiration for the campouts fueled from a very keen desire to avoid the man who’d stolen her heart, well, yeah, okay. So what? The dirty rotten no-good sneaky . . . thief.

First chance she had she was going to take it back.

She wasn’t going to stay in love. No freaking way. Leslie was going to just sit herself down, have a long conversation, and rationalize her way right back out of the uninvited emotion. It would work—no problem. Or rather, it should work. Wait. No, it would work. Right?

It had to.

Leslie ran her hands through her hair and tipped back her office chair, blowing out a long, slow breath.

The man was a bad health risk.

“Which of course makes him right up my alley,” Leslie muttered dryly.

Dropping her chair down, she slapped her palms on her desk and said to her plant friends in various states of unhappiness scattered about the room, “I declare the rest of today a No Peter day.” She opened her mouth to continue, and then what she’d said registered, and she closed it again on a chuckle. Every day was a No Peter day. That was the whole point of the bet.

A knock sounded at the door and Leslie sat up in her chair, calling out, “Come in.”

She slipped her feet back into her heels and froze when the door opened and John Crispin walked in. “John!” she exclaimed, completely taken by surprise. What in the world was he doing here? She never thought she’d see him again after his trade from Denver to Boston.

Her ex-boyfriend smiled a little bashfully and ducked his head, looking at her through his lashes. “How’re you doing, Leslie? Mind if I come in?” He hesitated at the threshold, uncertain.

She waved him in, still jarred by the whole unexpected visit, and forced a smile. “I’m well, thanks. How are you doing?” They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since the night he’d asked her to move to Boston with him. Instead of saying yes and making him happy, she’d dumped him and broken his heart.

But she just hadn’t been able to uproot and move to another city for a man she didn’t love. Especially when she was really just starting to get her feet back under her where she was.

His smile grew and he said, “You’re wondering what the hell I’m doing here, aren’t you?”

Pretty much exactly, yes.

Leslie took a second to take him in and noted that he looked good. She said as much, “You look great, Johnny.” Her nickname for him slipped out before she’d known it had even formed on her lips, and she grimaced slightly. But the truth was he did look fantastic. The ballplayer was the big rugged sort. All planes and angles, firm lips and hard man. Except his hair. He had this soft, luxuriously wavy hair that tumbled over his shirt collar, a striking contrast to the rest of him.

His eyes roamed over her and something flickered in them, but before she could really see, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“I’m in town for the Series.” His rough, deep voice a shade uncertain. “I was wondering . . .” He paused and gave a self-conscious laugh. “Okay, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go for a drink or coffee or something while I’m in town. You know, catch up, see how each other are doing?”

Leslie smiled softly. “That’s sweet, John.” She opened her mouth, intent on declining the offer because although he was great she wasn’t interested in rekindling anything at all with him, when an image of Peter came to mind and out popped, “Sounds great!”

Damn it.

Mentally kicking herself, Leslie inhaled deeply and jerked when the phone rang. She gave John an apologetic look. “Do you mind? I’m sure it’ll be quick.” It better be. She had to figure out how to get out of their date. That might take a while.

The brown-eyed player shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

The phone rang again and she snatched up the receiver. “Leslie Cutter.”

He moved to look at the pictures she’d hung on the wall above the couch and she took in his jeans and green fleece, his broad well-muscled shoulders and tight behind. And she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. All because of one very infuriating Irish-Ukrainian pitcher.

“Ms. Cutter, this is Jerry Patowski.”

Finally. She’d been calling his office practically nonstop for days with none of her calls returned. It was so annoying.

“Hi, Jerry.” There was some bite in her tone, and she swallowed, forced it down a notch. “I’ve been trying to call you about my apartment. You said last week that you were waiting on some fittings. What’s the current status?” She knew she wasn’t being very gracious and didn’t really care. It had been weeks. At this point they’d better prorate her rent to the point of free. Maybe pay her money. If she was ever in the same room as Kowalskin again she’d mention that very idea.

“Sorry about that, but it’s been busy. We got another busted pipe in Apartment 3D.” He took a breath like he was pulling on a cigarette and said with a voice like chewed sandpaper, “Your place should be ready on the first.”

Her eyes went wide in disbelief. She couldn’t have heard that right. “Of November?”

“That’s right.”

No, no. That was wrong. She was supposed to be out of Peter’s place and back into hers immediately. Her heart depended upon it. She shook her head. “Wait. Are you telling me that it will have been an entire month before I get my place back?” What the hell kind of plumbing problem had they found that took an entire month to fix?

This whole thing was beginning to sound sketchy.

“It’s the best I can do,” Jerry replied gruffly.

Her sigh was strong enough to cause a tsunami. “Fine.”

Leslie hung up, battling the frown she felt forming between her brows, and pasted on a smile for John. “How about you give me a shout when you’re free and we’ll have that chat?” Hopefully he’d get so caught up in the Series he’d forget about asking her out.

Picking up on his cue to leave, John turned from the pictures and smiled warmly. “Sounds terrific.” He glanced around and added, “Well, I should be going. Wouldn’t want to be caught in enemy territory, so to speak.” He grinned amiably with the joke.

Laughing dutifully, she sent him on his way with a wave and a, “Call me,” smiling brightly and not meaning any of it. Public relations schmoozing was a very valuable skill to have, and it came in handy when she wanted to hide her true feelings.