Scoring

Scoring
Kristin Hardy

It's one to nothing and Becka Landon's in over her head. She refuses a hands-on role with former baseball champ Mace Duvall, even though she's an athletic therapist. Becka's recently been given the professional opportunity of a lifetime - trainer for a minor league ball club. And she's determined not to get distracted by any hot young player.That should be fine, because it's Mace she'll have to watch out for! Mace is completely drawn to Becka - her hot body and sexy stare are too much for him. He's made a quick play for her already and she responded beyond even his wildest fantasies.When it's time to try for third base, Mace realizes he's met his match - soon they're having sex on the field, never mind off! What will happen, however, when the game is no longer just a game?

“To the pool shark,” Mace toasted

He clinked his beer bottle with Becka’s. “You’re definitely a better player than I am, but I usually don’t stink as badly as this. I think I need a goal.” He glanced at the table. “I think we ought to bet on the next game.”

“I don’t play for money, Duvall.”

“No money. Something better.” He set his bottle down and traced a finger along her jawbone. “You win, the evening’s over and I never bother you again…. I win, we go to bed.”

She opened her mouth with the intention of telling him to go to hell, but stopped before the words got out. It was the perfect setup, she realized. He was offering her a chance to reel him in, to get him turned on and, thinking he had her, then take the game from him and show him who was really in control. “I think that’s a bet I can live with.”

Mace walked behind her, sliding a slow hand down her hip, and she jolted. He leaned over the table with his pool cue, looking sexy and a little bit dangerous, yet more than capable of taking this game, of taking her.

Uh-oh. “Wait,” she blurted, just as the cue ball cracked into the colored balls, scattering them around the table.

Damn. Too late.

Dear Reader,

The minute Becka Landon swaggered onto the scene in My Sexiest Mistake, I knew she deserved a book of her own. Fortunately, my editor agreed, and the result is Scoring, the first book in my UNDER THE COVERS miniseries. I’ve always been fascinated by spin-off characters, enjoying the way they unfold as they move from their initial introduction through to a story that focuses just on them. The UNDER THE COVERS miniseries isn’t anything as obvious as a family saga. As you read Scoring, As Bad As Can Be (May) and Slippery When Wet (July), your challenge is going to be figuring out which secondary character in each book will become the hero or heroine of the next.

For now, though, just sit back and enjoy as Becka strikes sparks with hunky Mace Duvall, ex-baseball heartthrob. Be sure to drop me a line at kristinhardy@earthlink.net and tell me what you think. Or drop by my Web site at www.kristinhardy.com for contests, e-mail threads between characters in my books, recipes and updates on my latest book.

Have fun,

Kristin Hardy

Scoring

Kristin Hardy

To Shannon Short for a great critique,

to Teresa Brown for being generally wonderful,

and

to Stephen,

luz de mi vida,

for everything.

Contents

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

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

1

“GOD, I LOVE IT when you have your hands on me.” The husky words broke the stillness of the room.

Becka Landon slid her fingers over the muscled back of the half-naked man lying in front of her, the warm oil slick under her palms. Skin slipped against skin as her breath came faster, a faint dew of moisture forming on her flushed face. The scent of the oil wove its way into her senses, the warmth of his body heated hers. She caught her lower lip between her teeth in concentration.

“I don’t want to share you,” he groaned. “Let’s just run away, you and me.”

Becka’s mouth curved. “Sammy, you try running away with anyone and your wife will track you down and brain you with a frying pan.” She slapped him smartly on the shoulder. “Off the table, coach. Time to go teach these kids to play baseball.”

Sammy Albonado, manager for the Lowell Weavers minor league baseball team, sat up and ran his fingers through his grizzled hair. Years of crouching behind the plate as a major league catcher had given him dickey knees and chronic bursitis in his shoulder. Only Becka’s skilled hands could banish the aches on those days when the arthritis gnawed at him. “You got yourself a great touch, kid. I’m gonna have you teach my wife.”

“I don’t know.” Becka put her hands on her hips and gave him a sassy look from under the bangs of her red hair. “If I were you, I’d be a little nervous about bringing Essie in. I might have to tell her you’re threatening to run off on her unless you make it worth my while.”