Boys Of Summer: Sliding Home / Fever Pitch / The Sweet Spot

“Kinda gives new perspective to the idea of roving hands.”

Her eyes twinkled. “I’ve known guys who seemed to have more appendages than an octopus before, but this was a bit extreme.”

Lips twitching, he stepped closer. Though tempted to ask her if she needed a hand, he modified his offer. “Need some help?”

“Thanks for not asking me the obvious.”

“Busted,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “I almost did.”

“I probably would have slugged you if you had.”

Since the woman probably only stood about five foot four, he didn’t consider that much of a threat. But the fierce look on her face was so damned adorable, he didn’t dare laugh at her. He’d learned growing up with his petite mother—who could silence any of her six-foot-plus sons with one frown—not to question the power of an upset woman.

Hiding his amusement, he looked around, wondering why she’d been “attacked” only by the hands. Everything else was stacked just as haphazardly. She was lucky the shelf of replica trophies hadn’t landed on her head. “Got a little overstock here?”

Her succulent lower lip stuck out in a weary pout. “I think my inventory reproduces at night when I leave.”

“Which is why you’re here working so late? Trying to prevent any…procreation?” His voice softened on the last word, and he heard his own intensity as a whole litany of images returned to mind. The ones he’d been picturing when he’d considered taking her up on her sultry, unspoken invitation at dinner.

He couldn’t help eyeing the foam hands. That yellow mountain might be a mess to clean up, but he’d bet it was very soft.

The woman sucked in a deep, audible breath, and her lips parted as she licked nervously at them. She’d heard his hesitation and correctly interpreted it. Something deep and basic passed between them—an acknowledgement of the brief connection they’d shared earlier in the evening. The realization that they were both feeling the same heated awareness. Maybe even a silent admission that something was going to happen.

Something exciting. Something erotic. Something amazing.

He hesitated, wondering why he was feeling none of the reservations he’d felt before about indulging in one night of erotic sex with a seductive stranger. Because right now, he wanted more than anything to taste her lips and feel that slender body pressed against his own.

She rose, kicking a few #1 hands out of the way. He didn’t waste time watching her feet, however, not when her tight jeans were much more interesting. As was the shirt she wore, which highlighted the indentation of her waist and the softness of her arms. It also emphasized the delicate swell of her breasts.

Riley forced himself to lift his gaze, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, though she’d certainly been inviting stares at dinner. But since she was just as attractive all the way to the top of her head, he sank deeper into hot water.

She’d not only changed her clothes, she’d also brushed her hair out so it hung in a thick, loose curtain around her pretty face. She appeared younger than she had before, softer, though every bit as attractive. And he was reacting to her every bit as strongly as he had then.

There was still that tiny hint of recognition that told him he’d seen her before, but damned if Riley could place her. So he forced the thought away…no way would he have forgotten those lips. That face. That incredibly hot little body.

Finally, he couldn’t help confronting her on the obvious. “You look different than you did earlier.”

Her bottom lip quivered, but she said nothing. That quiver reminded him of the hint of uneasiness she’d displayed in the restaurant. It also reminded him that there was much more to the woman than a shapely figure highlighted in either a sexy dress or a sexier pair of jeans.

“I changed back into my work clothes.”

Which didn’t explain why she’d been dressed like a siren at the restaurant. As far as he knew, Diamond’s dress code was dress casual. Not dress sexy. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“More than you did, I think,” she said, tilting her head back with one brow arched in challenge.

“Touché.”

“Why did you rush out, leaving your food behind?”

He answered her challenging question with one of his own. “Why did you leave and come here—alone—when you so obviously wanted to spend the night in someone’s bed?”

She sucked in a quick gasp. “That’s very…”

“Rude?” Crossing his arms, Riley leaned a shoulder against a shelf laden with trading card albums.

“I was going to say personal. But rude works, too.”

“Maybe. But it’s true. So, honey, why don’t you tell me what you were up to tonight? I think I’d very much like to know.”

Riley didn’t know why he was enjoying baiting the brunette—maybe because he was so confused about who she really was. The sultry woman in red? Or the cute, flustered young woman facing him?

To be honest, he wasn’t sure which he wanted her to be. But he still had to know. Had she been trying to pick up the Slammers star pitcher? Or Riley Kelleher, the man?

He’d like to think it was possible she hadn’t recognized him, even though she worked in a sports shop. Maybe he was reaching—grasping for what he wanted to be true—but it was at least possible. God, he hoped it was possible.

“Tell me, what did you want?” he asked, his voice lowered to a near whisper. Then, stepping closer, he added, “And why did you leave without getting it?”

* * *

JANIE COULDN’T BELIEVE Riley was standing in the back room of her store, now, when she was at her absolute worst. All the primping, trimming, polishing and highlighting she’d done with Callie and Babe’s assistance had been for nothing. Her makeover hadn’t gotten her what she’d been seeking: Riley in her bed. No, it’d simply gotten her Riley in her stockroom.

Of all the bad luck—and lousy timing—why did the man she’d so glaringly failed to seduce have to be the one to find her looking like a brainless twit in a pile of banana-yellow foam hands?

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, his voice low and too intense for her peace of mind. As if he already knew the answer…that she’d been trying to entice him. The fact that she had failed so spectacularly kept her tongue behind her teeth.

“Maybe I’ll go first and answer a question for you,” he said when she didn’t reply. “If you’d come into Fever Pitch, I can practically guarantee you wouldn’t have gone home alone.”

She blew out a disbelieving breath. “Because there were a bunch of drunk, desperate guys in there?”

He straightened, his shoulders tensing as he eliminated the space between them in two long strides. “I meant because five minutes after I walked away from you, I was telling myself I’d made a huge mistake.”

Janie sucked in a breath, surprised by the heat—the raw honesty—in Riley’s voice. Not to mention the look in his eyes. That was attraction she saw there. The same attraction and interest he’d revealed briefly during dinner. Only now, it was magnified a million times over by his closeness. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, stepping even closer so his trousers brushed against her jeans.

Attraction? No. That wasn’t the right word. This was desire. There was no denying it, the man was looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes, his breathing slightly erratic.

It was heady, knowing he truly did want her. Had wanted her. And Janie didn’t quite know what to make of it. Considering her own body had gone completely molten the moment he’d come near, she couldn’t focus on anything but how good he smelled. How good the man would taste. How utterly amazing he would feel.

“Now tell me the truth. Why did you leave alone?”

Because you walked away from me.

The words were there, in her brain, but there was no way she was going to say them. Any more than she would admit that she’d started wearing her clothes a lot tighter, just on the off chance she’d run into him again now that she’d let Callie and Babe make her over into a baseball-star-attracting studette.

She didn’t need to say a word, because his eyes narrowed. “You weren’t going to settle for just anyone, is that it?” He lifted a hand and traced a fingertip across her jaw, then down her throat. His touch was simple yet potent, leaving her skin burning.

Stepping closer, until she could feel his breath on her face and the brush of his body against hers, he added, “Only me.”