Boys Of Summer: Sliding Home / Fever Pitch / The Sweet Spot. Leslie KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
ever be sure of that. Because most women they met were after a notch on their own player’s scorecard. Or a big fat alimony check, like the one he wrote out every month, which was the real cherry on the sundae since he’d been the wronged one in the marriage.
The judge hadn’t cared. And the media hadn’t bothered to question Bronwyn’s claims that Riley’s off-the-field playing was responsible for the breakup of baseball’s favorite sweethearts.
Those closest to him—his parents, brothers, good friends—knew the truth. To hell with the rest of them. He’d long ago realized people would believe what they wanted to believe.
Shaking off the memories, he glanced at the stranger again. She was sipping red wine, which left her lips ripe with color.
“She’s very attractive, isn’t she?”
He should’ve known the restaurant owner would pick up on his not-so-subtle interest. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Want an introduction?”
“You know her?”
“I might. Shall I…fix things up?”
“Got a second career as a matchmaker going?”
She shuddered visibly. “Donovan would never forgive me.”
“Then it’s just as well I’m not looking to be fixed up.”
“Suit yourself. If you like dining alone….” Walking away, she left him with nothing to do but look into the depths of his drink. Or at the woman across the room.
She was definitely a more interesting subject, and apparently she felt the same way about him. Because again, she caught him watching her and after a quick, nearly imperceptible shift of her eyes and quiver of her body, met his gaze boldly.
But that tiny flash of hesitation told him something. Right at that moment, Riley got it. This woman hadn’t been stood up. The tightness of her lips, the tremble in her hand, betrayed her nervousness and he finally figured out her game. She’d come here, dressed like that, to one purpose: to pick up a man. Any man. And he was the man she’d chosen.
He could almost visualize what would happen if he accepted the hot, unspoken invitation in the brunette’s eyes. He’d smile as he walked to her table. She’d invite him to join her. They’d share another drink and talk about nothing while whispering a million silent, erotic promises.
They might make it through dinner…or they might give up any pretense and walk out before their food arrived. Their hands would clasp, fingers entwining as they left the building, knowing what was about to happen. Her leg would brush against his, a delicate touch of near innocence that was utterly sinful.
They’d make it to the parking lot before they kissed. Riley’s hands would be buried in her soft hair while he roughly explored the depths of her mouth with his tongue. They’d share breaths, share heat, share an almost indescribable excitement.
Once inside his car, they’d pause for another intense, more private kiss. And if they were lucky, he’d have the strength to start the car and drive to his place—or hers—to finish what they’d started. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to wait, though, and his cramped car would do for some quick, hot, fabulous sex.
He’d played this scene before. Not recently—not for a few years. But it had happened in his early days with the Slammers.
You’re not that guy anymore.
No, he wasn’t. He’d long since realized meaningless sex was not the way to eradicate the memory of his failed marriage. And that, as strange as it seemed, he was being used, too, by women who never wanted Riley the person…just Riley the pitcher.
He didn’t hate them for it. Hadn’t his wife, the woman who’d pledged to love and honor him until death, wanted the sports star, too?
Not the man. Never the man he was inside.
So he’d changed. He wasn’t one of the players off the field anymore, despite the rumors. And he didn’t care. Life was good now without women. Which made it hard to understand why he couldn’t stop thinking about the brunette.
“You know what,” he murmured to his waitress as she came to deliver his dinner, “I’ve changed my mind. Can you box that up?”
The waitress jerked her head up and down, as obsequious to one of the star players in this town as most other people.
Like the lady in red?
That cinched it. He wasn’t certain the woman had recognized him, but it was possible. And he sure didn’t want any obsequious woman willing to do anything to say she’d made it with a sports star. He’d been there, done that. So as soon as the waitress came back with his food and check, he handed her some cash and stood to leave. His stride didn’t slow as he passed the stranger, though he was unable to resist giving her an appreciative nod, if only to thank her for the distraction she’d provided.
Once outside the main dining room, however, he realized he’d forgotten his dinner. “Damn,” he muttered. Because he was hungry. And because he’d look like a loser going back in there to get it after playing Mr. Cool and Confident while escaping.
“Problem?” the hostess asked.
He could ask her to retrieve his bagged dinner. Or he could walk out and hit a drive-through on the way home. In the end, however, he decided on a third option. “I just decided to go into Fever Pitch for a while,” he told the woman, smiling as he crossed the vestibule to the quiet bar, which served light food. Not his nice medium-rare steak, but it’d do.
Anything would do, as long as it got his mind off the temptress he’d just walked away from.
* * *
“THIS WAS the stupidest idea on the face of the earth.”
Janie didn’t bother keeping the disgust out of her voice. There was no point. Callie had witnessed the entire humiliating scene that had just unfolded in the restaurant. There was no way the other woman, no matter how loyal, could deny the truth: Janie had given it her best shot. And had been completely shot down.
“He was interested.”
Snorting, Janie reached for her wineglass. “Right.”
“He could barely keep his eyes off you.”
“Sure managed to keep his hands off.”
As the owner of Diamond, Callie enjoyed a lot of privileges. Like being able to ignore the rest of her customers and sit at Janie’s table. “Janie, he was so into you. Maybe he was just unsure…needing you to make a more obvious first move.”
More obvious? Good grief, the only way she could possibly have been any more obvious was if she’d stripped off her dress and flung it at the man. “Riley and unsure are two words that do not belong in the same sentence.”
Callie frowned. “I can think of one: Riley wanted you badly but you are unsure of that fact.”
She didn’t give an inch. “Riley wanting me badly is, I am quite sure, fiction.”
“Why are you convinced you don’t have a shot with him?”
“Why are you so determined to think I do?”
Callie leaned closer, staring so hard at her that Janie wondered if she had a splash of wine on her cheek or something. “I am determined to think that,” she said, her voice low and no-nonsense, “because ever since you first mentioned who your mystery man was, I knew you two would be perfect together.”
Knew it? Janie barely knew whether she’d be able to get her newly cut, newly highlighted hair back up into this style again after tonight. Much less who her perfect man was.
But her friends really had tried to help her, and, despite what had just happened with Mr. Slammer Stud, Janie was feeling pretty good about herself. Maybe she wasn’t sexy enough to garner the attention of a sports superstar,