He groaned. “Iama nice guy. Aren’t I being nice, not attacking a single, beautiful woman in my room who is begging for a piece of me? I don’t have time for outside distractions.”
She cleared her throat. “That’s beside the point. You say you’re a nice guy. We need to show that to everyone else. And let’s face it, you’re not exactly warm and fuzzy.”
He leaned over her and caged her neatly between his arms. “What do I care what other people think? As long as I hit the baseball, score runs, and don’t make any errors, that’s all that matters. No one ever cared before.” His lips tickled her forehead, the strands of her bangs brushed against his skin, teasing her senses, arrowing straight for his cock.
She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head. “That was before. You got away with everything up to murder, as far as I can tell. Now, you have to prove yourself all over again. You’re not the nineteen-year-old phenom out of high school, the darling of major league baseball. You’re a thirty-four-year-old ballplayer who has alienated the media, the fans and the players by your bad attitude and arrogance. Since you haven’t played in over a year, you have no credit with anyone. You need to build that before you can get away with anything.” She poked his chest. “This is your new reality. Get used to it or get out. Because no one is cutting you any slack.”
As she spoke, he pushed off the bed and paced the room, running his hand through his wavy chocolate hair. She stood and walked over to him, resting her hand on his back. “I know this sucks, but it’s reality. So now, we need to fix it.”
He turned around, anger tightening his face. Another bargain. Another person who wanted to use him for their own gain. “What’s in it for you?”
“For me? I work for the team. The team’s success is my success.”
“Bullshit. What’s in it for you?” he repeated, more insistently, leaning down and capturing her gaze with his.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I need this job right now. My last one didn’t quite end on such a positive note.”
“I got that. When you were using me to forget.” He settled back on his heels and studied her, the glimmer of a plan forming in his mind. It was so much easier when you both had some skin in the game. “So, you need me as much as I supposedly need you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her haughty expression made him laugh and want to mess her up.
“If I cooperate with you, you make your boss happy. If you clean up my image, I make the team happy and off my back so I can focus on my game. Okay, I’ll play along. But only for a small price.”
“A price?” she stammered, stepping back.
“Yup. Baseball players are pretty superstitious, did you know that? Well, I went four for four today.” He couldn’t resist the urge to brag. It had felt so damn good hitting those balls. It had been too long.
“That’s pretty good, right?”
“Yes, it is. I’m twenty homers shy of 500. And I want that. Badly. I had a big fat nothing the first couple of games. Then you come along and bam, four for four.”
“That’s a coincidence.”
“Ah ah ah.” He waggled a finger. “Ballplayers don’t believe in coincidences, remember? So, I’m thinking. You might be my good luck charm. I sleep with you and get offered a contract when no one else wanted me. I kiss you and I go four for four. I wonder… How far could that luck take me?”
Confident in his approach, he could afford to be magnanimous. He might even let her come a few times before he finished.
She stared at him, shock widening her gaze. “You’re kidding right? You think I’m a good luck charm?”
He shrugged. “For now at least. Luck is a fickle bitch, but players know not to mess with her, ever.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Well, I can be a plain old bitch. Don’t mess with me.”
He slid his gaze over her, turning on his best bedroom eyes that never failed to get a woman. “Then I’ll have to keep you happy. And make the long days on the road so much more bearable.”
*
Stacia paused fora moment. She knew what she had been asking for the minute she’d knocked on his door. And she was too much of an adult to play coy, especially when she had been reliving their one night for the past week. “Do you think you have it in you?”
He stalked around the bed, vaguely resembling the tiger she once watched stalking prey in the forest in a documentary. He stopped in front of her and caged her gently in his arms, his hands resting just outside her hips. She resisted the urge to squirm into his hands and sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
He leaned forward and breathed, “I can’t wait to find out.”
She released a shaky breath, then his mouth was on hers and he pulled her to him. Flavors exploded on her tongue. The cheeseburger. The bitter hops from the beer. The ketchup from the French fries. Instead of being a turn-off, she found herself aroused by the taste and by the barely leashed wildness she sensed lurking under the surface, the control he kept ruthlessly tamped down. She hadn’t sensed that in their first encounter, but since that day in her office, Jason was not a man to be led tamely by a leash, or by a restrictive contract. Like a wild animal, it would kill him or he would turn on his handler.
She would have to be careful not to be around when he exploded. Although the idea of experiencing an out-of-control Jason Friar was titillating and unbearably arousing.
She slid her hands up under his Polo-style shirt and curved around his back, tracing his muscles. He growled as she dug her nails in just a little and slid them down the sides and over his rib cage. She did it again. He grabbed her hands and pulled them out and over her head. As he leaned her onto the bed, she wrapped her legs around his hips and he slid her up the mattress.