It was maddening. The flaw had to be somewhere. It seemed silly to take comfort in thinking that maybe he was a Satan worshipper or spent his off-season participating in human sacrifices.

He did seem to like his women, though, and there were plenty of pictures to prove it. She scrolled through hundreds of photos posted to the web. There were dozens of him with the actress she already knew about, but there were also ones with pop stars, models, and baseball fans, his arm always curled around their waists and his smile a clear indicator that he didn’t mind the closeness. And at the end of that arm was the same hand that had held hers when they danced and brushed against her cheek.

It was terribly disconcerting that she did mind. As the days wore on and she continued to peruse the women he’d dated, Amanda realized that she minded very much. Maybe that was it? He really was a womanizer who collected orgasms like he did awards. But while he had all the makings of a playboy, it was completely contradictory. He was just too attentive and accessible. That could be his modus operandi; shower with attention until the mission is accomplished, then on to the next conquest. And then she thought that maybe it would be best if she got her fling over with so she could be free of him. Amanda did have several casual hookups on her sexual resume, the result of her being single-minded on the success of the Cold Creek and unwilling to commit to potential long-term boyfriends who were too eager to give her unsolicited business advice. When she was first starting out, it was easy to shake her. She was too strong in her business decisions now to ever consider a man’s opinion a challenge, and had several failed relationships to prove it. But she had made an error. She should’ve had her one-night stand that first night, before he started turning on the charm. When he stopped doing all the little things that had romance written all over them she knew the outcome wouldn’t be the same. And overruling all logical thought was, she wanted to try out his kiss again. She got the distinct impression that letting Chase have her body would result in her wanting him to have her heart and soul, and that was a losing proposition.

As she continued to browse and discover, she began to conjure mental images of Chase seducing and deflowering virgins and swinging from the rafters with prostitutes, all with Earth, Wind & Fire playing in the background. Jealousy mounted and then turned irrational. By the time he surprised her and showed up on his way to the stadium before his Friday-night home game, unwilling to wait until after it to see her, she didn’t know whether to throw herself into his arms or slug him.

Because the restaurant was already open and there were witnesses around, she refrained from doing either.

“If you’re in this to add me to a list of conquests, turn around and leave right now,” she hissed quietly at him from across the podium where she was standing as soon as he walked in.

He looked momentarily shocked, and then the smile appeared.

“Either you’ve been doing some homework while I was gone or your workstation is the portal to hell.” He chuckled, delighted by her outburst. “You get pretty brazen behind that thing.”

He got as close as he could to her, much closer than the last time he did it with the podium still between them. “Over the years, I’ve gotten very good at reading signs. You sound jealous, and I think it’s adorable,” he whispered, then pulled back enough for her to see him raising both his eyebrows, daring her to dispute it.

She didn’t answer him because she didn’t know how, and he had just prevented her from making a scene. She did sound jealous, because she was. It was unsettling, having to acknowledge that whenever she was in his presence, she was so willing to forsake her good manners and instead become bitchy and shrewlike. Since meeting him, she had slowly become a walking contradiction. One she had moved to blaming on that first kiss, which still made her tingle. Why was she so dead-set denying the attraction to him? Maybe it was time to just sit back and enjoy the attention, but be mindful that it was most likely temporary. If promiscuity was his flaw, it was sure to show itself. And if she didn’t just hop into bed with him, it was likely to show itself sooner rather than later. He had already wedged himself into her life.

“I can’t keep fighting you, Chase, but I’m scared to death you’re going to use me,” she said, finally blurting out the confession.

He straightened back up and looked down at her from across the podium, shaking his head. “What’s it going to take for me to prove to you I’m not that guy? I think I’m in this one for the long haul.”

He had already proven it, in every conversation they’d had and every overture he’d made. She glanced past him and saw a party of four waiting patiently to be seated. She could tell they knew exactly who he was, with only having the back of him to go by. She saw the two camera phones ready for when he turned around.

“I need to go slow,” she murmured.

“However long it takes,” he promised.

“Will you be back after your game?”

He merely smiled before turning and getting ready to have his picture taken. “Silly question.”


THEY BEGAN DATING AND THE game changed. She dropped the attitude and focused on enjoying his company. That following Monday and Tuesday, she tagged along with Chase on some of his routine. She went with him to the gym, and won what she secretly named “the eye-candy sweepstakes.” Chase’s friend Logan Montgomery was also his personal trainer. She used a treadmill while the pair worked out in Logan’s private Englewood facility, and she tried to keep from ogling the men as they pumped iron. Not that the beautiful Logan could hold a candle to Chase’s rugged athleticism. But it couldn’t be denied, the view was spectacular. It also confirmed that he really was strong enough to hold her over his head. Chase knew how to beast up a weight bench. The only way it could’ve gotten any better was if the whole workout was done with both of them naked; however, seeing them in shorts and T-shirts gave her imagination a good sweat.

She went with him to his games Monday and Tuesday night. She had her picture taken from yards away by questionable-looking characters while he was on the field. He answered a question at his postgame about whether they were an item with a boyish “Yep.” He picked her up early before his Tuesday-night game and took her on a road trip to nowhere, just drove a few hours in a random direction to check out weird stuff, then turn around and headed back, the GPS at the ready if needed. She enjoyed that for all sorts of reasons. At sixty miles an hour, she had him all to herself since he shut off his phone. And he wasn’t able to concentrate on giving her all the looks that made her question her ability to keep her hands off him. She wasn’t going to be able to hold him off much longer. She was losing all her motivation to try. She wanted to make out. A moving car gave her an advantage, but only a slight one. Because as he drove, he touched her always, mostly stroking her forearm with his free hand, sometimes taking her hand and lightly playing with her thumb. If he was able to incorporate the look into that, she’d be hard-pressed not to start ripping his clothes off. By the time they got to the stadium for Tuesday night’s game, Amanda had determined that the next overture he made, she was taking him up on it.

She loved to watch him play; he was larger than life. As soon as he stepped onto the field, the fashionable, polished luminary celebrated his truest essence. Not an act, but the ultimate extension of everything he was, minus the baggage of being a role model. He played hard but he wasn’t intense. He didn’t punch or throw things, never mouthed an obscenity or took on an umpire past a polite inquiry. He was carefree and playful, enjoying every moment of being a grown man lost within a boy’s game. It was incredible to witness. Amanda roamed the stadium, finding her way to the bleachers and the upper decks to watch him on the big screen, secure in the knowledge he had no idea where she was. It gave her the opportunity to let her guard down and observe him in his element without any regard to his focus being on her. He always watched her. Whenever they were together, she was always in his sight line, often with the same look he wore the first night at the Cold Creek. But from the cheap seats, she was able to spy on him with thirty thousand other people; only the rest of them had no clue as to what they were seeing.

She was there waiting for him when he came out of the locker room, because she liked the thought of his seducing her most of all and couldn’t wait to clue him in. First, she had to dutifully fade into the background while he met his responsibilities to be accessible to his fan base. She offered to take some of the pictures in the spirit of being a good sport. She ignored the rush of peevishness that accompanied watching him do the familiar arm curl around another woman’s waist. Having to endure the few women who insisted on kissing him presented more of a challenge.

Chase didn’t kiss back, but graciously presented his cheek. Then his eyes met hers and he gave her a little wink, the affectionate reminder that he appreciated her tolerance. It teasingly conveyed that he knew about her jealous streak. It also reminded her that he was thrown temptation on a regular basis, and by the time they finished dinner, she had waffled on the topic again. But after he walked her to her door and gently drew her into his powerful arms it was impossible to think of anything at all. Each kiss was more electrifying than the first had been, since he had started brushing his tongue across her lips and sometimes into her mouth, all smooth and warm and soft. His fingertips traced down her spine and came to rest on the small of her back. Both nights she was dizzy afterward and was left wondering if the entire day had been a dream and her gentle giant nothing more than a mirage. But the text would soon arrive afterward, confirming her reality: “That was fun. Can’t wait to see you again.”

He left that Thursday for a short stint in Boston, and in his absence, Amanda gave herself the “fish or cut bait” lecture. He was who he was, and nothing was going to change that. She couldn’t keep viewing women coming on to him as a roadblock. If they were to have any hope at a relationship, she would have to get used it. He had kept his promise and was willing to abide by her timetable. He couldn’t keep that promise and hit on her at the same time. She was going to have to make it obvious she was ready. Whatever his flaw was, it was becoming less important. On a balmy Sunday evening in June, while he was finishing up game three with the Sox and she was still feeling the afterglow of a particularly romantic phone conversation from the night before, Amanda impulsively referred to Chase as her boyfriend.

The repercussions soon followed.

Luckily the following stormy Monday changed the game again.

She hadn’t answered his call all day or the night before, either. Vexing but not surprising. Amanda often neglected her phone. Still, he wasn’t used to people ignoring his calls and definitely not women. As soon as word came down that the game had been officially rained out, Chase quickly showered. Then he went straight to Amanda’s apartment, knowing the Cold Creek was closed. He would surprise her, offer to take her to dinner. Have her for dessert. Four days with nothing but her occasional voice over the phone only heightened his resolve. And he decided the weeks he spent at the restaurant winning her over counted as time served. He had just about reached the end of his rope when it came to waiting her out. She’d put him through his paces longer than any woman before her. He’d been patient, respectful. She was a good girl, not a tramp, he got it. But even he could tell there was more passion building up when they were together. She had to be convinced by now that he was more than just a muscle-bound overindulged jock. Tonight Chase had every intention of breaking through the cool exterior to what he just knew was a sex goddess underneath. She might even find herself on the receiving end of a hand tattoo. He jumped out of his car and, whistling his way through the building, stopped in front of her door and knocked.

The door opened as far as the chain lock would allow. Round blue eyes widened in surprise as they peeked through the gap in the door.

“Chase!” she gasped, and then failed at the recovery with a stammered, “H-hi.”

“Hi yourself.” His smile was strained. She was still behind a fully chained door and hardly appeared happy to see him. “My game got rained out. I thought maybe you’d like to go have dinner.”