Jennifer Seasons - Throwing Heat

He nodded. “I would. I mean, I will if that’s what you want. If you still want me.” His eyes stared into hers, searching. “If you still love me.”

For so long she’d kept herself at arm’s reach, never getting too close to anyone. And for what? It had earned her nothing.

It really was time to turn over a new leaf. For both of them. She didn’t know where it was going to lead, but she wanted to be right there with him every step of the way. “I love you, Peter.”

“Are you sure?”

Suddenly she felt like laughing. The worried look on his face was priceless. “Yes, I’m sure. Even though you’re nothing but trouble, I love you. I always will.”

Peter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Girl, ‘trouble’ is your middle name.”

Leslie slid her arms around the back of his neck, enjoying the way his eyes went warm and sweet. It was a new look for him. She very definitely approved. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

Peter grinned. “That’s the truth, princess.” Then he kissed her, softly, sweetly.

And they turned over that new leaf.

7 months later

“HURRY UP, PETER. I don’t want to be late.” Leslie pushed through the hospital doors that led to the maternity wing and took a sharp left.

“What’s there to be late about?” he drawled right behind her. “Half the damn team is already there waiting.”

As soon as they entered the waiting room area she saw he was right. “Hey, y’all. Sorry we’re late.” She cast a quick glance over at Peter and smoothed her hair. “Mad traffic.”

Drake snorted and cuffed Peter on the shoulder. “Bad traffic always gives me bedhead too.”

Just then a pretty, young nurse came through carrying a clipboard. She wasn’t looking where she was going, she was so busy reading the chart, and she ran smack into Paulson. “Oomph!” The petite woman would have gone down hard—she’d ricocheted of his barrel chest like a ping pong ball—but Drake reached out with surprising speed and caught her.

“Whoa there, teeny thing. You okay?” He looked down at the petite redhead in his arms.

The nurse blushed so hard her face matched her hair. “I’m fine, thanks. Excuse me.” She stepped out of his embrace and glanced around the room quickly and left. Paulson’s gaze lingered on her retreating form.

Peter slapped him on the back. “Happens to us all, man.”

Drake muttered distractedly, “Yeah, what’s that, Walskie?”

“The fall.”

His eyes lit up. “You know, I’ve been thinking about taking a break from my breather. You know, get back in the swing of things.” He slapped Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll be back.” Then he stepped through the archway and disappeared out of sight.

“Hey, coach.”

Peter turned to JP and smiled, shaking his hand. “What’s up, my man?”

“Can you believe Cutter’s about to become a dad?”

He shook his head and grinned. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

JP nodded. “Yeah. Hey, what’d you bet on—boy or girl?”

“Boy. Eight pounds even.” He had a lucky feeling about it too.

“How are you liking the new position?” The shortstop asked.

The Rush management had offered him a permanent position as their pitching coach after he’d healed from his eye surgery. It was his first season with the team on this side of things and he’d been surprised at just how much he enjoyed it. It was great, actually.

“I’m liking it a lot. Keeps me around you knuckleheads. You know somebody’s got to keep an eye on you.”

Leslie sidled up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His stomach flopped and his palms went damp. The woman still did that to him. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but no. It was still damn disconcerting.

“I love you.” She whispered against his ear.

Though she said it daily, it gave him a thrill every single time. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. “You too, princess.”

Life was a funny thing. Just when a person thought it was only going to go from bad to worse, it went and threw a curveball. It became amazing.

Mark burst through the door to the waiting room, turning everyone’s attention. “It’s a boy! A perfect, incredible boy!” The look of wonder on his face had Peter smiling.

Before anyone could congratulate the catcher he disappeared again, leaving Peter to say to Leslie over his shoulder, “You know I want like, eight, right? Enough for a whole team.”

She pinched his butt. “Not going to happen, Kowalskin.”

He spun around and wiggled his brows, giving her a naughty grin. “That’s okay. The fun is in the trying.”

She tossed back her head and laughed. “In your dreams.”

Yeah, it had been in his dreams. But then he’d grown some balls. And now, now his reality was amazing.

Because it included Leslie.

When Lorelei Littleton steals Mark Cutter’s good luck charm, all the pro ballplayer can think is how good she looked . . . and how bad she’ll pay. Thrust into a test of wills, they’ll both discover that while revenge may be a dish best served cold, when it comes to passion, the hotter the better!

RAISING HIS GLASS, he smiled and said, “To the rodeo. May you ride your bronc well.”

Color singed Lorelei’s cheeks as they tapped their glasses. But her eyes remained on his while he took a long pull of smooth, aged whiskey.

Then she spoke, her voice low. “I’ll make your head spin, cowboy. That I promise.”

That surprised a laugh out of him, even as heat began to pool heavy in his groin. “I’ll drink to that.” And he did. He lifted the glass and drained it, suddenly anxious to get on to the next stage. A drop of liquid shimmered on her full bottom lip and it beckoned him. Reaching an arm out, Mark pulled her close and leaned down. With his eyes on hers, he slowly licked the drop off, his tongue teasing her pouty mouth until she released a soft moan.

Arousal coursed through him at the provocative sound. Pulling her more fully against him, Mark deepened the kiss. Her lush little body fit perfectly against him and her lips melted under the heat of his. He slid a hand up her back and fisted the dark, thick mass of her long hair. He loved the feel of the cool, silky strands against his skin.

He wanted more.

Tugging gently, Mark encouraged her mouth to open for him. When she did, his tongue slid inside and tasted, explored the exotic flavor of her. Hunger spiked inside him and he took the kiss deeper. Hotter. She whimpered into his mouth and dug her fingers into his hair, pulled. Her body began pushing against his, restless and searching.

Mark felt like he’d been tossed into an incinerator when he pushed a thigh between her long, shapely legs and discovered the heat there. He groaned and rubbed his thigh against her, feeling her tremble in response.

Suddenly she broke the kiss and pushed out of his arms. Her breathing was ragged, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. Confusion and desire mixed like a heady concoction in his blood, but before he could say anything she turned and began walking toward the hallway to his bedroom.

At the entrance she stopped and beckoned to him. “Come and get me, catcher.”

So she wanted to play did she? Hell yeah. Games were his life.

Mark toed off his shoes as he yanked his sweater over his head and tossed it on the floor. He began working the button of his fly and strode after her. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to catch her. When he entered his room he found her by the bed. She’d turned on the bedside lamp, and the light illuminated every gorgeous inch of her curvaceous body.

He started toward her, but she shook her head. “I want you to sit on the bed.”

Mark walked to her anyway and gave her a deep, hungry kiss before he sat on the edge of the bed. He wondered what she had in store for him and felt his gut tighten in anticipation. “Are you going to put on a show for me?” God, that’d be so hot if she did.

All she said was “Mmm hmm,” and turned her back to him. Mark let his eyes wander over her body and decided her tight round ass in denim was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

When his gaze rose back up he found her smiling over her shoulder at him. “Are you ready for the ride of your life, cowboy?”

Hell yes he was. “Bring it, baby. Show me what you’ve got.”

Her smile grew sultry with unspoken promise as she reached for the hem of her T-shirt. She pulled it up leisurely while she kept eye contact with him. All he could hear was the soft sound of fabric rustling, but it fueled him—this seductively slow striptease she was giving him.

He wanted to see her. “Turn around.”

As she turned she continued to pull it up until she was facing him with the yellow cotton dangling loosely from her fingertips. A black, lacy bra barely covered the most voluptuous, gorgeous pair of breasts he’d ever laid eyes on. He couldn’t stop staring.

“Do you like what you see?”

Good God, yes. The woman was a goddess. He nodded, a little harder than he meant because he almost fell forward. He started to tell her how sexy she was when suddenly a full-blown wave of dizziness hit him and he shook his head to clear it. What the hell?

“Is everything all right, Mark?”

The room started spinning and he tried to stand, but couldn’t. It felt like the world had been tipped sideways and his body was sliding onto the floor. He tried to stand again, but fell backward onto the bed instead. He stared up at her as he tried to right himself and couldn’t.

Fonda stood there like a siren, dark hair tousled around her head, breasts barely contained—guilt plastered across her stunning face.

Before he fell unconscious on the bed, he knew. Knew it with gut certainty. He tried to tell her, but his mouth wouldn’t move. Son of a bitch.

Fonda Peters had drugged him.

Single mother Sonny Miller has spent years avoiding love. So when hotshot ballplayer JP Trudeau swaggers into her carefully constructed life, even as every fiber of her being tells her to keep running the bases! Sonny may be hell-bent on keeping JP at arm’s length, but this rookie has a plan. To get the girl, he must step up to the plate and convince her to take another chance on love . . . before this game gets rained out.

JP REACHED OUT an arm to snag her, but she slipped just out of reach—for the moment. Did she really think she could get away from him?

There was a reason he played shortstop in the Major Leagues. He was damn fast. And now that he’d decided to make Sonny his woman she was about to find out just how quick he could be. All night he’d tossed and turned for her, his curiosity rampant. When he’d finally rolled out of bed, he’d had one clear goal: to see Sonny. Nothing else had existed outside that.

Her leaving her cell phone at the restaurant last night had been the perfect excuse. All he’d had to do was an Internet search for her business to get her address. And now here he was, unexpectedly very up close and personal with her. So close he could smell the scent of her shampoo, and it was doing funny things to him. Things like making him want to bury his nose in her hair and inhale.

No way was he going to miss this golden opportunity.

With a devil’s grin, he moved and had her back against the aging barn wall before she’d finished gasping. “Look me in the eyes right now and tell me I don’t affect you, that you’re not interested.” He traced a lazy path down the side of her neck with his fingertips and felt her shiver. “Because I don’t believe that line for an instant, sunshine.”

Close enough to feel the heat she was throwing from her deliciously curved body, JP laughed softly when she tried to sidestep and squeeze free. Her shyness was so damn cute. He raised an arm and blocked her in, his palm flush against the rough, splintering wood. Leaning in close, he grinned when she blushed and her gaze flickered to his lips. Her mouth opened on a soft rush of breath and for a suspended moment something sparked and held between them.