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“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, but, for the first time in a long time, she felt capable of holding her own with a normal man.
Okay, probably not her customers, the jocks who wanted big-boobed blond bimbos, either. Still, she looked good and felt almost capable of trying to pick up a man for some much needed sexual release. A normal man. Teacher. Accountant. Salesman.
Yawn.
It was no use. There was only one man she wanted. But she wasn’t brave enough to go after him again, not in this lifetime.
“This can work. I know it.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” she murmured, giving Callie a weary smile. “Though I do appreciate everything you and Babe did.” Remembering one particular part of her makeover—a visit to a woman’s salon earlier today—her smile faded, dissolving into a shudder. “Except the, uh, painful waxing. I will get even some day for this afternoon’s experience.”
Callie bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back a grin. “Janie, honey, I didn’t suggest that thorough a wax job.”
“Yeah, well, I wish you had been a little more clear with that Brazilian woman before you let her drag me back into the torture chamber. She could give tips to the mob on making people talk.” Janie shifted in her seat, still not entirely accustomed to the feel of her, um, bareness. There wasn’t much left down there, other than what her torturer had referred to as a “landing strip.” It felt strange against the skimpy-to-the-point-of-nothingness panties she was wearing.
“I hear some women get off on just the process of having it done,” Callie said with a shrug.
Oh, right. How arousing…having her hair ripped out by the roots while being fingered pretty damned intimately by another woman. “Look, I don’t think Angelina Jolie could convince me to swing to the dark side sexually, so I’m quite sure a three-hundred-pound Brazilian woman named Consuela couldn’t.”
Callie snorted.
Finishing her wine, Janie pushed her chair back from the table. “Thanks again for everything. But I think I’ll go and turn back into my real self before I change into a pumpkin.”
No, it wasn’t midnight. But it didn’t matter. As much as Callie and Babe had played fairy godmothers, Janie hadn’t ended up with the handsome Prince Charming. She wasn’t Cinderella.
She was still Just Janie. And despite her best efforts, still very vanilla.
* * *
UNFORTUNATELY, his dinner in the bar did not do a damn thing to eradicate Riley’s hunger. Physical…or sexual. It didn’t change a thing. By the time he finished his burger, an hour after he’d left Diamond, he’d decided he was a total moron. He’d let his unexpected reaction to a woman drive him out of his favorite restaurant, away from a juicy steak that had most likely turned into a congealed, artery-hardening mess by now. “Asshole,” he muttered before he paid his tab and left.
It had been a long time since a woman had so disconcerted him…had left him questioning his decisions. Ever since his first sexual experience back in high school, he’d never questioned his choice to accept or decline an opportunity. So why couldn’t he stop thinking he’d made a mistake this time?
For half a second, while passing the entrance to the restaurant, he considered stepping inside to see if the brunette was the kind who liked to linger over a long dessert and coffee.
Chocolate and raspberries.
But he thrust the idea away. He’d look ten kinds of fool. Besides, she’d been pretty set on leaving with someone and he didn’t particularly want to see who she’d chosen in his place.
Having been invited by Callie Andrews to park in the alley out back to avoid some of the more persistent Slammers fans—or critics, given their recent six losses in a row—Riley headed down a quiet rear hallway. Digging his keys out of his pocket, he couldn’t help wondering how his night might have ended up if he hadn’t grown something of a sexual conscience.
He was so focused on the slew of delightful possibilities flashing through his brain that he almost didn’t notice the crash. But it was followed by a loud, feminine scream.
Hell, that shriek could startle a man out of contemplation of a Penthouse centerfold, so it certainly interrupted his own rather mild visualizations. “What now?” he mumbled, turning around. No one was in the hall behind him, but he had just passed a door marked Round The Bases: Deliveries. Pulling it open and sticking his head in, he said, “Hello? Everybody okay?”
No response.
Probably the noise had come from the restaurant, but just in case someone was hurt, he stepped inside what appeared to be a stockroom. Shelves laden with jerseys, Slammers caps, coozies, pennants and seat cushions surrounded him. And right in the middle of it, covering the floor, was a mountain of big yellow foam hands with index fingers sticking up.
He saw the hands, which proclaimed Slammers Are #1, during every game. But he’d never seen them moving by themselves, undulating on the floor like a big yellow serpent.
Suddenly a head popped out of the pile, and he realized it wasn’t the hands moving. It was the woman beneath them.
At least, he assumed it was a woman. Since he could only see the back of a thick head of dark hair, he couldn’t be sure. But given the shapely figure outlined by a tight pink T-shirt and jeans that worked its way out from beneath the yellow mountain, he figured he was right. That was confirmed when a feminine voice muttered a very foul word. He bit his lip to hold back a laugh.
“Slimy salesman. Oh, sure, we needed a thousand of these things,” she said as she sent a bunch of the hands flying in all directions. “I’ll tell you where you can shove your dumb…”
Clearing his throat and raising his voice, he said, “Hello?”
The woman immediately jerked her head around to stare at him. Which was the exact moment he recognized her.
“You,” he whispered, completely shocked. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it definitely had not been this. Because the cursing, dusty little jeans-wearing package was the same dark-eyed angel he’d seen an hour ago sitting four tables away.
Riley smiled. Things were suddenly looking up. Fate, aided by a box full of foam hands, had given him a second chance. And maybe now he would go ahead and act on his devil-red hunger for the woman who’d been wearing the devil-red dress.
5 (#ulink_a3d2959e-31c1-5559-8cb9-9097baee79eb)
SMILING, Riley watched the flustered woman analyze his presence. She, of course, recognized him, too. He hadn’t changed his entire persona in the hour since he’d left Diamond.
While they stared at one another, those big eyes of hers reached saucer diameter. “What…?”
“I heard a scream,” he explained, raising his hands, palms out, so she wouldn’t feel threatened. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I’m fine, thanks.” Frowning at the mess, she added, “My stock attacked me.”
“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.”
