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“Women don’t belong on the baseball field. ”
That’s the way handsome, playboy manager Sam Lucero thinks, but just try telling that to Amber Morales—she wants to be a baseball radio announcer. But she wants no part of a macho ex-jock who is trying to tell her what she can and can’t do.
But while they may be striking out on the field, their hearts are hitting a grand slam in the bedroom.
"You know, Sam, we could be good friends. If you get that job and I get mine, we would be working together, and we could help each other.... Why are you shaking your head?"
"I don’t believe in having female friends. It doesn’t work. Sooner or later they want more from you than friendship."
"I have lots of men friends. And I could be your little sister."
Again he was shaking his head. "At the moment that’s the farthest thing from my mind."
Her sharp inhalation was audible to them both.
"I like that look, by the way," he said.
She glanced up at him in surprise. "What look?"
"The questioning look, losing your composure. You don’t lose your cool very often, do you?"
"No, and I’m not losing it now," she lied. Because of her quick wit Amber usually could control most situations. This whole craziness with Sam was unlike anything she’d ever faced.
Sam pulled her closer to him. "Okay, enough. For now, let’s just dance."
Amber wasn’t certain when she realized she was beginning to feel more than warm inside. Sam’s masculine scent, the hard body against hers, one hand enfolding hers, the other gently rubbing her back--it all blended together to form a hot pool that gathered in the base of her lower regions and radiated out. They rocked together in an almost sensuous motion, as though he had control over her body.
As the song ended, Sam squeezed her tightly on the final note, and Amber trembled. Flames leaped inside her, higher than the fire that was now merely a soft glow. Every touch, every sensation existed in a hazy world of want and a fierce desire that was taking control of her body. As she pulled back, he caught her face in a large hand and dropped a quick soft kiss on her lips.
Amber trembled violently, as though something inside her erupted. She jerked away, feeling flustered, separating herself from Sam. She needed to get away from him. Looking frantically around, she searched for some means to escape. The strange sensations that swirled inside her troubled her. "I’m not going to sleep with you," she said, as though the words could overcome the way she felt inside.
He gave her a strangely gentle smile that sent another tremor through her. "Now who was asking? That’s as far as we’re going tonight."
She blinked as a ripple of shock ran through her. "Why? Do you have a date with one of those women?"
"What if I said yes?"
Anger replaced the surprise. "Why did you come back? To see little Amber got put safely to bed? Well, go ahead. Go out with her tonight. You do that all the time, don’t you? Go from one bed to the next. Whoever is available."
"If you’re asking, have I done things like that before--yes. But I’m not going out tonight. Actually I’m dead tired, and we’re going back tomorrow. I want some rest."
The phone rang, making them both jump guiltily apart as though someone was watching. Sam grabbed it first, issued a few remarks then hung up.
"That was Martha. I guess they’ve decided to stay over at the party. Neither one wants to drive, and they way they were drinking, that’s probably a good idea."
She shook her head. "Those two..."
"Why don’t you go on upstairs to bed since they’re not coming back? That’s probably safest for both of us."
That was best. She got her nightgown out of her suitcase and carried it upstairs, taking her blankets with her. After changing Amber climbed under her covers, but she couldn’t sleep. Was Sam asleep? What was he thinking?
The sound of rapid gunfire broke the stillness. It took Amber a minute, as she leaped up in the bed, to realize it was not gun shots, but fireworks. The flickering lights cascaded through the trees outside the window. In the distance, car horns blared. Belatedly she realized what the hoopla meant. She hopped out of bed and hurried downstairs.
"We missed the New Year," she cried.
Sam sat up groggily in his bed, which consisted of the mattresses put together on the floor. "What?"
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 272
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