Southern Heat (Game On Book 2) Page 6

  “You don’t think I should see him again? Outside of work, I mean.”

  “I think you’re a grown woman. You’re single. It’s about time you get back out there. So long as you don’t fall in love with the guy, I don’t see the harm in spending time with him. He’s a good man. Just keep your wits about you where he’s concerned. He’ll be gone in a few weeks. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken again.”

  Matt had been there through the tears and pain from her breakup with Roger. Gabriella wasn’t in a rush to relive the experience, either.

  “I don’t think I’m ready for long term, anyway.”

  “I can find someone else to work with him if it’s what you really want.”

  She didn’t. Not really. Not when she had the ability to help him get back to the game. “If Tyler wants to continue working with me, and if he gets his head out of his ass, I’ll agree to keep him on as a client. That’s the best I can do.” Then she’d figure out what to do about the rest.

  “Done. I’ll talk to him.”

  Funny how that didn’t reassure her. “Stick to topics that don’t include kissing me, if you don’t mind.”

  Matt laughed. “Fine by me. Do I still get those scones?”

  “The scones are yours. Give me an hour and I’ll drop them by.”

  “You gonna have time for a beer while you’re here?”

  “As long as you don’t grill me about last night, sure.”

  “I’ll do my best to refrain.”

  “Promise?”

  “Sweetheart, for scones, I’ll even pinkie swear.”

  Ah, the power of baked goods.

  6

  The temperature exceeded a hundred degrees by the time Tyler pulled into Gabriella’s driveway the next afternoon.

  His ears were still burning from the ass chewing he’d taken from Matt. It was no less than he deserved for being such an asshole. His attitude had hurt Gabriella when she’d only been trying to help. It hadn’t been his proudest moment.

  The truth was, by the time Matt got hold of him Tyler’s apology to Gabriella had been formed and well-rehearsed.

  So, why was he just sitting there? And why the hell did her acceptance seem so important?

  Tyler cut the engine and climbed out of the car. He could sit in the driveway all day and still wouldn’t have an answer until he talked to her. Maybe not even then.

  He followed the stone path to the front door. The heat clung to his skin as he rang Gabriella’s doorbell and waited. And waited.

  Holy hell, it was hot.

  He rang the bell again.

  He heard a faint, “One second,” drift through the wood a moment before Gabriella threw open the door, breathless.

  Tyler suffered his own momentary loss of oxygen at the sight of her. Skin glistening, hair wet and wild around her face, Gabriella stood before him wearing a nondescript one-piece bathing suit with a colorful towel draped haphazardly around her hips.

  A neatly curved brow arched. “Tyler.”

  The pure white suit practically glowed against her sun-darkened skin. And showed off enough cleavage to make his mouth water.

  “Hey, Gabriella.” He forced his gaze away from all that delectable skin to focus on her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and a sheen of perspiration dotted her nose. She had a natural beauty a lot of women would kill for. Her olive complexion and dark hair were a far cry from the bleach-blonde, surgically-enhanced women who usually graced his bed.

  He was suddenly tired of the stereotypical women who hung around the ballpark, waiting to set their hooks into a ballplayer’s wallet by way of his dick. Gabriella didn’t seem the type. Her expressive eyes—so demure as she tried to hide the fact she was checking him out—poked his inner caveman. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to the nearest bed. “Can we talk?”

  Her lips eased into a smile. “Only if you come in.” She stepped aside to let him pass. “My poor air conditioner is struggling to keep up even without the door wide open.”

  He stepped inside and closed the door. “That doesn’t bode well considering the worst is yet to come.”

  “Don’t remind me. It only takes one August here to make a girl want to move to cooler climes.”

  The entryway widened and curved into a sparsely furnished living room. An oversized sofa dominated the space. A blanket was casually draped over one end, as though she took to curling up in front of the large flat screen mounted on the wall. A simple coffee table and lamp completed the ensemble. Like Gabriella, the atmosphere was warm and welcoming and smelled absolutely delicious.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “Iced tea?”

  He followed her to the kitchen, the source of the scent growing stronger with every step. “Good ole Southern sweet tea?” he drawled as she paused at the island counter to face him.

  Her nose crinkled. “Sorry, no. I’m from the north, where we drink our tea straight.”

  To hell with the tea. “What smells so good in here?”

  His groin tightened at the genuine smile she turned his way. She pointed toward the table where a plethora of containers were stacked. “I tend to bake when I’m … let’s just say out of sorts.”

  Damn, she was polite. Most women he knew would jump at the chance to feed him a heaping plate of guilt. “At least some of which was my fault.”

  “Most of which,” she corrected. “After being interrupted Friday night, and your attitude yesterday? You’re oh-for-two, slugger.”

  Ah, there it was. Although he sensed she wasn’t actually trying to guilt him. Her statement lacked the whine and condescending tone he was used to hearing with such declarations.

  “Yeah, about that.” Tyler rapped a knuckle against the counter, charmed by the way she playfully reprimanded his behavior when she had every right to tear his ass apart. “I was a total dick yesterday. For that, I’m truly sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me for being shortsighted. I give you my word it won’t happen again.”

  “You think you’re getting the chance for an again? That’s quite an assumption, considering the suckfest that has been our short track record.”

  Humor made her eyes sparkle.

  Okay. She wanted to play?

  Game on, baby.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” He took her hand, felt her shiver as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’d understand if you don’t want to work with me anymore, but I really hope this isn’t the last I’ll see of you.” He hadn’t intended to go there, but it was the truth nonetheless. For whatever reason, Tyler wasn’t ready to walk away from her. Not just yet.

  She snatched her hand away. “I made some fresh-squeezed lemonade. How about we start there?”

  At least she hadn’t kicked him to the curb. It was a start. “Sounds good.”

  Gabriella rose on tiptoes to get a glass from the cupboard. Hot damn, she had a great ass. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember being so intrigued by a woman before. She’d gone from warm and willing, to utter professional, to vulnerable so fast it made his head spin.

  “So, where in the north?”

  She peered around the freezer door. “Pardon?”

  “You said you’re from the north. Where?”

  She finished filling a glass with ice. “Boston.”

  “I thought I recognized the accent, but couldn’t nail it down since you have a slight Southern drawl. What brought you to Arkansas?”

  “That’s a story I’m not ready to share.” She handed him the glass of lemonade. He downed half the sweet liquid in one gulp.

  “Does the story involve a man?” When the light in her eyes dimmed Tyler cursed himself for asking.

  “It does, and that’s all I’m willing to say.”

  “Fair enough.” She’d definitely tweaked his interest. He found himself wanting to know more about her. Wanting to chase away whatever, whoever, had caused her pain. For now, he’d settle for breaking the tension his question had put in her shoulders. He finished of
f the lemonade. “Did I interrupt anything with my impromptu visit?”

  She refilled his glass, leaving the pitcher on the counter in front of him. “No. Sunday is my lazy day. Laundry. Housework. Nothing too exciting. I was floating in the pool before you arrived. It’s too hot for much else. If I hadn’t come inside to get some water, I wouldn’t have heard the doorbell.”

  “You’ve got a pool?” Swimming was a definite ‘no’ on his list of allowable activities, but it didn’t say he couldn’t lounge on a raft.

  “I do. It’s my favorite feature of the house. Grab your lemonade.”

  “Where are we going?”

  A smile lit up her face. “To the pool, of course. We can talk out there.”

  Tyler followed her out the back door and down the three steps to the wide concrete patio surrounding a sparkling, oval shaped pool. Passing a grill and a picnic table, Tyler followed her to the two lounge chairs bracketing one end.

  “What do you think?” she asked and bent to put her glass on the small table resting between the two chairs. She tugged the towel from her hips and tossed it aside.

  I think you and that bathing suit are going to be the death of me.

  He glanced around, hoping the well-manicured landscaping and the shimmering water would take his mind off the perfect curve of her ass. “It’s nice. Did you do all this?”

  She laughed as she took the steps into the water. “No. Roger—my ex—he hired some guys to do the landscaping. The pool was already here.” She reached for a pool noodle and draped it under her arms so she could float.

  Roger, huh? Tyler wondered if he was the reason she moved to Arkansas. “Your ex didn’t want to do the work himself?” He loved working outside. It was one of the things he missed living in a condo in the city. With his travel schedule, he couldn’t even have plants in the house. Not unless he wanted to rely on his neighbor to keep the damn things alive.

  Since he didn’t have any swimming shorts with him, Tyler sat at the edge of the pool and dropped his legs in the water. He set the lemonade within reach and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. One tug and he tossed the shirt aside. Almost instantly, a sheen broke out on his skin.

  “And get dirty? Not my ex. He has an aversion to dirt and sweat.”

  “A real man’s man, huh?” He turned his face to the sun, soaking up the warmth.

  “Don’t you want to get in the water? You’ll get too hot sitting there.”

  Tyler grinned. He stuck his hand in and flicked water her way, making her giggle. “I’m used to being outside in the heat. And wearing a lot more gear than this.”

  She floated close. “Did you always want to play baseball?”

  He nodded. “It wasn’t something I actively thought about. It was just something I did. One season turned into the next and the next. I played because I loved the game.”

  “And now? Do you still love it?”

  “Yeah.” What the hell else was he qualified to do? “I do love it, but it’s a job, too. It’s hard to play for the sheer love of the game when there’re politics and money involved. What about you? How’d you get into your gig?”

  She sank under the water, only to resurface with a sputter. “Sorry, it feels like the sun is trying to set my head on fire.” She wiped water out of her eyes. “It’s such a cliché, but I wanted to help people. I watched my grandmother suffer from chronic pain, and I always wished there was something I could for her.”

  “You didn’t want to become a doctor?”

  She wrinkled her nose, as though the thought was akin to a bad smell. “She had enough doctors telling her what to do, and enough prescription pills to choke a pig. I wanted to find a better, less toxic way for her to feel better.”

  Tyler laughed. Lord save him from all the hippy-dippy, new-age bullshit. “You’re one of those people.”

  “If you mean I’m someone who believes there’s a balance, then yes. Symptoms should be managed, but all too often the medical community forgets about the underlying cause. Deal with that, heal that, and in a lot of cases the body will do the rest. But don’t for one minute think I’m anti-doctor or anti-medication. Far from it.” She toggled her hands as though she held weights. “Balance.”

  Huh. She’d surprised him with that one. “You make a good point.” Tyler leaned back on his palms, swirling his feet through the tepid water. He could use a little balance in his life. Right now everything felt out of whack. Things would level out once his new contract was secured. He had to get back to work.

  “They’re talking about doing another surgery on my shoulder.” A fact he’d kept to himself until now. She was so damn easy to talk to with those big doe eyes and compassionate smile.

  The press would have a fucking field day if that information got out.

  Concern wrinkled the corners of her eyes. She wouldn’t sell him out. He could trust her.

  He hoped to hell he could trust her.

  * * *

  Gabriella’s heart ached for him. “Wouldn’t another surgery guarantee your season was over? Is it really necessary? You seem to be doing well. Why the hell didn’t they fix what needed fixing while they were in there the first time?” And why was she getting so angry about it?

  “Whoa, slow down there, tiger. I said might. Believe me, it’s not something I want to do. Because yes, another surgery would mean no chance of my returning to the game this season.”

  “You certainly don’t want to do anything to further damage your shoulder.” Tyler looked away. “Is getting back important enough to put yourself at risk?” The answer was written all over his face. Every athlete she worked with would say the same thing. Yes. No matter how many times she’d heard the arguments, she would never understand. “Tyler?”

  His gaze drifted back. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I’m having another MRI in the morning.”

  “Will you let me know how it goes?”

  He shrugged as though it was no big deal. “Sure. Kinda need to keep you in the loop anyway, right?”

  Right. Because they were going to work together. And maybe because they were becoming friends. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked the idea. Which also meant she needed to come clean.

  “I Googled you, you know.”

  One side of his mouth curled up. “Sounds dirty.”

  Gabriella splashed water in his direction, dotting his chest with glistening droplets. As the water ran down his torso, she imagined catching them with her tongue. “Some of it was.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read.”

  She rolled to her back, wetting her hair again. “So, you’re not a sexually adventurous playboy who has a girlfriend in every port?”

  “I don’t consider myself a playboy. I’ve had one girlfriend in my lifetime.” He held up his index finger. “One.”

  Her pussy noticed he didn’t deny the sexually adventurous part. “Recently?”

  A frown marred his features, hardened his jaw. She’d obviously struck a nerve. “Recent enough.”

  Curiosity got the better of her. What type of woman had Tyler considered a girlfriend? Why weren’t they together anymore? “What happened?”

  “Didn’t work out.” He took a long drink of lemonade. He held the glass up, seeming to study the ice before setting it aside again. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you and your ex?”

  “He cheated.” Then dumped her like a two-dollar whore.

  “Recently?” He tossed her own words back at her.

  “Recently enough.”

  Tyler chuckled. “Have you had enough of playing mermaid? It’s hot as fuck out here. How about we head inside for a refresher?” He held up his empty glass and rattled the ice.

  “I thought you were used to the heat.” She dunked a final time and met him at the stairs.

  He took her hand and guided her out of the pool. He grabbed the towel and held it open. “You’re a sassy little thing, aren’t you? Arms up.”

  “I can—”

&nbs
p; “Arms up,” he said again, exasperated.

  Confused, she lifted her arms. Tyler wrapped the towel around her waist and secured it in place by tucking in the end. Then he shocked her further by lacing his fingers with hers and leading her inside.

  7

  Returning to the kitchen, Tyler reluctantly let go of her hand. She moved around the island as he helped himself to more lemonade. She hopped, planting her butt on the island. Her fingers curled around the edge of the counter. Her heels bumped a slow, steady beat against the lower cabinet.

  Uncertainty wasn’t his thing. He’d shared private information with her before he really knew where they stood. What would keep her from broadcasting his business to whoever would listen? She wouldn’t be the first.

  “Are we okay?” He leaned against the counter in front of her. “You’re not still mad at me?”

  She shrugged and reached for his glass. Without thought, he passed it to her and watched as she took a drink.

  “Is your attitude Saturday all you’re sorry about?”

  “I already apologized for Friday night.”

  “No.” She set the glass down. “You apologized for accusing me of following you.”

  Well, shit. She had him there. Then again, “It’s interesting you’d want an apology for what happened Friday night.”

  Her feet stilled. “Why’s that?”

  He went to her then. The towel prevented him from moving between her legs, so he settled for stopping as his hips made contact with her knees.

  “You wouldn’t want me to be sorry unless you regretted not finishing what we started.” He braced his hands on either side of her hips and leaned in. “Do you regret it, Gabriella?”

  Her lips parted and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to dive in. All in due time. He wanted her answer first.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”