Sliding Into Home

1

TO NIGHT, RICK WARREN wasn’t going to be leaving the locker room. Delaney Blair would make sure of it.

She stood just inside the empty administrative offices of the Atlanta Rebels’ clubhouse, a mere few yards from where Rick sat in the nearly vacant locker room. Her fingers shook a little as she tightened the tie on her sarong and then fluffed the silken tails of the knot to fall between her breasts. She’d dressed carefully—or rather, undressed—for this night when she could find him alone.

Rick was frequently the last to leave the locker room anyhow. A fact she knew because she’d been paying close attention to the Rebels’ first basemen since he’d joined the team her father owned. Delaney had never been all that interested in her father’s organization while she’d been growing up, her overriding idea of baseball players being that they were overpaid and thought highly of themselves. But since Rick had come to town, Delaney had to revise that opinion.

She peeked out through the blinds in the front office to watch Rick as he joked around with the cleaning crew. Six foot two with golden-brown eyes and longish dark hair that made him easy to pick out even in his ball cap, Rick was the quiet sort around his team. A loner. But he always had time to ask the woman who gathered the dirty uniforms about her two sons in college or razz the guy who ran the floor washer about being a die-hard New York Scrapers fan.

One of many things that made Rick Warren worthy of the risk she planned to take tonight.

Carefully closing the gap in the blinds before anyone noticed her spying, Delaney waited for the cleaners to vacate the locker room. Rick liked to avoid the press at all costs, so he always took his time leaving the clubhouse after a home game. The press had started paying more attention to him this season, speculating about what he’d do now that his two-year contract would be expiring with the Rebels.

That damn contract had forced her to brash action tonight. Well, that and a recent bit of news that had inspired her to take life by the horns.

She’d wanted to catch Rick’s eye for months. His habit of keeping his head down and his MP3 player cranked up around the clubhouse made that difficult, however. Add to that her own natural shyness and she figured the two of them would never move past the occasional lingering glances across a crowd.

That would change tonight. As she peered out once more between the gap in the blinds, she noticed the big bins of dirty uniforms were gone and Rick was alone. He sat on a bench between his locker and Dwight Wrigley’s, his baseball cap on backward as he clicked the controls on the MP3 player.

Luckily, it didn’t matter how loud he had the tunes cranked in his ears. Taking a deep breath, Delaney checked the knot on her bright green silk sarong and slipped into her fuchsia high-heel mules. The vivid colors made her feel a little more strong and confident when she was scared inside. She’d never done anything drastic to make a man notice her. Never put herself on the line so completely.

But a cancer scare could light a fire under anyone. And after waiting for tests on a lump that had turned out benign, Delaney didn’t plan to wait anymore. Starting tonight, she was going after what she wanted.

Drawing open the door of the administrative offices that led into the locker room, Delaney eyed the man who’d captured her attention with his head-down, plow-through-anything work ethic.

“Rick?”

She said his name even though she knew he wouldn’t hear her with the ear buds in. Still, he must have sensed someone else in the room because he looked up.

Their eyes met. Locked. And reaching for the knot of silk just above her breasts, she loosened the tie.

Her sarong fluttered to the floor like a drowsy butterfly as Delaney bared the new, bolder woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

THERE WERE SOME THINGS in life a man couldn’t tune out.

The roar of thirty-thousand fans during the playoffs. The flash of police lights in the rearview mirror. And a nearly naked woman prancing purposely into his line of vision.

Somewhere in Rick Warren’s head, a voice told him to run and get a towel for her to cover up with. To throw his team jacket around her shoulders. But since he’d seen her untie her little scarf dress with his own eyes, clearly she’d intended for this show to happen. A show involving no clothes except for sheer lace and satin panties that matched her strapless bra.

“Ms. Blair.”

He might have stammered when he said it. God knew, his thoughts were stammered. Stumbling.

Could a player be released prematurely from his contract for seeing the owner’s daughter naked? Maybe he’d be sent to the minors. Hell, an ultraconservative owner like Daniel Blair III would set up a Single A team in Siberia just to punish Rick for an offense like this.

That kind of penalty had crossed his mind in the past any time Rick had thought about acting on his attraction to the quiet beauty he’d had his eye on ever since setting foot in Atlanta.

Her lips moved, but Rick couldn’t hear what she was saying, calling to mind the ear buds he still wore. He tugged them out with one hand and chucked the electronic device into his open locker behind him, his eyes never leaving the golden skin of the goddess strutting his way.

A fantasy come true.

“Call me Delaney.” She smiled at him with a Mona Lisa lift of her full lips.

He’d heard Delaney Blair was adopted, her features Eurasian exotic. The long sheet of straight, dark hair gleamed with good health. Her eyes tilted up at the corners, but her generous height and bronze skin suggested a wide range of ethnic forbears. No matter her origins, she was a sight to behold even with her clothes on.

And now… He sucked in a long breath in an effort to drag in enough oxygen to clear his head. No dice.

“Ms.—ah—Delaney. I shouldn’t have stayed so late.” He thought about standing and realized his veins might not have enough blood flow available to fuel his legs for that kind of movement.

The wholly unexpected striptease had had immediate physical consequences.

“I’ve been trying to capture your attention all season.” The smoldering temptress paused in front of him, hooking her thumb in the waist band of her barely there underwear. “Every other time I’ve attempted to get to know you better, you’ve found an excuse to bail.”

His gaze went to her thumb as it tracked the band of white ribbon threading through the panties.

Through the erotic fog that enveloped his brain, he recalled Delaney looking his way a few times at a meet and greet early last season. At the time, he’d been too new to the club to know the lay of the land and he hadn’t wanted to start off his tenure with the Rebels as the guy who tried to schmooze the owner’s daughter.

And then, the longer he’d been with the club, the more convinced he became that dating one of the Rebels’ most prominent team attorneys was a bad idea. She worked for the organization he played for. Hell, she was the one who’d signed his damn contract. Rick had always walked the straight and narrow and he didn’t think now was the time to start veering from the path, especially when he’d finally landed on a team that could reward his years of loyal service with a championship.

“I’m no good at small talk,” he hedged, a little shell-shocked that this woman would be in here with him alone right now, peeling off her clothes.

As Daniel Blair’s daughter, Delaney was strictly off-limits. Cool and aloof, she was always at the fringes of every team gathering with the top brass. Which, perhaps, accounted for why he’d crossed her path at the occasional party. He tended to hang out on the sidelines a good deal himself.

Once he’d noticed her that first time, he’d looked for her at every team function, admiring the way she carried herself. Of course, he’d never seen her carry herself quite this way.

“Me neither,” she agreed readily, taking two steps closer. Putting one creamy thigh within touching distance. “Which is why I opted for a more obvious overture.”

“Maybe we should talk about this with your clothes back on?” He turned to check the door, needing to be sure there were no witnesses. “I’m pretty sure I could get traded for this. Or worse.”

He needed to get her dressed and out of here before his career imploded.

Her mouth compressed into a flat line and he wondered how often the beautiful owner’s daughter had encountered obstacles in her life.

“Is a scantily clad woman throwing herself at you such a common occurrence that you don’t think twice about ending the moment?” She fisted a hand and planted it on her hip.

Damn. He didn’t want to offend her any more than he wanted to be caught in a compromising position. Forcing himself to stand, he reached behind him to retrieve a clean jersey from his locker.

“Hardly.” He tossed the jersey around her shoulders, his number 11 curving around her breasts. “Is having your own way a common occurrence for you?”

After draping the shirt from his road uniform over her shoulders, he found himself trapped within man-snaring range of her perfume.

“I’ve rarely thought about what it means to have my own way, let alone gone after it, actually.” She tilted her head sideways, considering. That long, dark sheet of her hair slipped down her arm with the movement, baring the side of her neck.

She made the admission so softly, her words so full of honesty, that he regretted giving her a hard time. He knew damn well she was the most unselfish woman in the world. She spent her weekends at charity functions, using the team’s name and visibility to rake in donations for good causes. She had gone to work for her old man at the Rebels’ front office at an early age and probably made only half as much dough as she could if she’d taken a gig in finance and international law, both of which she had degrees in.

Ah, damn. He knew way too much about her.

The sudden flood of pink in her cheeks made him curse his total lack of manners. Why embarrass the hell out of her when she’d only been making a brave bid for his attention? God knew, he didn’t look up from his own path in life very often to notice what the rest of the world was doing. What right did he have to judge her motives?

She turned. “If you’d rather I go—”

“Wait.” He took her shoulders in his hands, putting her right back where she’d been. He wasn’t sure what else to say now that he had her attention.

But just about then, his brain started broadcasting updates on all the ways his body wished to capitalize on this moment. She’d taken a huge risk to grab what she wanted. And he couldn’t deny that he wanted her, too. So how could he possibly ignore her sweetly perfumed skin, her long lean limbs that his shirt did nothing to cover? The swell of cleavage that distorted the number on his jersey lured his attention back to her breasts.

And hell, yeah, he knew he was making excuses to follow his libido, but he was also quickly losing the will to give a damn.

“Nobody’s twisting your arm,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

He’d seen her, noticed her in the way a man notices a woman, and yet he hadn’t acted on that in the year and a half he’d been here because he’d tried to throw all his focus on his job.

No more. A shot at a championship wasn’t worth throwing away the chance to touch her.

Delaney Blair had bared more than her body to him just now. She’d bared her desires. Her hopes. And she was—without a doubt—the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Bracketing her hips, he quit thinking and drew her close. Her gasp of surprise fanned the latent heat in his chest.

And he kissed her.

Gently, he brushed his mouth over hers, savoring the soft swell of her plump lips. She tasted like cinnamon—hot and sweet at the same time. Intrigued, he caught her jaw in one hand and held her steady as he conducted further investigation. Her lips were coated with something slick and sweet. But as good as she tasted, her lips weren’t enough a moment later. Heat flared all over his skin, firing his blood and igniting his hunger. Her body brushed up against his as she shifted position—a knee here, a thigh there—communicating tantalizing hints about how good it would feel to have all of her pressed tight to him.

He forgot who started this, forgot anything but the need to have more of her. Anchoring her with a hand splayed against the small of her narrow back, he teased her lips apart for a deeper exploration. She opened to him on a sweet, audible sigh of pleasure, an enticing sound he made it his mission in life to hear again.

Driven by a rush of hot desire, he backed her up a step and then reversed their positions. Guiding her through the break in the benches, he situated her against his locker, needing his hands free.

Heat crawled up the back of his neck, making his freshly showered skin itch with impatience to have more of her. His fingers speared beneath the jersey he’d covered her with, greedy to map every inch of unfamiliar terrain even though he knew every second he touched her was bringing him closer to the point of no return.

“You should stop me,” he warned her, certain he could rein it in on her command, but not entirely sure that he could still accomplish the feat on his own.

He’d had himself on a tight leash for the last two years, determined to finally achieve the elusive career goal of a series title in Atlanta. What if he’d used up all the restraint he possessed in those two years and he didn’t have enough to let go of Delaney?

“I don’t want to stop,” she assured him, her fingers working the buttons on his shirt with slow precision.

His thumb brushed the underside of her breast and she made that sweet sound again, the one he’d hear in his dreams tonight and every other night.

“You deserve more. Better.” He knew that in his rational mind, but that didn’t stop his one hand going to work on the clasp of her bra while the other slipped beneath the underwire to cup the soft, full weight.

Her teeth clenched as she hitched in a breath, her back arching to increase the friction of their bodies.

“I deserve this. Just exactly this.”

He rolled one hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger, knowing he was lost to this. To her. If she wasn’t going to say no, he didn’t have a prayer.

Just then, a flash of light filled the room.

Delaney let out a cry of alarm. What the hell?

Rick turned to see what was happening, wondering if someone from the cleaning crew had returned. But there was no mop cart or floor cleaner inside. Just a brief glimpse of a tall, skinny guy with a camera.

“Hey!” Rick shouted, unable to go throttle the guy without letting go of the half-naked woman in his arms and exposing her to the intruder.

“It’s okay.” Delaney wriggled free of him. “I’m fine. Go get him.”

Needing no more encouragement, Rick sprinted toward the spy, but the son of a bitch was right next to the emergency exit near the stairs. Calling on the speed that made him a stealing threat on base, Rick jumped a bench between him and the door and took off up the stairs.

If he didn’t catch this guy, there would be hell to pay when his picture appeared in the paper with a half-naked Delaney pinned against the lockers. Her father was going to love that.

Rick would be out of Atlanta before tomorrow night’s game.

Turning the corner to take another flight of stairs, he heard a car start in the distance. In the employee parking lot. Spinning around, he went back to the previous landing and plowed through the heavy metal door in time to see a car burn rubber on its way out of the lot.

Cursing a blue streak, he knew he was screwed. And not in the good way.

No wonder he’d kept his head down and his nose clean for two years with the Rebels. The one time he gave himself permission to enjoy life, it bit him on the ass with a surefire ticket off the team.

But even as the curtains threatened to fall on his career, Rick turned to jog back down the stairs to Delaney. If he was going to be lambasted publicly for his indiscretion, he would damn well have the satisfaction of seeing their encounter through to completion.

2

THERE WAS SOMETHING foreboding about Rick’s footsteps on the stairs.

Delaney heard it as she retrieved the sarong from the floor and retreated back to the main office to find more substantial clothing. She needed to speak to someone on the building staff about tightening up security at night, but her thoughts were too scattered to follow through on the task now.

She’d made a play for Rick and it had backfired with flare. Now she owed it to him to do the damage control it would take to protect his position with the Rebels. No doubt about it, her father would have him shipped to Seattle or Arizona—somewhere far from here—even if he had to trade for less talent. Her daddy might accept that he couldn’t interfere in her life anymore, but he’d have no qualms about interfering with someone else’s if he thought he was protecting her.

Damn it.

She adored her family, but they had never thought twice about meddling in her affairs. Some days she still wondered if it had been a bad decision to work for her father since it put her very much within his reach if he chose to stick his nose in her business. But the work was fun and exciting, a family legacy she was as proud of as any other Blair.

“Delaney.” Rick’s deep voice sliced right through her churning panic, putting all her focus back on him.

A shiver tickled her skin as a parade of sweet, sensual memories reminded her how exhilarating it had felt to be in this man’s arms after fantasizing about him for too long.

She looked up to find him in the doorway between the locker room and the reception area of the front offices.

“He got out of the building?” She was already unlocking her office, needing access to her computer if she wanted any hope of spinning the story. “Any chance you recognized him from press conferences? If we can figure out who he works for—”

“A guy like that wouldn’t be at a press conference. Anyone snapping those kinds of pics isn’t a member of the legitimate media.” He followed her into her office, his shirt still half-buttoned from her roaming fingers.

Wow. She couldn’t help a moment to admire the view since she wasn’t going to be able to capitalize on it tonight. Rick needed her help now.

“I’m so sorry I put you in such an awkward position.” She shouldn’t feel embarrassed—that had been the whole point of her disrobing tonight. But she was confused and worried and still extremely turned on.

Being a selective dater had left her without a man in her life for almost two years—a fact that coincided neatly with Rick’s arrival in town. And frankly, doing without for two years made a woman—edgy.

“What awkward position?” He shrugged. “I had my clothes on and I was standing in front of you so no one will know you were undressed. The way I see it, those photos are going to cause the kind of public flap that keeps sports stars in the papers. It’s not always a bad thing.”

While her brain grappled to comprehend how he could think this wasn’t a crisis in the extreme, he turned to close her office door. Then he locked them inside.

She jumped at the sound of the lock catching.

“What are you doing?” She clicked through a few keys on the computer, hoping for inspiration on how to handle this situation. She’d worry about beefing up security tomorrow. Tonight, she needed to help Rick prepare for a media tsunami.

“I’m making sure lightning doesn’t strike twice.” He stalked toward her.

He couldn’t be suggesting what she thought. And then it occurred to her what he meant.

“You want to be sure there are no more unwanted intruders.” How crappy that they had to think that way in the heart of a building owned by one of the best bank-rolled teams in baseball. “But I don’t think our picture taker would be stupid enough to come back here tonight.”

She moved to take a seat at her desk. He moved faster. Planting himself in the leather chair, he was already there when she ended up in his lap.

“Good.” He gathered her legs in his arm and spun her so she sat crosswise on his thighs. “We can finish what we started.”

The thrill of delicious possibility tickled her skin.

But she could not let it sweep her away again. She’d been so damn close to exactly what she’d wanted and instead she’d ended up with a publicity nightmare on her hands.

“No.” She had to close her eyes when she said it. She couldn’t have refused that hot look in his eyes otherwise. Not after she’d dreamed about Rick looking at her this way for so very long. “I need to salvage this before those photos show up somewhere and—”

“Why?” He ran one hand up her thigh, his touch impeded by such a thin layer of silk she could feel every nuance of his palm through the fabric. “The damage is done. We might as well wrest every ounce of pleasure out of this night if we’re going to pay the price for it tomorrow.”

His fingers began to bunch the sarong in his palm, lifting it higher on her thigh with each clench of his fist. She had to squeeze her thighs tight to stifle the stir of liquid heat between her legs.

“But the damage hasn’t been done.” Levering herself upright, her hip grazed the evidence of his desire straining the fly of his khakis. She could have cried with the frustration she felt at having to ignore it. “I can’t let you suffer the consequences of bad press and my father’s retribution if there’s any chance we can buy those pictures or halt the story.”

“I’m a grown man. I make my own choices and I take full responsibility for my actions.” His level look dared her to challenge him. He kept his arms around her hips, holding her there.

“I know.” Her heart beat faster at his declaration, further proof that he was an honorable man worthy of her trust. “And while I admire that about you tremendously, the truth is I caught you off guard by stripping down in the locker room and effectively instigated the whole thing because—”

She stopped herself just in time. Yet, judging by the narrowing of his gaze, her save hadn’t been timely at all.

“Because why?”

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lemon oil on the freshly polished office furniture and a hint of spicy aftershave.

“Because I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a long time.” It was true. It just wasn’t the whole truth. So she braved a little more. “Because I was afraid you’d leave at the end of the season without me ever getting to know you and I—didn’t want to wait for life to happen to me anymore.”

She watched him, hoping that would be enough for him to release her, to let her go to work on fixing the mess she’d made. Given a little time, she knew she could find that rogue photographer. The pool of sleazy journalists in Atlanta was small and the pool of folks who would cover baseball stars was even smaller.

“Why now?” Rick asked, as if he’d telepathically keyed in on that one kernel of information she’d hoped to keep quiet. “Why tonight?”

The temptation to fib came and went in about a nanosecond. She’d gone into contract law because she’d known she’d never be a litigator. It just wasn’t in her nature to lie, especially not to a man with the kind of upstanding values that made her notice him from day one. Rick Warren was the go-to player on the team when you needed a base hit or to advance a runner. An unselfish player, he did his job year in and year out whether or not he got the spotlight or the fattest contracts. And she admired the heck out of him.

Her tongue darted out to moisten lips gone suddenly dry. Bracing herself, she revealed the truth.

“I had a cancer scare.”

The clock ticking on the wall above her office desk reverberated through the room like it was counting down the seconds until doomsday.

“Are you okay?” He unlocked his hold on her hips to grip her shoulders, squaring her body to his as if to take the news head-on.

She nodded, her throat suddenly tight with the memory of all the fears and scenarios that had gone through her head two weeks earlier when she’d been terrified that a doctor might tell her she had a finite time left.

“I’m fine.” She released a shaky breath. “Wonderfully, gratefully fine. There was a lump—” she gestured toward her breast where a tiny stitch remained “—but it was benign. Just a scare that had me up at night thinking about what I’d do differently if—”

Her throat closed up again.

He rubbed her shoulder, a touch of comfort that turned sensual when he laid his palm on her neck and stroked her cheek with slow sweeps of his thumb.

“I like what you did differently.”

Her eyes locked on his, searching for clues that he was teasing her.

“Not just because you took off your clothes.” He shifted their weight in her leather office chair, tipping back so that she had no choice but to lean into him. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, her ear close enough to his heart to feel its steady beat. “Although that was great, too. But I’m glad you put yourself in my path tonight. I noticed you as soon as I was traded to the team, but I put you out of my mind because of who you are.”

“The owner’s daughter.” She recognized the conflict of interest there. “I didn’t think it was a good idea in theory, either. But on those sleepless nights when I had too much time to think…I didn’t care about that.”

Rick let her words flow over him as he held her, knowing there was a message in there for him, too.

She thought she’d been playing it safe on life’s sidelines for too long?

He’d walked around the Rebels’ clubhouse for two years with his headphones on and his focus on baseball, never resorting to the showboating crap the younger players used to make a name for themselves with the fans or the media. He wasn’t hitting the weights every day or chugging protein like water in an effort to hit one out every at bat. Most of the big sluggers would never think of a sac fly or batting around the bases.

And while Rick was proud of the kind of ball he’d played during his ten years in the majors, he sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t draw a little more attention to himself. Not because he wanted the glory. But what if the next generation of players in the game were only hearing about power hitters and home runs? If the strategists didn’t step up now and then to talk about the finer points of winning, the league might not attract the kind of guys it took to round out a team.

Yeah, Rick could very much appreciate the need to do things differently. To step out of the safe zone into the spotlight even if it wasn’t comfortable.

“I don’t care about the fallout from this.” He rejigged her weight on his lap, seized with a sense of purpose where both she and his career were concerned. The new position put them eye to eye again. “I don’t want to spend another second thinking about some sleazy photographer or what might happen tomorrow.”

“I can’t allow you to be traded because of me.”

“I want you to let me handle this.” He had a plan and he’d figure out how to implement it tomorrow. “For now, I’d just like to help you celebrate your good news. Your good health.”

She shook her head, ready to argue. He kissed her to press his point. He didn’t stop until she softened against him, her body boneless as she molded herself to him.

“I must be crazy,” she whispered, when he finally broke the kiss.

“No. You’re just living on your own terms, remember?” His heart slugged hard against his chest, his adrenaline cranked at the thought of being with her. Seeing her burst into the dark locker room in her bright colors tonight had been like someone turned on a light switch in his head. “Are you okay with this?”

He skimmed his fingers along the top of the sarong and tugged gently on one end of the knot.

She swayed toward him.

“You’re very convincing.” Her eyelids fluttered and closed by a fraction.

“So are you.” He pulled the end of the fabric and unfastened the knot, unveiling the lemon-yellow bra he’d glimpsed earlier and releasing a hint of her scent. “The sarong almost gave me a coronary when you strolled into the locker room in that thing.”

She placed a hand on his heart.

“How about now?”

“Do your worst.” He could feel his pulse spike at her attention, his blood rushing through his veins with the heat of knowing he’d have her soon. “I’m all yours.”

He wrapped her tight in his arms, fitting her curves to the aching heat of him. Any reservation he’d had about this in the locker room had incinerated, leaving only desire and possessiveness for this shy, sharp woman who could have any man she wanted and chose him.

Unbelievable.

Capturing her mouth with his, he kissed her hard. She tasted so sweet he couldn’t possibly get enough. Not in just one night. But that didn’t stop him from exploring the slick, smooth surface of her teeth or the velvet glide of her tongue at length.

The temperature in the office flared hotter than a sauna. His skin pricked with a primal need to clear her desk with the sweep of his arm and take her here. Now. Instead, he lifted her out of the chair, standing with her in his arms to cross the dimly lit room where a long, low couch awaited. Her computer and a small desk lamp cast a bluish glow around them as they fell onto the sofa, her back cradled in his arm when they dropped into the cushions.

He levered back enough to look at her. She made a mouth-watering picture, her eyes glazed with passion and her lips red and plump from his kisses. Her silky dark hair fanned out around her shoulders, an inky-black background for the brightly colored undergarments he couldn’t wait to take off.

“I would like a better look, too,” Delaney whispered, her hand moving to his belt buckle. “You have a few fantasies to live up to, you know.”

With a roll of his shoulders, he had his shirt off since the buttons had been undone earlier.

“Is that right?” The thought of her fantasizing about him singed any restraint he might have had. “I like the idea of you lying in your bed thinking about me.”

He unfastened his fly and stepped out of his pants. Her eyes never left his body, her gaze following his every move.

“I’m glad I can do more than just think about you this time.” She reached for the waistband of his boxers, one shiny red nail dipping below the black cotton elastic.

He stopped her, unsure how much foreplay he could withstand given the long drought in his sex life. He’d barely dated in the last two years. There’d been a couple of girls in all that time, but they’d been mutually casual hookups that had barely taken the edge off.

“I’m going to be honest. I’ll need to be inside you about two seconds after you touch me, so maybe we should make plans for protection first.” He had nothing with him since he’d had no reason in the world to guess the sensual feast he’d walk into today when he arrived at work.

“You didn’t feel this earlier?” She reached into her bra and withdrew a foil packet from the left cup. “I didn’t have a pocket, so I was forced to work with what I had.”

“Very resourceful.” He took the condom and laid it on the coffee table before pushing the glass-topped piece aside. Kneeling beside her, he positioned himself near her hips. “I’ve got a few hidden surprises myself.”

He saw her eyes widen as he bent to kiss the patch of satin that covered her mound. And then he didn’t see anything else, his world narrowed to the scent and taste of her as he kissed her intimately.

Delaney gasped at the feel of his tongue taking shocking liberties with her. She’d never—well, she’d just never. Even her one long-term relationship had been more cerebral, the sex more restrained. But oh. The way Rick touched her, kissed her, was exquisite.

She heard her own harsh cries, but was powerless to contain them as he swept aside her panties for better access. She considered protesting for the space of a heartbeat, but then she remembered her original quest for the night.

No more tiptoeing around the fringes of life. She planned to dive right in.

And as Rick laved every inch of her with languorous kisses interspersed with strong strokes, she knew she wasn’t on the edge anymore. He’d thrust her into the eye of a sensual hurricane, her nerves overwrought and swirling with raw sensations that threatened to drown her in a blissful delirium.

Her head thrashed from side to side, as if she contended with some darkly sensual force within. But whatever the encroaching feeling was, it seemed determined to have her way with her. She tried to be still, to let it happen and let Rick do as he wished with her body but—

“Oooh!” The climax hit with the force of an oncoming freight train, rocking her body at its very core with lush spasms.

Her fingers sank into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he gave her the first man-induced orgasm of her life. She could scarcely catch her breath in the aftermath, the residual shockwaves blindsiding her even after he released her to undress them the rest of the way.

“I’ve never—” She shook her head, at a loss for words. Licking her lips, she started again. “Let’s just say, you have far better tools at your disposal than me.”

“Glad to hear it.” He’d rolled on the condom at some point. Now, he positioned himself between her thighs. “That means you’ll have to come back if you want more.”

“I’m ready for more right now.” Still trembling from her release, she rubbed herself shamelessly against him.

He obliged, entering her by slow, heart-stopping degrees. Her back arching, she wrapped her legs about his hips, sealing them together.

He supported her spine with one arm, his fingers tunneling into the back of her hair to hold her steady for his kiss. With his deft mouth, he reminded her subtly of the pleasure he’d provided her moments ago in that most intimate of places. The slide of his lips on hers became all the more erotic, all the more intoxicating to her overloaded senses.

The pressure built inside her, both from being impossibly stretched and from her own mounting pleasure. He found a rhythm that sent her reeling, the glide of their bodies a seamless union.

Vaguely she wondered if a woman had ever fainted during sex. Lights flashed behind her eyes and a sweet light-headedness made her cling all the tighter to him. Next time she would cater to the man’s every carnal desire. But right now, all she could do was hold on and ride the wave as another orgasm seized her. She cried out as her heels dug into his back, her hips tilted to meet his fully.

In some part of her mind, she recognized that he found his release, as well. He throbbed inside of her, his shout echoing hers. Delaney couldn’t remember any moment in her life ever feeling this perfect. As they rolled to lie on their sides on the sofa, their hearts pressed so close together that the beats seemed to fall into synch.

Right then, she couldn’t work up the least bit of regret about their night together. Frankly, she couldn’t imagine any consequence that would make her think this time with Rick hadn’t been worth it.

Still, if he got traded tomorrow because of her—because she’d put a good, upstanding man in a compromising position—she didn’t know how she would handle it. She’d never anticipated that living life to the fullest would mean the heartache would be every bit as potent as the pleasure.

Unwilling to let those thoughts overshadow this one night, Delaney released her hold on Rick enough to plant a kiss on his chest. And then another, lower down.

If she was going to go through life with this night imprinted on her memory, she planned to make sure he couldn’t forget her, either.

3

FLASHBULBS POPPED in Rick’s eyes as he adjusted the microphone at a podium in a midtown Atlanta hotel.

Eager journalists raised their hands all over the ballroom while others shouted out questions at the hastily assembled press conference.

“Rick,” one of the loudest voices called, “you’ve got to admit the woman in this photo bears a strong resemblance to owner Dan Blair’s daughter—”

“I’ve got no comment on that,” Rick repeated for the second time, shutting down the question posed by the Rebels’ beat writer for the ATLANTA CONSTITUTION JOURNAL.

Rick had called a press conference first thing to respond to the photos that had appeared on a celebrity magazine’s Web site and then innumerable fan blogs.

While the traditional media hadn’t run the pictures that hardly counted as “sports news,” reporters from those same media outlets had phoned the Rebels’ front office for comments on the photos.

Rick had barely left Delaney’s side that morning when he’d started getting calls from his agent, his manager and even a couple of teammates who said they were only looking out for him. Rick had given himself just enough time to run home, shower and change before meeting with an independent publicist. He didn’t have his own media person and he sure as hell wasn’t going through the team publicity guy, so it had seemed the best course.

He’d avoided the media for most of his career, and look how far it had gotten him. While he never would have been the kind of guy to kiss and tell after a night with a woman, the photos told their story whether he wanted them to or not. And since that was the case, he would put himself in the media spotlight this once to deflect attention from Delaney and keep the focus on him.

“You expect us to believe that anyone but a Rebels insider would have access to the locker room on a game day?” a skeptic piped up from the middle of the pack, her tone both condescending and chiding.

“Hey, one of you guys managed to worm your way into the locker room on a game day,” he pointed out, pausing for a sip of water from the bottle under the podium. “It’s not exactly Fort Knox over there.”

That brought a few chuckles of appreciation from the crowd. Clearly the press corps was well aware of how low some of its more smarmy members would stoop.

“Have you been summoned to the front office yet, Rick?” someone else called out, and he recognized one of the staffers for a big sports radio affiliate.

No doubt those guys would have a field day with this story. Sex and scandal sold papers and increased audiences better than home runs. It was one of the reasons Rick wasn’t exactly a household name despite ten seasons of solid defense, consistent RBIs and not a single appearance on the disabled list.

“No.” Rick wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable talk with management given how much he wanted to remain in Atlanta. The Rebels finally had a shot at the series this year, and if not this year, they’d be there next year for sure. The last thing he wanted was to be traded off a team that might finally make it to the big dance. “And you know as well I do that this unfortunate invasion of my privacy is my personal affair and not team business, so I don’t anticipate having to defend myself to the team.”

He signaled to the P.R. consultant that he was done and pushed back from the podium, confident he’d done what he could to steer interest toward his career. He’d downloaded his stats from the Rebels’ Web site and had them passed out as people came in to remind the reporters he was all about baseball.

Although, truth be told, he’d never realized how unbalanced that might have made his life until Delaney strode onto the scene.

“Rick,” another voice called after him before he left the small stage. “Can you at least tell us if you’ve ever met Delaney Blair?”

The crowd quieted as they’d all heard the query, too—and were every bit as eager to know the answer.

Never had it grated more to know he could generate ten times the interest in his career by selling out his personal life. Guys did it all the time by dating high-profile women. And while Delaney wasn’t a movie star or a pop singer, she was a member of a family that was practically baseball royalty. The Rebels had been family owned since the franchise’s beginning, carefully preserving their status as majority shareholders even after the team went public.

“The Blairs are an Atlanta institution because they make it a point to personally greet every new player to the organization.” He glared at the throng of reporters scribbling furiously, his gaze skipping over the cameras recording his every word to focus on the faces. “They have my utmost respect.”

The partitioned ballroom erupted with more questions, but Rick walked off the stage and through a side exit into a food prep area. Even the busboys were lined up to watch the press conference, their water pitchers and cleaning rags idle in their hands as Rick plowed past them into the bowels of the hotel’s kitchen.

He didn’t need to stay for the rest of the event. He was footing the bill after all, and he’d had his say. But as his cell phone chimed in his jeans pocket, he acknowledged that a lot of other folks would feel like they hadn’t gotten theirs.

Checking the caller ID only out of morbid curiosity, Rick saw a set of digits he couldn’t ignore. “Blair, Daniel” wouldn’t make a call from a personal line just to shoot the breeze.

Rick might fool a few people by hedging around the identity of the woman in the photograph with him, but he damn well wouldn’t fool her old man.

Knowing the time had come to face the consequences of his actions, Rick answered the call to find out just how badly he’d screwed up his career. He didn’t want to leave Atlanta, but he’d be damned if he would compromise the team or Delaney by staying in a situation that would only hurt them all in the end.

“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.”

Delaney paced the floor in her father’s luxurious home office at the family compound in Buckhead. She’d been summoned in no uncertain terms just past dawn, when her ringing cell phone both awakened her and alerted her to Rick’s departure sometime while she’d been sleeping.

His silent exit had stung, leaving her unsure of all the feelings he’d stirred the night before.

“I assure you, Laney Lou,” her father used the old family nickname for her. He picked up a silver-framed photo of her as a baby and stared at it as if he was talking to the round-faced infant instead of his grown daughter. “I am most definitely serious about wanting your young man to do right by you.”

Oh, sweet, merciful heaven.

“Dad.” She crossed the Persian carpet in the big, octagonal conservatory that served as her father’s home office. Every wall that wasn’t a window or a bookshelf was covered with cherry wainscoting. Vintage baseball memorabilia dotted the shelves along with his collection of Irish wolfhound statuary. His two flesh and blood dogs rose to their feet as Delaney neared their master. “This isn’t the 1950s. There is no quantifiable ‘right thing’ to be done after a man and a woman share a kiss.”

“Is that what you call it these days?” Replacing the photo in its frame, Daniel Blair III turned his laser-blue eyes to settle on her at last. He had a powerful aura about him despite his five-foot-six frame, and he’d always been the source of hero worship for her from her earliest memories. He’d given her a pony for her tenth birthday. But he’d also given her a liberal education abroad, including stints in desperately poor countries so that she knew better than to take her blessings for granted.

“Excuse me?” She halted her progress, reaching out to pet the dog closer to her in the hope she could at least win over one of the males in the room.

“This.” He waved a printout of the photo snapped of her and Rick in the locker room. “Is this what you call a kiss?”

Her cheeks burned. Could this be any more awkward?

“I really don’t think anyone has the right to judge a private moment but the parties involved.”

One of her father’s shaggy gray eyebrows lifted.

“This isn’t one of your legal documents. This is my first basemen.” He brought the paper up for a closer inspection. “Are you even wearing clothes in this photo?”

She slapped a hand over her eyes.

“Dad, I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman.” Still, there was something about being interrogated by the family patriarch in the heart of his lair that made her feel like she was sixteen and in trouble for staying out too late after the dance. “I wouldn’t even be here right now discussing this with you if I hadn’t wanted to make sure that Rick isn’t penalized in any way for what happened.”

Her heart did a funny double-time beat at the mention of his name. He’d never been far from her thoughts today, and not because of the stupid photo leak.

No, she’d been thinking of the way it felt to drift off to sleep in Rick’s arms, her head pillowed on his bicep and her leg tucked between his.

“What makes you think you’ll fare any better?” Her father tossed the printout on his massive desk and then folded his arms over his gray, worsted wool vest. “Don’t forget who you work for, miss. As far as I can tell, you should both be penalized for conducting your private affairs in the workplace.”

“So fire me.” Indignation burned away any residual embarrassment. She was excellent at her job as a contract lawyer and her services came damn cheap since she was family. “Maybe free agency will be a good thing for me. But don’t hurt the team by trading away one of the most productive first basemen we’ve ever had.”

Her father studied her for a long moment, and she wondered if perhaps she’d gotten her point across. But then his eyes narrowed and he lowered his voice.

“Has it ever occurred to you maybe he wants to get traded and this is precisely the sort of stunt that he knew would send him on his way?”

Just the idea of it gave her a physical jolt. But she knew Rick better than that.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s going to be a free agent after the end of the season. He doesn’t need to resort to underhanded tactics to get out of the organization.”

Did her father believe she was naive enough to fall for that kind of manipulation anyway? Of course he did. He knew as well as anyone how little she’d dated. Half the reason for her selectivity had to do with the man in front of her. She loved her dad, but he was a tough critic. Having him doubt her judgment now made the ache in her chest all the worse.

He leaned back to have a seat on his desk. Folding his arms, he toyed with one silver cufflink, spinning the emblem around and around.

“The boy wants a spot in the playoffs,” he reminded her, bringing to mind the buzz about Rick even before he joined the Rebels. After having spent the first eight years of his career as a utility player bounced around the league, Rick had made noises about wanting a shot with a team who could make it to the playoffs.

Worry knotted in her chest. It was one thing for her father to toss out a ludicrous suggestion during an emotional argument because he was worried about her. But it was another for him to have thought about the notion enough to actually be concerned how he presented it to her. That meant the full wisdom of megasuccessful Daniel Blair III had been applied to the equation and he still thought Rick Warren might have orchestrated some elaborate setup to pave his way to another team in the league.

“But the Rebels are over five hundred.” It was a stronger position than they’d been in the last several seasons after the All-Star break. “He can have the shot at the playoffs here.”

“Sure,” her father agreed, nodding while he continued to flip around the cufflink. “But he’d have a better chance in New York or Boston.”

The truth of his assessment sent her back a step. Sure, she’d been the one to make the overture toward Rick. But could he have capitalized on the moment for reasons all his own? No, no, and hell, no. This was simply what her father did—plant enough doubt to make her second-guess herself. But it wasn’t happening this time.

Behind her father, the intercom buzzed on his desk, followed by his secretary’s voice.

“Mr. Blair, Rick Warren is here to see you.”

The news of his arrival felt like confirmation of her fears. Why would Rick be at her family’s home so soon after the story broke? Could he be here for the kind of closed-door meeting that got players shipped out in record time? Had her father even summoned him, or had Rick arrived to do some negotiating of his own?

“Send him in please,” her father said, before turning to her. “Perhaps we’ll be able to decipher the young man’s motives sooner rather than later.”

She’d barely blinked away her surprise when Rick charged into the room without being announced, her father’s personal secretary hurrying in behind him to apologize for the intrusion. With a flick of a weary wrist, Daniel Blair waved away the employee while Rick looked back and forth between Delaney and her father.

“I want the first flight out of here before this mess snowballs any more.”

4

RICK HAD BEEN PREPARED for Delaney to argue with him. She’d made it clear he shouldn’t have to leave the team because of this.

But he hadn’t expected the color to wash out of her cheeks before a fiery flush took over. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was furious. Her old man had invited him out to the house to hash through this today, but now Rick wondered if the team owner had set him up for a big fall. Certainly Dan Blair didn’t jump in to defend Rick even though the guy had been reasonable enough on the phone. He’d told Rick he was sure he’d do the right thing as far as this scandal was concerned.

From what Rick could tell, that meant removing himself from the equation to squash interest in those pictures and to protect Delaney. Once Rick left the team, there’d be no more lurid speculation about what happened. The media would be too busy dissecting how he fit into a new roster. As for Rick, he’d be busy figuring out how to put his heart back together.

“Dad, will you give us a moment alone, please?” Delaney spoke to her father, but her gaze remained fixed on him.

She bore no resemblance to the woman who’d brazenly shed her clothes for him last night. Right now, Delaney appeared every bit the powerful executive, from her sleek navy suit and understated gold bangles, to her all-business pumps.

But then, Rick had always admired that about her. She had a cool, unflappable facade that he now knew hid a passionate, warm-hearted woman inside.

“Of course.” Daniel Blair III stood from his spot on the desk and walked toward the door, clapping Rick on the shoulder on his way past while two matching Irish wolf-hounds followed their master. “We’ll speak later, son.”

No sooner had the door closed behind the older man and the dogs than Delaney speared a hand through her thick, dark hair.

“Is that what last night meant to you, Rick? A speed pass out of Atlanta to a team with a better shot at the playoffs?”

Rick had a moment of empathy for the big game animals shot with a tranquilizer gun on those wildlife shows. He halted his forward momentum, stunned still by the accusation.

“Excuse me?” He’d come to the house with every intention of making things right between him and Delaney. He’d never expected this kind of cold reception. “Were you present for the same night of passion as I was? I thought you approached me.”

“Because I thought you were honorable and upstanding.” Her voice caught and he had a glimpse of the anxiety beneath the anger, but she was quick to hide any hint of vulnerability.

Any hint of caring about him.

That hurt.

Without a doubt, Delaney Blair had developed the power to wound him after just one night together.

“Maybe that’s because last night you trusted your gut instead of—” he gestured vaguely with one hand “—your father? The media? Whoever is giving you ideas that you know in your heart don’t apply to us or what happened.”

He wanted to cross the room and touch her, pull her against him and remind her how electric their connection had been and how powerful it could be if they fed it. But what if she was the kind of woman who fled at the first sign of trouble? Maybe her upbringing in this privileged world on a family compound in Buckhead hadn’t prepared her for the kinds of challenges his career put him up against all the time.

Although, in truth, the locker room escapade had more far-reaching consequences than the usual media flare-ups.

“Well, excuse me for second-guessing myself when you barge in here demanding a trade to get away from me.”

“Didn’t you watch the news conference?” He looked around the room and realized the gargantuan home office was like some British country house from the turn of the century. No electronics except for a couple of lamps. “I met with the media this morning and they’re going to be swarming you and your dad. Having me around isn’t going to help the team.”

Geez, just looking around this room and seeing the legacy of the Blair family and the Atlanta Rebels reinforced his decision to leave. Rick had too much respect for the game and for the club to drag the organization through a personal scandal that would distract the players and management alike.

“And that’s what it’s all about for you, isn’t it? Winning.” Delaney stepped toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the massive gardens outside the house. Flowers bloomed despite the relentless heat of Georgia in midsummer.

“No. It’s about protecting you and playing the game like it’s supposed to be played.”

He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed between them since he left her office last night, but something had made her distant. Was she really that upset at the idea of him leaving? The thought that it would tear her up as much as it was going to tear him up wasn’t any great comfort.

He joined her at the window. She leaned on one side of the casing while he rested a shoulder on the other. Daylight streamed between them, but the reality separating them seemed far more murky.

“Forget about me for a minute. I don’t understand what you mean about how you play the game.” She shook her head. “How do you think it’s supposed to be played that’s any different than anyone else in the league?”

“For my whole career I’ve wanted to be a part of a club that makes it to the playoffs as a team. No one-man bands. No big-ticket guys assembled just to win a series. But a group that picks each other up. A team that plays with as much heart as talent, you know? Like the game means something.”

For a moment she nodded, as if she understood. But then she frowned.

“So you want to leave Atlanta because this can’t be a team like that anymore. You think what happened last night will disrupt the team’s harmony?”

“That’s a partial concern.” He couldn’t do that to the other players and he wouldn’t do that to the Blair family. “I think this group of guys could have a real shot at a championship season and I’m not going to mess it up for them. And team aside, I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to hide out from the media. I know how much you try to avoid the spotlight. And being with me will make that impossible.”

It had sounded reasonable on the way over here in the car. Delaney had been put in an impossible position by the photographs, and no matter how much she said she would take care of the fallout, the media interest had to be much greater than she’d expected.

Nodding, she squeezed her arms more tightly around herself.

“I understand. But for what it’s worth, I’ve dreamed of being a part of a team that worked together, too. No one-man bands where one person made the decisions about what was best for the team without consulting the other.”

He could have handled the rebuke if it hadn’t been for the thready emotion in her voice. Underlying that buttoned-up executive exterior remained the sweet, shy woman he’d made love to last night. And he’d hurt her without meaning to.

Crap.

Her old man had led Rick to believe Delaney would suffer because of the scandal, and he’d been quick to buy into it since he felt guilty for landing her half-naked on all the sports blogs. Rick had assured himself he was doing the best thing for all parties concerned by getting the hell out of Dodge.

But what if that’s not what she wanted at all?

Before he could pull his thoughts together, she planted the barest whisper of a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodbye, Rick.”

5

HIS ARMS MUST HAVE SNAKED around her while she was saying goodbye, because when she attempted to walk away, his hands were on her waist, holding her in place.

“You know, on the other hand, sometimes a good scandal really brings a team together.” He trotted out a completely unexpected response to her words of parting.

And she might have laughed at the absurdity of the comment if her heart hadn’t been breaking. As it stood, she held herself very still so as not to sink into his strong arms all over again and tell him to never let her go.

Although she might have shed her clothes last night, she didn’t plan to shed her dignity today, no matter how much of a life-changing event sleeping with the first baseman had turned out to be.

“Well, in that case, I hope the Rebels can recover from this one and still go on to take the championship without you.” She didn’t say it to hurt him. She really wanted a win for the Rebels who had weathered plenty of personnel changes and “almost but not quite” seasons.

Still, he didn’t release her waist.

“I mean it,” he continued, his thumbs starting a slow glide on the waist of her short suit jacket. “Now that I think about it, sometimes those teams that pulled together the hardest did so because one of their players had a particularly tough year. They want to win for the catcher who lost his father in the middle of the season, or they want to win because they were the laughingstock of last place the season before.”

“You’ve hardly experienced a death in the family.” Although the expiration of her love life after less than twenty-four hours felt like something she’d mourn for a very long time. “You just got caught with a very determined admirer.”

“Is that what you are, Delaney?” He pulled her closer and her heart sped up even though she knew his nearness would only make it tougher to walk away in the end. “My admirer? Because I kind of thought we became a lot more last night.”

Her heart gave one last surge of indignation at being tossed aside for his baseball career and her public image.

“I did, too, until you slipped out of my office this morning without so much as a goodbye before deciding you wanted to leave town—and me—for good.”

“Delaney, if I thought for a second that you wanted to weather the media storm with me—as a team—I would call your father in here right now and demand a new contract for next year.”

The seriousness that she loved about him—loved?—yes, the seriousness she utterly loved about him was evident in his claim. He would really do that.

“You wouldn’t just be staying because the Rebels have a shot at going all the way?” She had to know the truth. If it hurt, she could deal with it. But she hadn’t shed her shyness and her sarong last night to return to hedging her way through life today.

Not when love was on the line.

“I would stay because we have a shot at going all the way.” He squeezed her tighter. “Me and you.”

Now her pulse spiked wildly, her happiness spilling over like shaken champagne in a victorious locker room.

“Then why didn’t you tell me that as soon as you walked in here today?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, desperate for him. For a future she wouldn’t delay another second.

“I thought you deserved better than to be pressured into a relationship just to make your father keep me on the team.” He kissed her forehead, the soft press of his lips echoing the understanding that flashed across her mind.

“You hoped I would choose you because I wanted you and not because I was backed into a corner.” It was noble and selfless, and just exactly the kind of thing the man she loved would do. “While that’s really honorable of you, Rick Warren, if you ever scare me into thinking you’re leaving again, I’ll trade you to the Alaskan team myself.”

He winced.

“You realize there’s no major league club up there, don’t you?

“You can be the first player contracted,” she assured him, wondering if it was possible for a woman to glow from the inside out. She just might be the first case ever.

“Well, that’s not going to happen, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Does my father know about this plan of yours?” She’d ship her dad off to Alaska, for that matter, if he had attempted to meddle in her love life ever again.

“No.” Rick backed her into the cherry wainscoting beside the window, out of sight of the gardeners at work on the flowers. “Although he didn’t seem one bit surprised that we spent the night together. I think he knew we’ve been eyeing each other for a while. I do believe he sees more than he would admit.”

She shook her head. “He let me think you might have slept with me to secure a ticket off the team.”

He shrugged. “Maybe he wanted to see if you were willing to believe the worst of me. But I’m pretty sure that by the time all the smoke blew over today, he was hoping there’d be a proposal in the works.”

She felt the heat crawl up her cheeks. “He is ridiculously old-fashioned.”

“Are you kidding? I think that’s great. And since I’ve been watching your every move for the last year and a half, I feel like I know you very well already.” Rick reached into his shirt and withdrew a clunky gold band with a tiny diamond in the middle and lots of engraving. “Enough to think a proposal isn’t a bad idea.”

“Rick!” She wondered if a more sophisticated woman would tell him not to be silly, and that of course she wasn’t expecting marriage after a single night together. But the look in his eyes told her this was no joke. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“How about we call it a pre-engagement ring and let the media make of it what they will?” A rare grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “You and I can sort it all out at our leisure, but in the meantime, I would be honored if you’d wear my college national championship ring from the year we captured the division I title. I figure it’s a good place holder until I can find a ring more—”

“You really mean it?” She was shaking like a leaf as he held an irreplaceable piece of jewelry close to her hand like an offering.

“I’m crazy about you, Delaney. I love you and I would like you to think about a future with me.”

Maybe her jaw dropped. Or maybe it was the tears that were rolling down her cheeks all of the sudden, but something must have tipped him off that she was completely overwhelmed because he cupped her cheek with infinite tenderness.

“I know this might seem sudden to you, but it’s been a long time coming for me. And a wise woman I know taught me life is too short to wait for happiness to find us.”

“Oh, Rick!” She clutched his hand, hardly daring to believe her dreams could come true simply by daring to act on them. “I’ve loved you since your very first line drive to right field that brought in—”

“Dwight Wrigley for the win against Florida.” He grinned. “And I’ve loved you since the first meet and greet after spring training when you took me on a tour of the trophy room without ever once making eye contact.”

Laughter burst through the emotions lodged at the base of her throat. “I’m no good at flirting.”

His grin turned wolfish. “You sure got my attention when you were ready.”

Warmth tingled through her.

“I would be so honored to spend my future with you, Rick Warren.” She waggled her fingers at the diamond in his hand. “And I’m proud to wear your ring.”

As he slid the piece onto her finger, he bent to brush a kiss along her lips.

Without question, Delaney knew they were sealing a bargain to last a lifetime.