Slow Heat

Chapter 9

Later, Samantha sat in the gloriously decorated resort garden with the other wedding guests, watching the bridal party take their places. Watching as, along with the rest of the groomsmen, Wade escorted grandmothers and elderly aunts down the aisle with that long-legged grace and easy hello, his smile turning a little misty along with the rest of the party as the vows were spoken.

And afterwards, at the open, beautiful, lovely reception, she was still watching as he danced with a little girl who had sweetly asked him, helped serve when they were short-handed, and gave a moving toast to the bride and groom.

Sam was seated at a table with the other Heat players who’d been invited, and right next to the Heat’s manager, Gage. She and Gage had a longtime ease with each other, and had been having a good time. It was hard not to have a good time with Gage. He was a mix of his Latino father and supermodel mother, and within the confines of baseball, possessed a will of sheer steel that served him well. Outside the sport, like today, he let loose a little bit, and attracted nearly as many women as his players did.

On her other side was Pace, no slouch in the catching-women department himself, though the Heat’s ace pitcher had eyes only for his fiancée these days, as proven when Pace slipped his arms around Holly and kissed her with a soft smile.

And when a slow song came on, Pace led Holly to the dance floor. Soon as his seat was empty, Wade moved in. He kicked the chair even closer to Sam and dropped into it, stretching out his tux-covered legs with a sigh.

“Tired?” she asked.

“Whipped. All this flowers and hearts and love-love-love is pretty exhausting work. Hope Mark knows what he’s getting into.”

Sam looked over at Mark, dancing with his new bride, wearing a wide dopey grin. “I think he knows.”

Wade looked at them and shook his head. “One woman for the rest of his life. No more quickies. No more unknowns. Just a ball and chain.”

She laughed. “Is that what you really think of love?”

He flashed her a quick grin. “Nah. Just figured it’s what you think of it and I wanted to be agreeable today.”

“Why today?”

His grin widened and he slung an arm around her. He’d removed his jacket. The white shirt stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. She lifted her eyes to his, and found him looking at her. “So,” she asked, suddenly needing to know. “What do you really think of love?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I think it’s great as long as it’s fun. No stress, no anxiety, no worries. Light and easy required.”

“Yeah, I don’t think love always works that way.”

“Really?” His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, bringing a tingle to her entire body. “So you’ve been in love then?”

“No,” she had to admit. “But nothing with such deep emotion can ever be fun and stress-free all the time.”

“Well, then, maybe that’s why I’m not in it. Because if it’s not light and easy, preferably with lots of sex, then forget-about-it.”

She knew by the little smile on his face he was messing with her. “You really like to perpetuate this whole laid-back, dumb jock thing, don’t you? But I’m on to you, Wade. I know you go deeper.”

“No, I don’t.”

“No,” Pace agreed, coming back from the dance floor, leaning over Wade’s shoulder. “He really doesn’t.”

Wade put his hand to Pace’s face and pushed. Pace laughed and turned his back on them to cuddle with Holly, then walked with her to the open bar.

“You go deeper,” Sam said to Wade. “I’ve seen you. With Pace, with the other guys. And Mark told me you send money to your father every month. A ton of money.”

“A ton is relative.”

“You work with kids. You build ballparks for them to have a place to play. You and Pace create clubs that provide coaching, something positive to do after school.”

He shrugged. “Money’s meant for spending.”

“Don’t do that,” she said quietly. “Don’t underrate what you do.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t overrate it. Look, I have money, more than I need. So I give it. The end.”

She sighed and shook her head. So she wasn’t going to get him to admit he had more substance to him than a rock, fine. What did she care?

“And you’re one to talk, Princess. You haven’t exactly been doing the deep thing either. Or the love thing, for that matter. Why not, if you’re all for it?”

“Because if I’m going to let someone into my life, it’s going to be for the long haul. And yet I’m surrounded by players. Literally and figuratively.”

“Ah.” Amused, he nodded. “Because if you’re going to go for it, the ball and chain and all, you want someone serious, like you. Good plan, I’m sure you’ll laugh a lot. And hey, the sex should be perfunctory.”

“We’ll laugh,” she said, a little defensive.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we’ll have great sex.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Won’t you both be too busy reading the manuals to make sure you’re doing it right?”

Even knowing he was baiting her, she couldn’t keep her quiet. “You know that I do it right. You had a damn good time in that elevator, too. I remember. You-” He’d come hard with her, holding her through it, pressing his pelvis to hers for long moments afterwards as if to savor the last of their pleasure, and remembering it had a blush creep up her face. “You had a good time, too,” she finished softly, unable to stop from meeting his gaze for the confirmation.

He played with a strand of her hair, twirling that strand on a finger, reeling her in until they were nose to nose, as if they were lovers for real. “Is it your turn for fishing now?” he murmured.

Dammit. Yes. She lifted a hand to push him away, but remembered that they were out in public, and therefore a couple, and left it on his chest. “I don’t need to fish. I know it was good for you. Just as you know…” She broke off, deciding to let it pass.

But did he ever let an awkward moment go? Hell, no. He jumped on it with both feet. “Just as I know it was good for you,” he murmured, eyes heated and sparkling as he paused meaningfully. “Twice.”

More heat flooded her cheeks and she sat back, ignoring his soft laugh. In the end, when he’d still been buried inside her, he’d dropped his forehead to hers, and in perhaps the sweetest memory she had of him, he’d let out a low breath, kissed her jaw, and whispered, “Going to be hard to walk away from you, Sam.”

Granted, she’d been supremely plowed at the time, but she could remember clinging to him, having to bite back the urge to ask why he’d have to walk away at all.

And then, in the name of self protection, she’d walked away first.

She’d made herself, to avoid thinking about it too much, to avoid the wondering, but mostly to squelch that secret little hope that they could make something work between the two of them.

In the haze of the next morning’s hangover, she’d been able to admit that had been the alcohol talking. They could never make anything between them work, not when at their core, they were two totally different people, with two totally and completely different sets of hopes and dreams.

“Sam?”

She looked at him.

“It was good for me,” he said softly. He paused a moment, watching his fingers play with her hair. “I’m just not sure that a repeat wouldn’t kill me.”

“What does that mean?”

“You were like a freight truck, Princess. Hot and fast and too much for me to handle.”

Yeah, right.He couldn’t possibly mean that. Unless he meant… “Are you saying I’m high maintenance?”

“On the contrary.” With that enigmatic statement, he lifted two fresh flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handed her one and gently knocked his to hers in an unspoken toast.

“You confuse me,” she said.

“Ditto.”

They both sat back now, eyeing each other like two formidable boxers in the ring, deciding on their next strategy. By all rights, they would probably kill each other if they ever were insane enough to try for round two. So why a secret part of her was still tempted, she had no idea.

She chalked it up to the sentimentality of being at a wedding, to the fact that she’d been in close quarters with him for over twenty-four hours now, and the forced intimacy had gone straight to her head.

And to the fact that she couldn’t stop looking at him in that tux, and wondering how long it would take her to get it off of him.

A flash went off right in their faces, and Sam nearly jumped out of her skin.

Wade didn’t react, except to soothe her by running a hand up her arm.

“Sorry.” The wedding photographer smiled. “Can you two scoot closer to each other?”

No. Closer was a major league bad idea all the way around. If she scooted closer, she’d possibly jump him.

“Just shift into each other a little,” the photographer coaxed, gesturing to them with his hands. “Come on, give me a romantic shot.”

Sam looked into Wade’s face questioningly but she should have known better. Always game, he tugged her in. He wrapped an arm around her waist, then tugged a surprised gasp out of her when he bowed her back, low and deep. Leaning over her, he gave her a kiss.

For show, she reminded herself as her fingers ran up his strong, warm arms, past rock-hard biceps to his hard chest, which she held on to. For show, she had to remind herself yet again when he nibbled at the corner of her mouth, encouraging her to open to him. And when she did, he slid his tongue to hers in a lazy, sexy, fiery, perfect kiss that made it difficult to keep her balance.

Luckily he was fully supporting her. Far before she was ready, he pulled back, straightened her up, and shot a quick grin at the photog. “You get it?”

The photog winked and backed off, and by the time Wade looked down into Sam’s face she’d managed to collect herself.

“They’re going to be serving soon,” Wade said with clear relief, eyeing the servers bustling around, getting ready. “Mark promised me steak.”

Sam managed to find her brain. He wasn’t affected by that kiss, and so she refused to be. “Good to know you won’t be needing a Mickey D’s run.”

“Yeah, though I haven’t ruled it out for later.”

The music changed, quickened, and the dance floor began to fill up. He stood up, stripped off his tux jacket, and held out a hand.

She stared at his long fingers and felt her stomach tighten. “What?”

“Let’s dance.”

No. Hell, no. “Pass.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because I don’t want to?”

“You like to dance,” he said. “I’ve seen you at lots of Heat functions.”

He was right. She liked to dance. Not that she was necessarily any good at it, but she liked the feeling of letting go. Of not having a phone to her ear or an event in her head or a situation to make the best of.

But dancing with Wade would be a mistake. It was hard to fake anything on the dance floor. She’d forget that she was having a hell of a hard time remembering why she needed to guard her heart around him.

“You like to dance,” he said again slowly, understanding dawning. “But you’re afraid you can’t control yourself with me.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. Yeah, so she was worried that with her luck, a slow song would come on and then she’d have to be all pressed up against that body that already knew how to take her to heaven and back, and they were at a wedding, in a very romantic setting, and well… bad idea all around.

“This was all your idea,” he reminded her, tauntingly. “Your game.”

“Well, it was a bad idea. A stupid game.”

“Granted. But you have to see it through now.” He glanced beyond her, to where the wedding photographers were snapping pictures, and beyond that, to the waist-high white fence blocking the garden area off from the gawkers, which included paparazzi.

And their cameras.

With a grim sigh, she rose to her feet, took his hand, ignored his smirk, and followed him to the dance floor. “This is such a mistake,” she said.

“Since when has that ever stopped us?”

For Wade, dancing with Sam was more like a forbidden treat. She felt good against him, too good, making him forget certain basics-that he’d purposely lived his adult life fun and carefree, without worry and anxiety, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, go back there. Not for anything, or anyone.

Sam included.

Life was meant to be fun and light. Period. Preferably with lots of sex and little depth. And that’s what this weekend should have been. Hell, the music was nice, the beat fast, and when she moved to it and smiled at him, he smiled back. And yet at the same time, he felt something tighten in his chest. Which wasn’t good.

Not one little bit.

Neither was the way he automatically held out a hand for her when the song slowed, when everyone around them stepped into their partner.

Sam stared at his hand for a long moment, and he honestly expected that she’d turn away and walk back to the table. Maybe even leave the reception.

It would have been the smart thing to do, after all he was exactly what she’d labeled him-a player. But here was the problem. For two incredibly smart people when they were on their own, they’d never seemed to be able to fully access their IQs when it came to each other.

“I can do this,” she finally said, as if she needed to believe it, and she stepped into him.

He pulled her in closer, and could tell that she tried to lose herself in the music, but he’d seen her slow dance before and she’d been a whole lot less stiff. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“You can move,” she said so begrudgingly that she made him laugh.

“Yeah?”

She let out a small smile. “Yeah.”

“How’s that a problem?”

She didn’t answer, and he returned her smile and pressed his mouth to her ear. “You want me bad. One of these days you’re going to admit it.”

“Just because you look damn fine on the dance floor doesn’t mean I want you.”

“But you do.”

She had no response to that. Nor did she protest when he drew her in even closer so that she was flush against him.

“Smooth,” she managed. “For a jock.”

He laughed softly against her temple, because cool as she sounded, her body trembled. “How about this?”

“What?”

He pulled her in even closer, still moving to the beat, a different one now, one that matched the same beat of his pulse and the blood pounding through his veins as he slid a hand nice and slow up her slim spine.

“Oh, boy,” she whispered, telling him she was in as much trouble as he.

“Tell the truth, Sam. This feels good.”

She paused. “It’s okay.”

“You are such a liar. A gorgeous one though, I’ll give you that.” His hand skimmed down again, just beneath the hem of her short, fitted jacket, low on her back, against the silk of her blouse. He slid a finger just beneath the waistband of her skirt and got bare skin.

In his arms, she shivered.

God, he wanted to be alone with her. He wanted that more than anything. “Maybe the elevator will get stuck again-”

“Wade.” She shook her head. “I…”

“I know.” Beneath her jacket, low on her spine, his fingers continued to play with her warm, and getting warmer, skin. “Bad idea, right?”

“The worst.”

“The paps are watching.”

“I think we’ve given them plenty,” she said, and when the song ended, she pulled free, met his gaze, her own hooded. “I’m sorry, Wade. I’m maxed out on the pretending. Excuse me a minute, okay?” And with a shaky smile, she walked off the floor. She passed by their table, grabbed her purse, then headed toward the building.

Don’t do it, he told himself. Don’t follow her. The food is coming…

Shit.

He followed Sam through the back door, into the huge, upscale kitchen area where the servers were quickly and efficiently-and frantically-working to get the food out to the guests. Wade looked at all the delicious steak, then to Sam’s quickly retreating back. Dammit. “Sam-”

She didn’t slow, leaving him with a life-altering decision. Steak or the woman?

With a grim sigh, he went after her, through a maze of kitchen areas and stopped, momentarily stymied by a restroom door clearly labeled Women as it swung shut in his face. Well, hell. He shoved his hands in his pockets, thought forlornly of the steak probably heading to his table right this second and sighed. “Sam.”

He got the big nothing, and put a hand on the door. “Is there anyone in there with you?”

A server ducked past him, then skidded to a stop, clearly recognizing him. “Wow,” she said breathless. She wiped her hands on her apron and grinned. “Wade O’Riley.”

“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

She watched him take his hand off the door. “It’s a single stall,” she told him. “You don’t have to knock to go in, if it’s unlocked, it’s unoccupied. Help yourself, though the men’s restroom is just around the corner. Hey, did you know you’re even cuter in person?”

He was never quite sure what to say to stuff like that, but she didn’t seem to need a response.

“I got to see game two of the playoffs last year,” she said. “You guys were robbed, but my boyfriend says you’ll take it this year. I think so, too. Your position is my favorite. Catchers are tough, real badass.” She grinned. “You fit that bill, don’t you?”

Again, no idea what to say to that.

“Will you sign an autograph for me?”

Finally, something he had an answer for. “Sure.” He patted down his pockets but he didn’t have a pen.

“Here.” She pulled a ballpoint from her apron, and then turned her back, exposing the clean white cotton back of her server uniform. “Be sure to write ‘Love, Wade’ real big cuz it’ll drive my boyfriend bonkers.”

He’d had far odder requests, so he dutifully signed the back of her shirt, and with a happy wave at him, she was off.

Alone, he eyed the restroom door. Fuck it, he thought, and let himself in.

The server had been right, it was indeed a single stall, which was open and empty because Sam stood in front of the sink staring at herself in the mirror.

The restroom was as luxurious and elegant as the rest of the hotel, the walls painted in muted beachy colors, the tile floors and counter as sparkling and clean as the kitchens he’d just walked through to get here. “You owe me a steak,” he said, and came up behind her to meet her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “Medium rare. Actually, make it two, with a baked potato, loaded. No veggies required.”

“This is the women’s restroom.”

“I know.” He looked around. “Not nearly as mysterious as I’d have thought. Where’s the lesbian party?”

She choked out a laugh that had him taking a second, longer look at her. She was seriously unnerved, and he had an idea that he was a fairly big part of that unnerving. He knew she had a lot going on: the high-powered job, a demanding family that, given the phone call he’d taken for her earlier, was about to become a lot more demanding.

But his tough-on-the-outside Sam was holding on to a surprisingly soft, tender, bruised heart on the inside, and it did something odd to his own heart. Setting his hands on her hips, he stepped close so that her back brushed his chest. He pressed his mouth to her neck, a motion that tugged a surprised breath out of her, just a little hum of helpless arousal that turned him upside down.

But though he was a lot of things, he wasn’t stupid, and he raised his head to meet her gaze in the mirror. “So. What are we doing in here?”

“I don’t know about you,” she said. “But I’m running a poll with my bad and good side.”

On whether to give into this attraction. “Do I get a vote?” he asked.

She didn’t so much as blink, and taking that as a yes, he reached out and hit the lock on the restroom, because his vote was for the bad side, every time.