Slow Heat

Chapter 16

The blogs and newspapers continued to buzz with the fact that a woman had tamed Wade, and the Heat’s like-ability improved daily. The sponsors were happy. Gage was happy.

Then the Heat took the Padres at home on game two and the fans were happy, too.

Sam wasn’t sure what she was, but it didn’t matter. She was too busy to think about it. She had pre-game interviews, post-game interviews, and everything promotion-related in between, which included lots of standing next to Wade and smiling for a camera.

He seemed to get a kick out of it, making sure to touch her as often as possible. Before the third Padres game, the reporter asked Wade to kiss her, and with a grin, he bent her over his arm and did.

He kissed her long and wet and deep.

Sam made sure to pretend to like it.

Except there wasn’t much pretending involved.

Tag joined Sam and Holly in the stands, happy to dig into their standard tray of delicious junk food, but when she and Holly leapt to their feet to cheer Pace on during a tense third inning, he remained seated.

Until the fifth inning, when it was Wade they were cheering for. Tag got up for Wade when he hit a triple. Sam stared at him, grinning broadly.

“What?” he asked.

“You cheered.”

“It was a good hit.” And he calmly sat back down and grabbed another hot dog, as he was apparently a bottomless pit masquerading as a kid. Or maybe he had a tape-worm. She knew he was still dealing with missing home, missing Jeremy, the only real family he’d ever had in his life, and she worried every minute of every day that he was leaving his childhood behind too soon, that he’d suffer long-term from abandonment issues.

Especially since Jeremy didn’t call-either because he couldn’t, or because it didn’t occur to him. Either way, Samantha hated him for it. Tag deserved better. Hell, a dog deserved better. She’d managed to hire a tutor/nanny to travel with them-a guy, which seemed to please Tag. As did Wade, who took Tag with him to practices when he could, and also out to eat. He’d made Sam come, too, and she’d gone back to her office afterwards with her cheeks aching from laughing.

After the Padres series, they flew to San Francisco to play the Giants. Before the first game, Sam was working the clubhouse as she always did. She’d been worried about Tag being bored, but it turned out he wasn’t any harder to take care of than any of the other men around her. At the moment, he was in the guest clubhouse on a couch with a control box in his lap, playing a video game. His head was tilted back, his eyes glazed and locked on the TV, his mouth open as he worked the controls. He was decked out in Wade’s jersey, with someone’s far too large Adidas on his feet. He had a huge wad of bubblegum in his mouth, which was probably why it hung open.

And just looking at him squeezed her heart. How one little kid could worm his way into her life so damn fast, she had no idea. She brought him an apple juice and ruffled his hair, barely managing to resist hugging him because she knew he’d just squirm free. “Want a sandwich?”

He didn’t respond.

“Tag?”

He grunted, then shook his head.

Good Lord. He was already a guy through and through. Shaking her head, she moved past him. As always, the players arrived at least five hours early for the game, and even though they had a clubbie-a guy paid to make sure they had everything they needed-she always walked through to check on them as well. She’d been doing so since the beginning of time, so she no longer even noticed the half-naked men wandering back and forth from showers to lockers, or the behavior such testosterone brought out. In one corner Mason and Kyle were sparring with their gloves on for no discernable reason. She’d discovered guys didn’t need a reason for aggression, so she’d long ago ceased looking for one.

“Cool it,” Gage told them.

Joe walked out of the shower completely butt-ass naked. Mike snapped his ass with a towel and in return, Joe shoved him into a wall and kept walking, a big welt now blooming on one butt cheek.

Sam registered it all and saw none of it.

She turned to get herself a bottle of water just as one more player walked out of the shower room.

Wade.

He wore a towel and nothing else except drops of water and those lean, hard muscles. And unlike with the other guys, her mind went there, to him in the shower, all naked and soapy, and she felt heat slash through her belly. She opened her bottle of water and took a sip for her suddenly parched throat.

Wade was in his zone, his game face on, heading for his locker. When their eyes connected, some of the intensity left his face, softening his eyes and softening her insides, and for a moment, she wished that he wanted more, more of her and from her.

He was still looking at her, too gorgeous for words, and without her permission, a ridiculously helpless smile curved her lips.

In return, he let loose a smile, too, the warm, intimate one that he always gave her after kissing her stupid. They were staring at each other like idiots, surrounded by people. Uncharacteristically flustered, she turned away first, and plowed directly into Gage with her opened water bottle.

He was tall and built like the players. Solid muscle. Bumping into him was like bumping into a brick wall, but he absorbed the impact and caught her, holding her up as water splashed down the front of him. “I’m sorry,” she gasped.

He pulled his shirt away from his skin, his dark features twisting into a grimace. “Me, too. Where’s the fire?” He looked behind her to see what she’d been running from.

Wade was in front of his locker. He’d pulled on his compression shorts and was reaching for his jersey.

She winced as Gage’s eyes cut to hers again.

“I haven’t asked you,” he said evenly, with only a teeny tiny hint of irony, “how this whole pretend relationship thing is going.”

Oh boy.“Fine.”

“Is it going to stay that way for the rest of the month, no trouble?”

God, she hoped so. “Hey, no trouble is my middle name.”

Gage nodded, but his eyes reflected his concern that maybe she was lying through her teeth. She couldn’t reassure him because she had no reassurances. None.

Because just behind her façade was a bone deep certainty that she wasn’t fine. Not even close. She was falling for a man she had no business falling for, and for a kid that wasn’t hers.

Fine didn’t begin to cover it.

“Do I need to step in?” Gage asked, holding eye contact, raising a brow. “Kick his ass?”

She laughed, as he’d intended, even knowing that beneath the levity, he’d absolutely do it if she wanted. “No.”

He watched her for a long moment. Part of Gage’s brilliance was being able to see what people didn’t want him to. She had no doubt he knew exactly what was wrong. Just as he knew how important it was to her to handle her problems on her own. Finally he nodded, gave her a surprisingly gentle hug, then moved away.

Sam turned to talk to some of the reporters, moving through, making the rounds, and suddenly Wade was in front of her. He took her hand and pulled her around a corner until it was just them, sandwiched in a hallway between two rolling hampers of towels.

He’d put on the rest of his uniform, thank God. His hair was still wet from his shower, falling silkily over his forehead. His eyes were smiling, though his mouth wasn’t. “One week down,” he murmured, gently pressing her back to the wall.

“And we haven’t killed each other.” Or lost our clothes again. Good signs, both of them.

Moving slowly but extremely surely, he linked their fingers at her sides, then slid their joined hands up the wall, until they were above her head. Then he leaned in so close there wasn’t enough space between them for so much as a sheet of paper.

“What are you doing?”

His mouth curved. “You were undressing me with your eyes.”

“Was not-”

He kissed her. Well, first he outlined her lower lip with his tongue, then he covered her mouth with his, and at the first taste of him, she was gone.

Gone.

She rocked against him and he let go of her hands, sliding his down her arms to cover her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her already pebbled nipples. A rough groan escaped him and he lifted his head. They were nose to nose, their breath coming as one, gazes locked.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off him. His hair was looking a little tousled, his uniform shirt wrinkled now from her fingers, his eyes flashing heat and good humor as she tried to smooth it out, pressing it over his broad chest and shoulders. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“For the wrinkles, or that kiss?”

“You kissed me.” She sighed. “But if you hadn’t, I’d probably have initiated it.”

He smiled against her throat, she could feel it, and heard it in his voice. “Good to know.” He glided his thumb over her nipple again.

She trembled, which was annoying. She was working! But when he let his mouth settle against the spot just beneath her ear, she actually tilted her head to the side to give him better access, which he fully utilized, brushing his lips against her sensitized flesh once, then again. “You still want me. And God knows I want you.

She slid out from between him and the wall and attempted to recover some dignity. “Have a good game, Wade.”

“Nothing to say on the wanting me thing?”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I’m going to tell the reporters who ask about us. No comment.” And with not nearly the dignity she’d hoped for since her nipples were hard and her panties wet, she walked away in tune to his soft, knowing laugh.

At the end of the San Francisco series, the Heat got on their usual chartered jet, and then got delayed on the tarmac for two long hours. It was late, past midnight, and everyone was exhausted, Wade included. Exhausted and restless. And in his case, also oddly…

Lonely.

It was a new feeling for him, an unwelcome one, and unable to sit in his seat, he walked the narrow aisle of the plane. His teammates were all in various positions, asleep, reading, or on their PDAs.

Near the back, Tag was sprawled out on two adjacent seats, one leg up, one leg hanging to the floor, his arms flung wide, mouth open, sleeping with the utter abandonment only a kid could pull off. Sam was across from him, and as Wade looked at her, he realized that this was where he’d meant to end up, near her.

As if she felt the same, Sam moved over to make room for him. She didn’t speak, and Wade couldn’t express his appreciation enough for that. He just wanted to sit, maybe sleep, and he’d wanted to do both those things with her.

His pretend girlfriend.

It didn’t escape his notice that he was closer to her, in their pretend relationship, then he’d been to any other woman in a long time.

Or that he’d been having an internal debate with himself about whether they could have something for real.

Half the time he believed it.

The other half, he wasn’t so sure. It’d never worked for him before, and if he fucked it up and they ended up in a bad place, then he wouldn’t have her in his life at all.

So he didn’t go there. Instead, in the dark, surrounded by the low hum of the plane’s engine, he just absorbed being close to her in the only way he knew how. After a few minutes, Sam stretched and yawned, shifting, trying to get comfortable. “Here,” he murmured, and slid an arm around her shoulders, urging her against him. She looked up at him, and then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, set her head on his chest.

The simple, easy trust had something catching deep within him. Nothing he wanted to define given that he was fairly certain it would be something he didn’t know how to face, so he merely stared down at her, struck by the warmth spreading through his belly as she slowly drifted off, using him as her pillow.

Christ, she was sweet.

“Wade?” she murmured in a low sleepy voice that made him hard.

“Yeah?”

“Cop a feel while I’m asleep and I’ll toss you out the window at fifteen thousand feet.”

He smiled. “Go to sleep, Sam.”

And she did. The plane was comfortably dark and quiet, and it’d been one hell of a long week. Pulling her in a little closer to better support and hold her against him, Wade settled in. He could tell when she let go because she completely relaxed against him, but for him sleep was a long time coming.

Sam coaxed Tag out of bed the next morning with blueberry pancakes. He wasn’t thrilled. “I know you’re tired,” she said when he yawned broadly. “And I know it’s early, but I have to-”

“It’s okay,” he said, bleary-eyed, head dropping to the table next to his plate.

She stared down at him, concerned. Ten-year-olds were supposed to be rough and tumble. She’d looked it up. Ten-year-olds were supposed to be hard to handle and loud and noisy. She wanted him so badly not to be scarred by his parents, by circumstances. But every night she lay in bed and worried about all the ways she might be further screwing him up. “Do you ever complain? Whine? Act like a brat?”

He cracked open an eye. “You want me to act like a brat?”

She smiled and lifted a shoulder. “Maybe once in a while, yeah.”

“Okay.” He straightened. “I wanna play Xbox in the clubhouse. It really sucks that you don’t have one here. I mean who doesn’t? You don’t even have a GameCube. You’ve got nothing.”

“Sorry, there’s no baseball game today. We’re not going to the clubhouse. And I don’t have kids, so I don’t play Xcube or Gamebox.”

He snorted.

“Or whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“What if I threw myself down on the floor and yelled?”

“Would you really do that?”

He looked at the floor, then at what he was wearing-Wade’s jersey, what a surprise. “I might get the jersey dirty.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to like what we’re doing instead.”

Too late. He appeared to be enjoying his temper tantrum. “I don’t wanna sit in your office and do schoolwork. Why do I have to do everything with you? At home, I got to stay alone.” He paused, then almost as an afterthought, kicked the floor, then repeated his favorite mantra. “I want to go home.”

“Okay,” she said. “I know I started this, but-”

“I could go home if I really wanted to. I could call Uncle Brett. He’d come get me.” He pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through his contacts.

She was no longer sure if they were playing at this temper tantrum or if he was testing her, so she decided to wait him out a minute.

He went still. “Aren’t you going to stop me?”

“From calling a member of your family? Never.”

Tag stared at her, not old enough to hide his dismay. “But I was going to tell him to come get me. And you don’t want me to go. You like me.”

“Actually, you silly, cheese-loving, grumpy old man hiding out in the body of a ten year old, I love you, with all my heart.”

Tag blinked, and then in his ear Brett said, “Hello?”

Sam reached out and covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “You realize you don’t have to talk me into letting you stay, right? That I truly want you to stay. If you want to.”

“I want to,” Tag whispered back, eyes bright. “I really want to stay with you.”

“Music to my ears.” She closed his phone on her brother, no qualms. Brett would forget they’d called within two minutes. “Now come here,” she said softly, slinging an arm around Tag’s narrow shoulders and pulling him in.

He was stiff, but didn’t shrug her off. “You’re not going to kiss me are you?”

She sighed and kept her lips to herself.

Shortly after, they cleaned up breakfast and Sam showered and dressed. She was going to be in professional capacity but a far more casual one than usual, so she went with a pantsuit today. And a Heat baseball cap with Wade’s number on it.

It was for appearances, she told herself as she drove her and Tag to the park.

“What are we doing here?” Tag asked.

“It’s a surprise…”

Both Pace’s and Wade’s cars were in the lot. The sight of Wade’s gave her stomach a little quiver. Other body parts quivered as well.

On the field, Pace and Wade were coaching two teams of ragtag kids against each other in a game of baseball. Wade stood behind the catcher, his sunglasses catching the sun. He wore battered Levi’s and a T-shirt that stretched across his biceps and chest and was loose over his washboard abs. He also wore a smile, the one that did things to her insides.

And her insides didn’t need things done to them; they were already fluttering.

From across the field, he met her gaze. She looked right back at him and more fluttering occurred.

“Jeez,” Tag said at her side. “Take a picture.”

She’d wondered when he was going to act like a ten-year-old. Seemed the real Tag was starting to show himself.

And so were her feelings for Wade.

Wade watched Sam and Tag arrive. That she’d showed up today for the game didn’t surprise him. She ran the 4 The Kids charity with the same easy efficiency she seemed to run her life, and though this wasn’t one of her events, it was Pace’s. Wade was only along because Pace had dragged him out of bed, saying he needed more help than just a check with this one. Sam was here because she’d insinuated herself into their program, for which they were both grateful.

What did surprise him was the ball cap on her head.

With his number on it.

It’d been only last night that he’d held her while she’d slept on the plane, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her. There were no reporters here today, they didn’t have to be “on,” so probably some space was called for between them.

But he didn’t want space.

Sam was running back and forth between her car and the snack bar, setting it up when he cornered her in the lot. “Nice,” he said, flicking the cap up to see her eyes.

She lifted a shoulder, but couldn’t quite hold back her smile. “It’s a girlfriend thing.”

“I like it.”

“Sorry about drooling on you last night.”

“Yeah? You snored, too.”

When her horrified gaze flew to his, he laughed softly against her temple.

“I don’t snore,” she grumbled, smacking him lightly on the chest.

He pressed his face into her hair. “Only a little.”

With an eyeroll, she turned away and hoisted a box of candy bars out of her trunk.

“Candy,” he said. “The way to every little boy’s heart.”

“And the big boys?”

He took the box out of her hands and set it on the roof of her car. Then he backed her up against the door, slid a hand to the back of her neck and kissed her. She made a soft sound of acquiescence that sliced straight through him, and when her tongue tentatively touched his, he got hard so fast the blood drained from his brain, leaving him dizzy. “The big boys have a different way to their heart,” he said against her lips.

“I can feel that.”

“Smart-ass.” He stroked a finger from her temple to her jaw. “We should go out for dinner after the game.”

“For pretend?”

“For whatever comes to mind.”

Her eyes darkened.

“Tell me,” he demanded softly. “I want to know what you just thought about.”

“Naked. Naked is what comes to mind. And,” she said quickly as he skimmed a hand up her back, pressing her closer, “it’s a bad idea.”

His fingers slipped under the hem of her top to settle on bare skin. Bare, warm skin that he wanted to kiss, nibble, suck… “Because…?”

“Because in a few weeks we go back to whatever we were before.”

She had him there. Together they walked to the field where Tag was already with Pace and the others. Tag was by far the youngest boy out there, but no one had any problem including him. This would never have happened in an organized league, but these kids were different. At one time or another, they’d all been the misfit and because of it, they were far more accepting.

When the game started, Wade and Pace stood behind the plate coaching their respective teams, tossing out encouraging directions to the kids, most of whom couldn’t have caught a ball before this season to save their lives.

By the end of the fourth inning, the game was tied zip all. They agreed to one last inning, and Wade’s team was up at bat. Tag headed out of the dugout, slowing as he got to the plate. He’d struck out twice already and looked a little bit like he was heading to the guillotine. Wade had tried to help him with advice but Tag hadn’t wanted any, so Wade kept his mouth shut this time.

Tag let out a breath, bravely took his stance, and his helmet promptly slid over his eyes.

With a sigh, Wade pulled him back out of the batter’s box and tightened the helmet. He kept his voice low and soft. “Keep your eyes on the ball-”

“I know,” Tag said in a tone that sounded more like, Well, duh!

Wade lifted his hands and stepped back. His gaze went to Sam, standing in front of the snack bar watching like a nervous mother hen.

Tag’s teammates yelled out some encouragement, and Tag swung at two far outside left balls. Finally, he stepped out of the box, looked at Wade, and sighed.

The only request for help he was going to get. “You’re closing your eyes,” Wade told him. “It’s a family trait.” He slid a look to Sam, who smiled. She closed her eyes when she batted, too.

Tag nodded and kept his eyes wide open as he swung on the next one and connected. “Holy crap!” he yelled in ten-year-old glee, tossing his bat, running as the ball sailed up past the pitcher.

Pace was calling out directions to the shortstop, telling him to keep his eyes on the ball, to back up a few feet…

The shortstop missed the catch, but scooped it up fairly quickly and probably could have thrown the ball all the way to first, but Tag was grinning and running and tugging up his falling-down jeans as he hauled ass toward the base.

And then something happened that Wade didn’t expect. The shortstop held back, looking at the first baseman, who nodded. “Keep going,” the kid said to Tag. “Go to second.” Then the shortstop threw to second base and the second baseman missed.

Pace clapped his hands to his head in disbelief.

But Wade was grinning. Pace’s team was letting Tag take a homer. “Go, Tag, go!”

The kid rounded third and slid into home like a pro. He stood up triumphantly, filthy from head to toe.

Sam was jumping up and down for him. Tag bumped fists with all the members of his team, but Sam was having none of that. She ran around the fence and wrapped her arms around the kid, squeezing and kissing him until he squirmed free.

“Jeez!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” she said, and kissed him one more time.

Tag didn’t look like he minded all that much.

Wade knew just how the kid felt. In fact, he snagged Sam by the back of her shirt and pulled her to him for a kiss of his own. “Sorry,” he murmured, echoing her own words right back at her. “I couldn’t help myself.”

That afternoon Wade was working out in the Heat’s facility before a mandatory team meeting, pushing himself hard at the bench press in tune to Jane’s Addiction on his iPod when Pace sat on the bench next to him.

“Problem,” Pace said.

Wade pulled out one of his earphones. “Holly left you for a real man, and she’s waiting for me at my place?”

“Funny. No, tonight’s fund-raiser.”

Which was a full-out carnival to celebrate another year of the 4 The Kids charity. Professional athletes from a variety of sports were paying out the wazoo for the opportunity to run a booth and be seen doing something charitable, which was a win-win situation for the charity’s checkbook. Since Wade had put out a big chunk of money to help fund the carnival, he hadn’t committed to running a booth.

“We’re short a few athletes,” Pace said. “Sam’s working the phones right now, scrambling.”

“She’ll find someone.”

“It’s the dunking booth that’s causing the big problem. She wants a high-profile athlete, but no one wants to do it.”

Wade lifted a shoulder. “So get in the dunk booth, man.”

“I’m already signed up for something else. And I’m also the MC for the event.”

“You like to multitask. Just make sure you don’t get dunked with the microphone in your hand. Electrocution isn’t pretty.”

“Okay, wise guy,” Pace said. “Let me just spell it out for you. Sam and I just signed you up for the dunking booth.” His supposed best friend grinned and clasped him on the shoulder. “Going to be good times.”

Wade slid him a look. “If you dunk me, I’ll personally put you in the booth for your turn.”

Pace stood up and moved out of the reach of Wade’s arm. “You’d have to catch me first. And I’m faster than you are.”

“Why can’t you get Henry to do it? Or Mike?”

“She wants you.”

“Why?”

Pace shrugged. “Maybe you’re not paying enough attention to her. Maybe you’re being a bad boyfriend.”

“Hello, it’s pretend!”

Pace got on the treadmill and he began running steadily, swinging his arms naturally, his shoulder completely healed from the surgery he’d had months ago. “I see you’ve learned nothing.”

“I’ve learned plenty,” Wade told him. “I’ve learned she likes me best either far, far away, or with my tongue down her throat. We don’t do so well with anything in between.”

“You haven’t tried anything in between. You’ve let the chemical attraction take over. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“It’s not chemical.”

“You’re right,” Pace said, working the touchpad control of the treadmill. “It’s not chemical. Given how thrown you are about this whole thing, it’s probably love.”

Wade nearly swallowed his tongue. He came off the bench, and with a laugh, Pace held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Wade.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m pretty sure it means you’re an idiot. Look, you drove me crazy last year with all the ‘Live your life’ shit, and now look at you. You’re not doing a fucking thing with yours.”

“Not doing a fucking thing-” Wade choked and stared at Pace. “We just started a new season, you dumb ass. We’re building a charity that gives street kids a fighting chance.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a great ball player and a great guy, too. You’ll get no argument from me there,” Pace said quietly, the joking gone. “Without you, I wouldn’t be half the pitcher I am.” He pointed when Wade opened his mouth.

“Shut up. You give big bucks to the kids, more than any of the rest of us. You write checks for your father. You’d write a stranger a check. How many times do we have to talk about this, Wade? You can write all the checks you want, but-”

“Ah, Christ, the but. I hate the but.”

“-But when it comes to the actual doing, you’re still standing back. You’re still keeping yourself distanced.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I do stuff all the time. I don’t keep myself distanced.”

Pace wiped his face with a towel, tossed it aside, and kept running. “Right. You go out plenty-or at least you used to before you got a pretend girlfriend. But that shit doesn’t count, that shit isn’t even real. Getting your hands dirty is real. Coaching the street kids you’re afraid to connect with because you’ll see yourself in them is real. Getting behind your dad, supporting him through rehab instead of waiting for him to fail again, that’s real. Being a real boyfriend to a woman you have feelings for, sticking around when it’s not all fun and games, that’s real.”

Wade stared at him, then sank back onto the bench.

Pace watched him warily as he ran on the treadmill. “You going to say anything? Try to hit me? Anything?”

“My legs feel funny. Rubbery.”

“Stop working out.”

“I think it’s what you said, not the weights.”

“Which part?” Pace asked. “The love part?”

“No.” Yes. Spots danced in Wade’s vision and he had to put his head between his knees.

“Love…” Pace said again, a smile in his voice. Asshole. The spots danced faster, and now his ears were clanging.

“If I could feel my legs, I’d pound you into next week.”

“Even if you could feel your legs, you still couldn’t catch me.”