Center Stage: A Hot Baseball Romance (Diamond Brides Book 8) by Mindy Klasky

Lindsey had vowed that she would never be like her sister. Never. Ever.
    And she hadn’t been. Not until last night, until she and Ryan had TPed Will’s house.
    Okay. That little night-time jaunt was nothing like the melodramatic disasters of Beth’s life. And Lindsey had to admit there was a thrill in doing the unexpected. It could be exciting to break the rules. Even now, she could remember how her sides had ached with laughter, how her cheeks had ached as she grinned all the way back to the farmhouse. She’d felt light, almost like she was flying.
    And if a touch of petty vandalism—no lasting harm done—could feel that great, what else could she do to kick her life back in gear?
    She started with a day of complete relaxation—re-reading some of her favorite childhood books that still lined the shelves in the family room. She followed up by taking a long afternoon walk, walking the entire border of the property Zach had inherited from their parents, of the land that still felt like “home” after all these years. She luxuriated in a long shower before she raided the pantry for dinner.
    One of the advantages of her failure as a cook was that she’d long ago grown used to cobbling together meals from packages. A can of tuna, drained and seasoned with pepper and a dash of Worcestershire sauce was great on crackers. Zach had a stack of those little cups of applesauce, the type that belonged in a kid’s lunch but kept forever in a cabinet. And she still had the leftover Oreos she’d carried in from Ryan’s car.
    And that brought her thoughts full-circle to the night before, back to her partner in crime. She rinsed her dishes and headed into the cozy living room. When she snapped on TV, it was already tuned to the Rockets game in progress. Of course. What else did she expect, in her brother’s house?
    She settled on the couch and watched the game, relaxing into the familiar rhythms of baseball. But she didn’t lie to herself. She admitted that she scanned every shot of the Rockets dugout. Ryan wouldn’t be playing yet; he still had two days on the disabled list—not that his leg seemed to have given him any trouble the night before, as they sprinted away from Will’s house. She thought she might catch him watching the game, studying the Rockets’ rival, plotting for later match-ups in the season.
    No such luck. But both pitchers worked at a fast pace, not letting many runners get on base. The Rockets won by an easy three runs. After the final out, the cameras picked up shots of the owner, Marty Benson, sitting in his suite. The old man looked terribly frail, far more wasted than when Lindsey had worked for the club, just a few years before. But he pumped his fist at the winning pitch, and he leaned forward in his wheelchair. Lindsey grinned at the enthusiasm. She knew Zach wanted to deliver a championship ring this year. It would probably be the last chance for Mr. Benson to enjoy the celebration.
    As the post-game show started, Lindsey picked up her phone. Somehow, she’d known she was going to make this call—all day, the thought had been there. All evening, too. It was easy enough to tap the number on the screen, the last call that had come in.
    It rang once before he answered. “Killer?”
    “You got your phone back,” she said. “I take it no policeman showed up on your doorstep today?”
    “I think we made a clean getaway.” His voice sounded warm and lazy, and she could picture him stretched out on a couch, relaxed in blue jeans and a ratty old T-shirt. The thought was nearly as appealing as him in the suit he’d worn the night before. He chuckled, and the sound melted something inside her. “I thought I’d forgotten everything I learned in high school. What’s up next? Ditching class to go eat Big Macs?”
    She didn’t say a word.
    “Let me guess,” he said, filling the silence as her cheeks warmed. “You never ditched class.”
    “Nope.”
    “Not even on Senior Skip Day?”
    “I had