Curveball by Kate Angell Page A

man to be shaken.
    Another half mile and Dane pointed to a sign. “There’s the parking lot path. Get lost.”
    Chaser didn’t turn off. He slowed his pace and allowed them to draw ahead, but never let them out of his sight.
    “How do you like Richmond?” Jen asked Dane.
    His gaze slid over her. “I’m liking it better by the moment. Maybe you could show me the city.”
    “Maybe you could buy a road map and drive yourself,” Chaser muttered, closing in on them once again. “Tourist attractions are marked red on most maps.”
    “Nightlife.” Dane pressed closer to Jen as they continued down the path. “What’s your favorite club? I’ve heard Jimmy Mack’s draws a crowd.”
    “Mack’s promotes hard rock.” Chaser knew the clubs. “Jen prefers jazz. Billie Holiday. Eva Taylor.”
    “Chinese, Mexican, Thai? How about dinner tonight?” Dane inquired.
    “The lady’s a vegetarian.”
    A muscle jumped in Dane’s jaw. “Damn, is there anything Chaser doesn’t know about you, Jen?”
    Chaser didn’t know her body. He’d never seen her naked. Jen chose not to share that fact with Dane. She, however, had seen Chaser’s bare backside. She’d snuck a peek one afternoon when he’d stepped from the outdoor Jacuzzi. She’d been in his pool, swimming laps. He hadn’t expected her to break her stroke and track his ass. The tightestass in Major League Baseball. Wrangler had him signed to advertise their line of jeans. No one showcased low-slung denim like Chaser.
    “We grew up together,” Jen was quick to explain. “Chaser’s my friend and—”
    “Freakin’ watchdog,” Dane finished. “Get lost, Barky.”
    Chaser’s snarl was lost in the commotion of a group of female joggers. All of them became giggly once they’d spotted him.
    “Can we get your autograph?” All four women stood wide-eyed and adoring. “Can’t wait for Opening Day.”
    Dane was too new to the team to be recognized. Snagging Jen’s hand, he drew her outside the circle, leaving Chaser to fend for himself.
    While Jen felt guilty, Dane didn’t give a damn. Free of Chaser, he came on strong. Jogging became foreplay. Their bodies moved with a rhythm he planned to duplicate in bed.
    Within fifteen minutes they’d retraced their steps, reaching the parking lot. She spotted his red Corvette, slanted diagonally across two spaces. He opened the door, then looked at her. His gaze was scrutinizing, sexual. “Your eyes are bright and your body’s flushed and languid. You’ve the look of a satisfied woman.”
    “Exercise pleases me.”
    “I could please you.”
    “I’d prefer a towel and a bottle of water.”
    “I can give you both.” Pulling his car door wide, he ducked inside and retrieved an iced Fijiand a white hand towel. Rounding the sleek hood, he came to stand before her. He topped her by only an inch. She’d never be able to wear high heels with this man. She was a fan of thick cork wedgies and peep-toe pumps.
    All around them, deep shadows pushed dusk to darkness. The guard gate stood deserted. Chaser’s GTO was no more than a black shadow in the corner of the lot. Set on timers, the streetlights flickered on. In their fluorescence, Dane’s gaze glinted cougar gold.
    With a disturbing slowness, he blotted perspiration from her brow, from beneath her eyes and upper lip. He then drew the towel along her neck, dabbed the V of her sports tank. His fingers tucked into her cleavage. His right palm curved to cup her breast.
    His touch made Jen’s skin crawl. A most startling discovery, since she’d looked forward to meeting this man. Yet each stroke evoked only a need for space. She eased back a step.
    Her move surprised him. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he leaned against the passenger door. His gaze was now hooded. “We have heat, Jen. I knew the second you ran into me we’d have sex.”
    The only thing she’d known was the strength of Chaser’s arm, solid and secure about her waist, supporting her against a