Brooklyn Heat (20 page)

It had been working out perfectly. Well, not perfectly, Jay thought, as he pounded his legs to the music. There was the girl who he married in Vegas, and all the partying. And of course it was a pretty empty existence.

But every time he started to feel lonely, Jay reminded himself of the fact that having ties and loyalties to a woman only led to problems. Bad problems.

By the time his session at the gym was over, Jay felt better.

Obviously he wanted what he couldn’t have – and since Alyssa Cotler was off-limits, that was all this was. He needed to stay away from her, or else he was going to be in big trouble.

***

Alyssa sat in the dugout later that night, her notebook open in front of her, her pen poised to take notes. But all she could concentrate on was Jay Havens.

He was at bat, his arms crooked perfectly. She admired the way his hands gripped the bat, the way his uniform hugged his body. She thought about what they’d done in her hotel room earlier, how he’d kissed her and how she’d wanted him to throw her down on the bed and do whatever he wanted. A rush of electricity and heat pulsed in between her legs, and she quickly looked back down at her notebook.

The page was blank. She was supposed to be taking notes on the game, about what was going on in the dugout, but it wasn’t going so well.

First, the guys seemed like they were on their best behavior, not wanting to swear or spit or whatever it was that baseball players were supposed to do.

Second, she kept getting distracted thinking about Jay Havens. And third, Jessa kept texting her, asking her if Chad had mentioned her, or when Jessa could come by to “guarantee he would ask her out.”

Alyssa didn’t want to have to be the one to break the news to her that if you had to come by so that a guy would want to ask you out after he slept with you, your romance probably wasn’t on the best ground. Also Chad had been flirting with a reporter from ESPN for the past hour. He was over to the side, trying to hide it from Alyssa, but at one point she’d seen the poor girl pull down the top of her shirt and show Chad the small heart tattoo she had on the top of her breast.

Alyssa looked down at her paper and wrote, “Chad got ESPN

reporter to show him her tattoo.” Something told her Isobel wasn’t going to be too pleased with that. She needed something more.

The crack of the bat sounded across the field, and Alyssa looked up to see Jay start to run the bases. He ran fast and hard, his arms pumping and his face showing total concentration. He slid into second base seconds before the throw, and the crowd went wild.

Jay pulled off his batting gloves, and Alyssa thought about the way his hands had felt on her earlier. She swallowed. Hard. There was heat pulsing in between her thighs, and she turned away from him, trying to calm herself down. Why was it they always said to think about baseball when you were getting worked up? Baseball was about the sexiest thing that Alyssa could think of right now.

Her phone rang, and she rummaged around for it in her bag, then moved out of the dugout so as not to disturb the players. Not that they really cared. After she’d eviscerated Jay in her first blog, no one would dare say anything to her. It was kind of funny, all of these big baseball players being afraid of what she might write about them.

“Hello?” she said, standing in the short tunnel that led down to the dugout. She leaned against the wall.

“Alyssa!” Isobel yelled. “Your column’s getting a great response.

From the readers, and the board.”

The board was the board of editors. Alyssa had never had contact with them directly, but from what she could tell, Isobel was terrified of them.

“Thanks,” Alyssa said. She’d kept this morning’s column light, talking about how the picture in the New York Post had been taken out of context, and how she was getting a taste of what it was like to live in the public eye. She’s thrown in some bullshit, too, about how she’d hurt her knee and how all the players had been super nice to her.

“But I have to warn you, they weren’t pleased about seeing that picture,” Isobel said. “If you hadn’t written such a great post, I’m not sure what they would have done.”

The threat was implicit – Alyssa would have lost her job. Isobel was always implying that Alyssa was going to lose her job. Alyssa didn’t know if it was because she actually could lose her job that easily, or if it was just a scare tactic. She didn’t care to find out.

“I understand,” Alyssa said.

“Under no circumstances are you to be fraternizing around with the players. I won’t have some kind of scandal happening, like that shit with Brett Favre and the sexts.”

Alyssa had no idea what she was talking about, but she said, “Of course not, Isobel.” She swallowed hard and tried not to think about kissing Jay Havens in her hotel room this morning.

She hung up the phone and headed back to the dugout, trying to calm her beating heart.

***

The Heat won 7-2, and the mood in the locker room was one of jubilation. Players were celebrating, and Jay Havens was getting ready for a night on the town. He’d already decided exactly what he was going to do.

Dinner at Koi, followed by drinks at Sliver, and then who knew? He always liked to play the after party by ear. Maybe he’d rent a hotel room in Manhattan, bring the party there. Or maybe he’d pick up some gorgeous woman while he was out tonight. A blonde. A blonde who looked nothing like Alyssa Cotler.

He’d been distracted during the game, not being able to keep his mind off her. He’d had a great game only because every time he was at bat, he’d poured all his anger toward Dax into his swing.

“Good game, man,” Dax said, walking by him and giving him a fist pound.

“Yeah,” Jay said, deliberately keeping it short. Dax seemed to be waiting for something, probably for Jay to tell him that Dax had had a good game, too. But Jay didn’t want to give the fucker the satisfaction. Dax didn’t get the hint. He just stood there, waiting. Jay sighed. “You, too,” he said finally, hoping Dax would go away. But he didn’t.

“You think? I felt like I could have been hitting a little stronger.”

It was bullshit. Dax had hit a homerun and a two RBI triple. He was fishing for compliments. “I can work with you a little,” Jay said. “Give you some tips.”

“Thanks, man,” Dax said. But his tone wasn’t genuine. The guy was such a tool. Jay felt kind of like punching him in his stupid face.

“Or,” Jay said, “you could try to get some more sleep. Less partying.”

Dax grinned. “You saw the New York Post article, huh? Must have been a little weird, to not be the one everyone’s talking about for once.”

“No,” Jay lied, “I didn’t see the article. I just thought you seemed a little tired today.”

Dax’s smile faltered for a moment, but he got control of himself quickly. “I was out with that reporter,” Dax said. “Not the hottest piece of ass, but there’s something about her. The whole doe-eyed, upstate vibe, you know? Nice rack. She was grinding on me like she couldn’t get enough.”

He grinned. “I’m making it my mission to sleep with her before she leaves.”

“I doubt that’s going to happen,” Jay said. It came out sharper than he’d intended.

“We’ll see,” Dax said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll catch you later, man.”

Jay could feel his blood boiling. How could that asshole talk about Alyssa like that? Saying she wasn’t that hot, that it was going to be his mission to sleep with her? That motherfucker.
Forget about Alyssa Cotler,
Jay told himself, slamming his locker door shut. He was going to go out and have a good time.

His cell rang, and he looked at the caller ID. Steve. He thought about sending it to voicemail, but if he did that, Steve would just be even angrier when he finally did talk to him.

“Yo,” Jay said, cradling the phone against his chest. He started to make his way out of the locker room, high fiving some of his teammates on the way. “Dinner at Koi, boys,” he told them. “My treat.”

“You better take that back,” Steve said through the phone.

“Otherwise there are going to be a lot of disappointed baseball players at that restaurant.”

“Why?” Jay asked.

“Because I need to see you. Now. I’ll meet you at Fratelli’s in ten.”

“No,” Jay said.

“Yes,” Steve told him. “Be there.” And then the line went dead.

~Chapter Seven~

Alyssa left the game by herself and walked back to her hotel. The air was warm, and she was in a good mood. Dax had asked her if she wanted to grab some dinner after the game, but she’d declined. The last thing she needed was her picture showing up in the paper again. Then she’d really be in trouble with Isobel.

When she was safely back in her room, she stood by her bed and looked out the window. It was nine o’clock. Late enough, but early by New York City standards. She wondered if Brooklyn counted when they said New York was the city that never slept.

She considered going out, doing something to enjoy the city, but the thought of wandering around by herself seemed a little exhausting and kind of pathetic. And she was already tired from the day, and dusty from the dust in the dugout.

She dug through her suitcase and picked out her favorite bubble bath, and an aromatherapy candle her sister had given her when she’d found out she was going on this trip. Alyssa’s sister Iris was very much into aromatherapy. It was probably bullshit, but Alyssa liked a good smelling candle as much as the next person, and this one promised to bring “luck, serenity, and abundance.”

What could be wrong with that?

She drew a bath, first making sure to scrub down the tub with some disinfectant pads she’d brought. They were supposed to be for wiping down your hands to prevent the spread of colds and other nasty viruses, but she figured using them on the tub would be better than nothing.

She poured the vanilla raspberry bubble bath into the tub, slid in, and turned on the jets. The hot water soothed her, and she sighed, letting her shoulders slide into the water.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax, deciding not to think about the column she still had to write about tonight’s game, or about how her picture had been in the New York Post this morning. And definitely not about Jay Havens. About how he’d kissed her this morning, how hot his body had felt against hers.

She closed her eyes, determined to push him out of her thoughts. But that kiss kept popping up. Hot and demanding, searching and soft, it had been perfect. Alyssa had never been kissed like that before, and it made her wonder what else Jay could do to her.

Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was slipping under the bubbles, down between her legs. She opened her thighs slightly, letting her fingers rub lightly up and down.

She pictured Jay there, coming into the room, wrapped only in a towel. His chest was perfect, just the right amount of muscle, smooth and tan. A faint line of hair started at his belly button, and went down under the towel, and as he moved closer, the towel dropped.

Alyssa moaned and moved her fingers faster over her clit, imagining Jay finding her there in the tub, playing with herself while she thought about him.

In her fantasy, he moved over to the tub and pulled her hand out from the water, kissing each of her fingers softly and slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her index finger into his mouth slowly, sucking hard, tasting her. And then he intertwined his fingers with hers, placing her hand behind her against the wall. With his other hand, he reached into the water and took over where she left off. His fingers moved in and out of her, touching the wetness between her legs, rubbing and touching, bringing her to the edge and then taking her back again.

She kept imagining him looking into her eyes, the electricity passing between them. “You like that?” he asked her, and she nodded as he moved faster and faster. “Come for me,” he said softly.

And she did, waves of pleasure radiating through her body. It was the best orgasm she’d had in a very long time.

***

Fratelli’s was an Italian joint in Brooklyn that Jay had never really liked. Something was just… off about the place. They professed to have homestyle Italian food, and they had all the staples – fettuccini alfredo, ziti with spicy sausage, spaghetti and meatballs. But something about the food tasted like it had been microwaved, and the tables with the cheap paper tablecloths and candles that were supposed to make it seem homey only served to make the place feel a little tacky.

“Why do you always make me come here?” Jay asked, sliding into the booth across from Steve. “You know I hate this place.”

“It’s the only place I can bring you where I never have to worry about being interrupted,” Steve said. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and sharp features, the kind of guy who looked like he’d played college football.

And he had – three years at USC before an injury had forced him to hang up his helmet.

“That’s because no one’s ever in here,” Jay grumbled. He grabbed the menu from where it was resting behind the napkin holder. The food here was mediocre, but he was starving.

“I’m sure your sensitive palette can take it for one night,” Steve said.

The waitress came over, a pretty young thing wearing a tight black tshirt and a pair of tight black pants that showed every curve.

“I’ll have an order of calamari, some garlic knots, and the chicken parm,” Jay decided, sliding the menu back in its place.

“Just some mineral water for me,” Steve said.

“You’re not eating?” Jay was surprised. Steve was known for his monster appetite.

“Nah,” he said, patting his belly. “I gotta watch the weight.”

“Come on,” Jay said, leaning back and taking a sip of his water. “You don’t need to lose weight. You just need to tone up. I have a great trainer, I can give you his number. My treat.”

Steve shook his head. “You are a piece of work, you know that?”

“Why? What did I do?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

The waitress returned and set a basket full of garlic knots down in front of them. Jay reached in and lifted one of the warm and doughy bundles out, took a bite, and offered the basket to Steve.