Too Hot to Handle: A Boys of Summer Novel (2 page)

“Got it.” Pete swallowed his gum.

Nikki Case strode onto the Pineapple Field complex around noon, carrying a leather briefcase in one hand and a clipboard in the other. Dressed in a conservative black suit with a white blouse and a string of pearls around her throat, she resembled an elegant librarian more than a high-powered PR rep. Her dark hair was pulled back into a chignon, and even in the Florida humidity, not a single curl dared to spring out of place. Her tortoiseshell glasses, a necessity more than a fashion statement in the stark sunlight, completed the look of a woman who meant business.

Cody Jones, the Sonics catcher, nudged Chase as the pitcher completed his stretches. They had just finished their workout and were getting ready for the first preseason game.

Chase glanced up, watching curiously as the woman spoke briefly with Pete. She stood only about twenty feet away, yet both Cody and Chase could see she was attractive, with a nice body hidden beneath her power suit. Ryan joined them a moment later, holding his bat in both hands behind his head as he eyed the newcomer.

“Who’s that?”

“Don’t know,” Chase said, shading his eyes against the bright sunlight. “I guess we’ll soon find out.”

Pete ambled toward them, the woman following beside him.

“Okay boys, listen up. I want you to meet Ms. Nikki Case. She’s one of them publicity people, only the best.” He put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “I want you to do whatever she says. Jeffrey is determined to change the way folks look at us, and she is here to help. If she tells you to stand on your head, you do it. If she says she wants you to play in a swimsuit, I expect to see you all in a banana hammock. If she says to go to church twice on Sunday, you go. Any questions?”

The players glanced at each other in disbelief. Cody’s was the first protest.

“You gotta be kidding, Pete,” the catcher said, incredulous. “We have to listen to some…
girl
? What happened to John?”

“John is still here, and I am as serious as a heart attack.” For once Pete’s jaw stilled, and his wrinkled blue eyes settled on one player after another, making sure they understood what he was saying. “The first player who gives her any grief gets suspended. Next question?”

No one said a word. Pete waited a long moment and when the silence continued, he nodded in approval.

“Good. Ms. Case, want to outline the game plan?”

“Thanks, Pete.” The woman stepped forward and put her briefcase on the ground. “The first thing we need to get straight is an awareness of how you’re portrayed in the media. Gone are the days when there was a gentleman’s agreement with the press as to what was considered news. With Twitter, YouTube, cell phones, and email, everything you say and do is being recorded somewhere. And all of it reflects on the team. Whether it’s your personal time or during working hours, you have to be cognizant of what the media will say. I don’t ever want to see another headline making this team look like a bunch of drunken frat boys.”

Pete watched them closely for a reaction and saw outrage as he continued to masticate his wad of gum.

“We are going to start with your appearance. Beginning tomorrow, I want to see everyone’s hair cut, nails trimmed, and all of you wearing clean uniforms.” She looked pointedly at Chase’s grass-stained trousers. “No more beards or mustaches. No ink. Like the Yankees, we’re here to project a picture of ourselves as the All-American team. And if you have tattoos and don’t want to have them removed, you’re going to have to wear long-sleeved shirts.”

“What?”
It was out of Chase’s mouth immediately. He and Ryan exchanged another disbelieving glance. “For Christ’s sake, we’re playing ball here. Not serving cocktails at the Ritz-Carlton.”

A handful of players laughed, but Ryan wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Pete cracked his gum, and then met Chase’s stare with a firm one of his own.

“You’re dismissed for today.”

When Chase’s mouth dropped, Pete looked at the rest of the players. “Anyone else?”

The silence was deafening. The players were positively stunned to see their star pitcher tossed out of the game like a misbehaving kindergartner. Chase stormed off the field while the head coach signaled to Jimmy Reilly. As the backup pitcher jogged onto the mound, Pete glanced at the men.

“Where’s Jake?” The head coach looked to the catcher.

“Not here yet.” Cody kept his tone respectful.

“Tell him he’s benched when he shows up. That is something else that’s going to change. No more missing practice, no more lateness, no more lackadaisical play. All of you, each and every one of you, better be prepared to give it your all or find another game.” Pete turned on his heel and walked out of the blazing sunlight into the shaded dugout.

Jake sauntered into the dugout an hour later, arriving fashionably late. He didn’t bother to even try to conceal his fatigue as he joined his teammates on the bench, stretching out his legs to watch the warm-up.

“Tough night?” Brian McCauley asked, rubbing the dirt off his hands onto his pants.

“Yep.” Jake tried to speak mid-yawn. “Met a hot girl in Tampa. Had more stamina than I would’ve given her credit for.” His eyes twinkled at the memory.

“Must be nice to get any girl you want anytime you want,” Brian said enviously, twisting the wedding ring that suddenly seemed to dig into his finger.

“I wouldn’t say I could get
any
girl,” Jake drawled, obviously pleased with himself. “Just the ones I go after.”

“Hey Jake, did you hear about the new—” Jimmy stopped when Ryan caught his eye and discreetly shook his head in the negative.

Before he could spill the beans about their PR rep, Ryan said quickly, “I’d like to put a wager on that.”

“On what?” Jake lazily lifted the brim of his cap.

“What you just said. I bet I could name a girl you couldn’t get, no matter what.”

Jake rose, aware that Jimmy Reilly had exchanged a secretive glance with Ryan. Even young Brian McCauley, who had just come up from the minors, seemed in on the fun. But none of that was enough to shake his confidence.

“Who’re we talking about and what’s the bet?”

“The wager is for your jersey.” Ryan glanced at Brian. “McCauley there used to be number eleven. He’d like to wear it again. You lose and he does.”

Almost imperceptibly, Jake paled. Eleven had been his number ever since he started in the majors. Like most ballplayers, he was superstitious. He couldn’t picture starting over with anything else on his back, ever. But his rep was on the line. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

“Okay. And if I win?”

The first baseman hesitated. Jake had a lucrative contract with the Sonics. Anything he wanted, he could buy…

“Your locker,” Jake answered for him, and got a shit-eating grin on his boyish face.

It was Ryan’s turn to look uncertain. As the oldest member of the team, he’d been grandfathered in on the best of everything. The softest towels were his, the later time slot for batting practice, and the biggest locker. Back at their ballpark in Trenton, it was positioned right next to the showers, and easily twice the size of everyone else’s.

“Worried?” Jake’s smile grew impossibly deeper.

Ryan glanced outside. Ms. Case was talking firmly with Pete. The older man’s shoulders visibly sagged in defeat as he nodded and followed her back to the netting behind home plate.

“Not at all.” It was Ryan’s turn to grin.

“So who’s the girl?” Jake asked smugly. As far as he was concerned, the locker was already his.

Ryan nodded in the direction of the head coach and indicated the woman beside him. “Her. Nikki Case. She’s our new PR rep.”

Jake sat up and surveyed the pretty brunette. She was standing outside, furiously taking notes. Even from a distance, he could see that her hair was pulled tightly back without a hint of flirtatiou
sness. Her posture was ramrod straight, and she actually wagged a finger in Pete’s face as she made a point.

He tried not to smile. He’d seen her type before: the uptight, frigid career girl who cared more about the stock-market performance than a roll in the hay. Easy peasy.

“You’re on.”

“You sure? Last chance to chicken out.”

“Like taking candy from a baby.” Jake’s cocky grin was back. “Girl like that? You better believe she’s not used to a man sweet-talking her, at least not one that knows what he’s doing. I’ll have her panties off in no time.”

“Not good enough.” Ryan shook his head. When Jake looked at him in confusion, he grinned. “Sure, you might be able to sleep with her. But can you keep a girl like that, make her fall in love with you? That I gotta see.”

Jake shrugged. “You’re on.”

He extended his hand to seal the deal just as Pete ventured back into the dugout, the woman marching behind him. Jake got to his feet and joined the team, prepared to take his position on the field.

Pete’s eyes fixed on Jake. “I guess you didn’t get the memo.”

“What’s that?”

The head coach turned to the woman who was now at his side with her clipboard and to Jake’s stunned surprise, deferred to her.

“You’re benched,” she said. “Show up late again, and don’t bother to show at all.”

Her voice held all the warmth of a New Jersey morning in January, and when her eyes met his, he found himself falling into a pool of crystal-blue ice. From a distance, her hair had appeared brown, but now he could see it was much darker, almost ebony. Black Irish. The combination was stunning.

The head coach cleared his throat. “Jake, I’d like you to meet Ms. Case. She is our new PR rep.”

Jake extended his hand, and she was forced to shift her clipboard to accept the gesture. As soon as he touched the softness of her skin, he felt a shot of pure sexual energy so strong that he was glad he wore a jersey over his pants. Her shirt was unbuttoned to a deep vee, and he discovered she had a hot little body beneath her conservative suit. Her breasts were high and firm under her blouse; he could easily imagine peeling that perfect white cotton away and seeing her wearing only that string of pearls, and maybe white lace panties…

She snatched her hand back and straightened, squaring her shoulders as if for protection. Bright pink painted her cheeks in a delightful blush that was as revealing as it was attractive.

“She’s right, Jake,” Pete continued gruffly. “You can’t play today. Or tomorrow if you aren’t on time. You weren’t here at the start of our meeting, but things are going to change. The owner wants it.
I
want it. Starting now, no more lateness. Ms. Case is here to fix our image, and I’ve made it clear that I want everyone to give her full support.”

Nikki Case turned her back to him and was now giving Brian a dressing-down about his nose ring. Jake’s head swiveled back to Ryan, who had assumed his position at first.

He could almost hear the man laughing.

What the hell was that?

Nikki rubbed her palms together. It seemed as if her hand continued to burn from the contact with the shortstop. Examining the tender skin, she almost expected to see a red mark where her flesh had touched his. Frowning, she recalled that her breath had literally stopped when his eyes dove into hers, and she could still feel the rush of electricity that had sparked between them at that casual encounter.

This was bad. Really bad. Jake Baldwin had a reputation as big as his ego. Her assistant had done a few Google searches before she’d come out here, and in every article about the Sonics, he was described the same way: Player. Party boy. Flirt.

The last thing she needed was a physical attraction to a guy who embodied everything she was determined to avoid.

Baseball wasn’t exactly her cup of tea to begin with. She was being paid to babysit a bunch of “millionaires on steroids,” as Bill Maher would say, who played games for a living and thought the world started and stopped based on their every whim. While that was true of most celebrity athletes, she had a more personal reason to hate baseball in particular.

Her ex-husband.

Jack Case was a gambler. She didn’t know it when she met him, and only found out later when the phone calls began and the threatening pink notices started showing up in the mail. She tried reasoning with him at first, then counseling, finally even going to his parents, but nothing changed. He was addicted to sports betting, baseball in particular, and he accused her of mothering him when she tried to help. She realized the extent of his problem only when the lien against the house exceeded its value and the taxes on their business, a little pet shop, were delinquent.

Thankfully, she was able to leverage her degree and get a position in public relations. It had taken her a year to get out of debt, but she had finally succeeded. And she was good at her job, damned good. She learned quickly that she was in this business to make money, not friends. The pace was frenetic, the decisions difficult, the selling endless. Yet she loved it, and Nikki swore she would never blindly trust a man again or let down her guard.

“Ms. Case, I assume?” A man approached, dressed in an expensive golf shirt and Dockers. Nikki saw that he wore a Rolex, and a heavy gold ring with a diamond center. He gave her a professional smile, but something in his eyes told her he wasn’t entirely happy to see her. “I’m John Palmer, the—”

“Communica
tions director,” Nikki finished for him and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I assume we will be working closely together to coordinate events and press conferences?”

“Certainly. Although we don’t usually outsource public relations functions, I understand that Jeffrey felt we needed some additional help. Welcome to the team.”

He meant anything but. It was clear to Nikki that the man felt threatened because Caine had gone outside the organization for assistance. She was certain it was no indictment of the way he did his job, but politics just made everything that much harder.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I’m really looking forward to working with you. I understand you’re one of the best in the business.”

Some of the stiffness seemed to leave him, as his eyes took a walk all over her. “Maybe you and I can have a drink sometime. Talk about strategy.”

“Sure. We can grab a cup of coffee later in the cafeteria.” Nikki knew a come-on when she heard one, and she was determined to nip this in the bud.

She saw the flush on his face and realized he’d gotten the message. “That sounds fine,” he said briskly, and then walked away.

Nikki sighed. John Palmer was going to be a problem.

The breeze died in the afternoon, and the humidity increased. Fanning herself with her clipboard, Nikki wished she had thought to bring a bottle of water with her as she sat in the sun to watch the game. The air was as thick as a steaming wet blanket, and she could feel the sweat trickle between her breasts…

“You must be hot.”

She recognized the voice immediately. A cherry water ice appeared in front of her, tempting her. Nikki put aside her clipboard and accepted the treat, looking over her glasses at Jake.

He was kind of handsome, she had to admit. She could see why some silly female would think he was attractive. He had a little-boy quality that could be perceived as endearing, something she could use with the media. And he was damned good at what he did; he was considered one of the best shortstops in the league, according to
Sports Illustrated.
He wore his clothes well, his hard-muscled body evident even in a loose jersey. Unwillingly, she noticed how buff his arms were, how absurdly hard his torso was. And when her eyes went lower…

She saw the amusement twinkling in his blue eyes as he followed her perusal.

“Thanks.” She shoved the empty cup at him when she finished the ice and picked up her clipboard once more. She had to put some distance between them; she was suddenly flushed and it had nothing to do with the Floridian weather. While John’s flirtation simply annoyed her, for some ridiculous reason Jake’s affected her differently.

“Is that all?” Jake gazed at her, and then at the empty cup as if crestfallen.

Obviously he was used to women falling all over him. “What exactly are you expecting?” One brow arched, and she gave him a look that would have skewered a mosquito.

“I just thought we should get to know each other. Especially if we’re going to be working together.”

Nikki studied him for a long moment and then opened her briefcase. As the ballplayer stood before her, she retrieved her tablet and flicked through a few screens.

“ ‘Jake Baldwin. Age twenty-eight. Born in New Jersey, lived in Clementon. Father passed away at age ten,” she shot him a sympathetic look, “was Player of the Year in college. Came from an athletic family, sister snowboards, and brother was drafted by the Texas Rangers. Struggled first in the minors, but began a program of weightlifting and strength training, and batting average increased exponentially to .325, .416 with runners in scoring position. Stole more bases last year than any other shortstop in the league and was awarded the Golden Glove.’ ”

Jake grinned. “I like to brag.”

“ ‘On the field, he is considered an All-Star player. Off the field, you can say the same. Known to have dated multitudes of starlets, up-and-coming models, party girls, and groupies, as well as his trainer, chiropractor, psychiatrist, and the waitress at the local coffee shop.’ ”

Nikki turned off the tablet and met his gaze once more with her own. “I’d say we know each other.”

If she thought to embarrass him, she was wrong. “Maybe I just haven’t found the right girl yet.” He gave her a sexy grin.

“Maybe you need to learn to keep your pants zipped,” Nikki shot back, ignoring a momentary flare of annoyance. Why should she care what he did? But the thought of him romancing dozens of women bothered her more than it should have.

He shrugged. “It’s really nobody’s business,” he said simply.

“Whatever you do in your private life, you need to keep it just that. Private,” Nikki scolded. “Your eight-year-old fans don’t need to see your picture in
People
magazine draped all over this week’s Kardashian. They look up to you. They want to emulate you. And the last thing you need to be doing is encouraging today’s youth to become tomorrow’s deadbeat dads. Got it?”

“Not a problem.” Rushing away a bead of sweat that had gathered on her cheek, he gave her a seductive smile. “But I use protection, in case you were wondering.”

She wasn’t. But now he made her think about it, think about him. Naked. In bed. Drawing herself up to her full five feet five inches, she gave him her best Catholic school nun-inspired stare.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, lover boy. Whatever you have in mind, it’s not happening. I understand you think you’re too hot to handle, but this isn’t my first circus and the last thing I’m looking for is a fling with some second-rate ballplayer. I’m here to do a job and that’s it. Is there anything about this that you don’t understand?”

Jake looked at her long and hard and then turned on his heel and walked away.

When Jake rejoined his teammates in the dugout, Ryan was shaking with laughter, while Brian seemed to be studying his jersey as if it were already his.

“What happened?” Ryan asked innocently. “Looks like you struck out already.”

Brian roared, and even Cody couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

Jake gave him a determined grin. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m just getting warmed up, getting to know the girl. By the time I’m done, she’ll think I’m headed for second when I’m on my way home.”

“Right.” Ryan chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that.”