opened his mouth to ask, but she dropped to her knees next to the boys with utter disregard for her skirt and was oohing and aahing over the gloves. His cell phone rang, distracting him. It was Samantha, the bane of Pace’s existence at the moment. “You didn’t cancel my interview,” he said, stepping away from the gang so he couldn’t be overheard by one nosy reporter and a bunch of even nosier kids.
“I didn’t, no,” Samantha said. “Was I supposed to?”
“Hell, yes.” Behind him he heard Chipper asking Holly if she was a baseball groupie. Jesus. He strained his ears to catch Holly’s response.
“No,” she murmured. “I’m not much of a groupie type.”
“Do you play baseball?”
“Pace?” came Sam’s voice in his ear. “You still there?”
“Yeah. I’m still here.”
“Holly Hutchins is a reporter who’s known for the nitty gritty. The owners want her to do this series to give us some good publicity. She’s supposedly a little uptight and reserved . . .”
Gee, he hadn’t noticed.
“But she’s fair, and very good, so be nice.”
“Uh-huh.” At the moment, Holly didn’t seem quite as uptight and reserved as she had back at the facilities, not with her knees in the dirt, smiling and laughing with the kids, telling River that she’d grown up in a rough neighborhood, where hanging around outside on a field hadn’t been such a good idea, so no, she’d never learned to play baseball.
“Sucks,” Danny said, their shortstop. Which was also his nickname, given that he hadn’t had his seventh-grade growth spurt yet. Or any spurt.
“Pace?” Sam said in his ear.
“I never wanted this interview, Sam. Give it to one of the other guys who’ll love it. Wade, maybe.” Who’d get into Holly’s pants in thirty minutes. “No, wait. Give her to Ty.” Ty didn’t have sex during the season, ever, which made him safe. Though why Pace cared, he had no idea. “He’s been wanting more press now that he’s having a strong year.”
“It’s good publicity,” Sam repeated. “For you . You’re our star, Pace, and you know it.”
“It’s only good press if she spins it that way, and trust me, I haven’t made the best impression.”
“Oh for God’s sake.” Samantha sighed, the sound of female exasperation personified. “How hard is it to smile and make nice for the pretty lady?”
Harder than she could imagine.
On the mound, Danny was still trying to sell Pace to Holly. “I bet if you dated him,” the kid said, “he’d teach you how to play.”
Holly turned and gave Pace the serious once over. She didn’t look too impressed, so her next words didn’t surprise him. “I tend to date a more cerebral type.”
“I’m cerebral,” Chipper told her eagerly. “I got an eighty-one in science.”
“Do the interview, Pace,” Sam said in Pace’s ear. “It won’t kill you, I promise.” She sounded amused, and hell if he wasn’t getting a little tired of amusing females at his expense.
And dammit, he was plenty cerebral.
“I’m going now,” Sam told him. “Just be nice. Women respond to nice. She’s a tough one, I’ll give you that, but I doubt you’ve ever met a woman you couldn’t crack. Flash her that million-dollar charm and give us some good press.”
He sighed. “I always give good press.”
She laughed, but he could hear her fingers already clicking over her keyboard, as always multitasking efficiently and effectively. “Oh, and if you could not sleep with her, that would be really great.”
Sleep with her?
Fuuuuurthest thing from his mind.
Not even a possibility.
Not even a spec of possibility.
Even if her hair was suddenly catching the sunlight, looking like spun gold. And her smile, as she aimed it at the kids, wasn’t for his benefit. Hell, she wasn’t even looking at him. Nope, she wasn’t playing them to get into Pace’s good graces; she was being heartwarmingly genuine. She had some sweet curves on her for such a careful thing, too,
Learning to Kill: Stories