Hot Ticket by Deirdre Martin, Julia London, Annette Blair, Geri Buckley Read Free Book Online Page B

lobby, she spotted Parker pacing in front of the glass doors, looking just a little bit agitated.
    “Parker!” she called out as she walked into the lobby. He instantly swung around, his face like stone. “Hey, great game last night,” she said happily and exuberantly threw her arms wide. “On my honor, you deserve my groveling. That was as good a game as I’ve ever seen, and definitely worth the price of admission.”
    “You got in free.”
    “You know what I mean. It was great .”
    Instead of smiling or otherwise acknowledging the compliment, his gaze narrowed and he slowly folded his arms across his chest. “So . . . you liked what you saw, is that what you’re saying?”
    Hello, was he deaf? “I loved what I saw! Of course I did! Who wouldn’t? It was a fantastic game, and you were really awesome.”
    “So,” he said, his eyes still narrowed suspiciously, “you get that I am a professional ball player, with ebbs and flows in my abilities like any other human being on the planet?”
    Ebbs and flows ? What was all this oceanic crap? “I always got that.”
    “Then please explain why you would go on the air today and claim credit for that infield homerun?”
    Kelly burst out laughing. “Claim credit!” she cried. “How could I claim credit? I wasn’t the one holding the bat!”
    “Exactly,” he said low and dropped his arms, moving toward her. “It’s just a little hard to wake up to Guido thanking you for the homerun last night.”
    Oh please. Was the man so dense that he couldn’t figure out she and Guido were hyping their own show? With a roll of her eyes, she put her hands on her hips. “And here I was thinking you were a smart man, Parker.”
    “And here I was thinking you were a straight shooter.”
    “Okay, Mr. Baseball, let me see if I can explain the concept of talk radio,” she said. “I have a talk radio show. And if I wantpeople to listen to my talk radio show, which is essentially how I keep my job, then I talk about controversial things, like, say, a ballplayer getting paid loads of cash who doesn’t deliver. And then, sometimes, when the ratings go through the roof because of some angle I have taken on said controversial subject—you know, like challenging you to do better—then I toot my own horn so the listeners will tune in tomorrow to see what else I can do—you know, like affect world peace or something.”
    He said nothing, just glared at her. But then he stepped so close that their bodies were almost touching. Up close like that, he looked huge and very, very masculine.
    Kelly opened her arms wide and gave him a look right back. “I have to keep them coming back, don’t I?”
    He thought about it for a moment and nodded, his gaze falling to her lips. “Okay,” he said low. “I accept your apology.”
    “But I didn’t apologize,” she said, just as low.
    “You should.”
    “So should you,” she said, fighting to keep a smile from her lips.
    His dropped his gaze, skimming her body, down her pink sweater, her knee-length black skirt, her knee-high black boots. “It’s hard to argue with a woman when she looks so hot.”
    “Thanks,” she said, feeling strangely giddy. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He looked fabulous, actually—black slacks, a light blue shirt that went perfectly with his eyes. Clean shaven, his hair combed . . . she wondered if he had cleaned up just for her or if he was on his way to jury duty or something.
    “Are you done here, or do you have a show?” he asked.
    “Ah, no . . . no. I’m really done for the day. I was just doing some paperwork and making a couple of calls.”
    “Well then,” he said, moving a little closer so she could smell his spicy cologne, “I don’t want to sound like a complete asshole here, but girl, you owe me a big fat date.”
    Kelly couldn’t help smiling. “I know. I made a bet fair and square, and I lost.”

    “Don’t sound so excited,” he said, smiling a little.
    She tilted