Throwing Heat: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel by Jennifer Seasons Read Free Book Online Page B

it?
    Just to prove she didn’t, that she could’ve seen him staring right at them without feeling a thing, she forced her gaze off the action and looked for his messy black head and white vintage Led Zeppelin T-shirt. She found him at the far end of the table sitting next to Drake, who must have arrived while he was busy harassing her. The big veteran was glued to the scene playing out nearby, but Peter hadn’t even seemed to notice.
    Nope, he’d snagged somebody’s beer and was kicked back in a chair with his ankles crossed, watching the band onstage. A thick black leather bracelet covered his wrist and his jeans were faded and frayed. His leather jacket was tossed over the back of his chair, and he had a five o’clock shadow covering his lean cheeks. When he reached for his glass the tattoo on the inside of his bicep peeked out from under his sleeve. She couldn’t see from the distance, but she knew it was a way cool yin-yang dragon.
    A little bit humble and a whole lot of cocky, Peter Kowalskin was totally badass. He looked it and acted it—like nothing was off limits.
    But he wasn’t into watching chicks.
    Relief washed through her, taking the jealousy with it. And the fact that she felt relieved that he wasn’t into the girl-on-girl make-out session was seriously frustrating. Why should she care?
    She didn’t. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.
    That’s what she told herself as she made up a ton of busywork to keep away from the Rush’s table. When she’d run out of excuses, she left the floor and headed down the back hall toward her office, thinking it was time to check on Lorelei. The noise from the club became muffled as she made her way to the back, and the relative quiet began to smooth her frazzled nerves.
    Once she reached the end of the hall and came to her office door, she pushed it open silently and slipped inside. Lorelei was sacked out on her plush purple velvet sofa, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Kicking off her heels so she wouldn’t wake her, Leslie bit back a groan and wiggled her cramped toes. As beautiful as the shoes were, and as powerful as they made her feel, they were still hell on her feet.
    Casting a quick glance at her sister-in-law, she was reassured to find her still sound asleep. Dark circles smudged beneath her eyes and she was curled up on her side with Leslie’s hand-knit blanket over her. The multicolored chenille throw had been her first attempt at knitting something harder than a scarf, and it looked pretty good if she did say so herself. A few tie-offs had come loose, but the unraveled threads gave it a fringy kind of appearance.
    For a woman who was rarely domestic, even she found it odd just how much she enjoyed the craft of knitting. But it had only taken one good Colorado blizzard for her to discover how relaxing it could be—and how well it helped pass the time when thirty-mile-an-hour winds whipped the snow coming down into whiteout conditions and kept everyone indoors.
    It was all part of her fresh start, this trying new things. Cooking, knitting—getting all grassroots and stuff. For her anyway. Such a far departure from the life that she’d lived before. Then it had been work and the beach. Those were the only two things that had turned her crank.
    Well that and killer shoes.
    Glancing down at her only remaining pairs of Jimmy Choos, a sad little sigh escaped before she could stop it. Lorelei stirred at the noise and shuffled on the couch, a hand flopping off the cushions to dangle near the floor. She came dangerously close to taking out a struggling potted bamboo plant without even knowing it.
    As quietly as she could, Leslie moved the pot out of harm’s reach and noted how many leaves had already turned yellow. She’d bought it just last month. Poor thing.
    Just then a knock on the door sounded, startling her. Whirling around as the door opened a crack, she saw her brother’s dark blond hair come into view, relieving her. He must have come