Center Stage: A Hot Baseball Romance (Diamond Brides Book 8) (8 page)

It was the code, after all. Teammates didn’t go after each other’s sisters. Especially not teammates like Ryan. Not when Zach was one hundred percent aware of the crazy things that happened when there was too much alcohol at a hotel bar and too many girls in a hotel lobby and too many long, lonely nights in hotel hot tubs, hotel bedrooms, hotel suites where the drinks kept flowing and the girls kept coming and…

They were both breathing hard by the time they reached the pier. Lindsey barely hesitated before she strode beneath the hulking wood. He followed her, because what the hell else was he going to do?

The sound of the waves was louder beneath the structure; each crash echoed off the wood above them. The uprights sent spray into the air, a fine mist that shot a jagged line down his back. He licked his lips and tasted brine.

Determined not to think about other things he could be tasting, he took a few steps away and cupped his hands around his mouth. Throwing back his head, he hooted like an owl, the way his father had taught him years ago. The sound ricocheted off the underside of the pier, swirling around them like an entire flock of birds had taken up residence in the shadows.

Ten years since he’d lived in Chester Beach, but he still found the echo spot without a problem.

“Do it again!” Lindsey commanded, laughing.

He shook his head, though, and held out his hand, inviting her to join him at the right place—halfway between the third and fourth pilings, smack in the middle of the pier. “You do it,” he said, and he gestured for her to throw back her head, to make her own sound.

She curved her fingers beside her mouth and called out “Hoo!” but the sound was lost in the darkness.

“You’ve got to be in just the right spot,” he said, waving her a half step closer to the sea. She followed his direction, but she moved too far to her right.

“Hoo!” she tried again, but her shout died away before the next wave crashed. It was dark enough that he couldn’t see the disappointment on her face, but he heard it in her voice when she said, “It doesn’t work for me.”

Before he could remind himself not to touch her, his hands were on her waist. He planted his feet firmly, automatically gauging the distance to the breaking waves. He flattened his palms, guiding her a quarter-step back, bracing his thighs to keep them both in the proper spot. He couldn’t hide his grunt as her ass brushed against his crotch, as his cock reminded him that broken ribs would be a small penalty to pay for the grassy scent of her hair just beneath his nose, for the heat of her body, long and lean and taut against his.

That gasp through his clenched teeth echoed back a dozen times, bouncing off the wood, off the packed sand, off their bodies. He lied to himself, told himself she wouldn’t hear it, wouldn’t recognize his need, but he knew he didn’t have a chance when she stiffened beneath his palms.

Let go of her. Just step away.

But he didn’t want to drop his hands. He didn’t want to open up a space between them. He didn’t want to do all the things any sane man would do, any guy who wanted to live another twenty-four hours, maybe even with his dream job intact.

~~~

She wasn’t
that
naive.

She recognized the sound that had echoed all around them; she understood what it meant. She froze as she realized what Ryan had to be thinking. She’d practically kidnapped him, stealing his car for good measure. She hadn’t hesitated to be her seductive best when he’d held back; she’d looked up at him through her eyelashes; she’d stuck out her lip in a pout.

She’d spent the entire drive to Chester Beach thinking he was safe. He was one of Zach’s teammates, for God’s sake. Ever since her first crush on a ballplayer, on a left-handed pitcher with a killer curveball who had long ago been traded to Kansas City, she’d known Zach wouldn’t put up with her dating any guy on his team. He was her big brother. He laid down the law.

But she wasn’t a little girl any more. She was a woman—a woman who had been ready to become a wife two times in as many years. It wasn’t her fault the guys had gotten cold feet.

All right. Maybe it
was
her fault. Maybe she’d missed some clues along the way, failed to read messages, neglected to understand the subtle things that had all been left unsaid.

She understood things now, though. She understood that Ryan Green was standing behind her, his hands wrapped around her hips, holding her steady, away from his body. Away from the erection she was pretty much positive he was sporting.

She should step forward. She should pretend to be fascinated with the play of moonlight on ocean waves. She should chatter away about nothing, about the silver light on the boardwalk, about the gulls sleeping on the sand, balanced on one leg, about anything at all that would give Ryan a chance to get himself back under control.

But she’d made her decision the night before, when she’d TPed Will’s house.

Holding her breath like she was afraid she’d shatter her own determination, she turned to face the man behind her. She felt his fingers tighten on her hips for just a heartbeat, and then he started to pull away, to edge higher onto the beach, away from her and the crashing ocean waves.

She didn’t want to let him go.

His biceps were hard under her palms as she clutched him, harder than any muscles Will Templeton had ever dreamed of having.
Don’t think about Will
.

His thighs were hot against hers as she leaned into him, scorching through her jeans in a way Will Templeton had never done.
Don’t think about Will.

His lips were soft beneath hers as she brushed against him, as he invited her to touch, to taste in a way Will Templeton had never done.
Don’t think about Will.

Frustrated by the stupid tricks her mind was playing, angry with herself for not listening, she darted her tongue against the corner of his mouth. His lips opened easily, as if he’d only been waiting for her to make up her mind, for her to take the first step. His breath steamed against hers, sweet with Coca-Cola and candy bars.

His arms were iron across her back, keeping her balanced on the shifting sand. He pulled her close, closer, and her hands scrabbled across his shirt. Now that she’d opened Pandora’s box, she wanted more. She arched her neck, knowing that his hand would be there to support her head, that his fingers would tangle in her hair. He eased her lips to a perfect angle, and she moaned deep in her throat as a white heat rippled down her spine.

A good girl would be embarrassed by that moan. But Lindsey was ready to leave that good girl behind forever. She rubbed herself against Ryan’s chest, reaching behind her for his hand, the one spread against the small of her back. She clutched his fingers in hers, pulling them to the hot V at the top of her thighs, pressing his palm into the hard seams of her jeans. As he cupped her, hard, she fumbled with the single button, fighting with the zipper to free herself, to give him the access she wanted, she needed.

And then a piercing beam of light cut between them.

She cried out in surprise, feeling Ryan swallow half her exclamation even as he pulled away. She blinked hard, trying to stare into the white brilliance, trying to make sense out of the glare and the blanket of freezing air that smothered her.

Ryan edged his shoulder in front of her, protecting her with his body as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing light. Lindsey knew she should do something, she should fasten the button on her jeans, she should sneak her zipper back in place. But her body refused to follow her command. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think.

Because with Ryan blocking the worst of the light, she could see who stood in front of them on the beach. She recognized the navy uniform, the gold star glinting on a breast pocket, the utility belt heavy with a nightstick and handcuffs and a gun. She didn’t know the specific man, didn’t know a name. But she saw enough to realize she was about to be arrested by the Chester Beach police.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

It was one thing to take charge of her love life. It was another to be arrested for public indecency. This was worse than last night, worse than getting caught throwing toilet paper over some magnolia trees. Looking back, she almost wished they’d been picked up in front of Will’s house—that little hiccup could have spared her from melting into a pool of embarrassment now.

Her father had gone down to the Raleigh police station often enough, to bail out Beth. Who was going to get her and Ryan out of the Chester Beach jail now? He’d said his father was at the house. What a way to meet Mr. Green.
Pleased to meet you sir. Can I pay you back for bail?

Ryan had volunteered his father as a chaperone. Too bad Lindsey hadn’t taken him up on it.

But she’d had another plan in mind. If the cop hadn’t come along, what would she and Ryan be doing right now? Would she still be mauling him like a teenager on her first date? Would she have been reeling beneath those amazing hands of his, spinning from the detonation of another thousand tiny explosives triggered along every nerve in her body? Would she and Ryan be sprawled on top of each other, getting sand into all sorts of ultimately painful places?

She bit down on her lip, hard. She had to turn off the movie projector in her mind. She had to focus on the danger in front of her, on the policeman and her imminent arrest. She forced herself to swallow, to take a steadying breath as she did up her pants. She tested her voice in her mind, and then she licked her lips. “Officer,” she said.

“What have we got here?” the cop asked. “Lewd behavior. Indecent exposure. Perverted practice. Disorderly conduct.”

As he paused in his recitation, Ryan said, “We haven’t been disorderly. Yet.”

“Ryan!” Lindsey gasped. What was he doing?
Trying
to get them arrested? She clutched his arm with one hand, attempting to force some sense into his thick ballplayer’s skull.

“So,” the cop said. “You want to add resisting arrest to all the other charges?”

“Sure,” Ryan said, shrugging hard enough that Lindsey lost her grip. “What else have you got?”

“Officer—” Lindsey began, trying to figure out how she could talk her way out of this rapidly escalating situation. “There’s been a misunderstanding here.”

“So this man wasn’t committing public acts of lewdness?” the policeman said.

“Well, no, he… I…” Lindsey knew better than to plead guilty, but she couldn’t piece together an answer she thought would be acceptable.

“And he wasn’t trespassing on Chester Beach property?”

“No!” Was he? Wasn’t the beach public property, where anyone had a right to walk? But maybe the pier was different, maybe they
were
breaking the law by standing beneath it.

“And doesn’t he deserve to be locked up just for being the ugliest son of a bitch who ever graduated from Chester Beach High?”

“That’d be you!” Ryan said, and he took a full step forward, clasping the policeman in one of those strange man-hugs, gripping him tight with one arm for the time it took to swear at him and run a mocking hand over his short-cut hair.

Lindsey just watched as the cop returned the favor, saying, “You bastard! What are you doing out here on a Tuesday night, mid-season?”

“Hamstring sprain,” Ryan said, gesturing toward his left leg. “I’m on the DL for another day. Just came out to see the old man.”

The policeman looked past Ryan at Lindsey and nodded knowingly. “Uh-huh.”

Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest and tried to look like she got arrested every day. Okay. Not arrested. Stopped in some sort of bizarre practical joke. Ryan and the cop clearly knew each other; they were talking about the Satellites and the Rockets’ current record, and the team’s chance of going all the way this year, which would be a hell of a lot better if the starting lineup could just get healthy and stay that way for more than three days at a time.

At least the conversation gave Lindsey a chance to double-check her clothes. She was buttoned up. Safe. Ryan seemed to sense that she’d finished her quick survey—he finally turned toward her and offered up an introduction. “Dave Trilling,” he said, gesturing toward the guy’s crisp blue uniform. “Lindsey Ormond.”

She offered a hand to shake, pretending like she wasn’t just grateful not to be booked for a crime.

Ryan said, “Dave played catcher on our high school team. He might have had a future in the game, if he hadn’t set his heart on catching bad guys.”

“Someone has to work for a living,” the cop said. The guys exchanged a few more jokes, and then Dave said, “Seriously, you two. Set a good example for the youth of Chester Beach.”

Get a room
.

That’s not what Dave said. But that’s what he meant. Lindsey’s cheeks flushed hot, and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. Ryan, on the other hand, merely said something obscene.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dave said. “Got time to grab a beer tomorrow night? I’ll be off that shift at six.”

Ryan glanced at Lindsey. “Can’t, sorry. I have to get back to Raleigh in time for batting practice. I’m back in the game tomorrow.”

That was just as well, Lindsey thought. She couldn’t really imagine sitting down in some noisy beach bar, sharing a pitcher of beer with the guy who’d almost caught her half-naked under the Chester Beach pier.

For that matter, she was having trouble picturing herself drinking with the guy who’d almost
gotten
her half-naked. She wished she could make herself disappear.

The guys said a few more things, and they parted with another one of those half man-hugs. Dave promised to come to Raleigh some time before the season was over. Ryan said he’d leave tickets at will call. Lindsey nodded as the policeman said goodbye, and she watched him pick his way up the beach to the boardwalk.

In the darkness, the waves were loud as they crashed against the pier. They were breaking higher on the sand; the tide must be coming in. Lindsey studied the silver foam like it held all the secrets to the universe.