No Tan Lines (11 page)

But that would defeat his purpose.

He wanted her to owe him another favor. Such a favor would extend far beyond a ninety-minute sandlot game.

The next innings passed quickly, and it was soon the bottom of the ninth. The score remained 5–3, in favor of the Pinschers.

The first batter for the Sharkeys hit a double. Next up was number sixteen, Shaye’s cousin Jeff.

Excitement rolled off his skinny shoulders. The boy’s blond hair stuck out in tufts beneath his batting helmet. His cheeks were red, and his breathing was rapid.

Jeff nodded to Trace but didn’t look beyond the mask. None of the players had noticed he wasn’t Paul Cates. All their concentration had been on the game.

Jeff attempted a practice swing. Failed. The curvature of his spine prevented him from taking a proper batting stance. He faced the pitcher, as if he was going to bunt.

The boy’s hand-eye coordination was slow. The pitcher compensated by throwing underhand, instead of a straight fastball. The infield backed up, as if anticipating a solid hit. Their silent encouragement wasn’t lost on Trace. Both offense and defense wanted Jeff to get a hit.

“Strike one,” Trace called with the first pitch. It had been a perfect throw.

The pitcher narrowed his gaze and concentrated even harder. His second attempt cut Jeff hip high and straight down the middle of the plate.

Jeff pushed the bat instead of swinging and nearly landed facedown in the dirt. He could barely catch his breath.

“Strike two,” came from Trace.

Silence struck the ballpark, the deafening quiet of a funeral. Trace watched Jeff swallow and saw the determination written on the boy’s face.

Trace debated, then decided on a time-out. He pulled Jeff aside. He wasn’t a doctor, but he’d played enough ball to get the kid on base. He gave Jeff a few pointers. “Go for the bunt,” he instructed. “Square up your body toward the pitcher. Don’t clutch the bat; hold it loosely in front of the plate. Push out, punch the ball.”

Jeff stared at him now, suddenly more interested in who Trace was than the advice being given. “You’re not Uncle Paul.”

“Take it up with Shaye after the game.”

Jeff looked from Trace back to the field. “You honestly think I can get a hit?”

“How do you usually get on base?”

“Four balls.”

“You’ve already got two strikes.”

“You’re tough.”

“Life isn’t always easy.”

Jeff frowned. “I’m not very good.”

“You’ve got as much heart as any kid on the team,” Trace said. “The pitcher’s throwing underhand like he would for girls’ softball.”

Jeff got huffy. “You callin’ me a girl?”

“Not unless you plan to hang up your Nikes for a pair of ballet slippers.”

The kid actually smiled.

The game resumed. Collective breaths were held. Cheering was nonexistent. Not even a sound from Shaye.

No one had a clue what
Uncle Paul
had said to Jeff. They assumed he’d given the kid a pep talk, even with two strikes against him.

Trace again hunkered low behind the catcher and awaited the pitch. “Ball one.” The throw was wide.

Jeff planted his feet and took the stance Trace had recommended. He winced slightly when his hips wouldn’t fully turn. He clenched his jaw so tightly that Trace feared he’d crack a tooth.

He took the kid to full count, three balls and two strikes. He wasn’t cutting Jeff any slack. He wanted the kid to perform to the best of his ability.

Jeff was so nervous, he was shaking. So was the pitcher. The final throw was wobbly, off center, and a total stretch for even the best of ballplayers.

Trace was ready to call ball four and let the kid take his base. There’d be no shame in his walk to first. Jeff, however, surprised not only him but everyone in the stands. He swung.

The connection of ball and bat was a soft pop. The ball rolled no more than four feet. That didn’t stop Jeff from taking off. He dropped the bat and limped fast down the baseline.

The catcher was as stunned as Trace. It took the kid several seconds to retrieve the ball and fire it to first. Jeff pushed himself so hard, Trace was certain the kid would pull a muscle. Jeff made it to the bag a true split second ahead of the ball. The infield umpire called him safe.

The runner at second advanced to third. There was a chance for the Sharkeys to tie or even win the game.

The crowd went crazy. Clapping erupted, along with loud whoops. Trace swore he heard a happy sob, no doubt from Jeff ’s mother.

The third batter was a burly kid, big for his age. It was no surprise that the boy took the first pitch and powered it over the fence.

The runner at third came home.

Jeff crossed the plate next, tying the score.

The big kid jogged around the bases. The Sharkeys won by one run.

All the players gathered on the field, giving high fives and rehashing the game. Jeff stood at the center of attention, being praised for his first hit.

Trace took to the exit before he was recognized. Quickly, he crossed the grass to the storage facility. Once inside, he flipped the light switch and immediately pulled off his mask. He unzipped his athletic bag and located his towel. He wiped sweat from his brow and neck. He jammed his fingers into his hair and scratched his itchy head. He exhaled. Game over.

His Porsche was parked in a far corner of the lot. He would make his escape as soon as he removed his gear. No one besides Shaye, Kai, Nicole, and Jeff would ever know he was here. He would be the Houdini of Gulf Field and disappear. They would all keep his secret.

He unlocked the clips on his chest protector, then shrugged it off. His shin pads came next. He unbuttoned and discarded his blue button-down, then went on to swipe the towel over his bare chest.

His back was to the door when it creaked open and Shaye Cates slipped in. She dragged two burlap bags filled with baseball equipment and dropped them by the short row of lockers.

She turned to stare at him, her gaze curious and lingering. “Should I come back?” she asked.

“No need.” He allowed her a few more seconds but grew uneasy when her gaze lowered to his zipper. He wasn’t interested in her, but his body seemed to like her just fine. His cock was close to requesting an introduction.

He reached down, snagged a lightweight navy polo from his bag, and slipped it on. He waited to see what she wanted.

She came to him, taking up half his space. He would’ve stepped back had there been room. She’d never been nice to him. She was a hard person to read.

They continued to stare at each other, neither one willing or able to look away. Her brown eyes shone brightly. Her expression was soft. Her bottom lip was slightly purple from the Fierce Grape Gatorade. Her scent touched him, all warm and womanly. And earthy, he thought.

She was a woman of twilight and a fan of the ballpark. If her family was happy, then she was happy.

Tonight her spirits soared, and her guard was down.

Her breathing deepened.

So did his.

The sudden pull between them was poignant and strong. This wasn’t a moment he would have expected or predicted, yet Shaye got to him. He found her sexy, in a slender, sneaky sort of way. That concerned him greatly.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Time spent with her confused him. She was as fascinating as she was frustrating. Her passion for life would extend to the bedroom. He’d bet she’d be one hell of a lover, on top and dominant until he tumbled her beneath him.

He couldn’t stand there much longer and not be affected by her closeness. His body was ready to make a move on her.

A kiss was tempting. Sex, insane. He had no intention of being the first Saunders to get involved with a Cates. It was too damn risky. His family would never forgive him.

He’d thought umpiring the sandlot game would be a breeze, yet nothing about Shaye was simple or easy. She’d screwed with his head and complicated his life. That brought out the caution in him. He dismissed his wayward thoughts and pulled himself together.

She smiled at him then. “I’ve never seen Jeff so excited,” she said. “His bunt gave him a whole new confidence. You inspired him. Jeff said you’d make a good coach.”

Trace looked down at her. At her wild curls, wide eyes, and full mouth. “He can’t correct his scoliosis, but he can be taught to compensate in sports.”

“He’s a special kid.” Emotion left her unguarded. Her voice was as soft as the night air. “Family is all-important to me. I appreciate your calling the game.”

Her sincerity touched him. He didn’t, however, want her reading more into the situation than was warranted. He’d umpired a sandlot game and been kind to a young boy. He needed to reset the distance between them. “It was a favor.”

“I owe you now.”

“Yes, you do,” he said. “I want you at my office at nine tomorrow morning so we can organize the tournament.”

“We can discuss matters at the beach.”

He shook his head. “I prefer to plan from behind a desk, not sit in a sandbox. My secretary will attend our meeting. She sunburns easily.”

“There’s always sunscreen,” she said. “I do my best thinking outside.”

“Turn your thoughts inside, and don’t be late.”

He could almost hear her mind searching for an excuse. “Nine is when I have breakfast at Molly Malone’s.”

“I’ll have my assistant, Martin, cater in bagels and muffins.”

“I need something more substantial. Bacon, eggs, waffles.”

“Difficult woman,” he muttered as he hefted his athletic bag, ready to leave. And to think he’d almost kissed her. She would be his worst mistake.

It was time to walk away. “My office in the morning—don’t forget,” he said on his way out. “Wear shoes.”

“Nicole Archer’s rental agreement is my first priority of the day,” she called after him. “If I’m late, start without me.”

The meeting would be pointless without them both in attendance. They were partners. Approval had to come from both sides, whether she liked it or not.

He hoped Nicole’s renovations went smoothly. And that Kai Cates was more cooperative than Shaye. Kai’s obvious dislike of Nicole puzzled Trace. Kai had made it known she wasn’t welcome. He had no right to be so rude.

Trace didn’t want Nicole hurt. He’d make a point of checking on her often. She didn’t deserve Kai’s cold reception.

Four

N
o man had the right to look
that
hot.

Especially a hunk with his jeans cut so low, Nicole Archer could read the words
Calvin Klein
etched on the rim of his underwear.

She lingered at the doorway to her boardwalk shop, toying with the red pop-it bead necklace around her neck. The layered beads were a retro design and one of her favorites. A slider brooch of plastic cherries clasped the strands together. The brooch was flirty, summery, and one of her best sellers.

The sight of Kai Cates drew her inside. She was unable to take her eyes off him. His hair was dark blond, overly long, and mussed. Sweat glistened on the taut muscles rippling over his stomach. He had a swimmer’s body, solid and lean.

He’d yet to look up and acknowledge her presence. She felt invisible, just as she had the previous evening at the concession stand at the ballpark. Kai had worked around her. He’d kept nudging her aside, preferring to do the work of two people instead of showing her what to do.

She’d taught herself how to make snow cones. Scooping ice into cone-shaped wrappers and adding flavors had proved simple enough. Yet no matter how careful she’d been, cherry and blueberry polka dots had patterned her white blouse by the end of the game. Along with a major ketchup stain. The wide red smear was Kai’s fault. He’d
accidentally
squirted her.

She licked her lips now and found them dry. Her pineapple lip gloss must have melted from the heat. Even the floor fan blowing a breeze her way didn’t cool her off.

She fanned her face and forced herself to look away. Why her sudden interest? The man was a boardwalk handyman. He had a hot body, but he wasn’t corporate America.

Big business mattered most to her.

She breathed a little deeper, then sighed. There was something about a man in a pair of work boots. Something rough-and-bedroom-tumble. If he’d shown a little interest, she might have returned his attention. But he wasn’t the least bit into her. He’d made that perfectly clear. His rudeness the previous day had hurt her feelings. She wished she had thicker skin. Staring at him now wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Kai’s negative opinion of Trace had been extended onto her. It was obvious the men had an unpleasant history. Because of her association with Trace, Kai had taken an instant dislike to her as well. He’d judged her without knowing her. That ticked her off the most.

She hoped he wouldn’t try to sabotage her renovations. Which was why she’d shown up today to make sure everything went as planned. Nothing must stop her from realizing her dream.

Trace had been of great assistance. She now had what she’d always wanted. A shop of her own. Her passion for jewelry design surpassed her desire for sex.

She’d signed the lease a short time ago. Shaye Cates had been right where she had said she would be, seated on a low sand chair, working on her laptop. Several waterproof file folders were scattered in the sand around her. A cooler banked her chair, and a pale blue beach umbrella provided shade.

Shaye was a natural beauty, Nicole thought. She had a born-to-the-beach look with her white-blond hair and gorgeous tan. She glowed with health and vitality. Her navy one-piece swimsuit was both modest and sexy. Early-morning male joggers sent her admiring glances. Shaye nodded but didn’t encourage them. She was at her “office” working.

Shaye’s hair band interested Nicole the most. It was a work of art. Translucent petals formed a coral rose at one side of the sky-blue satin-covered band. The design inspired Nicole to create her own line of hair bands and clips, all glitzy with a beach twist.

She was so excited over the new venture that she didn’t mind when Shaye cut their meeting short. Shaye’s smile had been tight but cordial when she handed Nicole the lease agreement. Nicole penned her signature in turquoise ink.