She stood back to let him pass, but he stayed firmly planted on the stoop with a dazed expression on his face. “I, uh, brought this.”
He thrust out one hand, a fire-engine-red jersey clenched in his fist. He wore an identical one, the initials SFD across his chest, tucked into a pair of form-fitting, gray baseball pants.
“Thanks,” she said, the tremble almost gone from her voice. Amazing what a little good, old-fashioned leering could do for a girl’s self-confidence. She pried the shirt from his fingers, tossed it onto her shoulder and motioned him inside. “I’ll go put it on and we can get out of here. Can’t have you missing batting practice.”
He followed her in. “We don’t have batting practice, but I should probably stretch before game time.”
“I can help.” She stood in front of the half mirror in the foyer and slipped on her jewelry. “A model taught me some great partner exercises on set in the Turks and Caicos.”
She didn’t mention that the model worked for Victoria’s Secret and that the shoot was for their swimsuit edition. No need to conjure up comparisons between her size-ten frame and the ideal 34-25-34 figure of a VS girl.
“Sounds good.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “Sasha ought to get the picture pretty quick if she sees us working out together.”
Right. How could she forget? This was all for show. For Sasha. Not real. Not for her.
Ivy unbuttoned the jersey and slipped it on, determined not to let Cade’s comment burst the bubble of self-assurance she was floating in thanks to his initial reaction. She had him for tonight, and she was going to make the most of it.
The shirt hung well past her hips, like she thought it would. A throwback to her Jabba days. But she had a plan for that. She pulled the ends together and tied them securely at her waist, checking in the mirror to make sure it had the anticipated effect of highlighting her breasts while revealing just enough—but not too much—skin.
Perfect.
“All set,” she said, turning to face him.
“Damn.” He eyed her up and down, his baby blues leaving goose bumps in their wake. “My shirt never looked so good.”
She eyed him right back, lingering a little longer than necessary between his legs, where the baseball pants weren’t hiding anything.
Down, girl.
“I don’t know.” She licked her lips. “It looks pretty fine on you, too.”
“Oh, yeah?” He pushed off the doorjamb and took a step toward her.
“Mmm-hmm.” She followed his lead, moving into him. “I’ve always been a sucker for a man in uniform.”
He cocked his head. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe.” Another step and she was close enough to put a hand on his chest, praying the whole time he wouldn’t brush it off. When he didn’t, she let her fingers curl into the soft fabric of his jersey. His heartbeat pulsed under her palm, almost as fast as hers. “Or maybe just practicing my witty banter. You know. For Sasha.”
His crystal-blue eyes darkened to indigo. “Anything else you want to practice?”
“Just this.”
She rose on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his mouth. She meant it to be a quick kiss. Sweet and gentle, something to whet his appetite and give him a tantalizing taste of the woman she’d become.
Something to leave him wanting more.
But the second her lips found his all thoughts of kissing and running flew out of her mind. She hadn’t counted on the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips or the soapy clean, all-male scent of him tickling her nostrils and sending a current of desire through her body.
She snaked her hand around his neck and pulled his head down, needing more. Needing him to respond. She couldn’t be the only one feeling this electricity between them, could she?
Ivy pressed against him and flicked her tongue against his mouth, willing him to open up to her. With a primal moan he surrendered, parting his lips and bringing his hands around to cup her bottom. The movement brought her impossibly closer to him, fitting her soft curves to his hard lines.
Oh. My. Bleeping. God. Seeing him in the G-string hadn’t prepared her for the delicious pressure of his growing erection against her. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the kiss, letting the sensations left in the wake of his roaming hands overwhelm her.
He released her and stepped back, leaving her breathless and shaky. The sudden rush of air smacked her like a wet towel. She tightened her ponytail and summoned her inner Scarlett O’Hara.
“I think that ought to convince her. Don’t you?”
Cade shoved his hands in his pockets. “It was pretty damn persuasive. But I doubt we’ll have to go that far. Just seeing us together should do the trick.”
“You never know. Better safe than sorry.” Ivy grabbed her purse from the hall table and brushed past Cade on her way to the door. Pinpricks of heat flared where they touched. She shook them off, opened the door and stepped into the mild, sweet-smelling spring evening. “Let’s go. It’s almost game time. We’ve got a grand entrance to make. And a mission to accomplish.”
Cade didn’t need to know Ivy’s mission had a dual purpose. First, show Sasha he was off the market. And second, get him to take her seriously.
Which one would be more difficult was a toss-up.
* * *
“STRIKE THREE.”
Cade threw down his batter’s helmet and stalked back to the dugout.
“Here.” He thrust his bat into the waiting hands of the left fielder, some guy in C Company he barely knew. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with it.”
“What’s eating you, Hardesty?” O’Brien, the first baseman and one of Cade’s fellow firefighters in B Company, greeted him with a smirk and a slap on the back. “One more at bat like that and Cappy’s gonna bump you out of the cleanup spot.”
“No one’s taking Cade off cleanup.” Like Teddy Roosevelt, George “Cappy” Perez, B Company’s captain and the team manager, spoke softly and carried a big-ass stick. Right now that stick was a Louisville Slugger he leaned on in the corner of the dugout.
“It’s okay, Cade, you’ll get ’em next time.” Ivy’s cheerful voice rang across the field.
“That’s right, baby.” Sasha’s followed, a slow, sweet twang that oozed sex. It used to turn him on. Now it was just flat-out embarrassing, like she was trying too hard to be seductive. “Next time.”
“Now I see your problem.” O’Brien leaned back on the bench and folded his beefy arms over his chest. “You’ve got one too many women, Hardesty. Want me to take one off your hands? I bet the redhead won’t mind. Fat chicks usually aren’t picky.”
Cade ripped off his batting gloves, grabbed the front of O’Brien’s jersey and pulled him to his feet until they were standing face-to-face. Cade could see the pores on his pug nose, crooked from being broken one too many times. “Listen up, dirtbag. If I ever hear you say another word about Ivy, I’ll hit you so hard not even Google will be able to find you.”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” Cade pushed him away and O’Brien landed hard on the bench. “The fat chick’s yours. I’ll take the blonde with the big boobs.”
Cade lunged for him again, but a strong arm wrapped around him from behind and held him back.
“That’s enough.” Cappy loosened his hold only slightly and turned his attention to Cade’s