Page 36 of The Third Baseman

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be the edge, but I also wasn’t sure if I had a choice in the matter.

“I’m gonna set you up with Jesus Rodriguez, my deputy, and let’s get the ball rolling. Work with Scott Fishman, director of the executive staff, and he’ll send out the memos to the club for everything you need. Good work, Matthews.”

I took it as a positive sign that he’d last-named me, instead of just Doctor Matthews or Marnie. I stood, as he had.

“No problem. I’ll get working on a proposal and next steps.”

“Great! Great. You’ll be at the game later? And you’re coming to Miami tonight, right?”

“Oh, yes, sir. I am, to both.” I answered, even though he knew full well I was.

“Ugh, don’t call me sir.” He shuddered, and a decidedly evil looking grin appeared. “Perhaps I should send Reeves a gift basket of LifeSavers.”

And with that, the meeting was over.

I headed back to my office with renewed buoyancy for my made-up job. I also figured that now it might actually become a legitimate role. I could work on changing the title I’d been given as Director of Baseball Science to something a little more authentic sounding. I was so deep in thought about how I could make the improvements that I failed to notice the corridors were starting to get busier; more crowded…

Or the very heavy and solid chest I walked straight into as I rounded the corner. A strong callused hand gripped my elbow to stop me falling over.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. And where are you heading off to in such a rush, my little pocket rocket?”

I jumped back and peered up into the very blue, very dazzling eyes I had once been so familiar with, along with the smile currently beaming a million watts in my direction.

I turned to the guy next to him, who was equally as large and also grinning down at me, although his seemed less combative and more genuine than Jupiter’s.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t even know what that means.”

“Sure you do. You like rockets and you could fit in my pocket,” he winked, which set off a flurry of waves in my belly that I did my best to ignore, and conjured up a scowl instead.

The guy next to him coughed out a snort, or whatever it was he was trying to cover up, so I scowled at him too, and he dropped his head. The smirk was still there though.

I focused back on Jupiter with my head cocked in curiosity. I didn’t remember him being quite this annoying, or maybe I’d been blind to it. It wasn’t hard to believe that I’d been dazzled by his beauty, especially as I was currently trying very hard not to stare at the fantail tattoo on his neck that disappeared underneath his collar… the one I wanted to run my fingers under.

He chuckled softly, snapping me out of my trance.

Goddammit.

Jupiter Reeveswasannoying.

“Sure you don’t want to admit we’re meant to be together?”

My fist clenched at the familiar heat working its way across my skin.

“You’re welcome for your gift, by the way!” he yelled at my back as I hurried off.

It was safer to shut the door to my office instead of replying.

Short, rasping breaths were all I could manage as I leaned against it. Rubbing my nose hard, I attempted to dislodge the scent of him I’d inhaled when I’d smacked into his sculpted torso, which was working its way up my nostrils to lay claim to my memories. That scent… like summer nights, bonfires on the beach, and warm kisses. I pressed against my temples to halt the onslaught.

Where was a decontamination shower when you needed one?

The clock said eleven thirty; tonight’s game began at seven. I had all afternoon to start work on the new plan, and more importantly, enough time to squeeze in a run because I now had a lot of latent energy to burn off.

More than I cared to admit.

* * *

“So talk me through it again. How’s this going to work, exactly?” asked Beulah.

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